The Stoic philosopher Epictetus (his years of life have not been
credibly established, but according to some sources, they could be 55-135 AD)
is well known from two extant works, ironically, neither written by him. The
Discourses and The Enchiridion were both written by his student Flavius
Arrian, claiming to represent the master’s authentic sayings. He is also the
single most important factor in the philosophical development of the Roman “Philosopher-Emperor”
Marcus Aurelius.
In
a certain sense, we can use toward all Stoics the very unkind phrase to the
effect that once you have read one, you have read them all. Indeed, where they
are important, they are all very much alike, and where they are different, they
are not all that important. Thus, philosophically speaking, there is no need to
allot all of them more than a single entry, which though, as the reader must
have noticed, is by no means the case here. The reason for such prominence of
the Stoics lies therefore in their extra-philosophical, that is, in their historical
and cultural value, and this point must also be clearly understood.
Among
the names appearing in this section, many are new, but some are familiar from
previous, thematic sections. Our present subject Epictetus belongs
to the diversified group. We’ve met him already in my entry Definitions,
Definitions, Definitions!--- (Talking about definitions, and our uncritical
use of poorly, if at all defined terminology, which turns us into slaves of the
powers that are shoving their calculated usage down our throat, here is
another precious excavation, from Epictetus’s Enchiridion: “First learn the meaning of what you say, and then speak.”
Bravo, Epictete!)
And
then, from my entry Evil And The Nature Of Things.--- (Epictetus makes
short shrift of the question of evil. He says, “As
a mark is not set up for the purpose of missing it, so neither does the nature
of evil exist in the universe.” Simplicius has a lengthy and
curious discourse on this text of Epictetus, both amusing and very instructive:
“Evil is not part of the nature of things,” he
argues. “If there were a principle of evil in the
constitution of things, evil would no longer be evil, but evil would be good.”
Curiously,
in one particularly important aspect, Epictetus sounds very much like a
Pythagorean.--- Quoting Bertrand Russell on this, “On
earth, says Epictetus, we are prisoners, and in an earthly body. According to
Marcus Aurelius, he used to say ‘Thou art a little soul bearing about a
corpse.’ Zeus could not make body free, but he gave us a portion of his
divinity…” In another instance, now quoting from the Enchiridion, he
sounds uncannily like a consummate Christian in the true Pauline mold: “If you desire to be good, begin by believing that you
are wicked.” W. T. Jones notes that “there
was a Christian community in his birthplace, and it has been assumed that Christianity
exercised an influence on his thought.” He quickly adds though, that “the parallelism between some of Epictetus’ teachings and
those of the Christians may however be the result of the contemporary climate
of opinion, to which all thinking men,--- Christians and non-Christians
alike,-- contributed and from which, in turn, they drew.” I am however
unsure that the affinity of the phrase I quoted earlier can be explained away
without acknowledging its close Christian ties.
Nietzsche
has a few references to Epictetus, in one place (in Menschliches)
calling him “a great moralist.” (But one must admit to himself that our age is poor in great
moralists, that Pascal, Epictetus, Seneca, and Plutarch are now read but
little.) In Morgenröte, he comments on Stoical selfishness, using
Epictetus yet again as his example: The great men of
antique morality, Epictetus for instance, knew nothing of the now normal
glorification of thinking of others, of living for others; in the light of our moral
fashion they would have to be called downright immoral, for they strove with
all their might for their ego and against feeling with others (that is to say
with the sufferings and moral frailties of others). Perhaps they would reply to
us: “If you are so boring or ugly an object to yourself, by all means think of
others more than of yourself! It is right you should!” (For the record,
while Nietzsche mentions Epictetus in several other places, there is no mention
of Marcus Aurelius anywhere in his writings, as far as I remember, which is
Nietzsche’s way of saying that the Emperor’s philosophy is utterly derivative.)
Curiously,
Nietzsche is silent on the ‘Christian’ side of Epictetus’ teachings,
apparently finding it wiser to take on the real thing, than a proxy. But it is
his affinity with the Christian spirit of the ages to come, which makes
Epictetus particularly interesting to us. As Dr. W. T. Jones puts it, the whole of Epictetus’ teaching could be summed up, he
said, in two words: bear and forbear. “If a man will only have these two words
at heart, and heed them carefully, by ruling and watching over himself, he
would for the most part fall into no sin, and his life will be tranquil and
serene.”
I
guess this last part should suit only the optimistic Christian hermit. Those
who are bent on the sinfulness of human nature cannot reconcile themselves to
the idea of tranquil and serene life in this world.
(The
complementary entry on Marcus Aurelius, under the title Thoughts On Thoughts, follows next.)
No comments:
Post a Comment