such an opposition of soul and body. Again, therefore, the question must be asked: does such language express a profound metaphysical dualism, or has
it some other function? In making a decision about the best method of understanding Epictetus' position three points should be noticed. First of all he was
not primarily interested in the construction of an ontology but rather had an ethical concern, to which his metaphysical beliefs, if he had any, were not of
the first importance. Then also, despite the appearance of transcendental, dualist language, such talk accounts for only a relatively small part of the actual
usage of the Discourses. The old Stoic identification of 'God' and 'Nature' continues to be used (cf. fr. 1). Finally, it would be unfair to suggest that the
existence of dualist language is restricted to Epictetus and the later Stoics. It also occurs in the Hymn to Zeus written by the unquestionably 'orthodox'
Cleanthes somewhere towards the beginning of the third century B.C. As Bonhoeffer notes, the Stoic school from its beginning had employed a dualist
language alongside its basic monism. It seems therefore on the whole preferable to see in Epictetus, though arguably not in Seneca and Marcus Aurelius,
a return to pure Stoicism, after the brief flirtation with Platonism evident in the Middle Stoicism of writers like Posidonius, Panaetius, the Pseudo-
Aristotle, and the Book of Wisdom. If the above analysis is correct, it means that we see in Epictetus, and perhaps also in Cleanthes before him, a very
interesting juxtaposition of two ways of talking, a metaphysical monism alongside a religious dualism.
The main concern of Epictetus is ethical. Like all the great moral philosophers of classical antiquity, he is concerned to ensure the happiness of those
whom he addresses. But, unlike Aristotle, and to some extent unlike Plato, he subordinates philosophy to the cure of the soul. 'Men,' he writes, 'the
lecture room of the philosopher is a hospital' (Diss. 3.23.30). Happiness is made to consist in peace of mind, a quality which is always within our power,
and therefore must in no sense be made to depend upon things outside our control. Dependence upon external things, whether they be material
possessions, the affection and esteem of others, even good health, necessarily impedes our own peace, because any of these things may be taken from us.
Such a system, if it is to succeed, clearly relics on the power to make the fundamental distinction between what does and what does not lie within our
power. In the first chapter of his Encheiridion or Handbook he writes as follows: 'Some things arc under our control, while others are not under our
control. Under our control are conception, choice, desire, aversion, and in a word, everything that is our doing; not under our control are our body, our
property, reputation, office, and, in a word, everything that is not our doing.' This is all clear enough, though it might be objected that the clarity with
which the distinction is made is a little deceptive. It is an often expressed corollary of this that the way to happiness is not straining after the impossible,
but cutting down desires, not allowing yourself to be disturbed at all by the things that you cannot remedy, and even when you can remedy evil, not
impairing your own peace of mind in the process. At Diss. 4. 4. 33 he writes:
And how shall I free myself?-Have you not heard many times that you ought to eradicate desire utterly; direct your aversion to things that lie within the
sphere of the moral purpose, and these only; that you ought to give up everything, your body, your property, your reputation, your books, turmoil, office,
freedom from office? For if once you swerve aside from your course, you are a slave, you are a subject.
It follows from all this that the root of our malaise is failure to make the correct judgements about what is and what is not in our power, and that the
remedy for such errors is the formation of correct judgements and the control of the impressions that come into the mind. The aim of life and the way to
happiness is for me to adapt myself to the particular expression of nature that is to be found in me. Once I have discovered that, I shall be in a position to
live my life and adapt my moral purpose accordingly.
The system as outlined above clearly aims to offer the maximum of happiness, and at the same time it is highly intellectualist, in the best traditions of the
primitive Stoa. Unlike Aristotle, and also unlike the Middle Stoics, Epictetus is not prepared to allow the emotions any part to play in the picture of man
or in the end of the moral life. Again, an ethical system that consists largely in discovering where nature calls and following there, can hardly be
prescriptive. In other words if 'whatever is, is right', there is little if any room left for any attempts to bring about the improvement of the world. By
concentrating his efforts on the purification of the moral purpose-a central and new idea in him- Epictetus hardly preached a revolutionary system.
Epictetus' ethics can be summed up not unfairly in the celebrated life formula 'Endure and Renounce'. Their restraint may echo his early life as a slave,
where freedom of movement would have been greatly restricted; and it may be true that, as his translator observes, 'they hardly provide a sufficient