as if he was some uncommon man, or knew more than the rest of the world. If he fails in anything, he accuses only himself; if any one praises him, in his own mind he contemns the flatterer; if any one reproves him, he looks with care, that he may not be unsettled in that state of tranquillity he has entered into. All his desires depend on things within his own power, he transfers all his aversion to those things Nature commands us to avoid. His appetites are always moderate; he is indifferent, whether he be thought foolish or ignorant. He observes himself with the nicety of an enemy or a spy, and looks on his own wishes as betrayers.

CHAP. LXXIII.

If you hear a man boast he understands and can explain the books of Chrysippus, say within yourself, if Chrysippus had not wrote obscurely, this man would have had nothing to boast of; but what do I study to know? Nature, and to follow her precepts. I seek, therefore, who is her interpreter; when I hear it is Chrysippus, I will consult him. But I do not understand his writings, I will therefore seek me a master; there is no great excellence in that, but when I have found an interpreter, it remains to obey his precepts, and that only is excellent. If I only admire the style and the interpretation, I do no otherwise than leave the place of a philosopher for a grammarian, excepting that instead of Homer, I translate Chrysippus. I ought rather to blush, when any one asks me if I have read Chrysippus, that I am not able to show them; yet my actions are agreeable to all his precepts.

CHAP. LXXIV.

Observe these rules, as if not to be violated without a punishment; neither care what judgment men pass on you, for what they shall say is not in your power to help.

CHAP. LXXV.

How long, I desire to know, will you defer the choice of those things you think most deserving, and cease violating the dictates of your own reason? You have heard the precepts you ought to embrace, and you have embraced

them. What master do you yet expect, and for whose coming do you defer the amendment of your manners? You are no longer a youth, but are come to the mature age of a man. If you now grow neglectful and idle, you will put delay upon delay, add purpose to purpose, and put it off eternally from one day to another. Will you not consider you have learned nothing, and at this rate will both live and die a vulgar man? This minute, therefore, begin the life of a wise man, and one worthy of that name; and whatever seems best to your unprejudiced reason, make that an inviolable rule to you, whether it be laborious, sweet, glorious, or infamous. Remember, the choice is to be now made, the combat is now beginning, neither is it permitted you to defer it; one hour of neglect will make all your virtue perish, or one firm resolution retain it for ever. So Socrates became what he was; in all things he carried himself agreeably to reason, and never hearkened to any other counsellor; and though as yet you are no Socrates, yet, if you are willing to become one, you must live in that manner.

CHAP. LXXVI.

The most necessary part of philosophy is the use of its maxims; as, for instance, not to lie: the second is the demonstration, Why should we not lie? The third is the confirmation, as, Why it is a demonstration? What is a demonstration? What a consequence? What a contradiction ? What is truth? What is falsehood? The third depends upon the second, and the second upon the first, but it is most necessary to dwell upon the first. But our practice is different from this; we rest upon the third part, and there we employ our studies, neglecting the first altogether. While we can very readily demonstrate why we ought not to lie, we make no scruple of speaking falsehood.

CHAP. LXXVII.

In the beginning of every undertaking this ought to be our prayer: "Lead me, oh Jupiter, and thou Fate, wheresoever ye have destined me. I will cheerfully follow; if I refuse, it would be the part of an impious man, and notwithstanding I should follow."

CHAP. LXXVIII.

He is a wise man who submits himself to necessity, and is conscious of the Divine Providence.

CHAP. LXXIX.

And this, O Crito, is the wisest prayer: If so it seems best to the gods, so be it. Anytus and Melitus have the power to kill me, but they have not the power to hurt me.1

[Some of these passages appear to be selected from other portions of the works of Epictetus, and their arrangement differs considerably from that of recent editors. See the trans. by G. Long.]

ESSAYS.

A LETTER FROM THE OTHER WORLD, TO A LADY,

FROM HER FORMER HUSBAND.

THIS letter will surprise you less than it would any other of your sex; and therefore I think I need no apology in breaking through a rule of good-breeding, which has been observed so strictly by all husbands for so many ages; who, however troublesome while they lived, have never frightened their wives by the least notice of them after their deaths: but your reverend doctor will inform you, that there is nothing supernatural in this correspondence; and that the existence of immortal spirits includes a tender concern for the poor militant mortals of your world. I own I was a little puzzled how to convey this epistle, and thought it best to assume a material form some few moments, and put it myself into the penny-post. In my hurry (being very impatient to let you hear from me) I unluckily forgot my little finger, which produced an odd accident; for the wench at the post-office would have taken me up for one of the incendiaries. Already had the mob assembled round the door, and nothing but dissolving into air could have saved me from Newgate. Several ran down the alleys in pursuit of me; and particular care was taken of my letter, in hopes of reading it in the newspaper. You may imagine I would not have exposed myself to this adventure, but out of the sincerest regard to the happiness of the dear partner of my worldly cares. Without the least uneasiness I have seen you dispose of yourself into the arms of another; and I would never disturb you while you were seeking pleasure in forgetting me; but I cannot bear that you should constrain yourself out of respect to me. I see every motion of your mind now much clearer than I did in my life (though then I guessed pretty shrewdly sometimes). I know the real content that you find in coloured riband, and am sensible how much you sacrifice to imaginary decency every time you put on that odious rusty black, which is half worn

out. Alas! my dear Eliza, in these seats of perfect love and beauty, the veriest scrub of a cherubim (some of which have raked cinders behind Montagu House, as they often tell me) is more charming than you were on your first wedding-day. Judge, then, whether I can have any satisfaction in looking at your crape hood when I am in this bright company. You know that, in my terrestrial state, three bottles would sometimes raise me to that pitch of philosophy, I utterly forgot you, when you were but some few inches from me. Do not fancy me grown so impertinent here, as to observe so nicely whether you obey the forms of widowhood; and do not think to cajole me with such instances of your affection, when you are giving the most substantial proofs of it to another man. I have already assured you I am exalted above jealousy, if I could have been sensible of it. You have provoked me by a second choice, so absolutely opposite to your first. He is often talking of certain fellows he calls Classic Authors, who I never trouble my head with: and I know this letter will meet with more regard from him than from you; for he is better skilled in the language of the dead than the living.

IN A PAPER CALLED THE NONSENSE OF COMMON SENSE.

PUBLISHED JANUARY 24, 1738.1

I HAVE always, as I have already declared, professed myself a friend, though I do not aspire to the character of an admirer, of the fair sex; and as such, I am warmed with indignation at the barbarous treatment they have received from the Common Sense of January 14, and the false advice that he gives them. He either knows them very little, or,

"The Nonsense of Common Sense," an Essay paper, started about this time to counteract the paper called "Common Sense," which had attained some influence, was edited, and probably projected, by the celebrated General Oglethorpe. The only number which I have seen bears the eccentric notice: "To be continued as long as the author thinks fit and the public likes it." It had but a short run, and it is doubtful whether any complete copy is in existence.-T.

2 [Common Sense was published during 1737-8. Lords Chesterfield and Lyttelton were its moving spirits and chief contributors, with C. Molloy for editor.]