Epictetus, Discourses 1.25.4

Here is a king chosen by lot at the Saturnalia: for they decide to play the game of “Kings”. He gives his orders: “You drink, you mix the wine, you sing, you go, you come.”

 

 I obey, that I may not break up the game.

 

“Now believe that you are in an evil case.”

 

I do not believe it, and who will compel me to believe it?

 

Again, we agree to play “Agamemnon and Achilles”. 

 

He who is given the part of Agamemnon says to me, “Go to Achilles and drag away Briseis.” I go. 

 

“Come.” I come. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 

 

During the winter solstice holiday of the Saturnalia, the Romans had a tradition of picking a “king” for the festivities, who would lead the merriment and amuse the celebrants by giving entertaining orders to his “subjects”. 

 

I imagine this as a more elaborate version of a game like “Simon Says”, and I suspect it could lead to both great laughter and a bit of mischief. 

 

As when children, or some adults who have never managed to grow up, feel challenged by a dare, there comes a point when it is best to defy the demand and be called a chicken. How far is too far? 

 

This provides a helpful parallel to the standards of Stoic living; the significance of the “game” exists on very different levels here, but the general guidelines are comparable. 

 

I am free to accept any command or any dare, as long as it does no harm, and I should be willing to bear any circumstance, as long as it does not compel me to violate my conscience. 

 

Simon says, “Touch your nose while jumping up and down.” 

 

Not a problem. 

 

Simon says, “Embarrass yourself in front of all your friends.” 

 

I prefer to ask for their esteem, but I can do that if you insist. 

 

Simon says, “Now despair of your life because your friends no longer love you.” 

 

I’m sorry, I won’t do that, whatever you might say. I can’t control their respect, and neither can you control my self-respect. 

 

Fortune determines how events will happen to me, and I am called to accept that as just; I determine how I will form my own values, and I will not allow another to make me unjust. 

 

If I were a servant to someone like an Agamemnon or an Achilles, and my master commanded to go fetch what was his, I would obediently do so. 

 

Do not, however, ask me to think and to desire like an Agamemnon or an Achilles, as I would rather die than submit. 

 

Don’t mess with what is mine. Keep your vacation homes and your trophy wives—I guard my soul. 

—Reflection written in 3/2001