"But how shall I subsist? For I have nothing."

Why, how do slaves, how do fugitives? To what do they trust when they run away from their masters? Is it to their estates? their servants? their plate? to nothing but themselves. Yet they do not fail to get necessaries. And must a philosopher, think you, when he leaves his own abode, rest and rely upon others, and not take care of himself? Must he be more helpless and anxious than the brute beasts, each of which is self-sufficient, and wants neither proper food, nor any suitable and natural provision? One would think there should be no need for an old fellow to sit here contriving that you may not think meanly, nor entertain low and abject notions of yourselves; but that his business would be, to take care that there may not happen to be among you young men of such a spirit, that, knowing their affinity to the gods, and that we are as it were fettered by the body and its possessions, and by so many other things as are necessary, upon these accounts, for the economy and commerce of life; they should resolve to throw them off, as both troublesome and useless, and depart to their kindred.

§ 3. This is the work, if any, that ought to employ your master and preceptor, if you had one; that you should come to him, and say: "Epictetus, we can no longer bear being tied down to this paltry body, feeding and resting and cleaning it, and hurried about with so many low cares on its account. Are not these things indifferent, and nothing to us, and death no evil? Are not we relations of God, and did we not come from him? Suffer us to go back thither from whence we came; suffer us, at length, to be delivered from these fetters, that chain and weigh us down. Here thieves and robbers, and courts of judicature, and those who are called tyrants, seem to have some power over us, on account of the body and its possessions. Suffer us to show them, that they have no power."

§ 4. And in this case it would be my part to answer: "My friends, wait for God, till he shall give the signal, and dismiss you from this service; then return to him. For the present, be content to remain in this post where he has placed you. The time of your abode here is short, and easy to such as are disposed like you. For what tyrant, what robber, what thief, or what courts of judicature are formidable to those who thus account the body and its possessions as nothing? Stay. Depart not inconsiderately."

§ 5. Thus ought the case to stand between a preceptor and ingenuous young men. But how stands it now? The preceptor has no life in him: you have none neither. When you have had enough to-day, you sit weeping about to-morrow, how you shall get food. Why, if you have it, wretch, you will have it: if not, you will go out of life. The door is open: why do you lament? What room doth there remain for tears? What occasion for flattery? Why should any one person envy another? Why should he be struck with awful admiration of those who have great possessions, or are placed in high rank? Especially if they are powerful and passionate? For what will they do to us? The things which they can do we do not regard: the things which we are concerned about they cannot do. Who then, after all, shall command a person thus disposed? How was Socrates affected by these things? As it became one persuaded of his being a relation of the gods. "If you should tell me (says he to his judges), We will acquit you upon condition that you shall no longer discourse in the manner you have hitherto done, nor make any disturbance either among our young or our old people; I would answer: You are ridiculous in thinking that if your general had placed me in any post, I ought to maintain and defend it, and choose to die a thousand times rather than desert it; but if God hath assigned me any station or method of life, that I ought to desert that for you."1

§ 6. This it is for a man to be truly a relation of God. But we consider ourselves as a mere assemblage of stomach and entrails and bodily parts. Because we fear, because we desire, we flatter those who can help us in these matters; we dread the very same persons.

§ 7. A person desired me once to write for him to Rome. He was one vulgarly esteemed unfortunate, as he had been formerly illustrious and rich, and afterwards stript of all his possessions and reduced to live here. I wrote for him in a submissive style, but, after reading my letter, he returned it to me and said: "I wanted your assistance, not your pity; for no evil hath befallen me."

§ 8.2 Thus Rufus to try me used to say, This or that you will have from your master. When I answered him, These are [uncertain] human affairs: Why then, says he, should I intercede with him3 when you can receive these things from yourself? For what one hath of his own it is superfluous and vain to receive from another. Shall I, then, who can receive greatness of soul and a manly spirit from myself, receive an estate, or a sum of money, or a place from you? Heaven forbid! I will not be so insensible of my own possessions. But if a person is fearful and abject, what else is necessary but to write letters for him as if he was dead? "Pray oblige us with the corpse and blood of such a one." For, in fact, such a one is corpse and blood; and nothing more. For if he was anything more, he would be sensible that one man is not rendered unfortunate by another.

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Chapter X

Concerning Those Who Strove for Preferments at Rome

§ 1. IF we all applied ourselves as heartily to our proper business as the old fellows at Rome do to their schemes; perhaps we too might make some proficiency.