Seekers after God Part 12

"The vine bears three cl.u.s.ters: the first of pleasure; the second of drunkenness; the third of insult."

"He is a drunkard who drinks more than three cups; even if he be not drunken, he has exceeded moderation."

Our own George Herbert has laid down the same limit:--

"Be not a beast in courtesy, but stay, _Stay at the third cup, or forego the place_, Wine above all things doth G.o.d's stamp deface."

"Like the beacon-lights in harbours, which, kindling a great blaze by means of a few f.a.gots, afford sufficient aid to vessels that wander over the sea, so, also, a man of bright character in a storm-tossed city, himself content with little, effects great blessings for his fellow-citizens."

The thought is not unlike that of Shakespeare:

"How far yon little candle throws its beams, So shines a good deed in a naughty world."

But the metaphor which Epictetus more commonly adopts is one no less beautiful. "What good," asked some one, "did Helvidius Priscus do in resisting Vespasian, being but a single person?" "What good," answers Epictetus, "does the purple do on the garment? Why, _it is splendid in itself, and splendid also in the example which it affords_."

"As the sun does not wait for prayers and incantations that he may rise, but shines at once, and is greeted by all; so neither wait thou for applause, and shouts, and eulogies, that thou mayst do well;--but be a spontaneous benefactor, and thou shalt be beloved like the sun."

"Thales, when asked what was the commonest of all possessions, answered, 'Hope; for even those who have nothing else have hope.'"

"Lead, lead me on, my hopes," says Mr. Macdonald; "I know that ye are true and not vain. Vanish from my eyes day after day, but arise in new forms. I will follow your holy deception; follow till ye have brought me to the feet of my Father in heaven, where I shall find you all, with folded wings, spangling the sapphire dusk whereon stands His throne which is our home.

"What ought not to be done do not even think of doing."

Compare

"_Guard well your thoughts for thoughts are heard in heaven_.'"

Epictetus, when asked how a man could grieve his enemy, replied, "By preparing himself to act in the n.o.blest way."

Compare Rom. xii. 20, "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: _for in so doing thou shall heap coals of fire on his head_"

"If you always remember that in all you do in soul or body G.o.d stands by as a witness, in all your prayers and your actions you will not err; and you shall have G.o.d dwelling with you."

Compare Rev. iii. 30, "Behold I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, _I will come in to him and will sup with him, and he with me."_

In the discourse written to prove that G.o.d keeps watch upon human actions, Epictetus touches again on the same topic, saying that G.o.d has placed beside each one of us his own guardian spirit--a spirit that sleeps not and cannot be beguiled--and has handed us each over to that spirit to protect us. "And to what better or more careful guardian could He have entrusted us? So that when you have closed your doors and made darkness within, _remember never to say that you are alone_. For you are not alone. G.o.d, too, is present there, and your guardian spirit; and what need have _they_ of light to see what you are doing."

There is in this pa.s.sage an almost startling coincidence of thought with those eloquent words in the Book of Ecclesiasticus: "A man that breaketh wedlock, saying thus in his heart, Who seeth me? _I am compa.s.sed about with darkness, the walls cover me, and n.o.body seeth me_: what need I to fear? the Most Highest will not remember my sins: _such a man only feareth the eyes of man_, and knoweth not that the eyes of the Lord are ten thousand times brighter than the sun, beholding all the ways of men, and considering the most secret parts. He knew all things ere ever they were created: so also after they were perfected He looked upon all. This man shall be punished in the streets of the city, and where he expecteth not he shall be taken." (Ecclus. xxiii. 11-21.)

"When we were children, our parents entrusted us to a tutor who kept a continual watch that we might not suffer harm; but, when we grow to manhood, G.o.d hands us over to an inborn conscience to guard us. We must, therefore, by no means despise this guardianship, since in that case we shall both be displeasing to G.o.d and enemies to our own conscience."

Beautiful and remarkable as these fragments are we have no s.p.a.ce for more, and must conclude by comparing the last with the celebrated lines of George Herbert:--

"Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round; _Parents first season us. Then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws. They send us bound To rules of reason_. Holy messengers; Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow d.o.g.g.i.ng sin; Afflictions sorted; anguish of all sizes; Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in!

Bibles laid open; millions of surprises; Blessings beforehand; ties of gratefulness; The sound of glory ringing in our ears; Without one shame; _within our consciences_; Angels and grace; eternal hopes and fears!

Yet all these fences and their whole array, One cunning bosom sin blows quite away."

CHAPTER V.

THE DISCOURSES OF EPICTETUS.

The _Discourses_ of Epictetus, as originally published by Arrian, contained eight books, of which only four have come down to us. They are in many respects the most valuable expression of his views. There is something slightly repellent in the stern concision, the "imperious brevity," of the _Manual_. In the _Manual_, says M. Martha,[66] "the reason of the Stoic proclaims its laws with an impa.s.sibility which is little human; it imposes silence on all the pa.s.sions, even the most respectable; it glories in waging against them an internecine war, and seems even to wish to repress the most legitimate impulses of generous sensibility. In reading these rigorous maxims one might be tempted to believe that this legislator of morality is a man without a heart, and, if we were not touched by the original sincerity of the language, one would only see in this lapidary style the conventional precepts of a chimerical system or the aspirations of an impossible perfection." The _Discourses_ are more ill.u.s.trative, more argumentative, more diffuse, more human. In reading them one feels oneself face to face with a human being, not with the marble statue of the ideal wise man. The style, indeed, is simple, but its "athletic nudity" is well suited to this militant morality; its picturesque and incisive character, its vigorous metaphors, its vulgar expressions, its absence of all conventional elegance, display a certain "plebeian originality" which gives them an almost autobiographic charm. With trenchant logic and intrepid conviction "he wrestles with the pa.s.sions, questions them, makes them answer, and confounds them in a few words which are often sublime. This Socrates without grace does not amuse us by making his adversary fall into the long entanglement of a captious dialogue, but he rudely seizes and often finishes him with two blows. It is like the eloquence of Phocion, which Demosthenes compares to an axe which is lifted and falls."

[Footnote 66: Moralistes sous l'Empire, p. 200.]

Epictetus, like Seneca, is a preacher; a preacher with less wealth of genius, less eloquence of expression, less width of culture, but with far more bravery, clearness, consistency, and grasp of his subject. His doctrine and his life were singularly h.o.m.ogeneous, and his views admit of brief expression, for they are not weakened by any fluctuations, or chequered with any lights and shades. The _Discourses_ differ from the _Manual_ only in their manner, their frequent anecdotes, their pointed ill.u.s.trations, and their vivid interlocutory form. The remark of Pascal, that Epictetus knew the grandeur of the human heart, but did not know its weakness, applies to the _Manual_ but can hardly be maintained when we judge him by some of the answers which he gave to those who came to seek for his consolation or advice.

The _Discourses_ are not systematic in their character, and, even if they were, the loss of the last four books would prevent us from working out their system with any completeness. Our sketch of the _Manual_ will already have put the reader in possession of the main principles and ideas of Epictetus; with the mental and physical philosophy of the schools he did not in any way concern himself; it was his aim to be a moral preacher, to enn.o.ble the lives of men and touch their hearts. He neither plagiarised nor invented, but he gave to Stoicism a practical reality. All that remains for us to do is to choose from the _Discourses_ some of his most characteristic views, and the modes by which he brought them home to his hearers.

It was one of the most essential peculiarities of Stoicism to aim at absolute independence, or _self_-independence. Now, as the weaknesses and servilities of men arise most frequently from their desire for superfluities, the true man must absolutely get rid of any such desire.

He must increase his wealth by moderating his wishes; he must despise _all_ the luxuries for which men long, and he must greatly diminish the number of supposed necessaries. We have already seen some of the arguments which point in this direction, and we may add another from the third book of _Discourses_.

A certain magnificent orator, who was going to Rome on a lawsuit, had called on Epictetus. The philosopher threw cold water on his visit, because he did not believe in his sincerity. "You will get no more from me," he said, "than you would get from any cobbler or greengrocer, for you have only come because it happened to be convenient, and you will only criticise my style, not really wishing to learn _principles_"

"Well, but," answered the orator, "if I attend to that sort of thing, I shall be a mere pauper like you, with no plate, or equipage, or land."

"I don't _want_ such things," replied Epictetus; "and, besides, you are poorer than I am, after all." "Why, how so?" "You have no constancy, no unanimity with nature, no freedom from perturbations. Patron or no patron, what care I? You _do_ care. I am richer than you. _I_ don't care what Caesar thinks of me. _I_ flatter no one. This is what I have instead of your silver and gold plate. You have _silver_ vessels, but _earthenware_ reasons, principles, appet.i.tes. My mind to me a kingdom is, and it furnishes me abundant and happy occupation in lieu of your restless idleness. All your possessions seem small to you, mine seem great to me. Your desire is insatiate, mine is satisfied." The comparison with which he ends the discussion is very remarkable. I once had the privilege of hearing Sir William Hooker explain to the late Queen Adelaide the contents of the Kew Museum. Among them was a cocoa-nut with a hole in it, and Sir William explained to the Queen that in certain parts of India, when the natives want to catch the monkeys they make holes in cocoa-nuts, and fill them with sugar. The monkeys thrust in their hands and fill them with sugar; the aperture is too small to draw the paws out again when thus increased in size; the monkeys have not the sense to loose their hold of the sugar, and so they are caught. This little anecdote will enable the reader to relish the ill.u.s.tration of Epictetus. "When little boys thrust their hands into narrow-mouthed jars full of figs and almonds, when they have filled their hands they cannot draw them out again, and so begin to howl. Let go a few of the figs and almonds, and you'll get your hand out. And so _you_, let go your desires. Don't desire many things, and you'll get what you _do_ desire." "Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed!"

Another of the constant precepts of Epictetus is that we should aim high; we are not to be common threads in the woof of life, but like the laticlave on the robe of a senator, the broad purple stripe which gave l.u.s.tre and beauty to the whole. But how are we to know that we are qualified for this high function? How does the bull know, when the lion approaches, that it is his place to expose himself for all the herd? If we have high powers we shall soon be conscious of them, and if we have them not we may gradually acquire them. Nothing great is produced at once,--the vine must blossom, and bear fruit, and ripen, before we have the purple cl.u.s.ters of the grape,--"first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear."

But whence are we to derive this high sense of duty and possible eminence? Why, if Caesar had adopted you, would you not show your proud sense of enn.o.blement in haughty looks; how is it that you are not proud of being sons of G.o.d? You have, indeed, a body, by virtue of which many men sink into close kinship with pernicious wolves, and savage lions, and crafty foxes, destroying the rational within them, and so becoming greedy cattle or mischievous vermin; but above and beyond this, "If,"

says Epictetus, "a man have once been worthily interpenetrated with the belief that we all have been in some special manner born of G.o.d, and that G.o.d is the Father of G.o.ds and men, I think that he will never have any ign.o.ble, any humble thoughts about himself." Our own great Milton has hardly expressed this high truth more n.o.bly when he says, that "He that holds himself in reverence and due esteem, both for the dignity of G.o.d's image upon him, and for the price of his redemption, which he thinks is visibly marked upon his forehead, accounts himself both a fit person to do the n.o.blest and G.o.dliest deeds, and much better worth than to deject and defile, with such a debas.e.m.e.nt and pollution as sin is, himself so highly ransomed, and enn.o.bled to a new friendship and filial relation with G.o.d."

"And how are we to know that we have made progress? We may know it if our own wills are bent to live in conformity with nature; if we be n.o.ble, free, faithful, humble; if desiring nothing, and shunning nothing which lies beyond our power, we sit loose to all earthly interests; if our lives are under the distinct governance of immutable and n.o.ble laws.

"But shall we not meet with troubles in life? Yes, undoubtedly; and are there none at Olympia? Are you not burnt with heat, and pressed for room, and wetted with showers when it rains? Is there not more than enough clamour, and shouting, and other troubles? Yet I suppose you tolerate and endure all these when you balance them against the magnificence of the spectacle? And, come now, have you not received powers wherewith to bear whatever occurs? Have you not received magnanimity, courage, fort.i.tude? And why, if I am magnanimous, should I care for anything that can possibly happen? what shall alarm or trouble me, or seem painful? Shall I not use the faculty for the ends for which it was granted me, or shall I grieve and groan at all the accidents of life? On the contrary, these troubles and difficulties are strong antagonists pitted against us, and we may conquer them, if we will, in the Olympic game of life.

"But if life and its burdens become absolutely intolerable, may we not go back to G.o.d, from whom we came? may we not show thieves and robbers, and tyrants who claim power over us by means of our bodies and possessions, that they have _no power_? In a word, may we not commit suicide?" We know how Shakespeare treats this question:--

"For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns Which patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, _But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourne No traveller returns, puzzles the will: And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of_?"

But Epictetus had no materials for such an answer. I do not remember a single pa.s.sage in which he refers to immortality or the life to come, and it is therefore probable either that he did not believe in it at all, or that he put it aside as one of those things which are out of our own power. Yet his answer is not that glorification of suicide which we find throughout the tragedies of Seneca, and which was one of the commonplaces of Stoicism. "My friends," he says, "wait G.o.d's good time till He gives you the signal, and dismisses you from this service; then dismiss yourself to go to Him. But for the present restrain yourselves, inhabiting the spot which He has at present a.s.signed you. For, after all, this time of your sojourn here is short, and easy for those who are thus disposed; for what tyrant, or thief, or judgment-halls, are objects of dread to those who thus absolutely disesteem the body and its belongings? Stay, then, and do not depart without due cause."

It will be seen that Epictetus permits suicide without extolling it, for in another place (ii. 1) he says: "What is pain? A mere ugly mask; turn it, and see that it is so. This little flesh of ours is acted on roughly, and then again smoothly. If it is not for your interest to bear it, the door is open; if it is for your interest--endure. It is right that under all circ.u.mstances the door should be open, since so men end all trouble."

This power of _endurance_ is completely the keynote of the Stoical view of life, and the method of attaining to it, by practising contempt for all external accidents, is constantly inculcated. I have already told the anecdote about Agrippinus by which Epictetus admiringly shows that no extreme of necessary misfortune could wring from the true Stoic a single expression of indignation or of sorrow.