The Enchiridion

Epictetus
Editor: Arrian

Translator: Thomas Wentworth Higginson

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Co n t e n t s

Co n t e n t s iii

I 1

II 3

III 4

IV 5

V 6

VI 7

VII 8

VIII 9

IX 10

X 11

XI 12

XII 13

XIII 14

iii
XIV 15

XV 16

XVI 17

XVII 18

XVIII 19

XIX 20

XX 21

XXI 22

XXII 23

XXIII 24

XXIV 25

XXV 27

XXVI 29

XXVII 30

XXVIII 31

iv
X XI X 32

XXX 35

XXXI 36

XXXII 38

XXXIII 40

XXXIV 43

XXXV 44

XXXVI 45

XXXVII 46

XXXVIII 47

XXXIX 48

XL 49

X LI 50

X LI I 51

X LI I I 52

v
XLIV 53

X LV 54

X LV I 55

X LV I I 56

X LV I I I 57

X LI X 58

L 59

LI 61

vi
chapter I
here are things which are within our power, and
T there are things which are beyond our power. Within
our power are opinion, aim, desire, aversion, and, in one
word, whatever affairs are our own. Beyond our power
are body, property, reputation, office, and, in one word,
whatever are not properly our own affairs.
Now the things within our power are by nature free,
unrestricted, unhindered; but those beyond our power
are weak, dependent, restricted, alien. Remember, then,
that if you attribute freedom to things by nature depen-
dent and take what belongs to others for your own, you
will be hindered, you will lament, you will be disturbed,
you will find fault both with gods and men. But if you
take for your own only that which is your own and view
what belongs to others just as it really is, then no one
will ever compel you, no one will restrict you; you will
find fault with no one, you will accuse no one, you will
do nothing against your will; no one will hurt you, you
will not have an enemy, nor will you suffer any harm.
Aiming, therefore, at such great things, remember
that you must not allow yourself any inclination, however
slight, toward the attainment of the others; but that you
must entirely quit some of them, and for the present

1
postpone the rest. But if you would have these, and
possess power and wealth likewise, you may miss the
latter in seeking the former; and you will certainly fail of
that by which alone happiness and freedom are procured.
Seek at once, therefore, to be able to say to every
unpleasing semblance, “You are but a semblance and
by no means the real thing.” And then examine it by
those rules which you have; and first and chiefly by this:
whether it concerns the things which are within our own
power or those which are not; and if it concerns anything
beyond our power, be prepared to say that it is nothing
to you.

2
chapter II
emember that desire demands the attainment of
R that of which you are desirous; and aversion de-
mands the avoidance of that to which you are averse;
that he who fails of the object of his desires is disap-
pointed; and he who incurs the object of his aversion
is wretched. If, then, you shun only those undesirable
things which you can control, you will never incur any-
thing which you shun; but if you shun sickness, or death,
or poverty, you will run the risk of wretchedness. Re-
move [the habit of] aversion, then, from all things that
are not within our power, and apply it to things unde-
sirable which are within our power. But for the present,
altogether restrain desire; for if you desire any of the
things not within our own power, you must necessar-
ily be disappointed; and you are not yet secure of those
which are within our power, and so are legitimate objects
of desire. Where it is practically necessary for you to
pursue or avoid anything, do even this with discretion
and gentleness and moderation.

3
chapter III
ith regard to whatever objects either delight the
W mind or contribute to use or are tenderly beloved,
remind yourself of what nature they are, beginning with
the merest trifles: if you have a favorite cup, that it is but
a cup of which you are fond of—for thus, if it is broken,
you can bear it; if you embrace your child or your wife,
that you embrace a mortal—and thus, if either of them
dies, you can bear it.

4
chapter IV
hen you set about any action, remind yourself of
W what nature the action is. If you are going to
bathe, represent to yourself the incidents usual in the
bath—some persons pouring out, others pushing in, oth-
ers scolding, others pilfering. And thus you will more
safely go about this action if you say to yourself, “I will
now go to bathe and keep my own will in harmony with
nature.” And so with regard to every other action. For
thus, if any impediment arises in bathing, you will be
able to say, “It was not only to bathe that I desired, but
to keep my will in harmony with nature; and I shall not
keep it thus if I am out of humor at things that happen.”

5
chapter V
en are disturbed not by things, but by the views
M which they take of things. Thus death is nothing
terrible, else it would have appeared so to Socrates. But
the terror consists in our notion of death, that it is ter-
rible. When, therefore, we are hindered or disturbed,
or grieved, let us never impute it to others, but to our-
selves—that is, to our own views. It is the action of an
uninstructed person to reproach others for his own mis-
fortunes; of one entering upon instruction, to reproach
himself; and one perfectly instructed, to reproach nei-
ther others nor himself.

6
chapter VI
e not elated at any excellence not your own. If a
B horse should be elated, and say, “I am handsome,” it
might be endurable. But when you are elated and say, “I
have a handsome horse,” know that you are elated only
on the merit of the horse. What then is your own? The
use of the phenomena of existence. So that when you
are in harmony with nature in this respect, you will be
elated with some reason; for you will be elated at some
good of your own.

7
chapter VII
s in a voyage, when the ship is at anchor, if you
A go on shore to get water, you may amuse yourself
with picking up a shellfish or a truffle in your way, but
your thoughts ought to be bent toward the ship, and
perpetually attentive, lest the captain should call, and
then you must leave all these things, that you may not
have to be carried on board the vessel, bound like a sheep;
thus likewise in life, if, instead of a truffle or shellfish,
such a thing as a wife or a child be granted you, there
is no objection; but if the captain calls, run to the ship,
leave all these things, and never look behind. But if you
are old, never go far from the ship, lest you should be
missing when called for.

8
chapter VIII
emand not that events should happen as you wish;
D but wish them to happen as they do happen, and
you will go on well.

9
chapter IX
ickness is an impediment to the body, but not to
S the will unless itself pleases. Lameness is an im-
pediment to the leg, but not to the will; and say this to
yourself with regard to everything that happens. For
you will find it to be an impediment to something else,
but not truly to yourself.

10
chapter X
pon every accident, remember to turn toward your-
U self and inquire what faculty you have for its use.
If you encounter a handsome person, you will find con-
tinence the faculty needed; if pain, then fortitude; if
reviling, then patience. And when thus habituated, the
phenomena of existence will not overwhelm you.

11
chapter XI
ever say of anything, “I have lost it,” but, “I have
N restored it.” Has your child died? It is restored. Has
your wife died? She is restored. Has your estate been
taken away? That likewise is restored. “But it was a bad
man who took it.” What is it to you by whose hands he
who gave it has demanded it again? While he permits
you to possess it, hold it as something not your own, as
do travelers at an inn.

12
chapter XII
f you would improve, lay aside such reasonings as
I these: “If I neglect my affairs, I shall not have a main-
tenance; if I do not punish my servant, he will be good
for nothing.” For it were better to die of hunger, exempt
from grief and fear, than to live in affluence with pertur-
bation; and it is better that your servant should be bad
than you unhappy.
Begin therefore with little things. Is a little oil spilled
or a little wine stolen? Say to yourself, “This is the price
paid for peace and tranquillity; and nothing is to be had
for nothing.” And when you call your servant, consider
that it is possible he may not come at your call; or, if he
does, that he may not do what you wish. But it is not at
all desirable for him, and very undesirable for you, that
it should be in his power to cause you any disturbance.

13
chapter XIII
f you would improve, be content to be thought foolish
I and dull with regard to externals. Do not desire to
be thought to know anything; and though you should
appear to others to be somebody, distrust yourself. For
be assured, it is not easy at once to keep your will in
harmony with nature and to secure externals; but while
you are absorbed in the one, you must of necessity neglect
the other.

14
chapter XIV
f you wish your children and your wife and your friends
I to live forever, you are foolish, for you wish things to
be in your power which are not so, and what belongs
to others to be your own. So likewise, if you wish your
servant to be without fault, you are foolish, for you wish
vice not to be vice but something else. But if you wish
not to be disappointed in your desires, that is in your
own power. Exercise, therefore, what is in your power.
A man’s master is he who is able to confer or remove
whatever that man seeks or shuns. Whoever then would
be free, let him wish nothing, let him decline nothing,
which depends on others; else he must necessarily be a
slave.

15
chapter XV
emember that you must behave as at a banquet. Is
R anything brought round to you? Put out your hand
and take a moderate share. Does it pass by you? Do
not stop it. Is it not yet come? Do not yearn in desire
toward it, but wait till it reaches you. So with regard
to children, wife, office, riches; and you will some time
or other be worthy to feast with the gods. And if you do
not so much as take the things which are set before you,
but are able even to forego them, then you will not only
be worthy to feast with the gods, but to rule with them
also. For, by thus doing, Diogenes and Heraclitus, and
others like them, deservedly became divine, and were so
recognized.

16
chapter XVI
hen you see anyone weeping for grief, either that
W his son has gone abroad or that he has suffered in
his affairs, take care not to be overcome by the apparent
evil, but discriminate and be ready to say, “What hurts
this man is not this occurrence itself—for another man
might not be hurt by it—but the view he chooses to take
of it.” As far as conversation goes, however, do not disdain
to accommodate yourself to him and, if need be, to groan
with him. Take heed, however, not to groan inwardly,
too.

17
chapter XVII
emember that you are an actor in a drama of such
R sort as the Author chooses—if short, then in a short
one; if long, then in a long one. If it be his pleasure that
you should enact a poor man, or a cripple, or a ruler,
or a private citizen, see that you act it well. For this is
your business—to act well the given part, but to choose
it belongs to another.

18
chapter XVIII
hen a raven happens to croak unluckily, be not
W overcome by appearances, but discriminate and
say, “Nothing is portended to me, either to my paltry
body, or property, or reputation, or children, or wife. But
to me all portents are lucky if I will. For whatsoever hap-
pens, it belongs to me to derive advantage therefrom.”

19
chapter XIX
ou can be unconquerable if you enter into no com-
Y bat in which it is not in your own power to conquer.
When, therefore, you see anyone eminent in honors or
power, or in high esteem on any other account, take heed
not to be bewildered by appearances and to pronounce
him happy; for if the essence of good consists in things
within our own power, there will be no room for envy
or emulation. But, for your part, do not desire to be a
general, or a senator, or a consul, but to be free; and the
only way to this is a disregard of things which lie not
within our own power.

20
chapter XX
emember that it is not he who gives abuse or blows,
R who affronts, but the view we take of these things
as insulting. When, therefore, anyone provokes you, be
assured that it is your own opinion which provokes you.
Try, therefore, in the first place, not to be bewildered by
appearances. For if you once gain time and respite, you
will more easily command yourself.

21
chapter XXI
et death and exile, and all other things which appear
L terrible, be daily before your eyes, but death chiefly;
and you will never entertain an abject thought, nor too
eagerly covet anything.

22
chapter XXII
f you have an earnest desire toward philosophy, pre-
I pare yourself from the very first to have the multitude
laugh and sneer, and say, “He is returned to us a philoso-
pher all at once”; and, “Whence this supercilious look?”
Now, for your part, do not have a supercilious look in-
deed, but keep steadily to those things which appear
best to you, as one appointed by God to this particular
station. For remember that, if you are persistent, those
very persons who at first ridiculed will afterwards ad-
mire you. But if you are conquered by them, you will
incur a double ridicule.

23
chapter XXIII
f you ever happen to turn your attention to externals,
I for the pleasure of anyone, be assured that you have
ruined your scheme of life. Be content, then, in every-
thing, with being a philosopher; and if you wish to seem
so likewise to anyone, appear so to yourself, and it will
suffice you.

24
chapter XXIV
et not such considerations as these distress you: “I
L shall live in discredit and be nobody anywhere.” For
if discredit be an evil, you can no more be involved in
evil through another than in baseness. Is it any busi-
ness of yours, then, to get power or to be admitted to
an entertainment? By no means. How then, after all,
is this discredit? And how it is true that you will be
nobody anywhere when you ought to be somebody in
those things only which are within your own power, in
which you may be of the greatest consequence? “But
my friends will be unassisted.” What do you mean by
“unassisted”? They will not have money from you, nor
will you make them Roman citizens. Who told you, then,
that these are among the things within our own power,
and not rather the affairs of others? And who can give
to another the things which he himself has not? “Well,
but get them, then, that we too may have a share.” If I
can get them with the preservation of my own honor and
fidelity and self-respect, show me the way and I will get
them; but if you require me to lose my own proper good,
that you may gain what is no good, consider how unrea-
sonable and foolish you are. Besides, which would you
rather have, a sum of money or a faithful and honorable

25
friend? Rather assist me, then, to gain this character
than require me to do those things by which I may lose
it. Well, but my country, say you, as far as depends upon
me, will be unassisted. Here, again, what assistance
is this you mean? It will not have porticos nor baths of
your providing? And what signifies that? Why, neither
does a smith provide it with shoes, nor a shoemaker with
arms. It is enough if everyone fully performs his own
proper business. And were you to supply it with another
faithful and honorable citizen, would not he be of use
to it? Yes. Therefore neither are you yourself useless
to it. “What place, then,” say you, “shall I hold in the
state?” Whatever you can hold with the preservation of
your fidelity and honor. But if, by desiring to be useful
to that, you lose these, how can you serve your country
when you have become faithless and shameless?

26
chapter XXV
s anyone preferred before you at an entertainment, or
I in courtesies, or in confidential intercourse? If these
things are good, you ought to rejoice that he has them;
and if they are evil, do not be grieved that you have them
not. And remember that you cannot be permitted to rival
others in externals without using the same means to
obtain them. For how can he who will not haunt the door
of any man, will not attend him, will not praise him, have
an equal share with him who does these things? You
are unjust, then, and unreasonable if you are unwilling
to pay the price for which these things are sold, and
would have them for nothing. For how much are lettuces
sold? An obulus, for instance. If another, then, paying
an obulus, takes the lettuces, and you, not paying it,
go without them, do not imagine that he has gained
any advantage over you. For as he has the lettuces, so
you have the obulus which you did not give. So, in the
present case, you have not been invited to such a person’s
entertainment because you have not paid him the price
for which a supper is sold. It is sold for praise; it is sold
for attendance. Give him, then, the value if it be for your
advantage. But if you would at the same time not pay the
one, and yet receive the other, you are unreasonable and

27
foolish. Have you nothing, then, in place of the supper?
Yes, indeed, you have—not to praise him whom you do
not like to praise; not to bear the insolence of his lackeys.

28
chapter XXVI
he will of nature may be learned from things upon
T which we are all agreed. As when our neighbor’s boy
has broken a cup, or the like, we are ready at once to
say, “These are casualties that will happen”; be assured,
then, that when your own cup is likewise broken, you
ought to be affected just as when another’s cup was
broken. Now apply this to greater things. Is the child
or wife of another dead? There is no one who would not
say, “This is an accident of mortality.” But if anyone’s
own child happens to die, it is immediately, “Alas! how
wretched am I!” It should be always remembered how
we are affected on hearing the same thing concerning
others.

29
chapter XXVII
s a mark1 is not set up for the sake of missing the
A aim, so neither does the nature of evil exist in the
world.

30
chapter XXVIII
f a person had delivered up your body to some passer-
I by, you would certainly be angry. And do you feel no
shame in delivering up your own mind to any reviler, to
be disconcerted and confounded?

31
chapter XXIX
n every affair consider what precedes and what fol-
I lows, and then undertake it . Otherwise you will be-
2

gin with spirit, indeed, careless of the consequences, and

when these are developed, you will shamefully desist.
“I would conquer at the Olympic Games.” But consider
what precedes and what follows, and then, if it be for
your advantage, engage in the affair. You must conform
to rules, submit to a diet, refrain from dainties; exercise
your body, whether you choose it or not, at a stated hour,
in heat and cold; you must drink no cold water, and some-
times no wine—in a word, you must give yourself up to
your trainer as to a physician. Then, in the combat, you
may be thrown into a ditch, dislocate your arm, turn your
ankle, swallow an abundance of dust, receive stripes
[for negligence], and, after all, lose the victory. When
you have reckoned up all this, if your inclination still
holds, set about the combat. Otherwise, take notice, you
will behave like children who sometimes play wrestlers,
sometimes gladiators, sometimes blow a trumpet, and
sometimes act a tragedy, when they happen to have seen
and admired these shows. Thus you too will be at one
time a wrestler, and another a gladiator; now a philoso-
pher, now an orator; but nothing in earnest. Like an ape

32
you mimic all you see, and one thing after another is sure
to please you, but is out of favor as soon as it becomes
familiar. For you have never entered upon anything
considerately; nor after having surveyed and tested the
whole matter, but carelessly, and with a halfway zeal.
Thus some, when they have seen a philosopher and heard
a man speaking like Euphrates3 —though, indeed, who
can speak like him?—have a mind to be philosophers, too.
Consider first, man, what the matter is, and what your
own nature is able to bear. If you would be a wrestler,
consider your shoulders, your back, your thighs; for dif-
ferent persons are made for different things. Do you
think that you can act as you do and be a philosopher,
that you can eat, drink, be angry, be discontented, as
you are now? You must watch, you must labor, you must
get the better of certain appetites, must quit your ac-
quaintances, be despised by your servant, be laughed
at by those you meet; come off worse than others in ev-
erything—in offices, in honors, before tribunals. When
you have fully considered all these things, approach, if
you please—that is, if, by parting with them, you have a
mind to purchase serenity, freedom, and tranquillity. If
not, do not come hither; do not, like children, be now a
philosopher, then a publican, then an orator, and then
one of Caesar’s officers. These things are not consistent.
You must be one man, either good or bad. You must
cultivate either your own reason or else externals; apply
yourself either to things within or without you—that is,

33
be either a philosopher or one of the mob.

34
chapter XXX
uties are universally measured by relations. Is a
D certain man your father? In this are implied taking
care of him, submitting to him in all things, patiently
receiving his reproaches, his correction. But he is a
bad father. Is your natural tie, then, to a good father?
No, but to a father. Is a brother unjust? Well, preserve
your own just relation toward him. Consider not what
he does, but what you are to do to keep your own will
in a state conformable to nature, for another cannot
hurt you unless you please. You will then be hurt when
you consent to be hurt. In this manner, therefore, if
you accustom yourself to contemplate the relations of
neighbor, citizen, commander, you can deduce from each
the corresponding duties.

35
chapter XXXI
e assured that the essence of piety toward the gods
B lies in this—to form right opinions concerning them,
as existing and as governing the universe justly and
well. And fix yourself in this resolution, to obey them,
and yield to them, and willingly follow them amidst all
events, as being ruled by the most perfect wisdom. For
thus you will never find fault with the gods, nor accuse
them of neglecting you. And it is not possible for this to
be affected in any other way than by withdrawing your-
self from things which are not within our own power, and
by making good or evil to consist only in those which are.
For if you suppose any other things to be either good or
evil, it is inevitable that, when you are disappointed of
what you wish or incur what you would avoid, you should
reproach and blame their authors. For every creature is
naturally formed to flee and abhor things that appear
hurtful and that which causes them; and to pursue and
admire those which appear beneficial and that which
causes them. It is impracticable, then, that one who
supposes himself to be hurt should rejoice in the person
who, as he thinks, hurts him, just as it is impossible to
rejoice in the hurt itself. Hence, also, a father is reviled
by his son when he does not impart the things which

36
seem to be good; and this made Polynices and Eteocles4
mutually enemies—that empire seemed good to both. On
this account the husbandman reviles the gods; [and so
do] the sailor, the merchant, or those who have lost wife
or child. For where our interest is, there, too, is piety di-
rected. So that whoever is careful to regulate his desires
and aversions as he ought is thus made careful of piety
likewise. But it also becomes incumbent on everyone to
offer libations and sacrifices and first fruits, according
to the customs of his country, purely, and not heedlessly
nor negligently; not avariciously, nor yet extravagantly.

37
chapter XXXII
hen you have recourse to divination, remember
W that you know not what the event will be, and you
come to learn it of the diviner; but of what nature it is
you knew before coming; at least, if you are of philosophic
mind. For if it is among the things not within our own
power, it can by no means be either good or evil. Do not,
therefore, bring with you to the diviner either desire or
aversion—else you will approach him trembling—but
first clearly understand that every event is indifferent
and nothing to you, of whatever sort it may be; for it will
be in your power to make a right use of it, and this no
one can hinder. Then come with confidence to the gods
as your counselors; and afterwards, when any counsel is
given you, remember what counselors you have assumed,
and whose advice you will neglect if you disobey. Come to
divination as Socrates prescribed, in cases of which the
whole consideration relates to the event, and in which
no opportunities are afforded by reason or any other art
to discover the matter in view. When, therefore, it is our
duty to share the danger of a friend or of our country, we
ought not to consult the oracle as to whether we shall
share it with them or not. For though the diviner should
forewarn you that the auspices are unfavorable, this

38
means no more than that either death or mutilation or
exile is portended. But we have reason within us; and
it directs us, even with these hazards, to stand by our
friend and our country. Attend, therefore, to the greater
diviner, the Pythian God, who once cast out of the temple
him who neglected to save his friend.5

39
chapter XXXIII
egin by prescribing to yourself some character and
B demeanor, such as you may preserve both alone and
in company.
Be mostly silent, or speak merely what is needful,
and in few words. We may, however, enter sparingly into
discourse sometimes, when occasion calls for it; but let it
not run on any of the common subjects, as gladiators, or
horse races, or athletic champions, or food, or drink—the
vulgar topics of conversation—and especially not on men,
so as either to blame, or praise, or make comparisons.
If you are able, then, by your own conversation, bring
over that of your company to proper subjects; but if you
happen to find yourself among strangers, be silent.
Let not your laughter be loud, frequent, or abundant.
Avoid taking oaths, if possible, altogether; at any
rate, so far as you are able.
Avoid public and vulgar entertainments; but if ever
an occasion calls you to them, keep your attention upon
the stretch, that you may not imperceptibly slide into
vulgarity. For be assured that if a person be ever so
pure himself, yet, if his companion be corrupted, he who
converses with him will be corrupted likewise.

40
 Provide things relating to the body no further than
absolute need requires, as meat, drink, clothing, house,
retinue. But cut off everything that looks toward show
and luxury.
Before marriage guard yourself with all your ability
from unlawful intercourse with women; yet be not un-
charitable or severe to those who are led into this, nor
boast frequently that you yourself do otherwise.
If anyone tells you that a certain person speaks ill
of you, do not make excuses about what is said of you,
but answer: “He was ignorant of my other faults, else he
would not have mentioned these alone.”
It is not necessary for you to appear often at public
spectacles; but if ever there is a proper occasion for you to
be there, do not appear more solicitous for any other than
for yourself—that is, wish things to be only just as they
are, and only the best man to win; for thus nothing will
go against you. But abstain entirely from acclamations
and derision and violent emotions. And when you come
away, do not discourse a great deal on what has passed
and what contributes nothing to your own amendment.
For it would appear by such discourse that you were
dazzled by the show.
Be not prompt or ready to attend private recitations;
but if you do attend, preserve your gravity and dignity,
and yet avoid making yourself disagreeable.
When you are going to confer with anyone, and es-
pecially with one who seems your superior, represent

41
to yourself how Socrates or Zeno6 would behave in such
a case, and you will not be at a loss to meet properly
whatever may occur.
When you are going before anyone in power, fancy
to yourself that you may not find him at home, that you
may be shut out, that the doors may not be opened to
you, that he may not notice you. If, with all this, it be
your duty to go, bear what happens and never say to
yourself, “It was not worth so much”; for this is vulgar,
and like a man bewildered by externals.
In company, avoid a frequent and excessive mention
of your own actions and dangers. For however agree-
able it may be to yourself to allude to the risks you have
run, it is not equally agreeable to others to hear your
adventures. Avoid likewise an endeavor to excite laugh-
ter, for this may readily slide you into vulgarity, and,
besides, may be apt to lower you in the esteem of your
acquaintance. Approaches to indecent discourse are
likewise dangerous. Therefore, when anything of this
sort happens, use the first fit opportunity to rebuke him
who makes advances that way, or, at least, by silence
and blushing and a serious look show yourself to be
displeased by such talk.

42
chapter XXXIV
f you are dazzled by the semblance of any promised
I pleasure, guard yourself against being bewildered
by it; but let the affair wait your leisure, and procure
yourself some delay. Then bring to your mind both points
of time—that in which you shall enjoy the pleasure, and
that in which you will repent and reproach yourself, after
you have enjoyed it—and set before you, in opposition
to these, how you will rejoice and applaud yourself if
you abstain. And even though it should appear to you a
seasonable gratification, take heed that its enticements
and allurements and seductions may not subdue you,
but set in opposition to this how much better it is to be
conscious of having gained so great a victory.

43
chapter XXXV
hen you do anything from a clear judgment that it
W ought to be done, never shrink from being seen to
do it, even though the world should misunderstand it;
for if you are not acting rightly, shun the action itself; if
you are, why fear those who wrongly censure you?

44
chapter XXXVI
s the proposition, “either it is day or it is night,” has
A much force in a disjunctive argument, but none at all
in a conjunctive one, so, at a feast, to choose the largest
share is very suitable to the bodily appetite, but utterly
inconsistent with the social spirit of the entertainment.
Remember, then, when you eat with another, not only
the value to the body of those things which are set before
you, but also the value of proper courtesy toward your
host.

45
chapter XXXVII
f you have assumed any character beyond your strength,
I you have both demeaned yourself ill in that and quit-
ted one which you might have supported.

46
chapter XXXVIII
s in walking you take care not to tread upon a nail,
A or turn your foot, so likewise take care not to hurt
the ruling faculty of your mind. And if we were to guard
against this in every action, we should enter upon action
more safely.

47
chapter XXXIX
he body is to everyone the proper measure of its
T possessions, as the foot is of the shoe. If, therefore,
you stop at this, you will keep the measure; but if you
move beyond it, you must necessarily be carried forward,
as down a precipice; as in the case of a shoe, if you go
beyond its fitness to the foot, it comes first to be gilded,
then purple, and then studded with jewels. For to that
which once exceeds the fit measure there is no bound.

48
chapter XL
omen from fourteen years old are flattered by men
W with the title of mistresses. Therefore, perceiving
that they are regarded only as qualified to give men
pleasure, they begin to adorn themselves, and in that to
place all their hopes. It is worth while, therefore, to try
that they may perceive themselves honored only so far as
they appear beautiful in their demeanor and modestly
virtuous.

49
chapter XLI
t is a mark of want of intellect to spend much time
I in things relating to the body, as to be immoderate in
exercises, in eating and drinking, and in the discharge
of other animal functions. These things should be done
incidentally and our main strength be applied to our
reason.

50
chapter XLII
hen any person does ill by you, or speaks ill of you,
W remember that he acts or speaks from an impres-
sion that it is right for him to do so. Now it is not possible
that he should follow what appears right to you, but only
what appears so to himself. Therefore, if he judges from
false appearances, he is the person hurt, since he, too, is
the person deceived. For if anyone takes a true proposi-
tion to be false, the proposition is not hurt, but only the
man is deceived. Setting out, then, from these principles,
you will meekly bear with a person who reviles you, for
you will say upon every occasion, “It seemed so to him.”

51
chapter XLIII
verything has two handles: one by which it may be
E borne, another by which it cannot. If your brother
acts unjustly, do not lay hold on the affair by the handle
of his injustice, for by that it cannot be borne, but rather
by the opposite—that he is your brother, that he was
brought up with you; and thus you will lay hold on it as
it is to be borne.

52
chapter XLIV
hese reasonings have no logical connection: “I am
T richer than you, therefore I am your superior.” “I am
more eloquent than you, therefore I am your superior.”
The true logical connection is rather this: “I am richer
than you, therefore my possessions must exceed yours.”
“I am more eloquent than you, therefore my style must
surpass yours.” But you, after all, consist neither in
property nor in style.

53
chapter XLV
oes anyone bathe hastily? Do not say that he does
D it ill, but hastily. Does anyone drink much wine?
Do not say that he does ill, but that he drinks a great
deal. For unless you perfectly understand his motives,
how should you know if he acts ill? Thus you will not
risk yielding to any appearances but such as you fully
comprehend.

54
chapter XLVI
ever proclaim yourself a philosopher, nor make much
N talk among the ignorant about your principles, but
show them by actions. Thus, at an entertainment, do
not discourse how people ought to eat, but eat as you
ought. For remember that thus Socrates also univer-
sally avoided all ostentation. And when persons came to
him and desired to be introduced by him to philosophers,
he took them and introduced them; so well did he bear
being overlooked. So if ever there should be among the
ignorant any discussion of principles, be for the most
part silent. For there is great danger in hastily throwing
out what is undigested. And if anyone tells you that you
know nothing, and you are not nettled at it, then you
may be sure that you have really entered on your work.
For sheep do not hastily throw up the grass to show the
shepherds how much they have eaten, but, inwardly di-
gesting their food, they produce it outwardly in wool and
milk. Thus, therefore, do you not make an exhibition
before the ignorant of your principles, but of the actions
to which their digestion gives rise.

55
chapter XLVII
hen you have learned to nourish your body frugally,
W do not pique yourself upon it; nor, if you drink
water, be saying upon every occasion, “I drink water.” But
first consider how much more frugal are the poor than
we, and how much more patient of hardship. If at any
time you would inure yourself by exercise to labor and
privation, for your own sake and not for the public, do not
attempt great feats; but when you are violently thirsty,
just rinse your mouth with water, and tell nobody.

56
chapter XLVIII
he condition and characteristic of a vulgar person
T is that he never looks for either help or harm from
himself, but only from externals. The condition and char-
acteristic of a philosopher is that he looks to himself for
all help or harm. The marks of a proficient are that he
censures no one, praises no one, blames no one, accuses
no one; says nothing concerning himself as being any-
body or knowing anything. When he is in any instance
hindered or restrained, he accuses himself; and if he is
praised, he smiles to himself at the person who praises
him; and if he is censured, he makes no defense. But he
goes about with the caution of a convalescent, careful
of interference with anything that is doing well but not
yet quite secure. He restrains desire; he transfers his
aversion to those things only which thwart the proper
use of our own will; he employs his energies moderately
in all directions; if he appears stupid or ignorant, he does
not care; and, in a word, he keeps watch over himself as
over an enemy and one in ambush.

57
chapter XLIX
hen anyone shows himself vain on being able to
W understand and interpret the works of Chrysip-
pus,7 say to yourself: “Unless Chrysippus had written
obscurely, this person would have had nothing to be vain
of. But what do I desire? To understand nature, and
follow her. I ask, then, who interprets her; and hear-
ing that Chrysippus does, I have recourse to him. I do
not understand his writings. I seek, therefore, one to
interpret them.” So far there is nothing to value myself
upon. And when I find an interpreter, what remains is
to make use of his instructions. This alone is the valu-
able thing. But if I admire merely the interpretation,
what do I become more than a grammarian, instead of
a philosopher, except, indeed, that instead of Homer I
interpret Chrysippus? When anyone, therefore, desires
me to read Chrysippus to him, I rather blush when I can-
not exhibit actions that are harmonious and consonant
with his discourse.

58
chapter L
hatever rules you have adopted, abide by them as
W laws, and as if you would be impious to transgress
them; and do not regard what anyone says of you, for this,
after all, is no concern of yours. How long, then, will you
delay to demand of yourself the noblest improvements,
and in no instance to transgress the judgments of rea-
son? You have received the philosophic principles with
which you ought to be conversant; and you have been
conversant with them. For what other master, then, do
you wait as an excuse for this delay in self-reformation?
You are no longer a boy but a grown man. If, therefore,
you will be negligent and slothful, and always add pro-
crastination to procrastination, purpose to purpose, and
fix day after day in which you will attend to yourself,
you will insensibly continue to accomplish nothing and,
living and dying, remain of vulgar mind. This instant,
then, think yourself worthy of living as a man grown up
and a proficient. Let whatever appears to be the best be
to you an inviolable law. And if any instance of pain or
pleasure, glory or disgrace, be set before you, remember
that now is the combat, now the Olympiad comes on,
nor can it be put off; and that by one failure and defeat

59
honor may be lost or—won. Thus Socrates became per-
fect, improving himself by everything, following reason
alone. And though you are not yet a Socrates, you ought,
however, to live as one seeking to be a Socrates.

60
chapter LI
he first and most necessary topic in philosophy is the
T practical application of principles, as, We ought not to
lie; the second is that of demonstrations as, Why it is that
we ought not to lie; the third, that which gives strength
and logical connection to the other two, as, Why this is a
demonstration. For what is demonstration? What is a
consequence? What a contradiction? What truth? What
falsehood? The third point is then necessary on account
of the second; and the second on account of the first. But
the most necessary, and that whereon we ought to rest,
is the first. But we do just the contrary. For we spend all
our time on the third point and employ all our diligence
about that, and entirely neglect the first. Therefore, at
the same time that we lie, we are very ready to show
how it is demonstrated that lying is wrong.
Upon all occasions we ought to have these maxims
ready at hand:
Conduct me, Zeus, and thou, O Destiny, Wherever
your decrees have fixed my lot. I follow cheerfully; and,
did I not, Wicked and wretched, I must follow still.8
Who’er yields properly to Fate is deemed Wise among
men, and knows the laws of Heaven.9
And this third:

61
 “O Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be.”10
“Anytus and Melitus may kill me indeed; but hurt
me they cannot.”11

62
Notes
1
Happiness, the effect of virtue, is the mark which God has set up for
us to aim at. Our missing it is no work of His; nor so properly anything
real, as a mere negative and failure of our own.
2
[Chapter XV of the third book of the Discourses, which, with the
exception of some very trifling differences, is the same as chapter XXIX of
the Enchiridion.—Ed.]
3
Euphrates was a philosopher of Syria, whose character is described,
with the highest encomiums, by Pliny the Younger, Letters I. 10.
4
[The two inimical sons of Oedipus, who killed each other in bat-
tle.—Ed.]
5
[This refers to an anecdote given in full by Simplicius, in his commen-
tary on this passage, of a man assaulted and killed on his way to consult
the oracle, while his companion, deserting him, took refuge in the temple
till cast out by the Deity.—Tr.]
6
][Reference is to Zeno of Cyprus (335-263 B.C.), the founder of the
Stoic school.—Ed.]
7
[Chrysippus (c. 280-207 B.C.) was a Stoic philosopher who became
head of the Stoa after Cleanthes. His works, which are lost, were most
influential and were generally accepted as the authoritative interpretation
of orthodox Stoic philosophy.—Ed.]
8
Cleanthes, in Diogenes Laertius, quoted also by Seneca, Epistle 107.
9
Euripides, Fragments.
10
Plato, Crito, Chap. XVII.
11
Plato, Apology, Chap. XVIII.

63