He is free who lives as he wishes to live; who is neither subject to compulsion nor to hindrance, nor to force; whose movements to action are not impeded, whose desires attain their purpose, and who does not fall into that which he would avoid. Who, then, chooses to live in error? No man. Who chooses to live deceived, liable to mistake, unjust, unrestrained, discontented, mean? No man. Not one then of the bad lives as he wishes; nor is he, then, free. And who chooses to live in sorrow, fear, envy, pity, desiring and failing in his desires, attempting to avoid something and falling into it? Not one. Do we then find any of the bad free from sorrow, free from fear, who does not fall into that which he would avoid, and does not obtain that which he wishes? Not one; nor then do we find any bad man free.

If, then, a man who has been twice consul should hear this, if you add, “But you are a wise man; this is nothing to you”: he will pardon you. But if you tell him the truth, and say, “You differ not at all from those who have been thrice sold as to being yourself not a slave,” what else ought you to expect than blows? For he says, “What, I a slave, I whose father was free, whose mother was free, I whom no man can purchase: I am also of senatorial rank, and a friend of Caesar, and I have been a consul, and I own many slaves.” In the first place, most excellent senatorial man, perhaps your father also was a slave in the same kind of servitude, and your mother, and your grandfather and all your ancestors in an ascending series. But even if they were as free as it is possible, what is this to you? What if they were of a noble nature, and you of a mean nature; if they were fearless, and you a coward; if they had the power of self-restraint, and you are not able to exercise it.

“And what,” you may say, “has this to do with being a slave?” Does it seem to you to be nothing to do a thing unwillingly, with compulsion, with groans, has this nothing to do with being a slave? “It is something,” you say: “but who is able to compel me, except the lord of all, Caesar?” Then even you yourself have admitted that you have one master. But that he is the common master of all, as you say, let not this console you at all: but know that you are a slave in a great family. So also the people of Nicopolis are used to exclaim, “By the fortune of Caesar, are free.”

However, if you please, let us not speak of Caesar at present. But tell me this: did you never love any person, a young girl, or slave, or free? What then is this with respect to being a slave or free? Were you never commanded by the person beloved to do something which you did not wish to do? have you never flattered your little slave? have you never kissed her feet? And yet if any man compelled you to kiss Caesar’s feet, you would think it an insult and excessive tyranny. What else, then, is slavery? Did you never go out by night to some place whither you did not wish to go, did you not expend what you did not wish to expend, did you not utter words with sighs and groans, did you not submit to abuse and to be excluded? But if you are ashamed to confess your own acts, see what Thrasonides says and does, who having seen so much military service as perhaps not even you have, first of all went out by night, when Geta does not venture out, but if he were compelled by his master, would have cried out much and would have gone out lamenting his bitter slavery. Next, what does Thrasonides say? “A worthless girl has enslaved me, me whom no enemy, ever did.” Unhappy man, who are the slave even of a girl, and a worthless girl. Why then do you still call yourself free? and why do you talk of your service in the army? Then he calls for a sword and is angry with him who out of kindness refuses it; and he sends presents to her who hates him, and entreats and weeps, and on the other hand, having had a little success, he is elated. But even then how? was he free enough neither to desire nor to fear?

Now consider in the case of animals, how we employ the notion of liberty. Men keep tame lions shut up, and feed them, and some take them about; and who will say that this lion is free? Is it not the fact that the more he lives at his ease, so much the more he is in a slavish condition? and who if he had perception and reason would wish to be one of these lions? Well, these birds when they are caught and are kept shut up, how much do they suffer in their attempts to escape? and some of them die of hunger rather than submit to such a kind of life. And as many of them as live, hardly live and with suffering pine away; and if they ever find any opening, they make their escape. So much do they desire their natural liberty, and to be independent and free from hindrance. And what harm is there to you in this? “What do you say? I am formed by nature to fly where I choose, to live in the open air, to sing when I choose: you deprive me of all this, and say, ‘What harm is it to you?’ For this reason we shall say that those animals only are free which cannot endure capture, but, as soon as they are caught, escape from captivity by death. So Diogenes says that there is one way to freedom, and that is to die content: and he writes to the Persian king, “You cannot enslave the Athenian state any more than you can enslave fishes.” “How is that? cannot I catch them?” “If you catch them,” says Diogenes, “they will immediately leave you, as fishes do; for if you catch a fish, it dies; and if these men that are caught shall die, of what use to you is the preparation for war?” These are the words of a free man who had carefully examined the thing and, as was natural, had discovered it. But if you look for it in a different place from where it is, what wonder if you never find it?

The slave wishes to be set free immediately. Why? Do you think that he wishes to pay money to the collectors of twentieths? No; but because he imagines that hitherto through not having obtained this, he is hindered and unfortunate. “If I shall be set free, immediately it is all happiness, I care for no man, I speak to all as an equal and, like to them, I go where I choose, I come from any place I choose, and go where I choose.” Then he is set free; and forthwith having no place where he can eat, he looks for some man to flatter, some one with whom he shall sup: then he either works with his body and endures the most dreadful things; and if he can obtain a manger, he falls into a slavery much worse than his former slavery; or even if he is become rich, being a man without any knowledge of what is good, he loves some little girl, and in his happiness laments and desires to be a slave again. He says, “what evil did I suffer in my state of slavery? Another clothed me, another supplied me with shoes, another fed me, another looked after me in sickness; and I did only a few services for him. But now a wretched man, what things I suffer, being a slave of many instead of to one. But however,” he says, “if I shall acquire rings, then I shall live most prosperously and happily.” First, in order to acquire these rings, he submits to that which he is worthy of; then, when he has acquired them, it is again all the same. Then he says, “if I shall be engaged in military service, I am free from all evils.” He obtains military service. He suffers as much as a flogged slave, and nevertheless he asks for a second service and a third. After this, when he has put the finishing stroke to his career and is become a senator, then he becomes a slave by entering into the assembly, then he serves the finer and most splendid slavery — not to be a fool, but to learn what Socrates taught, what is the nature of each thing that exists, and that a man should not rashly adapt preconceptions to the several things which are. For this is the cause to men of all their evils, the not being able to adapt the general preconceptions to the several things. But we have different opinions. One man thinks that he is sick: not so however, but the fact is that he does not adapt his preconceptions right. Another thinks that he is poor; another that he has a severe father or mother; and another, again, that Caesar is not favourable to him. But all this is one and only one thing, the not knowing how to adapt the preconceptions. For who has not a preconception of that which is bad, that it is hurtful, that it ought to be avoided, that it ought in every way to be guarded against? One preconception is not repugnant to another, only where it comes to the matter of adaptation. What then is this evil, which is both hurtful, and a thing to be avoided? He answers, “Not to be Caesar’s friend.” He is gone far from the mark, he has missed the adaptation, he is embarrassed, he seeks the things which are not at all pertinent to the matter; for when he has succeeded in being Caesar’s friend, nevertheless he has failed in finding what he sought. For what is that which every man seeks? To live secure, to be happy, to do everything as he wishes, not to be hindered, nor compelled. When then he is become the friend of Caesar, is he free from hindrance? free from compulsion, is he tranquil, is he happy? Of whom shall we inquire? What more trustworthy witness have we than this very man who is, become Caesar’s friend? Come forward and tell us when did you sleep more quietly, now or before you became Caesar’s friend? Immediately you hear the answer, “Stop, I entreat you, and do not mock me: you know not what miseries I suffer, and sleep does not come to me; but one comes and says, ‘Caesar is already awake, he is now going forth’: then come troubles and cares.” Well, when did you sup with more pleasure, now or before? Hear what he says about this also. He says that if he is not invited, he is pained: and if he is invited, he sups like a slave with his master, all the while being anxious that he does not say or do anything foolish. And what do you suppose that he is afraid of; lest he should be lashed like a slave? How can he expect anything so good? No, but as befits so great a man, Caesar’s friend, he is afraid that he may lose his head. And when did you bathe more free from trouble, and take your gymnastic exercise more quietly? In fine, which kind of life did you prefer? your present or your former life? I can swear that no man is so stupid or so ignorant of truth as not to bewail his own misfortunes the nearer he is in friendship to Caesar.

Since, then, neither those who are called kings live as they choose, nor the friends of kings, who finally are those who are free? Seek, and you will find; for you have aids from nature for the discovery of truth. But if you are not able yourself by going along these ways only to discover that which follows, listen to those who have made the inquiry. What do they say? Does freedom seem to you a good thing? “The greatest good.” Is it possible, then, that he who obtains the greatest good can be unhappy or fare badly? “No.” Whomsoever, then, you shall see unhappy, unfortunate, lamenting, confidently declare that they are not free. “I do declare it.” We have now, then, got away from buying and selling and from such arrangements about matters of property; for if you have rightly assented to these matters, if the Great King is unhappy, he cannot be free, nor can a little king, nor a man of consular rank, nor one who has been twice consul. “Be it so.”

Further, then, answer me this question also: Does freedom seem to you to be something great and noble and valuable? “How should it not seem so?” Is it possible, then, when a man obtains anything, so great and valuable and noble to be mean? “It is not possible.” When, then, you see any man subject to another, or flattering him contrary to his own opinion, confidently affirm that this man also is not free; and not only if he do this for a bit of supper, but also if he does it for a government or a consulship: and call these men “little slaves” who for the sake of little matters do these things, and those who do so for the sake of great things call “great slaves,” as they deserve to be. “This is admitted also.” Do you think that freedom is a thing independent and self-governing? “Certainly.” Whomsoever, then, it is in the power of another to hinder and compel, declare that he is not free. And do not look, I entreat you, after his grandfathers and great-grandfathers, or inquire about his being bought or sold; but if you hear him saying from his heart and with feeling, “Master,” even if the twelve fasces precede him, call him a slave. And if you hear him say, “Wretch that I am, how much I suffer,” call him a slave. If, finally, you see him lamenting, complaining, unhappy, call him a slave though he wears a praetexta. If, then, he is doing nothing of this kind, do not yet say that he is free, but learn his opinions, whether they are subject to compulsion, or may produce hindrance, or to bad fortune; and if you find him such, call him a slave who has a holiday in the Saturnalia: say that his master is from home: he will return soon, and you will know what he suffers. “Who will return?” Whoever has in himself the power over anything which is desired by the man, either to give it to him or to take it away? “Thus, then, have we many masters?” We have: for we have circumstances as masters prior to our present masters; and these circumstances are many. Therefore it must of necessity be that those who have the power over any of these circumstances must be our masters. For no man fears Caesar himself, but he fears death, banishment, deprivation of his property, prison, and disgrace. Nor does any man love Caesar, unless Caesar is a person of great merit, but he loves wealth, the office of tribune, praetor or consul. When we love, and hate, and fear these things, it must be that those who have the power over them must be our masters. Therefore we adore them even as gods; for we think that what possesses the power of conferring the greatest advantage on us is divine. Then we wrongly assume that a certain person has the power of conferring the greatest advantages; therefore he is something divine. For if we wrongly assume that a certain person has the power of conferring the greatest advantages, it is a necessary consequence that the conclusion from these premises must be false.

What, then, is that which makes a man free from hindrance and makes him his own master? For wealth does not do it, nor consulship, nor provincial government, nor royal power; but something else must be discovered. What then is that which, when we write, makes us free from hindrance and unimpeded? “The knowledge of the art of writing.” What, then, is it in playing the lute? “The science of playing the lute.” Therefore in life also it is the science of life. You have, then, heard in a general way: but examine the thing also in the several parts. Is it possible that he who desires any of the things which depend on others can be free from hindrance? “No.” Is it possible for him to be unimpeded? “No.” Therefore he cannot be free. Consider then: whether we have nothing which is in our own power only, or whether we have all things, or whether some things are in our own power, and others in the power of others. “What do you mean?” When you wish the body to be entire, is it in your power or not? “It is not in my power.” When you wish it to be healthy? “Neither is this in my power.” When you wish it to be handsome? “Nor is this.” Life or death? “Neither is this in my power.” Your body, then, is another’s, subject to every man who is stronger than yourself? “It is.” But your estate, is it in your power to have it when you please, and as long as you please, and such as you please? “No.” And your slaves? “No.” And your clothes? “No.” And your house? “No.” And your horses? “Not one of these things.” And if you wish by all means your children to live, or your wife, or your brother, or your friends, is it in your power? “This also is not in my power.”

Whether, then, have you nothing which is in your own power, which depends on yourself only and cannot be taken from you, or have you anything of the kind? “I know not.” Look at the thing, then, thus, examine it. Is any man able to make you assent to that which is false? “No man.” In the matter of assent, then, you are free from hindrance and obstruction. “Granted.” Well; and can a man force you to desire to move toward that to which you do not choose? “He can, for when he threatens me with death or bonds, he compels me to desire to move toward it.” If, then, you despise death and bonds, do you still pay any regard to him? “No.” Is, then, the despising of death an act of your own, or is it not yours? “It is my act.” It is your own act, then, also to desire to move toward a thing: or is it not so? “It is my own act.” But to desire to move away from a thing, whose act is that? This also is your act. “What, then, if I have attempted to walk, suppose another should hinder me.” What part of you does he hinder? does he hinder the faculty of assent? “No: but my poor body.” Yes, as he would do with a stone. “Granted; but I no longer walk.” And who told you that walking is your act free from hindrance? for I said that this only was free from hindrance, to desire to move: but where there is need of body and its co-operation, you have heard long ago that nothing is your own. “Granted also.” And who can compel you to desire what you do not wish? “No man.” And to propose, or intend, or in short to make use of the appearances which present themselves, can any man compel you? “He cannot do this: but he will hinder me when I desire from obtaining what I desire.” If you desire anything which is your own, and one of the things which cannot be hindered, how will he hinder you? “He cannot in any way.” Who, then, tells you that he who desires the things that belong to another is free from hindrance?

“Must I, then, not desire health?” By no means, nor anything else that belongs to another: for what is not in your power to acquire or to keep when you please, this belongs to another. Keep, then, far from it not only your hands but, more than that, even your desires. If you do not, you have surrendered yourself as a slave; you have subjected your neck, if you admire anything not your own, to everything that is dependent on the power of others and perishable, to which you have conceived a liking. “Is not my hand my own?” It is a part of your own body; but it is by nature earth, subject to hindrance, compulsion, and the slave of everything which is stronger. And why do I say your hand? You ought to possess your whole body as a poor ass loaded, as long as it is possible, as long as you are allowed. But if there be a press, and a soldier should lay hold of it, let it go, do not resist, nor murmur; if you do, you will receive blows, and nevertheless you will also lose the ass. But when you ought to feel thus with respect to the body, consider what remains to be done about all the rest, which is provided for the sake of the body. When the body is an ass, all the other things are bits belonging to the ass, pack-saddles, shoes, barley, fodder. Let these also go: get rid of them quicker and more readily than of the ass.

When you have made this preparation, and have practiced this discipline, to distinguish that which belongs to another from that which is your own, the things which are subject to hindrance from those which are not, to consider the things free from hindrance to concern yourself, and those which are not free not to concern yourself, to keep your desire steadily fixed to the things which do concern yourself, and turned from the things which do not concern yourself; do you still fear any man? “No one.” For about what will you be afraid? about the things which are your own, in which consists the nature of good and evil? and who has power over these things? who can take them away? who can impede them? No man can, no more than he can impede God. But will you be afraid about your body and your possessions, about things which are not yours, about things which in no way concern you? and what else have you been studying from the beginning than to distinguish between your own and not your own, the things which are in your power and not in your power, the things subject to hindrance and not subject? and why have you come to the philosophers? was it that you may nevertheless be unfortunate and unhappy? You will then in this way, as I have supposed you to have done, be without fear and disturbance. And what is grief to you? for fear comes from what you expect, but grief from that which is present. But what further will you desire? For of the things which are within the power of the will, as being good and present, you have a proper and regulated desire: but of the things which are not in the power of the will you do not desire any one, and so you do not allow any place to that which is irrational, and impatient, and above measure hasty.

When, then, you are thus affected toward things, what man can any longer be formidable to you? For what has a man which is formidable to another, either when you see him or speak to him or, finally, are conversant with him? Not more than one horse has with respect to another, or one dog to another, or one bee to another bee. Things, indeed, are formidable to every man; and when any man is able to confer these things on another or to take them away, then he too becomes formidable. How then is an acropolis demolished? Not by the sword, not by fire, but by opinion. For if we abolish the acropolis which is in the city, can we abolish also that of fever, and that of beautiful women? Can we, in a word, abolish the acropolis which is in us and cast out the tyrants within us, whom we have dally over us, sometimes the same tyrants, at other times different tyrants? But with this we must begin, and with this we must demolish the acropolis and eject the tyrants, by giving up the body, the parts of it, the faculties of it, the possessions, the reputation, magisterial offices, honours, children, brothers, friends, by considering all these things as belonging to others. And if tyrants have been ejected from us, why do I still shut in the acropolis by a wall of circumvallation, at least on my account; for if it still stands, what does it do to me? why do I still eject guards? For where do I perceive them? against others they have their fasces, and their spears, and their swords. But I have never been hindered in my will, nor compelled when I did not will. And how is this possible? I have placed my movements toward action in obedience to God. Is it His will that I shall have fever? It is my will also. Is it His will that I should move toward anything? It is my will also. Is it His will that I should obtain anything? It is my wish also. Does He not will? I do not wish. Is it His will that I be put to the rack? It is my will then to die; it is my will then to be put to the rack. Who, then, is still able to hinder me contrary to my own judgement, or to compel m............