Exploring Encheiridion 7 – Episode 38

When you are on a voyage and the boat is at anchor, if you disembark to get water, you may pick up a little shellfish and vegetable on the way, but you need to keep your mind fixed on the boat and keep turning around in case the captain calls; and if he does call, you must drop all those things, to avoid being tied up and stowed on board like the sheep. That’s how it is in life too. If you are given a little wife and child, instead of a little vegetable and shellfish, that will not be a problem. But if the captain calls you, run to the boat and leave all those things without even turning around. And if you are old, never go far from the boat in case you are missing when he calls. (Ench 7) This parable is interesting, and I cannot find a similar story anywhere in Stoic texts. However, the fact that Arrian would include it in his Handbook for Stoic practitioners tells us its meaning would have been clear to the students of Epictetus. Since no story like this appears in other surviving Stoic texts, Epictetus is likely drawing on a commonly understood cultural reference. I am not an expert in Greek culture, literature, or history. Nevertheless, I found the following connections that appear to add some meaning to this passage. The imagery in Encheiridion 7 is similar to that of the ancient Greek myth of Charôn, the ferryman. He transported the souls of the deceased over the river Styx to the underworld. The Greek poet Euripides, who was writing almost 500 years before Epictetus, has his character Alcestis say: I see him there at the oars of his little boat in the lake, the ferryman of the dead, Kharon (Charon), with his hand upon the oar and he calls me now. ‘What keeps you? Hurry, you hold us back.’ He is urging me on in angry impatience. (Euripides, Alcestis 252) Likewise, Machon, a writer of comedies, who was writing approximately 300 years before Epictetus, wrote the following in his Philoxenus: But since Timotheos' Kharon (Charon), the one in his Niobe, does not let me dally but shouts that the ferry-boat is leaving, and gloomy Moira (Fate), who must be obeyed is summoning me. (fragment 786) Machon, the writer of this passage, is quoting from a work by Timotheus of Miletus titled Niobe, written approximately 200 years earlier and 500 years before Epictetus. Note the reference to a piece titled Niobe. There are several versions of the myth of Niobe, the bereaved mother whose children were killed by Apollo as punishment for her hubris. The story of Niobe is not essential for our discussion; however, as I will point out in a minute, the reference to Timotheus’ Niobe is important. First, I also want to point out that Seneca references Charon, the ferryman of the river Styx, several times in his literary writings. This supports the idea this imagery was commonly used and understood during the time of Epictetus. So, how does all of this relate to Encheiridion 7? I think you’ll begin to see the connections after I tie it all together in an often-overlooked passage by Diogenes Laertius’ on the death of Zeno, the founder of the Stoa: The manner of his death was as follows. As he was leaving the school he tripped and fell, breaking a toe. Striking the ground with his fist, he quoted the line from the Niobe: I come, I come, why dost thou call for me? and died on the spot through holding his breath. (DL 7.28) I’m going to set the details of Zeno’s manner of death aside because that is relevant to our discussion. However, Zeno’s response to his imminent death is noteworthy. We can infer two different attitudes from Zeno’s words in this story of his death. First, we could infer some resistance to death from his last words: “why are you calling me?” Alternatively, we can infer an attitude of bewilderment. The Greek word used in this passage means to “cry out, shout, call aloud.” Therefore, Zeno could have been saying, “I’m coming, of course, I’m coming; there’s no need to shout at me?” Zeno’s broken toe likewise provides some interesting symbolism, which may suggest he couldn’t move as fast as the Captain may like. Based on the totality of Stoic teaching and his reputation as the founding Scholarch, I think we have good reason to assume Zeno exhibited the later attitude upon receiving his call from the Captain. While Encheiridion 7 may initially appear obscure, the general meaning becomes more apparent when applying these ancient references. Epictetus is using this parable to highlight the fact our life is a transitory stop on a voyage that can end at any moment when the Captain calls us to return to the source of our existence. Let’s look closer at each of these aspects. Life as a transitory stop The transitory nature of human life is discussed frequently in the Stoic texts. Marcus Aurelius wrote, In human life, the time of our existence is a point, our substance a flux, our senses dull, the fabric of our entire body subject to corruption, our soul ever restless, our destiny beyond divining, and our fame precarious. In a word, all that belongs to the body is a stream in flow, all that belongs to the soul, mere dream and delusion, and our life is a war, a brief stay in a foreign land, and our fame thereafter, oblivion. So what can serve as our escort and guide? One thing and one alone, philosophy; and that consists in keeping the guardian-spirit within us inviolate and free from harm, and ever superior to pleasure and pain, and ensuring that it does nothing at random and nothing with false intent or pretence, and that it is not dependent on another’s doing or not doing some particular thing, and furthermore that it welcomes whatever happens to it and is allotted to it, as issuing from the source from which it too took its origin, and above all, that it awaits death with a cheerful mind as being nothing other than the releasing of the elements from which every living creature is compounded. Now if for the elements themselves it is nothing terrible to be constantly changing from one to another, why should we fear the change and dissolution of them all? For this is in accordance with nature: and nothing can be bad that accords with nature. (Meditations 2.17) Seneca wrote an extended essay on the topic titled, On the Shortness of Life. He opened with these lines: Most of mankind, Paulinus, complains about nature’s meanness, because our allotted span of life is so short, and because this stretch of time that is given to us runs its course so quickly, so rapidly—so much so that, with very few exceptions, life leaves the rest of us in the lurch just when we’re getting ready to live. (On the Shortness of Life, 1.1) Then, a paragraph later, he argues: It’s not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it’s been given to us in generous measure for accomplishing the greatest things, if the whole of it is well invested. But when life is squandered through soft and careless living, and when it’s spent on no worthwhile pursuit, death finally presses and we realize that the life which we didn’t notice passing has passed away. (On the Shortness of Life, 1.3) Collecting Indifferents How is it that life seems to pass by and leave us in a lurch if, as Seneca argues, we have plenty of time? Here we come to one of the main lessons of Encheiridion 7. While we are ashore during this transitory stop we call life; we will necessarily seek out some preferred indifferents like water and food. We may even choose other preferred indifferents like a spouse or a child. Nevertheless, Epictetus reminds us our primary responsibility is to focus our attention on the divine—represented by the ship and its Captain—while we engage with preferred indifferents to develop our moral character and prepare for the inevitable return of our constituent parts to their cosmic source—the rational, creative fire (divine logos). We are not here to simply drink water, eat, and procreate. That is not the purpose of human life. Yes, it is part of our human experience, but it is not our purpose. As Epictetus reminds us, It is thus shameful for a human being to begin and end where the irrational animals do. Rather, he should start off where they do and end where nature ended with regard to ourselves. Now it ended with contemplation, and understanding, and a way of life that is in harmony with nature. Take care, then, that you don’t die without having contemplated these realities. (Discourses 1.6.20-21) I think it’s interesting to note the items used in Encheridion 7 as possible distractions from our primary purpose. He used high-value preferred indifferents. Food and water are necessary for life, and child-rearing is needed to perpetuate humankind. He could have used more frivolous examples. Epictetus could have said, If you disembark to see the sights, you may search for gold, and gather some beautiful shells on the way, but you need to keep your mind fixed on the boat and keep turning around in case the captain calls. Instead, he used preferred indifferents necessary for life (food and water) and some that help us develop our moral character (a spouse and child). Nevertheless, Epictetus warns us not to let these preferred indifferents, even a spouse and child, distract us from our primary task—to keep our eyes on the divinity and develop our moral excellence, so we are ready when the Captain calls us back. As Epictetus warns us: But as things are, although we have it in our power to apply ourselves to one thing alone, and devote ourselves to that, we choose instead to apply ourselves to many things, and attach ourselves to many, to our body, and our possessions, and our brother, and friend, and child, and slave. And so, being attached in this way to any number of things, we’re weighed down by them and dragged down. (Discourses 1.1.14-15) Again, as I noted in the last episode, the Stoics did not prohibit the acquisition of preferred indifferents....