Oxford Review of Education

Vol. 36, No. 5, October 2010, pp. 561–574

Philosophy and education in Stoicism of

the Roman Imperial era
G. Reydams-Schils∗
University of Notre Dame, USA
Oxford
10.1080/03054985.2010.514435
CORE_A_514435.sgm
0305-4985
Original
Taylor
502010
36
[email protected]
GReydams-Schils
00000October
&
and
Review
Article
Francis
(print)/1465-3915
Francis
of
2010
Education (online)

The Stoics of the Roman Imperial period share the imperative that education should not focus on
erudition for its own sake, but contribute to the pursuit of the good life as they define it in philo-
sophical terms. Hence these later Stoics express similar concerns about the technical and theoretical
aspects of philosophy as they do about pre-philosophical education. Such a stance, however, does
not imply ignorance or a deliberate rejection of the technical knowledge established by earlier Stoics,
but rather a conscious choice of a certain mode of discourse, which cannot be reduced to popular
moralising.

Introduction
In the first two centuries of the Roman imperial era, the study of philosophy consti-
tuted the crowning educational experience, in the sense of being both a privilege and
a capstone. Only an elite among the elite studied philosophy, and only then after
mastering a curriculum consisting of grammar (reading, writing and literature) and
rhetoric. The ongoing cultural rivalry between rhetoricians and philosophers could be
intense, even though a Stoic such as Seneca (c. 4 BCE–65 CE) clearly turned his
rhetorical training to his advantage in order to convey his views more forcefully, espe-
cially in his letters and consolations. This tension was acknowledged in Seneca’s
comments about his father’s misgivings about philosophy (Ep. 108.22), in the
exchanges between Marcus Aurelius (121–180 CE, Med. 1.7) and his rhetoric teacher
Fronto (c. 100–170 CE, De eloquentia (Haines/van den Hout), Ad M. Caes. 3.15
(1.100 Haines, p. 48 van den Hout)), and in the concerns of Epictetus (c. 55–135 CE,
Diss. 3.23.33-38), who, like Seneca (Ep. 40), warned that rhetorical flourishes should
not cloud a philosopher’s expression.1
For Romans, Latin was the linguistic medium for rhetoric (even though rhetoric
could also draw from Greek models). Philosophy, on the other hand, was most often

∗Program of Liberal Studies, University of Notre Dame, Indiana 46556, USA. Email:
[email protected]

ISSN 0305-4985 (print)/ISSN 1465-3915 (online)/10/050561–14

© 2010 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/03054985.2010.514435
562 G. Reydams-Schils

expressed in Greek, even in the reflections that the emperor Marcus Aurelius
addressed to himself. Seneca consciously departed from this model by not merely
rendering Greek idiom, as had Cicero (106–43 BCE) and Lucretius (early to mid-first
century BCE) before him, but also developing his philosophical views in Latin terms
(Inwood, 2005, pp. 7–22).
As the following discussion of the views of Seneca, Cornutus (fl c. 60 CE),
Musonius Rufus (fl c. 30–100 CE), Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius will demonstrate,
these later Stoics could look back on a considerable legacy established by the founders
of the school in the Hellenistic period: Zeno (334–262 BCE), Cleanthes (331–232
BCE) and especially the prolific Chrysippus (c. 280–206 BCE). The earlier Stoics had
often framed their views in a conscious rivalry with Plato and his successors, and also
claimed Socrates for their own purposes. During the Roman Republic, Stoics such as
Panaetius (c. 185–110 BCE), who spent part of his life in Rome and belonged to the
entourage of Scipio Africanus the Younger, and Posidonius (135–51 BCE), who went
on an ambassadorship to Rome, directly infused Roman culture with their ideas; and
Cicero, though not a Stoic himself, demonstrated a familiarity with many Stoic views.
Not all the Stoics of the Roman imperial era taught philosophy or directed a philo-
sophical school. (For a good overview of Stoicism in the imperial era, see Gill, 2000
and 2003.) There is evidence of teaching activity on the part of Cornutus and
Musonius Rufus, but not much information about its structure. Cornutus appears to
have also taught topics pertaining to grammar as well as philosophy. Epictetus
directed a school in Epirus. Other Stoics were engaged in a wide range of practices.
Seneca progressively devoted more time to philosophy as he grew older, addressed
others who had interests and concerns similar to his, and also wrote tragedies;
Marcus Aurelius’s writings were addressed to himself, and it is not clear whether he
intended his reflections for a wider audience; and Manilius’ work (first century CE)
belongs within the tradition of didactic poetry. Cleomedes’ astronomical treatise on
the heavens is a rare example of a Stoic technical treatise from this period (c. 200
CE),2 as is the Elements of ethics by a certain Hierocles (fl. 100 CE), to which we will
return below.
Although the works of Seneca, Cornutus, Musonius Rufus, Epictetus and
Marcus Aurelius engage the topic of education at the relatively advanced level of
philosophy, they also provide some insights into pre-philosophical education. The
writings of Seneca and especially Marcus Aurelius give us clues about how they
themselves were educated. The entire first book of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations,
for instance, consists of an overview of the people who shaped him, including his
teachers. Stoic philosophy itself, in turn, had its own curriculum, often conveniently
divided into the three areas of logic, the study of nature (or physics, as the ancients
called it), and ethics, though in the work of the authors examined here, ethics is the
dominant strand of inquiry. Yet in the final analysis, in the view of these later
Stoics, philosophy cannot be reduced to a curriculum or even a purely intellectual
activity, but rather is meant to inform all human actions and to transform so-called
‘ordinary’ life from within existing social structures and responsibilities. The follow-
ing discussion will examine these thinkers’ views regarding pre-philosophical
 Philosophy and education in Stoicism 563

education, the three branches of philosophy, and the ultimate goal of philosophical
education.

Pre-philosophical education: Cornutus and Seneca

From the writings attributed to Cornutus it appears that he worked in grammar and
rhetoric (areas to which the Stoics also devoted attention) as well as philosophy. He
taught, among others, the poets Persius (34–62 CE) and Lucan (39–65 CE). The
topic of his sole preserved text, Introduction to Greek theology, sits right at the intersec-
tion of literary studies and philosophy. The work stands in a tradition of allegorical
interpretations of poetry (primarily but not exclusively Homer and Hesiod) through
etymologies of divine names, which, when interpreted correctly, were believed to
reveal the proper ‘philosophical’ view of the gods.
As the opening line and final paragraphs of this work indicate, it is intended to
provide a young pupil (paidion) with the correct understanding of the nature of the
universe, or physics, necessary to reinterpret mythological accounts. The Stoics
considered theology the highest branch of physics, and Panaetius and Posidonius are
said to have started their course of instruction with physics (Diogenes Laertius 7.41).
Cornutus’ work is a physics textbook—but it is also plausible that it was meant to ease
the transition from literary studies and rhetoric to philosophy, and thus either to
prepare the ground for a potential interest in ‘higher’ philosophical studies or to
prevent the worst misconceptions. The correct view of the gods would, it was
assumed, yield the right attitude towards them: reverence with respect for traditional
practices, yet also genuine piety without superstition.3
According to Cornutus, there were ‘philosophers’ even among the men ‘of old’,
who had begun the tradition of clothing their insights in symbolic language. Both of
these points, however, were a matter of debate within the Stoic tradition, as reflected
in one of Seneca’s letters (Ep. 90). Though the Stoics agreed that the first generations
of human beings had more direct access to the truth, they differed in their views about
the extent of this knowledge and whether it was pre-philosophical. They also
disagreed over when the practice of ‘hiding’, or, if viewed as a negative outcome (e.g.
Cicero De natura deorum 2.63; 70–71; Plutarch Stoic. rep. 1039F), losing true mean-
ings in poetry, mythology and other media, such as paintings and cult practices, had
started. In this context, Cornutus seems to present a strong endorsement of the alle-
gorical method.
To what extent the earlier Stoics engaged in full-fledged ‘allegorising’ is unclear.
(For the best current overview of the debate, see Ramelli, 2003, esp. pp. 31–41.) We
do know that the early Stoics Zeno, Cleanthes and Chrysippus shared Cornutus’
interest in etymologies of divine names that presumably revealed true insights about
nature and the divine. Cicero’s On the nature of the gods provides invaluable informa-
tion about this practice, notably about Chrysippus’ work of the same name, but in a
context, it has to be noted, that is very critical of Stoicism (1.40-41). Seneca goes even
further than Cicero in disapproving of this mode of interpretation, thereby also assert-
ing his independence vis-à-vis his Stoic predecessors (Ben. 1.3.2-4).
564 G. Reydams-Schils

In his criticism of the allegorising method, Seneca uses the three Graces as an
example. (We have an instance of just such allegorising of the Graces in Cornutus
18.4-20.5 Lang. Thus Seneca may also have been indirectly criticising his contempo-
rary.) Looking for hidden meanings in specific names, genealogies and attributes of
the gods in myths, poetic renderings and art is not unique to the Stoics, he claims,
but constitutes a broader cultural practice. His main complaint against allegorising is
three-fold. First, such interpretations vary according to the views of any given inter-
preter. Second, poets are not reliable witnesses: often they simply make up names to
suit their taste or to accommodate metrical constraints. Most importantly, this kind
of analysis of poetry and of cultural artifacts is of no real use in instilling the right atti-
tude and behaviour, he holds, making explicit the ethical implications of one’s views
of the divine. Capitalising on a well-attested cultural tension between the Greek and
Roman traditions, Seneca claims that one could expect such an overly subtle
approach from a Greek like Chrysippus. But this subtlety belies Chrysippus’ usual
acumen and is out of keeping with his ability elsewhere to state his points lucidly and
succinctly. Perhaps Chrysippus’ acumen is so finely pointed, Seneca scoffs, that it
gets blunted and turns against itself, pricking rather than piercing (Ben. 1.4.1).
Seneca’s famous Letter 88 on ‘liberal studies’ (liberalia studia), which also mentions
the key Greek notion of ‘encyclical education’ (egkuklios paideia, 23), builds on this
criticism within a larger assessment of the curriculum that normally preceded the
study of philosophy. Homer can be turned into a Stoic, Epicurean, Peripatetic, or
Academic, he complains, depending on who is interpreting him; if all of these
doctrines can be read into Homer, none is really present. Even if Homer was a philos-
opher, he became so independently of his poetry.
In this letter, Seneca plays on the connection between artes liberales and liberae.
Traditionally ‘free studies/arts’ meant those forms of knowledge that are appropriate
for politically free men and do not aim at moneymaking or usefulness. (Seneca lumps
painting and sculpture, which promote luxury, together with wrestling and athletics
and ranks these activities lower than the ‘liberal arts’, 18–19). But the only study that
makes human beings truly free, he claims, is that which pursues wisdom and virtue,
two notions inextricably connected in Seneca’s mind.
Among the traditional liberal arts, he discusses grammar, literary studies, music,
arithmetic, geometry and astronomy. (One can see traces here of the curriculum of
the so-called trivium and quadrivium, which goes back to Plato’s educational
programme in his Republic, Hadot, I., 2005.) According to Seneca, these forms of
knowledge are helpful only to the extent that they are pro-paideutic, in the sense of
preparing the soul for the reception of virtue (20), and that one limits one’s efforts to
the strictly essential rather than being carried away by a flood of useless tidbits of
information (36–41). He denounces such excessive interests as motivated by pleasure
and thus intemperate.
Mathematics often concerns itself with practical purposes, as when arithmetic
serves the purpose of managing one’s wealth, or geometry is needed for fixing the
dimensions of an estate. But even forms of mathematics that are devoid of such prac-
tical concerns are at best auxiliary sciences, and thus do not belong within philosophy,
 Philosophy and education in Stoicism 565

or physics in the philosophical sense. Mathematics, he argues, must always borrow its
first principles from other forms of knowledge, whereas philosophy investigates
causes and laws of natural phenomena and hence probes much more deeply (24–28).
If the goal of philosophy is to instill virtue and to make us better human beings, as
Seneca holds here, then not even all of philosophy as included in the tradition will
qualify as ‘free’. There are plenty of thinkers, Seneca complains, who have either vied
with scholars of grammar and geometry in the pursuit of useless knowledge or who
have undermined the possibility of knowledge altogether (42–46). Ultimately, he
maintains, all forms of knowledge that do not teach us how to live well (42–43) in the
context of a universe that is rationally ordered, or prepare the ground for this
outcome, are superfluous.

Philosophy: logic, physics, ethics

In his letter on ‘liberal studies’, Seneca also alludes to the division of philosophy into
logic, physics and ethics (24), which was central for the Stoics (though not unique to
them). But most writings by the later Stoics tend to focus on ethics in action—on how
to lead the good life and face challenges. As a result, many commentators have tended
to consider their accounts mere popular moralising; scholars such as Paul Veyne have
even gone so far as to claim that in the Roman imperial era, Stoicism lost its initial
critical edge and innovative perspective by conforming itself to prevailing social
customs and practices (Veyne, 1987, p. 45).
Rather than endorsing an unreflective conformism, however, these accounts have
a much more complex hermeneutical status and represent a conscious choice and a
very specific mode of doing philosophy as well as engaging critically with prevailing
norms, a point to which I will return below. This mode of philosophy by no means
implies that knowledge of the more technical and theoretical aspects of Stoicism was
no longer available in this era or that the later Stoics no longer cared about it. The
technical aspects of Stoicism were still present in doxographies, compilations of the
views of different schools of thought and philosophers, such as the work by Diogenes
Laertius (probably early third century CE). Such compilations offer insights into the
circulation of Stoic works and ideas in all three areas of physics, logic and ethics. In
addition, critics of the Stoics such as Plutarch (c. 46–120 CE), Galen (129–199/217
CE), and Alexander of Aphrodisias (fl. late second to early third century CE) reveal
that the debate about core Stoic tenets, and Chrysippus’ teachings in particular, was
very much alive in this period. It may be that later Stoics tended not to focus on theory
in part because they wanted to move beyond these controversies rather than get bogged
down in them, as seems to have happened with earlier Stoics in their debate with the
sceptical Academy. If so, the ‘grid’ of the structure and connections between different
technical terms and notions that we find in doxographical sources, as developed prima-
rily by Chrysippus, may not be the best lens through which to interpret these later
accounts, even though they reveal many connections with earlier Stoic doctrine.
Rather, the apparent differences may be mostly a matter of focus. Cleomedes’
exposition on astronomy, Manilius’ didactic poem, and Seneca’s own Naturales
566 G. Reydams-Schils

quaestiones attest to a continued interest in advanced Stoic physics. In his other writ-
ings, Seneca also likes to demonstrate occasionally that he ‘has the goods’, so to
speak, including a decent knowledge of the Stoic tradition and key technical distinc-
tions in it and other currents of thought (as in Letters 94 and 95, on the use of general
doctrine and precepts, or Letter 58, on being, and Letter 65, on causality). But these
expositions may have been little more than finger-exercises, just as a skilled orator
may occasionally reveal the tools of his trade, both to refresh his skills and establish
his credibility. As readers, we should avoid the anachronism of considering such
passages more ‘philosophical’ than others (Reydams-Schils, 2007).4
The writings of the Stoic Hierocles demonstrate how misleading the scholarly view
of these Stoics’ work as simply popular moralising can be. Praechter, evaluating
Hierocles’ thought only on the basis of passages preserved in Stobaeus containing
‘how to’ guidelines for dealing with the gods and one’s socio-political relationships
(1901: v), considered him simply an ‘ordinary soldier in the army of Stoicism’. But
shortly afterwards von Arnim edited a papyrus with fragments from a more theoreti-
cal work by Hierocles on ethics (Elements of ethics) that now constitute our best
evidence on the highly sophisticated Stoic notion of ‘appropriation’ (oikeiôsis), which
stipulates that by nature and from birth, animals and human beings come equipped
with a self-awareness and self-love that guides them toward self-preservation (von
Arnim, 1906). This notion brings together insights from both physics (how nature
works) and ethics (how human beings should lead their lives) and clearly demon-
strates that later Stoics such as Hierocles still had a good grasp of the technical aspects
of Stoicism. (The core texts for present purposes are Cicero De finibus 3.16-25, 62-
68, Seneca Ep. 121.)
These Stoics had more than a mere awareness of doctrine. They also apparently
still had access to extensive writings by their predecessors, notably by Chrysippus.
According to the Vita Persii (32.35-33.40 Clausen), Cornutus inherited from Persius’
library about 700 scrolls of Chrysippus’ works. And although such sessions are not
recorded in the extant evidence of Epictetus’ teachings, the expositions do mention
that Epictetus’ approach partly relied on the writings of his Stoic predecessors, espe-
cially those of the prolific and systematic Chrysippus. Epictetus thus practised
‘commentary’ as a pedagogical method by reading philosophical works together with
his pupils (sunanagnôsis, as this was called (Hadot I., 2005, second edition, revised
and expanded: p. 423)). Either the teacher would comment on the passages read or
students would be asked to do so (as mentioned in Diss. 1.10.7-13; 1.26; 4.9.6; this
would become the dominant mode of teaching in later Platonism).
Yet it is very striking that whenever Epictetus mentions this pedagogical method,
he more often than not sounds a cautionary note, claiming that it does one no good
whatsoever to be able to interpret and understand Chrysippus’ works, or those of
other thinkers for that matter, unless one can also put these insights into practice and
show how one has changed for the better as a result of one’s reading (as in Diss. 1.4.5-
17, 17.13-18, 2.16.34, 17.34-40, 19.5-15, 23.44, 3.2.13-18, 9.20-22, 21.6-7, 24.81).
According to Epictetus, merely interpreting philosophical expositions and showing
off one’s erudition is no different from the immersion of a scholar of literature in
 Philosophy and education in Stoicism 567

trivial details that are meant to dazzle (Diss. 2.19.5-15; Ench. 49), and we have
already seen how little Seneca also valued this kind of erudition. Presumably Epicte-
tus would measure his own success as a teacher by the actual moral progress of his
pupils, not by their ability to parrot his teachings, a point to which I will return below.
What holds for reading philosophical treatises in these later Stoic accounts also
holds for the study of logic and physics. Although logic and physics do belong within
philosophy, these branches of knowledge can create similar pitfalls as the other forms
of knowledge to which students would have been exposed earlier in their lives. There
is a right and a wrong way of engaging in these inquiries, these authors make clear;
the wrong way entails studying them for their own sake and indulging in technical
details.
As the art of reasoning, and more specifically of demonstrations and syllogisms (for
which both Zeno and Chrysippus were famous, or notorious, depending on one’s
perspective), logic is indispensable to virtue: someone who is fundamentally confused
in his thinking about what the good is cannot be expected to live the virtuous life. (On
the study and importance of logic in this era, see Barnes, 1997; Crivelli, 2007;
Giavatto, 2008.) For this reason both Musonius Rufus and Epictetus are very severe
with students who wish to bypass logic altogether or downplay its importance. When
Epictetus once replied to his teacher Musonius Rufus that making a mistake in a logi-
cal problem was not as bad as burning the Capitol and one of Epictetus’ students in
turn said that it was not like killing one’s father, both received the same reply: in logic,
such sloppiness would in fact be the equivalent of those odious deeds (Epictetus Diss.
1.7.32-33; cf. also Ench. 52).
Another important pedagogical technique related to logic is the use of theses and
demonstrations. Musonius Rufus provides a glimpse of how this worked in his teach-
ing of ethics (1 Hense / Lutz), as in his example of the counter-intuitive thesis that
pleasure is not a good. If we start, Musonius says, with the generally accepted premise
that every good is desirable, and then add a second equally accepted one that some
pleasures are not desirable, the conclusion that pleasure cannot be considered a good
clearly follows. By this method, one moves from that which is more obvious to that
which is harder to grasp. Yet, Musonius points out, a teacher should use only as many
arguments and proofs as necessary to make the point, taking into account the peda-
gogical needs of his pupils: the gifted ones will need fewer arguments, while those who
are dull, either because of a weaker disposition or a wrong upbringing, will need more
evidence for the point to register. Yet the most convincing example, he claims, is a
teacher who acts consistently with his words (see also 5 Hense / Lutz, discussed below).
Here Musonius agrees with Epictetus that theorising, or drawing the right conclusions,
is easier than practice, that is, living according to these insights (Diss. 1.26.3-4).
Physics appears to play a minimal role in Musonius Rufus’ approach. Whereas
Chrysippus famously defined the goal of human life as living according to nature,
which included the nature both of individual human beings and of the universe
(Diogenes Laertius 7.88), Musonius Rufus does not draw much attention to the
universal dimension (17 p. 89 Hense) but tends to focus on human nature as different
from that of the animals and the gods. Musonius does leave room for the notion of
568 G. Reydams-Schils

Zeus as the ‘ensouled law’ (nomos empsuchos 16 p. 87 Hense) and depicts humans as
citizens in Zeus’s city (i.e., the universe) (9 p. 42 Hense), but does not spell out the
philosophical implications of this position.
Marcus Aurelius, in contrast, states emphatically that physics, like logic, is indis-
pensable for the pursuit of philosophy, because views that are not based on the correct
science of nature cannot hold their own. He argues that in order to make progress one
needs a strong theoretical foundation and the self-confidence that results from the
correct knowledge applied to each particular case (10.9). Yet a prominent, and often
debated, feature of Marcus Aurelius’ writings is that he appears to leave open how
exactly the universe is governed, tending instead to list alternatives, most often pitting
the Stoic view of Providence against the Epicurean randomness of colliding atoms
with a disjunctive ‘either . . . or’ structure. (Annas, 2004 and Cooper, 2004 are repre-
sentative of the debate on this issue; see also Giavatto, 2008.) His strategy appears to
be a double one. First he holds that regardless of one’s view of the universe, there are
certain tenets about attitude and behaviour to which one should always cling. And in
some cases, he uses an a fortiori approach: if an Epicurean can manage to be content
with his lot, how much more should a Stoic be so, given his or her belief that a god
has made everything good? By this approach, one could argue, Marcus Aurelius puts
physics in what he sees as its proper place, as subservient to ethics.
Marcus Aurelius is not the only later Stoic to use these strategies, though they do
loom largest in his reflections. Seneca, in one of his letters (16.4-6), leaves open
whether an inexorable fate, a god, or chance rules the universe (though Stoicism
assumes a connection between the first two possibilities—i.e., fate supposedly reflects
the divinely imposed order of the universe). But the actual course he recommends to
his addressee, namely, firmness of resolve, does not depend on any specific theory of
the universe. Epictetus adopts a similar strategy, saying, ‘Why should I care whether
existing things are compounded from atomic or incomposite elements, or from fire
and earth? Isn’t it enough to learn the essence of good and bad … to run our lives
using these as rules; and not to bother about those things that are beyond us?’ (fr. 1
Oldfather, trans. Long).
In On benefits (7.1), Seneca does not leave any doubt that it is much preferable to
have a few maxims of practical philosophy at hand that will make us better and
happier than a vast storehouse of recondite knowledge about nature and its hidden
causes. But it is in the preface to the third book of his Naturales quaestiones that he
solves the riddle of this quasi-sceptical approach to the study of nature. Physics and
moral self-improvement are meant to reinforce each other, and only the physics that
serves this mutual relation is worth pursuing. Understanding ourselves correctly
implies understanding our place and role in the universe, how we relate to the divine
principle, and to other human beings in the universal community.
In the final analysis, according to the later Stoics, it is not just logic or physics in
the philosophical curriculum that are subservient to the correct way of life. So, too, is
talking about rather than practicing ethics. As Musonius Rufus (5 Hense / Lutz) and
Epictetus claim, one can hold discussions and write as much as one wants about the
good life, but anyone with philosophical interests is ultimately judged by the same
 Philosophy and education in Stoicism 569

standard as a physician, a sailor, or a musician: it is what one accomplishes that

matters. Musonius Rufus and Epictetus hereby also quietly subvert certain upper-
class assumptions about the value of philosophy, as exemplified in Seneca’s letter on
the liberal arts discussed above (88). (Musonius Rufus, after all, taught the slave
Epictetus.) Paradoxically, Musonius Rufus and Epictetus turn Seneca’s notion of
freedom on its head: even though they agree with Seneca that only virtue makes one
truly free, they use the parallel of the arts and vocational training to underscore that
philosophy, too, has to prove itself in its results. Or, as Epictetus puts it:
The builder does not come and say: Listen to me lecturing on building. He gets his contract
for a house, builds it, and shows that he has the craft. You should act in the same sort of
way: Eat like a human being, drink like a human being, and so too, dress, and marry, and
father children, and play your roles as citizen; put up with abuse, and an inconsiderate
brother, father, son, neighbor, fellow-traveler. Show all this to us, so that we can see what
you have really learnt from the philosophers. (Diss. 3.21.1-6; trans. Long)

The role of philosophy, the goal of life

When Musonius Rufus locates the ideal relationship between teacher and pupil in an
agrarian setting and recommends farming or being a shepherd as the best way of life
for a philosopher, who should work with his own hands just like anybody else (11
Hense / Lutz), it is obvious that we are dealing with a very specific concept of philo-
sophical education, and one that sets itself in conscious opposition to the Platonic and
Aristotelian traditions. Musonius Rufus argues that if work is balanced with leisure
for study and discussion, this mode of interaction is the best because the teacher
simultaneously sets an example by putting his principles into action and displaying
virtue in his way of life (cf. also Seneca Ep. 6.6).
To understand what is behind Musonius Rufus’ recommendations, we need to see
how theory and practice relate to each other in Stoicism, and especially in the later
accounts. ‘Philosophy,’ Musonius Rufus claims, ‘is nothing else than to search out by
reason what is right and proper, and by deeds to put it into practice’ (14 end Hense /
Lutz, cf. also 4, on philosophy as the art of becoming a good human being). A Platonist
or a follower of Aristotle would agree that philosophy should serve the good life. But
for all the points of contact with these other traditions, the Stoic understanding of the
good life is fundamentally different from that of a Platonist or Aristotelian. The crucial
point here is not even that the Stoics in general would consider all forms of philosoph-
ical knowledge, including logic and physics, to be virtues (SVF 2.35). After all, Plato
and Aristotle’s notions of virtue (which, one has to remember, in its original context
is closer to our term ‘excellence’) are also capacious, including the virtues pertaining
to reason. Rather, the difference is that Stoics do not have a hierarchical notion of
virtue, seeing logic, physics and ethics as mutually entailing each other in one contin-
uous and dynamic whole. (Cf. Hadot, P., 1979, 1991; Gourinat 2008. Other core texts
here would include Diogenes Laertius 7.130 and SVF 3.280.)
What sets especially later Stoicism apart is the view that all theory, including what
we would call theory or philosophising about ethics, must serve an ethics in action.
570 G. Reydams-Schils

Theory and practice are inextricably intertwined, but with an emphasis on practice.
Generally speaking, for Platonists contemporary to the Roman Stoics and later, the
good life consists primarily, if not always exclusively, of the contemplation of and
the mind’s reunion with a higher, intelligible realm, or theory in that sense. Inter-
preters of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics disagree about which of two conceptions of
the good life he endorses. According to one conception, the good life consists of the
exercise of practical reason in a life of political and social activity. According to
the other, it consists of the exercise of theoretical reason through contemplation. To
the Stoics, positing pure thought (or even a higher state) as the goal of life and as
‘practice’ (cf. Aristotle Politics 1325b) would make little sense, not in the least
because they do not recognise a transcendent intelligible and noetic dimension to
reality. For them, with their unified view of virtue, in which all virtues entail each
other, wisdom as the excellence of reason always constitutes moral virtue and being
engaged in the world.5
Small wonder, then, that the later Stoics put so much emphasis on training (meletê,
askêsis, as in Musonius Rufus 6 Hense / Lutz) as the indispensable bridge between
theoretical insights and practice.6 This notion, which has connections with the
Socratic and Cynic traditions, encompasses much more than Aristotle’s habituation,
which is meant to shape the lower, irrational aspects of the soul (as in Nicomachean
Ethics 2). The Stoics, with the potential and debated exception of Posidonius, do not
accept irrational aspects of the soul as existing independently from reason. Hence
training and habituation involve a human being’s entire disposition, including the
process of learning to use one’s reason correctly. The Stoic notion of the good has this
feature in common with its Platonic and Aristotelian counterparts that it is a radical
departure from ordinary conceptions of happiness, and thus it is not easy to imple-
ment against prevailing practices, weaknesses in one’s own disposition, and bad
habits. Therefore, according to this view, pupils need all the help they can get to make
these insights sufficiently their own or to acquire the right ‘disposition’ (ethos, as in
Musonius Rufus 5 Hense / Lutz) for putting them into practice under all circum-
stances.
To this end, Musonius Rufus (6 Hense / Lutz) stipulates exercises for both body
and soul, but holds that of the two, the care of the soul is the most important. He
establishes an explicit connection between the exercises of the soul and demonstra-
tions (1 Hense / Lutz): the training of the soul, he claims, involves having ready at
hand (procheirous) the demonstrations concerning true (as opposed to apparent) good
and evil, becoming accustomed (ethizesthai) to making the correct distinctions, and
practising (meletan) the avoidance of true evil and the pursuit of true good. (Diogenes
Laertius (6.70) attributes the same distinction between two types of exercises to
Diogenes the Cynic (fl. mid-fourth century BCE, on this topic cf. Goulet-Cazé, 1986);
cf. also Clement of Alexandria Strom. 7.16.)
Here askêsis, it has to be noted, has not yet acquired its later connotations of ‘ascet-
icism,’ though frugality and the endurance of hardships are recommended for the
sake of self-control and temperance, which are essential if one does not want to be
swept off one’s feet by the pull of the wrong values (as in Musonius Rufus 18-20
 Philosophy and education in Stoicism 571

Hense / Lutz). For instance, Epictetus urges his students to ‘on occasion, when you
are very thirsty, take cold water into your mouth, and then spit it out, without telling
anybody’ (Ench. 47). But a good Stoic, as Seneca reminds us, is also capable of
putting affluence and easier conditions to good use (De vita beata 20.3-end).
For the later Stoics, ethics in action means showing one’s mettle in ordinary,
everyday life circumstances and in society, among one’s given socio-political obliga-
tions. For this reason, students are not meant to form settled attachments to a
school, as increasingly happened, for instance, with the inner circles of the schools of
Platonism. The knowledge and training acquired through education has to be porta-
ble and to become fully interiorised, ‘digested,’ as it were (Epictetus Diss. 3.21.1-3;
Ench. 46; Seneca Ep. 2.2-4, 84, De beneficiis 7.2.1). Thus Seneca and Epictetus show
their own independence toward their Stoic predecessors and do not extol a Zeno,
Cleanthes, or Chrysippus above all others. ‘We Stoics,’ Seneca claims, ‘are not
subjects of a despot: each of us lays claim to his own freedom’ (Ep. 33.4). If Chrysip-
pus took the liberty to disagree with his teacher Cleanthes, ‘Why, then, following the
example of Chrysippus himself, should not every man claim his own freedom?’ (Ep.
113.23).
Epictetus and Musonius Rufus also play down their own importance as philoso-
phers (as in Diss. 1.16.20, 1.2.35, 3.1.36, 3.7.1, 3.8.7)7—even though they do, on
occasion, mention the benefits of studying under their guidance.8 Students are told
sternly not to show off their philosophical knowledge (e.g., Epictetus Diss. 1.26.9)
and that external trappings, such as a certain dress code, do not make the philoso-
pher (as in Epictetus Diss. 3.12.16, 3.14.4, 3.23, 4.8.15-16; Musonius Rufus (16
Hense / Lutz). Many of the accounts preserved in Epictetus’ Discourses explicitly
address the challenge of the transition from the school to everyday life (as in 4.1.132-
143, 4.5.37, 4.12.12; cf. also 1.29.34-35, 2.9.15-16, 2.10.29-30, 2.16.2, 3.3.17,
3.20.18). As they point out, it is quite a bit easier to display the correct attitude and
behaviour among like-minded people and peers than to hold on to what one has
learned outside the school environment (Diss. 2.16.20-21). And if Epictetus devotes
so much attention to this topic, it is precisely because his pupils are meant to return
to their regular lives.
In the long run, and over the course of an entire lifetime, according to this view,
teachers are there only to point the way (as Seneca and Epictetus indicate Chrysippus
had done for them). It is self-education and monitoring one’s own progress as one
goes through different situations in life that are to do the bulk of the work. Modes of
such ongoing training include reading and excerpting philosophical works, refreshing
one’s memory of key tenets so as to have these ready at hand (as the etymology of
‘manual’ or Epictetus’ Encheiridion implies), engaging in conversations with others,
witnessing one’s conversations with oneself, contemplating the order of the universe,
or writing.
Although Seneca is not a teacher in the same sense as Musonius Rufus and Epict-
etus, he increasingly focused on philosophical writings toward the end of his life and
mapped out his own moral progress and challenges, along with summaries and advice
for his addressees and audience. Marcus Aurelius’ reflections, many of which were
572 G. Reydams-Schils

jotted down during military campaigns, are the clearest example of writing as ongoing
training, especially if originally intended primarily for himself and not for a broader
audience. (Epictetus attributed this kind of writing even to Socrates allegedly training
himself in the art of refutation, raising objections and coming up with counter-
arguments, Diss. 2.1.32-33, 2.6.26-27, as rightly noted in Döring, 1974, p. 218 n. 2).
In those reflections, we find the most powerful man in the then known world, as
measured by conventional standards, warning himself against completely identifying
himself with his public role. ‘Make sure,’ he tells himself, ‘that you are not turned into
a Caesar,’ without leaving space for the self to continue groping for that which truly
matters.
In the course of interpreting Homer and Virgil, being trained in delivering
speeches, and acquiring other forms of learning, all the way up to one’s philosophi-
cal education, one should aim towards ‘a holy disposition and acts that serve the
common good’ (6.30), as Marcus Aurelius succinctly rendered the purpose of
human life.

Notes
1. During the later period known as the Second Sophistic, the rivalry becomes all the more
pronounced, with Dion of Prusa (also known as Chrysostom), Apuleius and Maximus of Tyre
clearly straddling the divide.
2. Even though the dates suggested for Cleomedes range from the first century BCE to the fourth
century CE, a dating of ‘some time around 200 CE’ has been proposed as likely by Alan C.
Bowen and Robert B. Todd (2004) pp. xi–xii, 2–4.
3. Cf. Boys-Stones, 2007, who emphasises a strong strand of ethical pedagogy in his work, which
also reflects on the political and civic aspects of human communities.
4. On the point that texts such as Epictetus’ Encheiridion and Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations are
as ‘philosophical’ as Chrysippus’ treatises, see Sellars, 2009, esp. pp. 126–128, 165–166, 167–
175. Pace Brennan, 2005, who uses a stereotypical distinction between Chrysippus as ‘one of
the greatest thinkers of all time’ and Epictetus as ‘one of the greatest talkers’ (p. 10).
5. Here my approach differs from P. Hadot, 1998, p. 216, repeated by Sellars, 2007 and 2009,
esp. p. 145 (summary statement), who stipulate that there is a practical side to physics and logic
as well. While I do not take issue with this claim as such and the implication that there are
appropriate exercises in logic and physics, I would also emphasise that physics and logic are
practical precisely to the extent that they serve a human being’s correct understanding of the
good and its implementation in life, that is, ethics in action.
6. P. Hadot (1995) is still the seminal work on this topic, but my focus here is on what is
distinctive in the later Stoic tradition; cf. also Hijmans, 1959; Sellars, 2009, esp. pp. 107–166.
Xenophon does not hesitate to attribute this notion to Socrates (Mem. 1.2.19).
7. On this aspect of Epictetus, who prefers to see himself as a ‘trainer of the young’, see Diss.
2.19.29-34, cf. Long, 2002, pp. 121–125. Thus when Musonius Rufus speaks as one man in
exile to another, he presents his arguments as addressed to himself as well as to his addressee
(9 Hense / Lutz), and when he counsels a youth who has a conflict with his father over the study
of philosophy, he does not insert himself between the son and the father to bring about a trans-
fer of authority (16 Hense / Lutz). On this topic, cf. also Bénatouïl, 2009, especially pp. 134–
155, and G. Reydams-Schils, ‘Authority and agency in Roman Stoicism,’ forthcoming.
8. Even though Epictetus explicitly distances himself from the practice of doctors advertising for
patients, Diss. 3.23.27. See Musonius Rufus 17 Hense / Lutz; Epictetus Diss. 1.11, addressed
to a Roman official merely passing through, and 2.19.29-34.
 Philosophy and education in Stoicism 573

Notes on contributor
Gretchen Reydams-Schils is Professor in the Program of Liberal Studies at the
University of Notre Dame, USA, and holds concurrent appointments in Philos-
ophy and Theology. She specialises in the traditions of Platonism and Stoicism.
She is the author of Demiurge and Providence, Stoic and Platonist readings of Plato’s
‘Timaeus’ (Brepols, 1999) and The Roman Stoics: self, responsibility, and affection
(University of Chicago Press, 2005). She is the editor of Plato’s ‘Timaeus’ as
cultural icon (Notre Dame, 2003), and of a collection of essays on Stobaeus
(Brepols, forthcoming). She also directs the Notre Dame Workshop on Ancient
Philosophy.

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