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EPICTETUS

(c. 50 A. D.- (?))

ERHAPS no one else has written so well on the "Philosophy of Eloquence as the great Stoic Epictetus,-one of the world's most remarkable thinkers. He treats eloquence as a faculty of the will, that is, as a power of expression which will come to all who are really determined to know what is right and to express it. Speaking with the authority of a master, he disposes once for all of the discussion of whether this man or that can become a good orator. "Yes," he answers in effect; "he can,-if he is a good man brave enough to give his goodness expression. For what is eloquence but goodness expressed in the language of one who dares to give it the best possible expression!"

Epictetus was born in Phrygia probably as a slave. The date of his birth is not known, but when first heard of in Rome, he was the slave of Epaphroditus who is described as "a profligate freedman of the Emperor Nero." It is supposed that he died under Hadrian. He was a highly educated man, but he wrote nothing. His "Discourses" as they were reported by his disciple Arrian make one of the most remarkable books in existence.

E

ON THE POWER OF SPEAKING

VERY man will read a book with more pleasure or even with more ease, if it is written in fairer characters. Therefore every man will also listen more readily to what is spoken, if it is signified by appropriate and becoming words. We must not say, then, that there is no faculty of expression; for this affirmation is the characteristic of an impious and also of a timid man. Of an impious man, because he undervalues the gifts which come from God, just as if he would take away the commodity of the power of vision, or of hearing, or of seeing. Has then God given you eyes to no purpose? and to no purpose has he infused into them a spirit so strong and of such skillful contrivance as to reach a long way and to fashion the forms of things which are seen? What messenger is so swift and vigilant? And to no purpose has he made the interjacent atmosphere so efficacious and elastic that the vision penetrates through the atmosphere which is in a manner moved? And to no purpose has he made light, without the presence of which there would be no use in any other thing.

Man, be neither ungrateful for these gifts nor yet forgot the things which are superior to them. But, indeed, for the power of seeing and hearing, and, indeed, for life itself, and for the things which contribute to support it, for the fruits which are dry, and for wine and oil give thanks to God; but remember that he has given you something else better than all these. I mean the power of using them, proving

them, and estimating the value of each. For what is that which gives information about each of these powers, what each of them is worth? Is it each faculty itself? Did you ever hear the faculty of vision saying anything about itself? or the faculty of hearing? or wheat, or barley, or a horse, or a dog? No; but they are appointed as ministers and slaves to serve the faculty which has the power of making use of the appearances of things. And if you inquire what is the value of each thing, of whom do you inquire? who answers you? How then can any other faculty be more powerful than this, which uses the rest as ministers and itself proves each and pronounces about them? for which of them knows what itself is, and what is its own value? which of them knows when it ought to employ itself and when not? what faculty is it which opens and closes the eyes, and turns them away from objects to which it ought not to apply them and does apply them to other objects? Is it the faculty of vision? No; but it is the faculty of the will. What is that faculty which closes and opens the ears? what is that by which they are curious and inquisitive, or, on the contrary, unmoved by what is said? is it the faculty of hearing? It is no other than the faculty of the will. Will this faculty then, seeing that it is amid all the other faculties which are blind and dumb and unable to see anything else except the very acts for which they are appointed in order to minister to this (faculty) and serve it, but this faculty alone sees sharp and sees what is the value of each of the rest; will this faculty declare to us that anything else is the best, or that itself is? And what else does the eye do when it is opened than see? But whether we ought to look on the wife of a certain person, and in what manner, who tells us? The faculty of the will. And whether we ought to believe what is said or not to believe it, and if we do believe, whether we ought to be moved by it or not, who tells us? Is it not the faculty of the will? But this faculty of speaking and of ornamenting words, if there is, indeed, any such peculiar faculty, what else does it do, when there happens to be discourse about a thing, than to ornament the words and arrange them as hairdressers do the hair? But whether it is better to speak or to be silent, and better to speak in this way or that way, and whether this is becoming or not becoming, and the season for each and the use, what else tells us than the faculty of the will? Would you have it then to come forward and condemn itself? What then? it (the will) says, if the fact is so, can that which ministers be superior to that to which it ministers, can the horse be superior to the rider, or the dog to the huntsman, or the instrument to the musician, or the servants to the king? What is that which makes use of the rest? The will. What takes care of all? The will. What destroys the whole man, at one time by hunger, at another time by hanging, and at another time by a precipice? The will. Then is anything stronger in men than this? and how is it possible that the things which are subject to restraint are stronger than that which is not? What things are naturally formed to hinder the faculty of vision? Both will and things which do not depend on the faculty of the will. It is the same with the faculty of hearing, with the faculty of speaking in like manner. But what has a natural power of hindering the will? Nothing which is independent of the will; but only the will itself, when it is perverted. Therefore this (the will) is alone vice or alone virtue.

Then being so great a faculty and set over all the rest, let it (the will) come forward and tell us that the most excellent of all things is the flesh. Not even if the flesh itself declared that it is the most excellent, would any person bear that it should say this. But what is it, Epicurus, which pronounces this, which wrote about the End (purpose) of our Being, which wrote on the Nature of Things, which wrote about the Canon (rule of truth), which led you to wear a beard, which wrote when it was dying that it was spending the last and a happy day? Was this the

flesh or the will? Then do you admit that you possess anything superior to this (the will)? and are you not mad? are you in fact so blind and deaf?

Does any

What then? Does any man despise the other faculties? I hope not. man say that there is no use or excellence in the speaking faculty? I hope not. That would be foolish, impious, ungrateful toward God. But a man renders to each thing its due value. For there is some use even in an ass, but not so much as in an ox; there is also use in a dog, but not so much as in a slave; there is also some use in a slave, but not so much as in citizens; there is also some use in citizens, but not so much as in magistrates. Not, indeed, because some things are superior, must we undervalue the use which other things have. There is a certain value in the power of speaking, but it is not so great as the power of the will. When, then, I speak thus, let no man think that I ask you to neglect the power of speaking, for neither do I ask you to neglect the eyes nor the ears nor the hands nor the feet, nor clothing nor shoes. But if you ask me what, then, is the most excellent of all things, what must I say? I cannot say the power of speaking, but the power of the will, when it is right. For it is this which uses the other (the power of speaking), and all the other faculties both small and great. For when this faculty of the will is set right, a man who is not good becomes good; but when it fails, a man becomes bad. It is through this that we are unfortunate, that we are fortunate, that we blame one another, are pleased with one another. In a word, it is this which, if we neglect it, makes unhappiness, and if we carefully look after it makes happiness.

But to take away the faculty of speaking and to say that there is no such faculty in reality is the act not only of an ungrateful man toward those who gave it, but also of a cowardly man; for such a person seems to me to fear, if there is any faculty of this kind, that we shall not be able to despise it. Such also are those who say that there is no difference between beauty and ugliness. Then it would happen that a man would be affected in the same way if he saw Thersites and if he saw Achilles; in the same way, if he saw Helen and any other woman. But these are foolish and clownish notions, and the notions of men who know not the nature of each thing, but are afraid if a man shall see the difference, that he shall immediately be seized and carried off vanquished. But this is the great matter; to leave to each thing the power (faculty) which it has, and leaving to it this power to see what is the worth of the power, and to learn what is the most excellent of all things, and to pursue this always, to be diligent about this, considering all other things of secondary value compared with this, but yet, as far as we can, not neglecting all those other things. For we must take care of the eyes also, not as if they were the most excellent thing, but we must take care of them on account of the most excellent thing, because it will not be in its true natural condition if it does not rightly use the other faculties, and prefer some things to others.

What, then, is usually done? Men generally act as a traveler would do on his way to his own country, when he enters a good inn, and, being pleased with it, should remain there. Man, you have forgotten your purpose: you were not traveling to this inn, but you were passing through it. But this is a pleasant inn. And how many other inns are pleasant? and how many meadows are pleasant? yet only for passing through. But your purpose is this, to return to your country, to relieve your kinsmen of anxiety, to discharge the duties of a citizen, to marry, to beget children, to fill the usual magistracies. For you are not come to select more pleasant places, but to live in these where you were born and of which you were made a citizen. Something of the kind takes place in the matter which we are considering. Since by the aid of speech and such communication as you receive here you must advance to perfection, and purge your will and correct the faculty which makes use of the

appearances of things; and since it is necessary also for the teaching (delivery) of theorems to be effected by a certain mode of expression and with a certain variety and sharpness, some persons captivated by these very things abide in them, one captivated by the expression, another by syllogisms, another again by sophisms, and still another by some other inn of the kind; and there they stay and waste away as if they were among sirens.

Man, your purpose (business) was to make yourself capable of using conformably to nature the appearances presented to you, in your desires not to be frustrated, in your aversion from things not to fall into that which you would avoid, never to have no luck (as one may say), nor ever to have bad luck, to be free, not hindered, not compelled, conforming yourself to the administration of God, obeying it, well satisfied with this, blaming no one, charging no one with fault, able from your whole soul to utter these words:

"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou too Destiny.»

Then having this purpose before you, if some little form of expression pleases you, if some theorems please you, do you abide among them and choose to dwell there, forgetting the things at home, and do you say, These things are fine? Who says that they are not fine? but only as being a way home, as inns are. For what hinders you from being an unfortunate man, even if you speak like Demosthenes? and what prevents you, if you can resolve syllogisms like Chrysippus, from being wretched, from sorrowing, from envying, in a word, from being disturbed, from being unhappy? Nothing. You see, then, that these were inns, worth nothing; and that the purpose before you was something else. When I speak thus to some persons, they think that I am rejecting care about speaking or care about theorems. But I am not rejecting this care, but I am rejecting the abiding about these things incessantly and putting our hopes in them. If a man by this teaching does harm to those who listen to him, reckon me too among those who do this harm; for I am not able, when I see one thing which is most excellent and supreme, to say that another is so in order to please you.

Long's translation of the "Discourses,»
Book II., Chap. xxiii.

CORNELIUS TACITUS

(c. 55-c. 117 A. D.)

HE "Dialogue on Oratory» left by Tacitus is one of the best of his miscellaneous essays. As he was one of the most noted professional orators of his generation in Rome, what he says may be accepted as coming from an expert. Born about 55 A. D., and living under some of the worst emperors, he remained a steadfast friend of free institutions. Both in his "History" and his "Annals” he has set all after times an example of high moral courage and devotion to truth. To these qualities even more than to his admirable style he owes the high estimation in which he has been held for nearly twenty centuries. The exact date of his death is not known, but it is fixed approximately at 117 A. D.

I

THE REWARDS OF ORATORY

N THE most splendid fortune, in all the dignity and pride of power, is there anything that can equal the heartfelt satisfaction of the able advocate when he sees the most illustrious citizens, men respected for their years, and flourishing in the opinion of the public, yet paying their court to a rising genius, and, in the midst of wealth and grandeur, fairly owning that they still want something superior to all their possessions?

What shall be said of the attendants that follow the young orator from the bar, and watch his motions to his own house? With what importance does he appear to the multitude! In the courts of judicature, with what veneration! When he rises to speak, the audience is hushed in mute attention; every eye is fixed on him alone; the crowd presses round him; he is master of their passions; they are swayed, impelled, directed, as he thinks proper. These are the fruits of eloquence, well known to all, and palpable to every common observer.

There are other pleasures more refined and secret, felt only by the initiated. When the orator, upon some great occasion, comes with a well-digested speech, conscious of his matter, and animated by his subject, his breast expands, and heaves with emotions unfelt before. In his joy there is a dignity suited to the weight and energy of the composition which he has prepared. Does he rise to hazard himself in a sudden debate? He is alarmed for himself, but in that very alarm there is a mingling of pleasure which predominates till distress itself becomes delightful. The mind exults in the prompt exertion of its powers, and even glories in its rashness. The productions of genius, and those of the field have this resemblance: many things are sown, and brought to maturity with toil and care; yet that, which grows from the wild vigor of nature, has the most grateful flavor.