Epictetus: The Discourses
Book Three, Chapter 16 That we ought with caution to enter, into
familiar intercourse with men
If a man has frequent intercourse with others, either for
talk, or drinking together, or generally for social purposes, he must either
become like them, or change them to his own fashion. For if a man places a piece
of quenched charcoal close to a piece that is burning, either the quenched
charcoal will quench the other, or the burning charcoal will light that which is
quenched. Since, then, the danger is so great, we must cautiously enter into
such intimacies with those of the common sort, and remember that it is
impossible that a man can keep company with one who is covered with soot without
being partaker of the soot himself. For what will you do if a man speaks about
gladiators, about horses, about athletes, or, what is worse, about men? "Such a
person is bad," "Such a person is good": "This was well done," "This was done
badly." Further, if he scoff, or ridicule, or show an ill-natured disposition?
Is any man among us prepared like a lute-player when he takes a lute, so that as
soon as he has touched the strings, he discovers which are discordant, and tunes
the instrument? such a power as Socrates had who in all his social intercourse
could lead his companions to his own purpose? How should you have this power? It
is therefore a necessary consequence that you are carried about by the common
kind of people.
Why, then, are they more powerful than you? Because they
utter these useless words from their real opinions: but you utter your elegant
words only from your lips; for this reason they are without strength and dead,
and it is nauseous to listen to your exhortations and your miserable virtue,
which is talked of everywhere. In this way the vulgar have the advantage over
you: for every opinion is strong and invincible. Until, then, the good
sentiments are fixed in you, and you shall have acquired a certain power for
your security, I advise you to be careful in your association with like wax in
the sun there will be melted away whatever you inscribe on your minds in the
school. Withdraw, then, yourselves far from the sun so long as you have these
waxen sentiments. For this reason also philosophers advise men to leave their
native country, because ancient habits distract them and do not allow a
beginning to be made of a different habit; nor can we tolerate those who meet us
and say: "See such a one is now a philosopher, who was once so-and-so." Thus
also physicians send those who have lingering diseases to a different country
and a different air; and they do right, Do you also introduce other habits than
those which you have: fix your opinions and exercise yourselves in them. But you
do not so: you go hence to a spectacle, to a show of gladiators, to a place of
exercise, to a circus; then you come back hither, and again from this place you
go to those places, and still the same persons. And there is no pleasing habit,
nor attention, nor care about self and observation of this kind, "How shall I
use the appearances presented to me? according to nature, or contrary to nature?
how do I answer to them? as I ought, or as I ought not? Do I say to those things
which are independent of the will, that they do not concern me?" For if you are
not yet in this state, fly from your former habits, fly from the common sort, if
you intend ever to begin to be something.
Last reading: Chapter
15: That we ought to proceed with circumspection to everything Next
reading: Chapter
17: On providence
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