[Footnote 66:  Moralistes sous l’Empire, p. 200.]

Epictetus, like Seneca, is a preacher; a preacher with less wealth of genius, less eloquence of expression, less width of culture, but with far more bravery, clearness, consistency, and grasp of his subject.  His doctrine and his life were singularly homogeneous, and his views admit of brief expression, for they are not weakened by any fluctuations, or chequered with any lights and shades.  The Discourses differ from the Manual only in their manner, their frequent anecdotes, their pointed illustrations, and their vivid interlocutory form.  The remark of Pascal, that Epictetus knew the grandeur of the human heart, but did not know its weakness, applies to the Manual but can hardly be maintained when we judge him by some of the answers which he gave to those who came to seek for his consolation or advice.

The Discourses are not systematic in their character, and, even if they were, the loss of the last four books would prevent us from working out their system with any completeness.  Our sketch of the Manual will already have put the reader in possession of the main principles and ideas of Epictetus; with the mental and physical philosophy of the schools he did not in any way concern himself; it was his aim to be a moral preacher, to ennoble the lives of men and touch their hearts.  He neither plagiarised nor invented, but he gave to Stoicism a practical reality.  All that remains for us to do is to choose from the Discourses some of his most characteristic views, and the modes by which he brought them home to his hearers.

It was one of the most essential peculiarities of Stoicism to aim at absolute independence, or self-independence.  Now, as the weaknesses and servilities of men arise most frequently from their desire for superfluities, the true man must absolutely get rid of any such desire.  He must increase his wealth by moderating his wishes; he must despise all the luxuries for which men long, and he must greatly diminish the number of supposed necessaries.  We have already seen some of the arguments which point in this direction, and we may add another from the third book of Discourses.

A certain magnificent orator, who was going to Rome on a lawsuit, had called on Epictetus.  The philosopher threw cold water on his visit, because he did not believe in his sincerity.  “You will get no more from me,” he said, “than you would get from any cobbler or greengrocer, for you have only come because it happened to be convenient, and you will only criticise my style, not really wishing to learn principles” “Well, but,” answered the orator, “if I attend to that sort of thing, I shall be a mere pauper like you, with no plate, or equipage, or land.”  “I don’t want such things,” replied Epictetus; “and, besides, you are poorer than I am, after all.”  “Why, how so?” “You have no constancy, no unanimity with nature,