The Passing of Peregrinus (36-40)

When the moon was rising—for she too had to witness this glorious deed—he came forward, dressed in his usual fashion, and with him the leaders of the Cynics; in particular, the gentleman from Patras, with a torch—no bad understudy. Proteus too was bearing a torch. Men, approaching from this side and that, kindled the fire into a very great flame, since it came from torchwood and brush. Peregrinus—and give me your close attention now!— laying aside the wallet, the cloak, and that notable Heracles-club, stood there in a shirt that was downright filthy. Then he requested incense to throw on the fire; when someone had proffered it, he threw it on, and gazing towards the south—even the south, too, had to do with the show[*]—he said: “Spirits of my mother and my father, receive me with favour.”

With that he leaped into the fire; he was not visible, however, but was encompassed by the flames, which had risen to a great height. Once more I see you laughing, Cronius, my

As I returned, I was thinking busily, my friend, reflecting what a strange thing love of glory is; how this passion alone is unescapable even by those who are considered wholly admirable, let alone that man who in other respects had led a life that was insane and reckless, and not undeserving of the fire.

Then I encountered many people coming out to see the show themselves, for they expected to find him still alive. You see, on the day before it had been given out that he would greet the rising sun, as, in fact, they say the Brahmans do, before mounting the pyre.

I am through with the earth; to Olympus I fare.

On my return to the festival, I came upon a greyhaired man whose face, I assure you, inspired confidence in addition to his beard and his general air of consequence, telling all about Proteus, and how, since his cremation, he had beheld him in white raiment a little while ago, and had just now left him walking about cheerfully in the Portico of the Seven Voices,[*] wearing a garland of wild olive. Then on