Twenty-sixth installment:
Arrian, a student of Epictetus, wrote eight books, The Discourses of Epictetus, of which four survive. Selections from those eight books were also collected in the Enchiridion, or “Handbook.” The Discourses give us a quite vivid portrait of the man who inspired them, and also give us fascinating glimpses into his singular didactic style. We very quickly see how Epictetus ran his school, the nature of its curricula, and how he mentored his students. We see his earnestness, his zeal, and piety, but we also get a good dose of his sharp and often acerbic sense of humor. It is no wonder that Arrian felt he ‘had to get this down.’
It also can be quite a challenge to understand exactly what is being said in the chapters of the Discourses. The text is composed of lecture notes, we must recall. The subject matter sometimes jumps from one subject to another, veering into matters that are not obviously related to what we have just read. Sometimes these tangential matters are finally related back to things brought up earlier, or to the main topic of the chapter. Sometimes they are not. This leaves the reader with the task of finding the connections. Epictetus deliberately ‘weaves’ in an almost conversational style. His is most certainly not the style of the tightly outlined academic’s essay. He does not write like Aristotle, nor, if we are to believe his own testimony, like the Stoic school’s founders (chief among them, Chrysippus). Yet, we can see, as we ride his ‘weave’ that he was quite versed in all aspects of the school’s doctrine.
So, with that genesis, and that style of writing in mind, I’ve set out to read through the four extant books, a chapter at a time, while also breaking up the text with commentary, (essentially my best guesses as to how we might flesh out some of his ‘weave,’ (what can be very brief or truncated sketches of dialogue and argumentation), as it was no easy business for Arrian to get down what he had experienced in the lecture halls of Nicopolis!
A last note: I use the Oldfather translation in the Loeb Classical Library, and have taken some editorial and interpretive liberties where I thought it necessary. But, I’ve tried to keep such changes to a minimum. The advantage of using this translation is that it can easily be accessed via various online sources, and given that it presents, along with Oldfather’s translation and footnotes, the text in the original Greek, it is quite useful for those that would like to check any translations or interpretations against the original.
Book I, Chapter 26.
What is the Rule of Life?
The main thrust of this relatively brief chapter is a reminder to mentors vis-à-vis their responsibilities toward mentees. As well, it’s another pointed cautionary flag for students, reminding them to resist being carried away by a desire to be perceived as clever and erudite, instead of focusing on the practical goals of the Stoic school.
As someone was reading the hypothetical arguments, Epictetus said:
This also is a law governing hypotheses—that we must accept what the hypothesis or premises demands. But much more important is the following law of life; that we must do what nature demands. For if we wish in every matter and circumstance to observe what is in accordance with nature, it is manifest that in everything we should make it our aim neither to avoid that which nature demands, nor to accept that which is in conflict with nature.
A pithy statement of the Stoic position, according to which we should follow a way of life that follows upon a careful application of what is often labeled natural theology. Natural theology hews to a method that leans less upon what has come to be labeled ‘revealed religion’ (the precepts or specific persons, events or commands depicted in mythology, or the world’s major religions, for instance), and more upon what can deduced from careful examination of the world as to our place in that world, the roles for which we were created, and the intentions of God. God’s nature and intentions, on this view, are both reflected in the universe, (nature both considered in our own person, and in the broader context of the world). Again, we can consider this point of view as being something akin to the forensic point of view of the ‘reverse engineer.’ Given we accept that a designing intelligence of great sophistication or wisdom is the most likely explanation for our existence, we have good reason to undertake such investigative efforts. It is a logical next-step when considering practical life. We can actually glean quite a lot about our place in the cosmos from approaching theology in this way, according to the Stoics.
But it is also the case that mastering ‘theory,’ in this regard, as tricky as it can be, is still considerably easier than is application of the practical results! This is yet another occasion where Epictetus has us consider this running theme of his:
The philosophers, therefore, exercise us first in the theory where there is less difficulty, and then after that lead us to the more difficult matters; for in theory there is nothing which holds us back from following what we are taught, but in the affairs of life there are many things which draw us away. He is ridiculous, then, who says that he wishes to begin with the latter; for it is not easy to begin with the more difficult things.
It’s hard to gainsay this. It’s a fact of human life. No matter what the belief system is, it invariably seems to be the case that figuring out what sorts of actions and attitudes are consistent with it is, as a merely intellectual exercise, a hell of a lot easier than actual implementation of the same. Still, the theoretical is necessary. That being the case, some outsiders may not have had patience with the school’s focus on classroom and theory. Enter student parents, stage left:
And this is the defense that we ought to present to such parents as are angry because their children study philosophy.
“Very well then, father, I go astray, not knowing what is incumbent upon me or what my duty is. Now if this is a thing that can neither be taught nor learned, why do you reproach me?
Why does Epictetus introduce the Socratic question as to the teachability of virtue? Because it was a hot topic for discussion. In any case, there might be a good answer to this Socratic question, if one indeed does think that this sort of thing cannot be a subject of education: The parent who believes unteachability to be the case reproaches his kid because the classroom exercises are completely and utterly beside the point, and cannot possibly succeed. That being the case, there is no good reason to spend time in the classroom.
Now, we can imagine a visiting parent in Nicopolis might balk at taking this position, and might very well be forced to concede that his enrolling of his progeny shows he thinks duty is something that can be learned, and therefore, taught.
This gives the student all he needs as an opening:
But if it can be taught, teach me; and if you cannot do this, allow me to learn from those who profess to know. Really, what is your idea? That I intentionally fall into evil and miss the good?
Parent: OK, you have me there:
Far from it!
What, then, is the cause of my going astray? Ignorance. Very well, do you not want me to put away my ignorance? Whom did anger ever teach the art of steering, or music? Do you think, then, that your anger will make me learn the art of living?”
This line of argument probably would gain the parental ‘submit.’ He will have to admit that there is a role for classrooms and theory. Still, Epictetus well knows that perils exist in the placing of emphasis on the classroom and erudition, risks we have canvassed in earlier chapters:
Only he can so speak who has applied himself to philosophy in such a spirit. But if a man reads upon the subject and resorts to the philosophers merely because he wants to make a display at a banquet of his knowledge of hypothetical arguments, what else is he doing but trying to win the admiration of some senator sitting by his side?
Because theory is relatively easy compared to practice, the student may become lazy and distracted, adopting public displays of erudition as his main goal in life. If the true goal of the student is to get noticed as having erudition and intellectual prowess, then he’s undertaking education for the wrong reason, and will be led about by that pursuit of reputation, fame and material benefit from these. He might, for instance, find himself invited to Rome, leaving behind the relative backwater of Nicopolis!
For there in Rome are found in truth the great resources, while the riches of Nicopolis look to them like mere child’s-play. Hence it is difficult there for a man to control his own external impressions, since the distracting influences at Rome are great.
And, to illustrate, Epictetus gives us a striking case of a man distraught and at the mercies of ‘external impressions.’ Epictetus remembers him from his days as slave to Epaphroditus:
I know a certain man who clung in tears to the knees of Epaphroditus and said that he was in misery; for he had nothing left but a million and a half sesterces. What, then, did Epaphroditus do? Did he laugh at him as you are laughing? No; he only said, in a tone of amazement, “Poor man, how, then, did you manage to keep silence? How did you endure it?”
Did this display of ‘amazement’ bring the man around to seeing things in a more accurate light? We don’t know. Arian, who we must remember, is recording this lecture, now interjects and considers an example from his own days as student:
Once when he had disconcerted the student who was reading the hypothetical arguments, and the one who had set the other the passage to read laughed at him, Epictetus said to the latter, “You are laughing at yourself.”
Why did he say this? We must consider the pedagogical circumstance. The student who had given his peer the ‘hypothetical argument’ to present, and explain, had also been presumably required to rehearse with him, preparing him for questions or prompts that might arise when the young man stood in front of class, taking his turn under the interrogations of Epictetus. This was standard practice. The peer failed to do his part for his partner. Epictetus cross-examined the younger man and he wilted. That reflected on the older student:
“You did not give the young man a preliminary training, nor discover whether he was able to follow these arguments, but you treat him merely as a reader.
That being the case, we have no good reason to believe that the senior student knew any more about the subject at hand than did the younger man who he had been tasked to train. ‘We should, therefore in no way, take him seriously on the subject’ Epictetus concludes:
Why is it, then,” he added, “that to a mind unable to follow a judgement upon a complex argument we entrust the assigning of praise or blame, or the passing of a judgement upon what is done well or ill? If such a person speaks ill of another, does the man in question pay any attention to him, or if he praises another, is the latter elated when the one who is dispensing praise or blame is unable, in matters as trivial as these, to find the logical consequence?”
That put the older student in his place, no doubt! He needed to start from a humble position, and be fully aware of, and admit to, his own lack of knowledge, given the failure of his younger peer. That, as Socrates insisted, is the starting point of human wisdom:
This, then, is a starting point in philosophy—a perception of the state of one’s own governing principle; for when once a man realizes that it is weak, he will no longer wish to employ it upon great matters.
Again, the complete task of philosophy is difficult, and needs to be undertaken patiently and piecemeal, with requisite humility. As that faculty gains strength through practice, and a carefully constructed regime of greater and greater challenges, it will come closer and closer to attaining that end state for which it is working; ‘employment upon great matters.’
But as it is, some who are unable to swallow the morsel buy a whole treatise and set to work to eat that. Consequently, they throw up, or have indigestion; after that come colic and fluxes and fevers. But they ought first to have considered whether they have the requisite capacity.
And, one last reminder ends the chapter, one that had opened it; There is a world of difference between erudition and intellectual prowess on the one hand and practical application on the other. ‘Be self-aware when it comes to this,’ Epictetus warns his wards. ‘When it comes to those practical affairs, and real-world application of Stoic theory to self, we will likely run up against the mere scholar’s pride. That pride can bring the practical side of that philosophical life to a grinding halt. In such circumstances, the prideful will resent examination, reminders and corrections:
However, in a matter of theory it is easy enough to confute the man who does not know, but in the affairs of life a man does not submit himself to confutation, and we hate the person who has confuted us. But Socrates used to tell us not to live a life unsubject to examination.