Marius the Epicurean - Volume 1

of Marius, encouraged by his experience that sleep is not only a sedative but the best of stimulants, to seize the

be his guide [142] to the lecture-room of a well-known Greek rhetorician and expositor of the Stoic philosophy, a teacher then much in fashion among the studious youth of Rome. On reaching the place, however, they found the doors closed, with a slip of writing attached, which proclaimed "a holiday"; and the morning being a fine one, they walked further, along the Appian Way. Mortality, with which the Queen of Ways-in reality the favourite cemetery of Rome-was so closely crowded, in every imaginable form of sepulchre, from the tiniest baby-house, to the massive monument out of whi

ter by the living. "While I live," such was the promise of a lover to his dead mistress, "you will receive this homage: after my death,-who can tell?"-post mortem nescio. "If ghosts, my sons, do feel anything after death, my sorrow will be lessened by your frequent coming to me here!" "This is a priv

ll reference to what might lie beyond its "flaming barriers." And at the age of sixty he had no misgivings. His elegant and self-complacent but far from unamiable scepticism, long since brought to perfection, never failed him. It surrounded him, as some are surrounded by a magic ring of fine aristocratic manners, with "a rampa

g briskly-a lad with gait and figure well enough expressive of the sane mind in the healthy body, though a little slim and worn of feature, and with a pair of eyes expressly designed, it might seem, for fine gl

e of foot-passengers at the roadside, from which they could overlook the grand, earnest prospect of the Campagna, and enjoy the air. Fancying that the lad's

ving your arms. Some fine speech you were pondering, some knotty question, some viewy doctrine-not to be idle for a moment, to be making progress in philosophy, even on

e, that was first said-a thing so much easier than divine philosophy, to which one can hardly attain in a lifetime, unless one be ever wakeful, ever on the watch

fter these months of toil, and with that scholarly pallor of yours. Unl

and steep and rough. I see myself still at the beginning of my journey; still [146] but at the mountai

er, let down to you, from that high place, a golden cord, to draw you up t

ended on him I should long ago have

rney's end, and that happiness there

t on the obstacles of the way. Only, those who endure to the end do come to the mountain's top, and thereafter live i

erd,' as we creep along, will not forget you in our prayers, when you are seated up there above the clou

shall be really on the summit.-A great while! you think.

ll as a philosopher? For I suppose you would not endure all this, upon a mere chance-toiling day and night, though it might

an! Were I to survive but for a day, I sh

h a single day, aft

essed moment

that happiness is to be had up there, at all-th

s me. Of a certainty he knows,

out it? Is it riches, or glory,

ose are nothing in compa

[148] end of this discipline-what excelle

em: stripped bare of all that, they mount up, even as Hercules, consumed in the fire, became a god. He too cast aside all that he had of his earthly mother, and bearing with him the divine element, pure

those whom they left below? Must they, when they be once come thither

tire are subject no longer to anger, fear, d

what way you first started on your philosophic journey? For, if I

time your advantage over all [149] other people. They will

ll me-Do you allow learners to contradict, if

, oppose your questions. In tha

e philosophy-your own way-the way of the Stoics: or is it tru

e who call themselves after Plato: there are the enthusiasts for Diog

again, is what they sa

diff

to philosophy, and seeing so many doors open to you, passed them all by and went in to the Stoics, as if there alone lay the way of truth? What token had yo

at majority went! 'Twas by that

Platonists, the Peripatetics? You, doubtless, counte

avaricious and quarrelsome, and Plato's followers puffed up with pride. But of the Stoics, not a few pronounced that they were t

Stoics: you would not have believed them-still le

f-to what I saw. I saw the Stoics going through the world after a seemly manner, neatly clad

s of art, which are rightly judged by their appearance to the eye. There is something in the comely form, the graceful drapery, which tells surely of the hand of Pheidias or Alca

f the blind I

ision more than all others. But can those who are not blind, be they as keen-sighted as you will, collect a single fact of mind from a man's attire, from anything outward?-Understand

sur

d are not wont so to reveal themselves. They are but hidden mysteries, hardly to be guessed at through the words and acts which [152] may in some sort be

In truth, it was with God's help I

ll me, to save me from peri

I can tell you

e, that true philosophy which would make me equal to you, I will try, if it may be, to find out for

something worth knowin

y come thence, as we suppose. All the virtues are theirs, and they are little less than gods. Those acts of violence which happen among us are not to be seen in their streets. They live together in one mind, very seemly; the things which beyond [153] everything

ity such as that, and take no account of the length and difficult

very gates, of the city. Well, this aged man told me, among other things, that all the citizens were wayfarers from afar. Among them were barbarians and slaves, poor [154] men-aye! and cripples-all indeed who truly desired that citizenship. For the only legal conditions of enrolment were-not wealth, nor bodily beauty, nor noble ancestry-things not named among them-but intelligence, and the desire for moral beauty, and earnest labour. The last comer, thus qualified, was made equal to the rest: master and slave, patrician, plebeian, were words they had not-in that blissful place. And believe me, if that blissful, that beautiful place, were set on a hill visible to all the world, I should long ago have journeyed thither. But, as you say, it is

guides than those. If you wish to get to Corinth, you will follo

und about me, and put me on my trial for my presumption, and say:-'In whom was it you confided when you preferred Zeno and Chrysippus to me?-and me?-masters of far more venerable age than those, who are but of yesterday; and though you have never held any discussion with us, nor made trial of our doctrine? It is not thus that the law would have judges do-listen to one party and refuse to let the other speak for himself. If judges act thus, there may be an appeal to another tribunal.' What should I answer? Would it [156] be enough to say:-'I trusted my friend Hermotimus?'-'We know not Hermotimus, nor he us,' they would tell me; adding, with a smile, 'your friend thinks he may beli

nd against them. Let us rather search out together if the truth of Ph

way. And now do you speak! You really look a

ceeding to inquire into all the various tenets of the others. Look at the question in this way. If one told you that twice two make four, would it be necessary for you to g

on

n their enunciation of what is true, should adhere to them, and seek after no others;

n questions to principles universally received. Have you ev

madman wou

hat it is they for whom twice two make four. But the Epicureans, or the Platonists, [158] might say that it is they, in truth, who make two and two equal four, while you make them five or seven. Is it not so, when you think virtue the only good, and the Epicureans pleasure; when you hold all things to be material, while the Platonists admit something immaterial? As

one of the sacred vessels is found to be missing. And the two men must be searched to see which of them has hidden it under his garment. For it is certainly in the possession of one or the other

So let

the Stoics, shall no longer have need to search other philosophers, [15

s of all persons who have entered the temple, if the lost vessel is to be recovered. And if you find a golden cup on the first of them, it will still be necessary to proceed in searching the garments of the others; for it is not certain that this cup really belonged to the temple. Might there not be many such golden vessels?-No! we must go on to every one of them, placing all that we find in the midst together, and then make our guess which of all those things may fairly be supposed to be the property of the god. For, again, this circumstance adds greatly to our difficulty, that without exception every one searched is

hing to rep

f philosophy-which of all philosophies one ought to follow-he alone who is acquainted with the dicta of every one of them can be such a guide: all others must be inadequate. I would give no credence to them if they lacked information as to one only. If somebody introduced a fair person and told us he was the fairest of all men, we should not believe that, unless we kne

began in early life. I know not how it is; but though you seem to me to speak reasonably, yet (I must confess it) you have distressed me not a little by this exact exposition of yours. I was unlucky in c

f, for giving us but seventy or eighty years instead of making us as long-li

t you have a grudge against philosophy; and it i

nter countenance. She, nevertheless, being conscious of no alloy within, discourses with boldness to all men, who therefore have little love for her. See how angry you are now because I have stated the truth about certain things of which we are both alike enamoured-that they are hard to come b

at you said, that we must renounce phi

to seek after philosophy, whereas there are many ways professi

were not possible to learn the whole by the part! They say that Pheidias, when he was shown one of the talons of a lion, computed the stature and age of the animal it belonged to, modelling a complete lion upon the standard of a single part of it. You too would recognis

e known that it was a lion's, if he had never seen the animal? Surely, the cause of his recognising the part was his knowledge of the whole. There is a way of choosing one's philosophy even le

th me. Tell me; did

ur

ound of [164] the wine-merchants,

no m

How if you had gone to each of the merchants in turn, and said, 'I wish to buy a cotylé of wine. Let me drink out the whole cask. Then I shall be able

om one's fingers! Still, you have given

ow

r even-but one and the same thing only to tell you, every day and all days, on a subject so manifold? Otherwise, how can you know the whole by the tasting of one part? The whole is not the same-Ah! and it may be that God has hidden the good wine of philosophy at the bottom of the cask. You must drain it to the end if you are to find those drops of divine sweetness you seem so much to thirst for! Yourself, after drinking so deeply, are still but at the beginning, as you said. But is not philosophy rather like this? Keep the figure of the merchant and the cask: but let it be filled, not w

I say that it may be with her as with some deadly poison, [166] hemlock or aconite. These too, though they cause de

hundred years: one must sustain all this l

rst, that Life is short and art is long. But now you take it hard that we are not to

jealousy of heart, I believe, because I have made some

nchanged. Reason still says, that without criticism, without a clear, exact, unbiassed intelligence to try them, all those theories-all things-will have been seen but in vain. 'To that end,' she tells us, 'much time is necessary, many delays of judgment, a

impossible, or possibl

s in the belief that we have found something:-like the fishermen! Again and again they let down the net. At last they

mean by the net. It is plain

und. You have twenty beans in your hand, and you bid ten persons guess how many: one says five, another fifteen; it is possible that one of them may tell the true number; but it is not impossible that all may be wrong. So it is with the philosophers. All alike are in se

e come round in a circle to the spot whence we started, and to our first incertitude. Ah! Lucian, what have y

ether; without previous thought whether what he desires is in itself attainable and within the compass of human nature. Even so, methinks, has it happened with you. As you dreamed, so largely, of those wonderful things, came Reason, and woke you up from sleep, a little roughly: and then you are angry with Reason, your eyes being still but half open, and find it hard to shake off sleep for the pleasure of what you saw therein. Only, [169] don't be angry with me, because, as a friend, I would not suffer you to pass you

e than anything else seduced you, and others like you, into that passion, for a vain idol of the fancy, is, that he who told you about that fair woman, from the very moment when you first believed that what he said was true, brought forward all the rest in consequent order. Upon her alone your eyes were fixed; by her he led you along, when once you ha

who poured water into a mortar, and ground it with all his might with a pestle of iron,

that terror of isolation, of being left alone in these places, of which the sepulchral inscriptions were so full. A blood-red sunset was dying angrily, and its wild glare upon the shadowy objects around helped to combine [171] the associations of this famous way, its deeply graven marks of immemorial travel, together with the earnest questions of the morning as to the true way of that other sort of travelling, around an image, almost ghastly in the traces of its great sorrows-bearing along for ever, on bleeding feet, the instrument of its punishment-which was all Marius could recall distinctly of a certain Christian legend he had heard. The legend told of an encounter at this very spot, of two wayfarer