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consent of the daemon within me。〃
The trouble is our daemon cannot always be relied upon。 So often he
does not seem up to his work。
〃You've been a naughty boy； and I'm going to whip you；〃 said nurse to
a four…year…old criminal。
〃You tant；〃 retorted the young ruffian； gripping with both hands the
chair that he was occupying； 〃I'se sittin' on it。〃
His daemon was； no doubt； resolved that misfortune； as personified by
nurse； should not hurt him。 The misfortune； alas！ proved stronger
than the daemon； and misfortune； he found did hurt him。
The toothache cannot hurt us so long as the daemon within us （that is
to say； our will power） holds on to the chair and says it can't。
But； sooner or later； the daemon lets go； and then we howl。 One sees
the idea： in theory it is excellent。 One makes believe。 Your bank
has suddenly stopped payment。 You say to yourself。
〃This does not really matter。〃
Your butcher and your baker say it does； and insist on making a row
in the passage。
You fill yourself up with gooseberry wine。 You tell yourself it is
seasoned champagne。 Your liver next morning says it is not。
The daemon within us means well； but forgets it is not the only thing
there。 A man I knew was an enthusiast on vegetarianism。 He argued
that if the poor would adopt a vegetarian diet the problem of
existence would be simpler for them； and maybe he was right。 So one
day he assembled some twenty poor lads for the purpose of introducing
to them a vegetarian lunch。 He begged them to believe that lentil
beans were steaks； that cauliflowers were chops。 As a third course
he placed before them a mixture of carrots and savoury herbs； and
urged them to imagine they were eating saveloys。
〃Now； you all like saveloys；〃 he said； addressing them； 〃and the
palate is but the creature of the imagination。 Say to yourselves； 'I
am eating saveloys；' and for all practical purposes these things will
be saveloys。〃
Some of the lads professed to have done it； but one disappointed…
looking youth confessed to failure。
〃But how can you be sure it was not a saveloy？〃 the host persisted。
〃Because；〃 explained the boy； 〃I haven't got the stomach…ache。〃
It appeared that saveloys； although a dish of which he was fond；
invariably and immediately disagreed with him。 If only we were all
daemon and nothing else philosophy would be easier。 Unfortunately；
there is more of us。
Another argument much approved by philosophy is that nothing matters；
because a hundred years hence； say； at the outside； we shall be dead。
What we really want is a philosophy that will enable us to get along
while we are still alive。 I am not worrying about my centenary； I am
worrying about next quarter…day。 I feel that if other people would
only go away； and leave meincome…tax collectors； critics； men who
come round about the gas； all those sort of peopleI could be a
philosopher myself。 I am willing enough to make believe that nothing
matters； but they are not。 They say it is going to be cut off； and
talk about judgment summonses。 I tell them it won't trouble any of
us a hundred years hence。 They answer they are not talking of a
hundred years hence； but of this thing that was due last April
twelvemonth。 They won't listen to my daemon。 He does not interest
them。 Nor； to be candid； does it comfort myself very much； this
philosophical reflection that a hundred years later on I'll be sure
to be deadthat is； with ordinary luck。 What bucks me up much more
is the hope that they will be dead。 Besides； in a hundred years
things may have improved。 I may not want to be dead。 If I were sure
of being dead next morning； before their threat of cutting off that
water or that gas could by any possibility be carried out； before
that judgment summons they are bragging about could be made
returnable； I mightI don't say I shouldbe amused； thinking how I
was going to dish them。 The wife of a very wicked man visited him
one evening in prison； and found him enjoying a supper of toasted
cheese。
〃How foolish of you； Edward；〃 argued the fond lady； 〃to be eating
toasted cheese for supper。 You know it always affects your liver。
All day long to…morrow you will be complaining。〃
〃No； I shan't；〃 interrupted Edward； 〃not so foolish as you think me。
They are going to hang me to…morrowearly。〃
There is a passage in Marcus Aurelius that used to puzzle me until I
hit upon the solution。 A foot…note says the meaning is obscure。
Myself； I had gathered this before I read the foot…note。 What it is
all about I defy any human being to explain。 It might mean anything；
it might mean nothing。 The majority of students incline to the
latter theory； though a minority maintain there is a meaning； if only
it could be discovered。 My own conviction is that once in his life
Marcus Aurelius had a real good time。 He came home feeling pleased
with himself without knowing quite why。
〃I will write it down；〃 he said to himself； 〃now； while it is fresh
in my mind。〃
It seemed to him the most wonderful thing that anybody had ever said。
Maybe he shed a tear or two； thinking of all the good he was doing；
and later on went suddenly to sleep。 In the morning he had forgotten
all about it； and by accident it got mixed up with the rest of the
book。 That is the only explanation that seems to me possible； and it
comforts me。
We are none of us philosophers all the time。
Philosophy is the science of suffering the inevitable； which most of
us contrive to accomplish without the aid of philosophy。 Marcus
Aurelius was an Emperor of Rome； and Diogenes was a bachelor living
rent free。 I want the philosophy of the bank clerk married on thirty
shillings a week； of the farm labourer bringing up a family of eight
on a precarious wage of twelve shillings。 The troubles of Marcus
Aurelius were chiefly those of other people。
〃Taxes will have to go up； I am afraid；〃 no doubt he often sighed。
〃But； after all； what are taxes？ A thing in conformity with the
nature of mana little thing that Zeus approves of； one feels sure。
The daemon within me says taxes don't really matter。〃
Maybe the paterfamilias of the period； who did the paying； worried
about new sandals for the children； his wife insisting she hadn't a
frock fit to be seen in at the amphitheatre； that； if there was one
thing in the world she fancied； it was seeing a Christian eaten by a
lion； but now she supposed the children would have to go without her；
found that philosophy came to his aid less readily。
〃Bother these barbarians；〃 Marcus Aurelius may have been tempted； in
an unphilosophical moment； to exclaim； 〃I do wish they would not burn
these poor people's houses over their heads； toss the babies about on
spears； and carry off the older children into slavery。 Why don't
they behave themselves？〃
But philosophy in Marcus Aurelius would eventually triumph over
passing fretfulness。
〃But how foolish of me to be angry with them；〃 he would argue with
himself。 〃One is not vexed with the fig…tree for yielding figs； with
the cucumber for being bitter！ O