Epictetus, The Handbook 27: Paying the Price

Has some one had precedence of you at an entertainment or a levée or been called in before you to give advice? If these things are good you ought to be glad that he got them; if they are evil, do not be angry that you did not get them yourself.

Remember that if you want to get what is not in your power, you cannot earn the same reward as others unless you act as they do. How is it possible for one who does not haunt the great man's door to have equal shares with one who does, or one who does not go in his train equality with one who does; or one who does not praise him with one who does? You will be unjust then and insatiable if you wish to get these privileges for nothing, without paying their price.

What is the price of a lettuce? An obol perhaps. If then a man pays his obol and gets his lettuces, and you do not pay and do not get them, do not think you are defrauded. For as he has the lettuces so you have the obol you did not give.

The same principle holds good too in conduct. You were not invited to some one's entertainment? Because you did not give the host the price for which he sells his dinner. He sells it for compliments, he sells it for attentions. Pay him the price then, if it is to your profit. But if you wish to get the one and yet not give up the other, nothing can satisfy you in your folly.

What? you say, you have nothing instead of the dinner?

No, you have this, you have not praised the man you did not want to praise, you have not had to bear with the insults of his doorstep.

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 25 (tr Matheson)

We all know that feeling, that sudden and instinctive pang of jealousy when we see someone earning a reward we think should be ours. There is no reason, of course, we cannot simply be happy for someone if he has received a good, and we hardly need feel envious if he has received an evil.

On a deeper level, I ask myself about the nature of these supposed benefits, and the price I would have to pay to receive them. Why should I even want to achieve office and prestige, and what would I have to do to myself to attain them? In the simplest sense, the man who wishes to win the world must sell his soul. This is hardly an exaggeration.

To bask in the glory of thieves and scoundrels I need to become a thief and scoundrel myself. To win power and fame I must practice flattery, duplicity, and manipulation. I have now given away the only thing that ever made me worthwhile, my ability to act with integrity, conviction, and justice.

The end itself is an empty vanity, and the means to that end is the road to perdition.

Whenever I feel a pang of envy or resentment, I need only remember what is truly worthwhile in life, and that some prices are just too high to pay.

I have noticed how in the gilded halls of power and fame people will play certain roles based on certain patterns. There are times to appear compassionate, principled, humble, outraged, or regretful. One puts on different masks for different occasions, and the wording follows a certain script. We surely all know this, yet we seem to fall for it every time. It doesn’t matter if we really mean it, but it matters if we appear to mean it.

Epictetus is asking us if we wish to pay that price, of selling our dignity for favors. I just need to remember that having a seat at a banquet of flattery and decadence isn’t something I should even want to begin with.

I once had an interview for a job I was uncertain about, but the work did seem like it could be worthwhile, and the pay would have been quite nice for a man with a new family. The fellow whose assistant I would have become ended our conversation by asking me what reasons I had for wanting the job. I gave what I thought was an honest answer, but he then asked the same question, worded slightly differently each time, over and over.

Obviously, the answers I was giving were not the ones he wanted to hear. I was only told after the fact that he was giving me an opportunity to tell him how much I wanted to work with him, and that I should have praised his insights and achievements. The fact that it did not occur to me at the time that this was all about personality, and not principle, shows you why I was never cut out to be in administration.

I certainly can’t be indignant about not getting those sorts of rewards if I’m not willing to pay that price. I can remember that I have something of far greater price if I maintain my honesty. You can take the lettuce, I will keep my obol.

Written in 5/2007

Image: silver obol with a depiction of Athena (Athens, 5th c. BC)