Discourses and Enchiridion

How far, then, must we submit to such commands? So far as is expedient; that is, so far as I am true to what is becoming and consistent. But some men can bear much more than others.There are, however, some severe and sour-tempered persons who say, 'I cannot dine with this fellow, and put up with his daily narrative of how he fought in Mysia. "I told you, brother, how I mounted the hill: now I begin again at the siege."' Another says, 'I would rather dine and hear him babble on to his heart's content.' It is for you to compare these estimates: only do nothing in the spirit of one burdened and afflicted, who believes himself in evil case: for no one compels you to this. The door is open if the room becomes too smoky.Suppose some one made the room smoke. If the smoke is moderate I will stay: if excessive, I go out: for one must remember and hold fast to this, that the door is open. The order comes, 'Do not dwell in Nicopolis.' I will not. 'Nor in Athens.' I give up Athens. 'Nor in Rome.' I give up Rome. 'Dwell in Gyara.'

Plain English · paraphraseHow far, then, must we obey such commands? As far as is useful; that is, as far as I remain true to what is proper and consistent. But some people can endure much more than others. There are, however, some strict and bad-tempered people who say, "I cannot eat with this man and listen to his daily story about how he fought in Mysia. 'I already told you, brother, how I climbed the hill: now I start again from the siege.'" Another says, "I would rather eat and let him talk as long as he wants." It is up to you to compare these views: just do not act like someone who is burdened and unhappy, thinking they are in a bad situation: because no one is forcing you to stay. The door is open if the room gets too smoky. Suppose someone filled the room with smoke. If the smoke is light, I will stay: if it is too much, I will leave: for one must always remember and hold on to this, that the door is open. The order comes, "Do not live in Nicopolis." I will not. "Nor in Athens." I give up Athens. "Nor in Rome." I give up Rome. "Live in Gyara."

I dwell in Gyara: but this seems to me a very smoky room indeed, and I depart where no one shall hinder me from dwelling: for that dwelling is open to every man. The tyrant may take your tunic or your body, but beyond that you are free.And beyond the last inner tunic, which is this poor body of mine, no one has any authority over me at all. That is why Demetrius said to Nero, 'You threaten me with death, but nature threatens you.' If I pay regard to my poor body, I have given myself over as a slave: and if I value my wretched property I am a slave, for thereby I show at once what power can master me. Just as when the snake draws in its head I say, 'Strike the part of him which he guards,' so you may be sure that your master will trample on that part of you which you wish to guard. When you remember this, whom will you flatter or fear any more? The ambitious only make discomfort for themselves.'Nay, but I want to sit where the senators sit.' Do you see that you are making a strait place for yourself and squeezing yourself? 'How else then shall I have a good view in the amphitheatre?'

Man, do not go to the show and you will not be crushed. Why do you trouble yourself? Or wait a little, and when the show is done, sit down in the senators' seats and sun yourself. No one can trouble us unless our own thoughts give him a hold on us.For remember this (and it is true universally) that it is we who straiten and crush ourselves—that is to say, it is our judgements which straiten and crush us. For instance, what does it mean to be slandered? Stand by a stone and slander it: what effect will you produce? If a man then listens like a stone, what advantage has the slanderer? But if the slanderer has the weakness of him that he slanders to work upon, then he does achieve something. 'Tear his toga off him.' Why bring him in? Take his toga. Tear that. 'I have done you an outrage.' Let us follow the example of Socrates, who let nothing disturb him.May it turn out to your good. These were the principles that. Socrates practised: that is why his face always wore the same expression. But we are fain to study and practise everything except how to be free men and untrammelled. 'The philosophers talk paradoxes.'

But are there no paradoxes in the other arts? Nay, what is more paradoxical than to lance a man's eye that he may see? If one told this to a person unskilled in the physician's art, would he not laugh at him who said it? Is it surprising then that in philosophy also many truths seem paradoxical to those who are unskilled?

Plain English · paraphraseBut are there no paradoxes in the other arts? No, what is more paradoxical than to lance a man's eye so he can see? If someone told this to a person who is not skilled in the physician's art, would that person not laugh at the one who said it? Is it surprising then that in philosophy also many truths seem paradoxical to those who are unskilled?

CHAPTER XXVI What is the law of life. The law of living is more important than any law of hypothesis,When some one was reciting hypothetical arguments, Epictetus said: This also is a law which governs hypothesis, that we must accept what conforms with the hypothesis. But much more important is the law of living, which is this—to act in conformity with nature. For if we wish in every subject and in all circumstances to observe what is natural, it is plain that in everything we must aim at not letting slip what is in harmony with nature nor accepting what is in conflict with it. but it is harder, because in life there are opposing influences.First, then, philosophers train us in the region of speculation, which is easier, and only then lead us on to what is harder: for in the sphere of speculation there is no influence which hinders us from following what we are taught, but in life there are many influences which drag us the contrary way. We may laugh, then, at him who says that he wants to try living first; for it is not easy to begin with what is harder.

The study of philosophy can only be justified by the desire to live rightly.And this is the defence that we must plead with parents who are angered at their children studying philosophy: 'Suppose I am in error, my father, and ignorant of what is fitting and proper for me. If, then, this cannot be taught or learnt, why do you reproach me? If it can be taught, teach me, and, if you cannot, let me learn from those who say that they know. For what think you? That I fall into evil and fail to do well because I wish to? God forbid. What, then, is the cause of my going wrong? Ignorance. Would you not then have me put away my ignorance? Who was ever taught the art of music or of steering by anger? Do you think, then, that your anger will enable me to learn the art of living?' But some study it merely for display,This argument can only be used by one who has entertained the purpose of right living. But if a man studies logic and goes to the philosophers just because he wants to show at a dinner party that he knows hypothetical arguments, is he not merely trying to win the admiration of some senator who sits next him? For in such society the great forces of the world prevail, and what we call wealth here seems child's-play there.

and are influenced by the material tone of their society.This is what makes it difficult to get the mastery over one's impressions, where distracting forces are strong. I know a man who clung to the knees of Epaphroditus in tears and said he was in distress, for he had nothing left but a million and a half. What did Epaphroditus do? Did he laugh at him, as we should? No, he was astonished, and said, 'Unhappy man, how ever did you manage to keep silence and endure it?'

We cannot expect moral judgements from the young, unless they have had preliminary training.Once when he put to confusion the student who was reading hypothetical arguments, and the master who had set him to read laughed at his pupil, he said, You are laughing at yourself; you did not give the young man any preliminary training, nor discover whether he can follow the arguments, but just treat him as a reader. Why is it, he said, that when a mind is unable to follow and judge a complex argument we trust to it the task of praise and blame and of deciding on good and bad actions? If he speaks ill of any one, does the man attend to him, and is any one elated by a praise which comes from one who cannot find the logical connexion in such small matters?

This, then, is where the philosophic life begins; in the discovery of the true state of one's own mind: for when once you realize that it is in a feeble state, you will not choose to employ it any more for great matters. To read books is useless, unless the mind can digest them.But, as it is, some men, finding themselves unable to swallow a mouthful, buy themselves a treatise, and set about eating it whole, and, in consequence they vomit or have indigestion. Hence come colics and fluxes and fevers. They ought first to have considered whether they have the faculty. It is easy enough in speculation to examine and refute the ignorant, but in practical life men do not submit themselves to be tested, and we hate the man who examines and exposes us. Yet Socrates used to say that a life which was not put to the test was not worth living.

Plain English · paraphraseThis, then, is where the philosophical life begins: in discovering the true state of one's own mind. For once you realize that it is weak, you will not choose to use it for great matters. Reading books is useless unless the mind can digest them. But as it is, some men, finding themselves unable to swallow a mouthful, buy a treatise and try to eat it whole. As a result, they vomit or suffer indigestion. Hence come colics, fluxes, and fevers. They ought first to consider whether they have the ability. It is easy enough in theory to examine and refute the ignorant, but in practical life, men do not submit themselves to be tested, and we hate the man who examines and exposes us. Yet Socrates used to say that a life not put to the test was not worth living.

CHAPTER XXVII On the ways in which impressions come to us: and the aids we must provide for ourselves to deal with them. The philosopher trains men to deal with impressions.Impressions come to us in four ways: either things are and seem so to us; or they are not and seem not to be; or they are and seem not; or they are not and yet seem to be. Now it is the business of the true philosopher to deal rightly with all these; he ought to afford help at whatever point the pressure comes. If it is the fallacies of Pyrrho and of the Academy which crush us, let us render help against them. If it is the plausibilities of circumstances, which make things seem good which are not, let us seek help against this danger: if it is habit which crushes us, we must try to discover help against that. Habit can only be overcome by contrary habit.What, then, can we discover to help us against habit? Contrary habit.

You hear ignorant folk saying, 'Unhappy man that he was, he died': 'His father perished, and his mother': 'He was cut off, yes, and untimely and in a foreign land.' Now listen to the arguments on the other side; draw yourself away from these voices, set against habit the opposite habit. Set against fallacious arguments the processes of reason, training yourself to be familiar with these processes: against the plausibilities of things we must have our primary conceptions clear, like weapons bright and ready for use. The fear of death can only be met by the conviction that it is not an evil.When death appears an evil we must have ready to hand the argument that it is fitting to avoid evils, and death is a necessary thing. What am I to do? Where am I to escape it? Grant that I am not Sarpedon son of Zeus, to utter those noble words, 'I would fain go and achieve glory or afford another the occasion to achieve it: if I cannot win success myself, I will not grudge another the chance of doing a noble deed'. Grant that this is beyond us, can we not compass the other?

Plain English · paraphraseYou hear ignorant people saying, "Poor man, he died." "His father died, and his mother." "He was cut off, yes, and too soon, and in a foreign land." Now listen to the arguments on the other side. Turn away from these voices. Build a new habit to counter your old one. Use reason to counter false arguments, and train yourself to be familiar with reason. Against misleading ideas, we must keep our basic ideas clear, like weapons bright and ready for use. The fear of death can only be met by the belief that it is not evil. When death seems evil, we must be ready with the argument that it is right to avoid evils, and death is a necessary thing. What can I do? Where can I escape it? Suppose I am not Sarpedon, son of Zeus, to say those noble words: "I would like to go and achieve glory or give someone else the chance to achieve it. If I cannot win success myself, I will not begrudge another the chance to do a noble deed." Suppose this is beyond us, can we not do the other?

I ask you, Where am I to escape death? Point me to the place, point me to the people, among whom I am to go, on whom it does not light, point me to a charm against it. If I have none, what would you have me do? I cannot escape death: am I not to escape the fear of it? Am I to die in tears and trembling? Trouble comes from unrealized wishes.For trouble of mind springs from this, from wishing for a thing which does not come to pass. Wheresoever I can alter external things to suit my own will, I alter them: where I cannot, I am fain to tear any man's eyes out who stands in my way. For man's nature is such that he cannot bear to be deprived of what is good, nor can he bear to be involved in evil. And so the end of the matter is that when I cannot alter things, nor blind him that hinders me, I sit still and moan and revile whom I can—Zeus and the other gods; for if they heed me not, what have I to do with them? Piety can only be preserved if a man finds his true interest in it.'Yes, but that will be impious of you.'

Well, how shall I be worse off than I am now? In a word, we must remember this, that unless piety and true interest coincide, piety cannot be preserved in a man. Do not these principles seem to you to be urgent? Let the Pyrrhonist and the disciple of the Academy come and maintain the contrary! For my part I have no leisure for these discussions, nor can I act as advocate to the common-sense view. If I had some petty action concerned with a plot of land, I should have called in another to be my advocate, [how much more in a matter of this concern].

It is not necessary to be able to deal with every philosophical question.With what argument, then, am I content? With what is appropriate to the subject in hand. How sensation takes place, whether through the whole body or through particular parts, I cannot render a reasoned account, though I find difficulty in both views. But that you and I are not the same persons, I know absolutely and for certain. How is that? When I want to swallow a morsel I never lift it to your mouth, but to mine. When I want to take a piece of bread, I never take rubbish instead, but go to the bread as to a mark. And even you who make nothing of the senses, act just as I do. Which of you when he wants to go to the bath goes to the mill instead?

The ordinary man must be content with what serves him for practical use.What follows? Must we not to the best of our power hold fast to this —that is, maintain the view of common sense, and guard ourselves against all that upsets it? Yes, who disputes that? But these are matters for one who has the power and the leisure: the man who trembles, and is disturbed, and whose heart is shaken within him, ought to devote his time to something else.

CHAPTER XXVIII That we must not be angry with men: and concerning what things are small and what are great among men. Assent depends on impressions.What is the reason that we assent to a thing? Because it seems to us that it is so. It is impossible that we shall assent to that which seems not to be. Why? Because this is the nature of the mind—to agree to what is true, and disagree with what is false, and withhold judgement on what is doubtful. What is the proof of this? 'Feel now, if you can, that it is night.' It is impossible. Put away the feeling that it is day.' It is impossible. 'Assume or put away the feeling that the stars are even in number.' It is not possible. When a man assents, then, to what is false, know that he had no wish to assent to the false: 'for no soul is robbed of the truth with its own consent,' as Plato says, but the false seemed to him true. and in action too we depend on impressions.Now, in the sphere of action what have we to correspond to true and false in the sphere of perception? What is fitting and unfitting, profitable and unprofitable, appropriate and inappropriate, and the like.

Cannot a man, then, think a thing is to his profit, and not choose it? He cannot. What of her who says I know full well what ills I mean to do But passion overpowers what counsel bids me. To correct your conduct you must correct your impressions.Here the very gratification of passion and the vengeance she takes on her husband she believes to be more to her profit than saving her children. 'Yes, but she is deceived.' Prove to her plainly that she is deceived and she will not do it, but as long as you do not show her, what else can she follow but that which appears to her? Nothing. Why then are you indignant with her, because, unhappy woman, she is deluded on the greatest matters and is transformed from a human being into a serpent? Why do you not rather pity her—if so it may be? As we pity the blind and the lame, so should we pity those who are blinded and lamed in their most sovereign faculties.

If you realize this you will never be angry with any one.We must remember this clearly, that man measures his every action by his impressions; of course they may be good or bad: if good, he is free from reproach; if bad, he pays the penalty in his own person, for it is impossible for one to be deluded and another to suffer for it. The man who remembers this, I say, will be angry with no one, indignant with no one, revile none, blame none, hate none, offend none. The deeds that Homer records depend on impressions.'So you say that deeds so great and awful take their origin from this, the impressions of the mind?' From this and nothing else. The Iliad is nothing but men's impressions and how they dealt with them. It was impressions that made Paris take away the wife of Menelaus, impressions that drew Helen to follow him. If, then, his impressions had led Menelaus to feel that it was a gain to be robbed of such a wife, what would have happened? We should have lost the Iliad, and not only that but the Odyssey too. 'What? Do these great matters depend on one that is so small?'

What are these you call 'such great matters'? Wars and factions, deaths of many men and destructions of cities. What is there great in this, pray? There is nothing great in them.'Is there nothing great?' Why, what is there great in the death of many oxen and many sheep, and the burning and destruction of many nests of swallows and storks? 'Are these like those other horrors?' Most like: bodies of men perished, so did bodies of oxen and sheep. Huts of men were burnt: so were storks' nests. What is great or awful here? Or if it be so, show me how a man's home differs from a stork's nest, as a dwelling. 'Is a stork, then, like a man?' What do you say? In respect of his body, very like; save only that men's homes are built of beams and rafters and bricks, and storks’ nests of sticks and clay. 'Does a man then differ in nothing from a stork?' God forbid: but he does not differ in these matters. For man's greatness depends on his reason.'In what then does he differ?'

Search and you will find that he differs in something else. Look whether it be not that he differs in understanding what he does, in his faculty for society, in his good faith, his self-respect, his security of aim, his prudence. Where then is man's good and man's evil, in the true sense, to be found?

Plain English · paraphraseSearch and you will find that he differs in something else. Look and see if it is not that he differs in understanding what he does, in his ability to get along with others, in his honesty, his self-respect, his steadiness of purpose, his prudence. Where then is man's good and man's evil, in the true sense, to be found?

In that faculty which makes men different from all else. If a man preserves this and keeps it safely fortified; if his sense of honour, his good faith, and his prudence are not destroyed, then he too is preserved; but if any of these perish or be taken by storm, then he too perishes with them. Man fails when he loses reason and self-respect,And it is on this that great events depend. Was Alexander's great failure when the Hellenes came against the Trojans and sacked Troy and when his brothers perished? By no means: for no one fails by the act of another; yet then there was destruction of storks' nests. Nay, his failure was when he lost the man of honour, the man of good faith, the man who respected manners and the laws of hospitality. When did Achilles fail? Was it when Patroclus died? God forbid: it was when he was angry, when he cried for a trumpery maiden, when he forgot that he was there not to win lady-loves, but to make war. These are man's failures—this is his siege, this is his razed city, when his right judgements are broken to the ground, and when they are destroyed.

not where he is robbed or killed.'But when women are carried off, and children are made captive, and men themselves are slaughtered—are not these things evil?' Where do you get this idea from? If it is true, teach it me too. 'No, I cannot: but how can you say that they are not evil?' We go wrong because we recognize no standard in conduct and go by impressions.Let us turn to our standards, let us look to our primary notions. For I cannot be sufficiently astonished at what men do. When we want to judge weights, we do not judge at random: when we judge things straight and crooked, it is not at random: in a word, when it is important to us to know the truth on any subject, no one of us will ever do anything at random. Yet when we are dealing with the primary and sole cause of right or wrong action, of prosperity or adversity, of good or bad fortune, there alone we are random and headlong: we nowhere have anything like a scale, nowhere anything like a standard: some impression strikes me, and straightway I act on it.

This is the source of all tragedy.Am I any better than Agamemnon or Achilles, that they should do and suffer such evils because they follow their impressions, and I should be content with mine? Surely tragedy has no other source but this. What is the 'Atreus' of Euripides? Impressions. What is the 'Oedipus' of Sophocles? Impressions. 'Phoenix'? Impressions. 'Hippolytus'? Impressions. How do you think then we should describe the man who takes no pains to discipline his impressions? What name do we give to those who follow everything that comes into their mind? 'Madmen.' Well, is not this exactly what we do?

CHAPTER XXIX On Constancy. Good and evil depend on the will.The essence of good and of evil lies in an attitude of the will. What are external things then? They are materials for the will, in dealing with which it will find its own good or evil. How will it find its good? If it does not value over much the things that it deals with. For its judgements on matters presented to it, if they be right, make the will good, and if crooked and perverse make it bad. This law God has ordained and says, 'If you want anything good, get it from yourself.' You say, 'Not so, but from another.' The tyrant's threats cannot touch a man's will.I say, No, from yourself. So when the tyrant threatens and does not invite me, I say, 'What does he threaten?' If he says, 'I will bind you', I say, 'He threatens my hands and my feet.' If he says, 'I will behead you', I say, 'He threatens my neck'. If he says, 'I will put you in prison', I say, 'He threatens all my poor flesh', and if he threatens banishment, the same. 'Does he then not threaten you at all?'