# Epictetus, the Discourses as reported by Arrian, the Manual, and Fragments/Book 2/Chapter 21

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CHAPTER XXI
Of inconsistency
Some of their faults men readily admit, but others not so readily. Now no one will admit that he is ​foolish or unintelligent, but, quite the contrary, you hear everyone say, "I wish I had as much luck as I have sense." But they readily admit that they are timid, and say, "I am a bit timid, I admit; but in general you will not find me to be a fool" A man will not readily admit that he is incontinent, not at all that he is unjust, and will never admit that he is envious or meddlesome; but most men will admit that they are moved by pity. What is the reason for this? The principal reason is confusion of thought and an unwilligness to admit a fault in matters which involve good and evil; but, apart from that, different people are affected by different motives, and, as a rule, they will never admit anything that they conceive to be disgraceful; $^5$timidity, for example, they conceive to be an indication of a prudent disposition, and the same is true of pity, but stupidity they conceive to be a slave's quality altogether; also they will never plead guilty to offences against society. Now in the case of most errors, the principal reason why men are inclined to admit them is because they conceive that there is an involuntary element in them, as, for instance, in timidity and pity. And if a man ever does, grudgingly, admit that he is incontinent, he adds that he is in love, expecting to be excused as for an involuntary act. But injustice they do not at all conceive of as involuntary. In jealousy there is also, as they fancy, an element of the involuntary, and therefore this too is a fault which men grudgingly admit.
When such are the men we live among—so confused, so ignorant both of what they mean by "evil" and what evil quality they have, or whether they have one, or, if so, how they come to have it, or ​how they will get rid of it—among such men I wonder whether it is not worth while for us also to watch ourselves, each one asking himself the questions: "Is it possible that I too am one of these people? What conceit am I cherishing regarding myself? How do I conduct myself? Do I for my part act like a wise man? Do I for my part act like a man of self-control? Do I for my part ever say that I have been educated to meet whatever comes? $^{10}$Have I the consciousness, proper to a man who knows nothing, that I do know nothing? Do I go to my teacher, like one who goes to consult an oracle, prepared to obey? Or do I, too, like a sniffling child, go to school to learn only the history of philosophy and to understand the books which I did not understand before, and, if chance offers, to explain them to others?" Man, at home you have fought a regular prize-fight with your slave, you have driven your household into the street, you have disturbed your neighbours' peace; and now do you come to me with a solemn air, like a philosopher, and sitting down pass judgement on the explanation I gave of the reading of the text and on the application, forsooth, of the comments I made as I babbled out whatever came into my head? You have come in a spirit of envy, in a spirit of humiliation because nothing is being sent you from home, and you sit there while the lecture is going on, thinking, on your part, of nothing in the world but how you stand with your father or your brother! You reflect: "What are my people at home saying about me? At this moment they are thinking that I am making progress in my studies, and they are saying 'He will know everything ​when he comes back home!' I did want, at one time, I suppose, to learn everything before going back home, but that requires a great deal of hard work, and nobody sends me anything, and at Nicopolis they have rotten accommodations at the baths, and my lodgings are bad, and the school here is bad."
$^{15}$And then people say: "Nobody gets any good from going to school." Well, who goes to school—who, I repeat—with the expectation of being cured? Who with the expectation of submitting his own judgements for purification? Who with the expectation of coming to a realization of what judgements he needs? Why, then, are you surprised, if you carry back home from your school precisely the judgements you bring to it? For you do not come with the expectation of laying them aside, or of correcting them, or of getting others in exchange for them. Not at all, nor anything like it. Look rather to this at least—whether you are getting what you came for. You want to be able to speak fluently about philosophic principles. Well, are you not becoming more of an idle babbler? Do not these petty philosophic principles supply you with material for making exhibitions? Do you not resolve syllogisms, and arguments with equivocal premisses? Do you not examine the assumptions in The Liar syllogism, and in hypothetical syllogisms? Why, then, are you still vexed, if you are getting what you came for? "Yes, but if my child or my brother dies, or if I must die, or be tortured, what good will such things do me?" But was it really for this that you came? Is it really for this that you sit by my side? Did you ever really light your lamp, or work late at ​night, for this? Or when you went out into the covered walk did you ever set before yourself, instead of a syllogism, some external impression and examine this with your fellow-students? When did you ever do that? $^{20}$And then you say, "The principles are useless." To whom? To those who do not use them properly. For instance, eye-salves are not useless to those who rub them on when and as they ought, and poultices are not useless, jumping-weights are not useless; but they are useless to some people, and, on the other hand, useful to others. If you ask me now, "Are our syllogisms useful?" I will tell you that they are, and, if you wish, I will show how they are useful "Have they, then, helped me at all?" Man, you did not ask, did you? whether they are useful to you, but whether they are useful in general? Let the man who is suffering from dysentery ask me whether vinegar is useful; I will tell him that it is useful. "Is it useful, then, to me?" I will say, "No. Seek first to have your discharge stopped, the little ulcers healed." So do you also, men, first cure your ulcers, stop your discharges, be tranquil in mind, bring it free from distraction into the school; and then you will know what power reason has.
* ↑ Evidently the student depended upon his home for his supplies.
* ↑ See II. 17, 34, and note.