Imaginary Conversations of Greeks and Romans/Epictetus and Seneca
|←Tiberius and Vipsania||Imaginary Conversations of Greeks and Romans by
Epictetus and Seneca
|Reflections on the conversation of the Ciceros→|
|Published in London, 1885.|
Epictetus, I desired your master, Epaphroditus, to send you hither, having been much pleased with his report of your conduct, and much surprised at the ingenuity of your writings.
Then I am afraid, my friend——
My friend! are these the expressions—Well, let it pass. Philosophers must bear bravely. The people expect it.
Are philosophers, then, only philosophers for the people; and, instead of instructing them, must they play tricks before them? Give me rather the gravity of dancing dogs. Their motions are for the rabble; their reverential eyes and pendant paws are under the pressure of awe at a master; but they are dogs, and not below their destinies.
Epictetus! I will give you three talents to let me take that sentiment for my own.
I would give thee twenty, if I had them, to make it thine.
You mean, by lending it the graces of my language?
I mean, by lending it to thy conduct. And now let me console and comfort thee, under the calamity I brought on thee by calling thee my friend. If thou art not my friend, why send for me? Enemy I can have none: being a slave, Fortune has now done with me.
Continue, then, your former observations. What were you saying?
That which thou interruptedst.
What was it?
I should have remarked that, if thou foundest ingenuity in my writings, thou must have discovered in them some deviation from the plain, homely truths of Zeno and Cleanthes.
We all swerve a little from them.
In practice too?
Yes, even in practice, I am afraid.
Strange! I have been attentive, and yet have remarked but one difference among you great personages at Rome.
What difference fell under your observation?
Crates and Zeno and Cleanthes taught us that our desires were to be subdued by philosophy alone. In this city, their acute and inventive scholars take us aside, and show us that there is not only one way, but two.
They whisper in our ear, ‘These two ways are philosophy and enjoyment: the wiser man will take the readier, or, not finding it, the alternative.’ Thou reddenest.
What magnificent rings! I did not notice them until thou liftedst up thy hands to heaven, in detestation of such effeminacy and impudence.
The rings are not amiss; my rank rivets them upon my fingers: I am forced to wear them. Our emperor gave me one, Epaphroditus another, Tigellinus the third. I cannot lay them aside a single day, for fear of offending the gods, and those whom they love the most worthily.
Although they make thee stretch out thy fingers, like the arms and legs of one of us slaves upon a cross.
Oh, horrible! Find some other resemblance.
The extremities of a fig-leaf.
The claws of a toad, trodden on or stoned.
You have great need, Epictetus, of an instructor in eloquence and rhetoric: you want topics, and tropes, and figures.
I have no room for them. They make such a buzz in the house, a man’s own wife cannot understand what he says to her.
Let us reason a little upon style. I would set you right, and remove from before you the prejudices of a somewhat rustic education. We may adorn the simplicity of the wisest.
Thou canst not adorn simplicity. What is naked or defective is susceptible of decoration: what is decorated is simplicity no longer. Thou mayest give another thing in exchange for it; but if thou wert master of it, thou wouldst preserve it inviolate. It is no wonder that we mortals, little able as we are to see truth, should be less able to express it.
You have formed at present no idea of style.
I never think about it. First, I consider whether what I am about to say is true; then, whether I can say it with brevity, in such a manner as that others shall see it as clearly as I do in the light of truth; for, if they survey it as an ingenuity, my desire is ungratified, my duty unfulfilled. I go not with those who dance round the image of Truth, less out of honour to her than to display their agility and address.
We must attract the attention of readers by novelty, and force, and grandeur of expression.
We must. Nothing is so grand as truth, nothing so forcible, nothing so novel.
Sonorous sentences are wanted to awaken the lethargy of indolence.
Awaken it to what? Here lies the question; and a weighty one it is. If thou awakenest men where they can see nothing and do no work, it is better to let them rest: but will not they, thinkest thou, look up at a rainbow, unless they are called to it by a clap of thunder?
Your early youth, Epictetus, has been, I will not say neglected, but cultivated with rude instruments and unskilful hands.
I thank God for it. Those rude instruments have left the turf lying yet toward the sun; and those unskilful hands have plucked out the docks.
We hope and believe that we have attained a vein of eloquence, brighter and more varied than has been hitherto laid open to the world.
Than any in the Greek?
We trust so.
Than your Cicero’s?
If the declaration may be made without an offence to modesty. Surely, you cannot estimate or value the eloquence of that noble pleader?
Imperfectly, not being born in Italy; and the noble pleader is a much less man with me than the noble philosopher. I regret that, having farms and villas, he would not keep his distance from the pumping up of foul words against thieves, cut-throats, and other rogues; and that he lied, sweated, and thumped his head and thighs, in behalf of those who were no better.
Senators must have clients, and must protect them.
Innocent or guilty?
If I regret what is and might not be, I may regret more what both is and must be. However, it is an amiable thing, and no small merit in the wealthy, even to trifle and play at their leisure hours with philosophy. It cannot be expected that such a personage should espouse her, or should recommend her as an inseparable mate to his heir.
Yes, Seneca, but thou hast no son to make the match for; and thy recommendation, I suspect, would be given him before he could consummate the marriage. Every man wishes his sons to be philosophers while they are young; but takes especial care, as they grow older, to teach them its insufficiency and unfitness for their intercourse with mankind. The paternal voice says: ‘You must not be particular; you are about to have a profession to live by; follow those who have thriven the best in it.’ Now, among these, whatever be the profession, canst thou point out to me one single philosopher?
Not just now; nor, upon reflection, do I think it feasible.
Thou, indeed, mayest live much to thy ease and satisfaction with philosophy, having (they say) two thousand talents.
And a trifle to spare—pressed upon me by that godlike youth, my pupil Nero.
Seneca! where God hath placed a mine, He hath placed the materials of an earthquake.
A true philosopher is beyond the reach of Fortune.
The false one thinks himself so. Fortune cares little about philosophers; but she remembers where she hath set a rich man, and she laughs to see the Destinies at his door.*
|*:||In order of time the Lucian would come last, but it seemed better to separate Greek and Roman.|
This work was published before January 1, 1923, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.