A Review of Epictetus’ Enchiridion: A Book So Short You Can Read It in 30 Minutes
The handbook of Stoicism
I looked up at the clock.
4:20 PM. (Nice.)
“Let’s see if I can read this entire book and take notes on it before the top of the hour,” I thought to myself.
And so I pulled up my browser’s EPUB extension and started reading, occasionally stopping to jot down ideas I found interesting. When I hit the final sentence, I glanced back up at the clock.
4:51 PM. Mission accomplished.
Now I’m not a particularly fast reader (in fact, my reading speed is quite slow). It’s just that the literary work I was reading was very, very short — just a mere ~7,700 words in Robin Hard’s translation in the Oxford World’s Classics collection.
The name of this book? The Enchiridion.
The Enchiridion (literally meaning “handbook” or “manual” in Greek) is a concise compilation of teachings from Epictetus, a former slave of 1st-century Rome and a prominent Stoic philosopher. The work was collected and organized by his student Arrian. So although it is not written by Epictetus himself, it distills the core principles of his Stoic philosophy into practical advice for daily life, focusing on how to live virtuously and maintain inner freedom regardless of external circumstances.
What follows are my initial impressions of that work.
General structure
The Enchiridion is not Meditations.
Although at initial glance, Epictetus’ handbook might seem devoid of structure (similar to Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations), there is some thematic structure as you go through it:
The beginning mostly consists of teachings from Epictetus concerned with the dichotomy of control, stressing that if you are unable to discern between what is/isn’t outside your sphere of influence, then you will live a miserable life.
The middle of the Enchiridion delves into practical social advice, including party interactions, family ties, and what to do when someone badmouths you.
Toward the end, Arrian compiles teachings more focused on philosophy itself. Why philosophy should be studied, how one should carry himself while pursuing philosophy, etc.
As I read through the Enchiridion, I felt like I was being guided through a journey, not just stumbling upon a random assortment of quotes (which was a small plus to me).
Notable passages
Though I’m sure I’ll come across more striking quotes when I revisit the Enchiridion, a few passages stood out during my first read.
I’d like to highlight three here (one for each thematic structure that I’ve outlined earlier):
The dichotomy of control
Some things are within our power, while others are not.
…
Remember, then, that if you regard that which is by nature slavish as being free, and that which is not your own as being your own, you’ll have cause to lament, you’ll have a troubled mind, and you’ll find fault with both gods and human beings; but if you regard only that which is your own as being your own, and that which isn’t your own as not being your own (as is indeed the case), no one will ever be able to coerce you, no one will hinder you, you’ll find fault with no one, you’ll accuse no one, you’ll do nothing whatever against your will, you’ll have no enemy, and no one will ever harm you because no harm can affect you.
— Enchiridion 1.1 and 1.3
(It’s from the very first passage of the Enchiridion that we get the famous “Some things are up to us and some things are not up to us” quote.)
The picture that Epictetus draws regarding the dichotomy of control is a vivid, contrasting one.
First, he agitates the reality in which someone fails to distinguish between what they can and cannot control — that they’ll blame everyone else for their troubles, that they’ll stress, and have reason to mourn. But on the other hand, someone who is able to clearly pinpoint where the line between these two categories should be placed will never let others determine his actions, have no enemies, and even be immune to harm.
Given this choice, choosing the former path seems nothing short of foolish.
When someone badmouths you
If someone reports to you that a certain person is speaking ill of you, don’t defend yourself against what has been said, but reply instead, ‘Ah yes, he was plainly unaware of all my other faults, or else those wouldn’t have been the only ones that he mentioned.’
— Enchiridion 33.9
This passage is an exact mirror image of a podcast I heard recently featuring Alex Hormozi. Here’s a quick summary of the podcast if you want to save a few hours. (And yes, it’s AI-generated.)
Toward the middle of the podcast, Alex is asked how he responds to criticism. His answer?
“The Stoic response to hate is to agree and one-up. So if someone says, ‘Alex, you’re a fucking idiot,’ respond with, ‘Believe me, if you knew half of it, you’d think more than that.’”
The only insults that hurt us are the ones we believe. If you can agree with your attacker and show them that you have even more flaws that they overlooked, they’ll run out of options to besmirch your name.
If you talk the talk, you’ve gotta walk the walk
Never call yourself a philosopher, and don’t talk among laymen for the most part about philosophical principles, but act in accordance with those principles. At a banquet, for example, don’t talk about how one ought to eat, but eat as one ought.
— Enchiridion 46.1
Titles are meaningless.
There’s a clear distinction that Epictetus makes. He does not say, “never talk about philosophy.” (That would be a contradiction of what he did during his life.) He says, “never title yourself with ‘philosopher.’” Anyone can give themselves the title of “philosopher.” But the only people who are philosophers are those who act in accordance with their philosophical principles.
It doesn’t matter how much you ascribe your identity to philosophy or the fact that you bestow the title upon yourself. The only thing that counts is if you live it.
Influence on Meditations
Having read Meditations several times, I noticed very plainly that Marcus’ ideas are heavily influenced by Epictetus.
Although Marcus Aurelius never personally met Epictetus, he does thank his mentor, Rusticus, for introducing him to Epictetus’ work:
And for introducing me to Epictetus’s lectures — and loaning me his own copy.
— Meditations 1.7
And even though Marcus likely read Epictetus’ Discourses (not the Enchiridion), many of the ideas between the two works overlap. They consist of ideas from the same man, after all.
For example, consider this quote from Meditations where Marcus outright cites Epictetus:
As you kiss your son good night, says Epictetus, whisper to yourself, “He may be dead in the morning.”
Don’t tempt fate, you say.
By talking about a natural event? Is fate tempted when we speak of grain being reaped?
— Meditations 11.34
To which we can find the “original” idea in the Enchiridion:
If you kiss your child or your wife, say to yourself that it is a human being that you’re kissing; and then, if one of them should die, you won’t be upset.
— Enchiridion 3
Though rather morbid, there’s an important point here: Death is natural — and there is nothing natural that should make us upset.
Marcus and Epictetus also both use the analogy of an actor in a play to describe our role in life, and that the duration of our life is up to a higher power.
Remember that you’re an actor in a play, which will be as the author chooses, short if he wants it to be short, and long if he wants it to be long. If he wants you to play the part of a beggar, act even that part with all your skill; and likewise if you’re playing a cripple, an official, or a private citizen. For that is your business, to act the role that is assigned to you as well as you can; but it is another’s part to select that role.
— Enchiridion 17
And similarly, in the very last passage of Meditations:
You’ve lived as a citizen in a great city. Five years or a hundred — what’s the difference? The laws make no distinction.
And to be sent away from it, not by a tyrant or a dishonest judge, but by Nature, who first invited you in — why is that so terrible?
Like the impresario ringing down the curtain on an actor:
“But I’ve only gotten through three acts . . . !”
Yes. This will be a drama in three acts, the length fixed by the power that directed your creation, and now directs your dissolution. Neither was yours to determine.
So make your exit with grace — the same grace shown to you.
— Meditations 12.36
There are many things that are simply not up to us.
Here, Epictetus and Marcus highlight the impermanence of life as being one such thing.
Though we can control our reactions, responses, choices, and the thoughts that stay in our minds, there is nothing we can do to extend our lives — which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. After all (as Marcus points out), what difference does it make if you live for five years or a hundred? 300 years or 3,000? You’ll see the same old things repeating, over and over again. You won’t miss out on seeing anything new.
And that is a comforting thought.
We are all just actors in a play. We don’t get to decide how many acts we get to play. We don’t get to direct others in what they should do on stage.
All we have to do is to play our assigned roles the best we can.
Final thoughts (for now)
The Enchiridion is something that’s meant to be read many, many times.
Not just once. (And especially not in just 30 minutes.)
Based on a few online forums, many people report reading just one passage a day helps them understand the practical and profound teachings that Epictetus has to offer. This is definitely something that I’m planning to do in the future.
I know that it’s impossible for me to have digested all 53 entries of Epictetus’ handbook in my first read-through, and I’m certain that I will find certain ideas to stand out that I never even noticed the first time — especially toward the middle of the book, where Epictetus includes a plethora of advice for daily life. I’m sure I won’t get the hang of those after 5, 10, or even 20 read-throughs.
I quite enjoyed Robin Hard’s translation of the Enchiridion, and I strongly recommend it to anyone who’s also reading this work for the first time. I tend to opt for the most modern, simplistic translations available, and I can say with full confidence that Hard’s translation was exactly that.
(For those who are curious, I referenced Gregory Hayes’ translation for all quotes pulled from Meditations — a translation that almost all readers agree reads the most like modern English. No thou’s, thy’s, etc.)
I’m excited to revisit this ancient handbook many more times — and to better understand the mind of the slave-turned-philosopher who shaped so much of Stoic thought.
But until then, I’m just a guy with 30 minutes of Epictetus under his belt.
Thanks for reading!