He listened
attentively
to his counselors-traditionally called the "Emperor's iends"-and he accorded them a great deal of eedom; yet he enjoyed their company.
Hadot - The Inner Citadel The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius
It is perceived immediately, as the beloved perceives love in the eyes of his lover.
Good, simple, and benevolent people have their qualities in their eyes: they do not remain hidden.
Marcus demanded that moral action be perfectly natural, as ifit were unconscious, without any return upon itsel(
It is possible that the gods, to whom Marcus addresses his thanks at the end of Book I, did not bestow upon him the supreme blessing, in the sense of supreme ease and beauty: the ability to make others believe that one does good deeds by nature. I think, however, that no one can deny the good will and scrupulous conscientiousness with which Marcus at tempted to do good. In this point, at least, he was scrupulously sincere.
The solitude of the emperor and of the philosopher
In the mous portrait of the philosopher which he sketches m the Theaetetus (174e), Plato did not rget to mention what the philosopher thinks ofkings and tyrants. What is a king? What is a tyrant? A shepherd or a cowherd, who is happy ifhe can squeeze lots ofmilk om his herd. In ct, however, he is not as rtunate as he seems, r the beasts he must milk and pasture are much more unpleasant, di cult, sneaky, and treach erous than those of a simple shepherd. Moreover, absorbed by the cares ofgoverning these disagreeable beasts called men, he has no more mental eedom, and he is just as rough and uncultivated as the shepherds, " once he has surrounded himself with an enclosure around his animal pen in
the mountains. "
This is precisely what Marcus the philosopher te s Marcus the em
peror: wherever he goes, he will be enclosed in the prison of power alone, without any leisure, and con onted by the sneaky beasts men tioned by Plato (X, 23):
Let it always be clear to you that your countryside is the place where you are living at this moment, and that everything here is identical to what is on a high mountain or on the seashore, or wherever you like; you'll immediately nd there what Plato talks about: "Surrounding himselfwith a pen in the mountains," he says, and "milking his ocks. "
What Marcus means is the llowing: wherever you go, you will nd the prison of power and the solitude in which you are enclosed by your position as shepherd of men. Wherever you go, however, it will be
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
within you and only within you that you will nd that countryside, seashore, or mountain which can liberate you om the prison you nd everywhere (c£ IV, 3, l). In other words, it is the emperor's inner dispositions that will decide if he is imprisoned within his mountain enclosure, like Plato's king, or if he will nd pleasure and relaxation in the mountains or the countryside, as he would like. No matter where we go, we nd-according to our wishes-servitude or eedom.
"Mountain" here has two meanings: it is the symbol ofthe enclosure within which the tyrant/king lives as a prisoner together with the ock ofanimals he exploits; but it is also the symbol ofretreat within ourselves and the inner eedom which we can nd anywhere, as long as we want it (X, 15, 2):
Live as if you were on a mountain. It doesn't matter whether one lives in one place or another, as long as one lives everywhere as within one's own City, which is the World.
And yet the philosopher's inner retreat, which is his philosophical li in con rmity with Stoicism, will provoke another solitude and rupture between the ock and its shepherd: a serious disparity between the values ofboth parties.
This uneasiness explains Marcus' repugnance with regard to life at court, which he compares to a stepmother (VI, 12), whereas his true mother is philosophy, which allows him to put up with the court, and to make himselfbearable to those who live at court. Yet he blames himself r this attitude (VIII, 9):
Let no one hear you blame the life people lead at court any longer! Let not you yourselfhear yourselfdoing it!
Here we encounter once again what we could call the theme oflife on a mountain: wherever one can live, one can live well; that is to say, philosophically. But it is possible to live at court; there re, it is possible to live well there (V, 16, 2). Marcus gives this argument as an example of the way in which the soul can su use itselfwith speci c representations.
Marcus' repugnance r life at court was not, however, mere su per cial annoyance: rather, the discord ran extremely deep. As he con tinues this meditation on life "on a mountain"-that is to say, within the City of the World-Marcus allows us to glimpse just how deep this discord and this rupture go (X, l5, 3):
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Let people see and discover what a man who truly lives in accord ance with nature is like! Ifthey can't put up with you, then let them kill you! That would be better than to live like them!
The con ict is situated in the pro und di erence between the two parties' principles of li , and it is summarized by Marcus in a lapidary rmula which opposes the two Greek words homothamnein and homodog matein (XI, 8, 6):
Grow on the same trunk, but don't profess the same principles.
These two duties are hard to reconcile: on the one hand, our duty to love other human beings, with whom we rm one single body, tree, or city; on the other, our duty not to let ourselves be cajoled into adopting their lse values and maxims ofli .
This is the drama ofMarcus' li . He loves mankind, and wants to love them; but he hates what they love. Only one thing counts r him: the search r virtue and the purity ofmoral intention. This human world om which this unique value is absent-provokes in Marcus an intense reprobation and lassitude; yet he gets hold of himself, and attempts to reintroduce gentleness and indulgence within himself
This disgust and lassitude make Marcus long r death, and he knows that this is wrong. We know how important a part is played in the Meditations by the "helps," or arguments r preparing oneself r death. Some are entirely philosophical, as r instance those which teach us to consider death as a particular case ofuniversal metamorphosis, or a mys tery ofnature (II, 12, 3; IV, 5; IX, 3, 1-4). Some ofthem, however, are not philosophical, but are coarse (idiotika) and vulgar, although highly e ective: r instance, those which consist in making a list ofpeople who hung on desperately to li , unwilling to let go, and who nevertheless died (IV, 50). A similar consideration, which Marcus admits (IX, 3, 5) is also completely unphilosophical (idiotikon), but which touches the heart, consists in telling oneself that, in the last analysis, what one is leaving is not really worth much. This method consists in
care lly examining the kinds of objects om which you are about to separate yoursel and with what bad characters your soul will no longer be mixed. To be sure, you must by no means be disgusted by them; on the contrary, you must be lled with solicitude r them, and put up with them gently. Nevertheless, you must also remem-
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 293
her that you must take leave of people who do not share your principles. Ifit were possible, the only thing which could push you back in the other direction and maintain you in life, would be ifit were possible r you to live in a society ofpeople who had adopted the same principles as you.
As things are, however, you can see how much you are ed with lassitude at the discords of social life; to the point where you say: "Hurry up, 0 Death, lest I too rget mysel£"
One thinks ofBaudelaire's cry, so expressive of tigue with terrestrial li and an aspiration r the in nite: "0 Death, old captain . . . this land is boring! Let us cast o ! " Yet ifMarcus calls on Death to come quickly, it is less out oflassitude than out offear ofbecoming similar to those who rget themselves and live in a state ofunconsciousness.
The disgust which Marcus els r his entourage is certai y surpris ing. Did he not surround himselfwith iends and counselors who were also philosophers, like his beloved Rusticus and all those whom we were able to glimpse thanks to the testimony of Galen? It could be supposed that, by these last years of Marcus' life, his iends had disappeared, and that he now misses the be nning of his reign. And yet we know om Cassius Dio72 that Marcus admitted that no one could be perfect:
He used to say that it is impossible to create people as one would like them to be, but that each one had to be utilized in the task which he was capable ofaccomplishing.
He used to praise them r the service they had rendered, and he paid no attention to the rest oftheir behavior.
Are we to suppose that he had become more intransigent in his old age? Alternatively, can we perceive in these lines the disappointment Marcus felt as he saw the development ofthe character ofCommodus? This was the view of Renan, especially a propos of another passage (X, 36), which is also very striking in its expression oflassitude and disap pointment:
No one is so well- vored by Destiny that, at the moment of his death, he is not surrounded by people who rejoice at this sad event. The dead man was conscientious and well-behaved; yet someone nally turn up to say, "This schoolteacher aidagogos)
294 THE INNER CITADEL will now nally let us breathe. To be sure, he was not harsh with
any of us; but I could el that he was condemning us in silence. "
Later on in the text, Marcus opposes the case of this good man to his own situation. In a sense, however, when he speaks ofthis good man, he is already thinking about himsel r he is well aware ofthe ct that not only those around him, but also the entire Empire, knew that he was trying to be a philosopher. An apocryphal letter om Lucius Verus to his adoptive brother, preserved by the Historia Augusta, may re ect an opin ion widespread in Marcus' time: it warns Marcus that Avidius Cassius, who was to revolt against him near the end of Marcus' reign, spoke of him as an " old woman who plays at being a philosopher. "73 Many people must have had similar views of the Emperor; perhaps they had even nicknamed him "the pedagogue. " In any case, Marcus uses this descrip tion of the death of a good man as an a fortiori argument: if such a man must expect such an end, then all the more must Marcus himself expect similar reactions at the moment ofhis own death:
This is what people will say about a good man. In my case, how ever, how many more reasons there are r there to be many people to want to get rid ofme. You'll have to think ofthat when you die. You will leave li more easily, if you think: the life that I am leaving is one in which my associates (koinonoi), r whom I have ught so hard and prayed so much, r whom I have had so much concern, want me to go away. Perhaps they hope r some relief om my disappearance.
Who were these associates or companions (koinonoi)? They could have been the Emperor's counselors, who made up the imperial council and who, in the words ofthe Emperor's contemporary Aelius Aristides, were participants in power. Yet the expressions "I have ught so hard" and "I have prayed so much" imply a very special relationship between the Emperor and these "associates. " It is hard not to think, with Renan, of Commodus, Marcus' young son, who had been given imperial power in 177, three years be re the Emperor's death, and who was probably already manifesting the disastrous tendencies that would develop during his reign.
Be that as it may, Marcus trans s his meditation on the ingratitude of others into a preparation r death. Unlike the preparation mentioned above, this one is not philosophical, since it sins against the discipline of action, which requires us to love our fellow human beings. Nevertheless,
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 295 it is powerfully e ective, since it di nishes the anguish and su ering
caused by the loss oflife:
Why should we try to prolong our stay in this place?
Yet Marcus corrects himselfimmediately (X, 36, 6):
And yet, don't go away r that reason less well-disposed toward them. Rather, you must remain ith l to your own character, and be iendly, benevolent, and merci l toward them.
This is the disposition in which we should always remain. Yet lassitude and disappointment sometimes win the day, and Marcus implicitly rec ognizes that they are not philosophical, but are a weakness, and perhaps even a pass10n.
Such a complex sentiment appears to consist of several elements. In the rst place, we nd in it a view ofhuman ailty that is ee ofillusion. Marcus had a sharp and highly realistic sense of both his own llibility and that of others, which sometimes went so r as to consider these others incorrigible (VIII, 4):
They'll still do the same things, even ifit kills you!
As W. Williams has shown, this is why Marcus was always care l to dot the i's and cross the t's ofthe o cial documents which expressed his decisions. He seems to have ared that his subordinates might il to understand his orders, or re se to carry them out in the way he wanted. For instance, in one case a slave was set ee by a will, but this might have been contested because ofthe rm ofthe will. Marcus, however, was in vor of the " cause of eedom, " and always tended to make en anchise
ment easier; thus he took the trouble to speci that his decision should be not left as a dead letter, by bringing up some other motive, such as the ct that the Treasury might claim the property left by the testator. As Marcus writes,
Those who have our interests at heart must know that the cause of eedom is to be placed be re nancial advantage. 74
One the one hand, we can perceive here the importance of the hu man, moral point of view r Marcus. On the other hand, we can also impse a certain lack ofcon dence in the intellectual and moral qualities
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ofhis subordinates. These di culties with his entourage, moreover, took on greater proportions as a result of Marcus' undeniable propensity to ward anger, which the Emperor made no attempt to conceal; he was aware that becoming angry constituted a weakness (XI, 9, 2).
The main cause ofMarcus' lassitude, however, was his passionate love r moral good. A world in which this absolute value was not recognized seemed to him an empty world, in which life no longer had any mean ing. As he grew old in such an enormous empire, in the huge crowds which surrounded and acclaimed him, in the atrocious Danubian war as well as in the triumphal parades of the city of Rome, he felt himself alone. Marcus felt a void around himsel since he could not realize his ideal (IX, 3 , 7) : to live in community with others, in search of the only thing necessary.
Political models
Marcus does not propose any speci c governmental program in the Meditations. This should not su rise us, r he is less concerned with what must be done than with how it must be done. Nevertheless, Book I does contain some allusions to political practice. Through Claudius Severus, Marcus writes (I, 14), he has come to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dio, and Brutus. This list of names has a quite precise meaning. 75
Paetus Thrasea was the mous senator who, in the year 66, was rced to commit suicide because of his outspoken opposition to the emperor Nero. Helvidius Priscus, Thrasea's son-in-law, was assassinated in the reign ofVespasian, probably in the year 75. Both were opponents ofthe emperors, and this attitude was a kind of mily tradition, in which the women also often took part. The portraits of these martyrs were kept within the great aristocratic milies, and their biographies were written. Under some emperors, however, writing such works also meant risking death. At the beginning ofhis L e ofAgricola, Tacitus evokes the happi ness which the emperor Nerva brought to Rome by establishing a reign which, says Tacitus, reconciled monarchy and eedom. Under Nerva's predecessor Domitian, by contrast, it had been rbidden to write the biographies ofopponents ofthe emperor.
Arulenus Rusticus wrote a panegyric ofPaetus Thrasea, and Heren nius Senecion wrote one ofHelvidius Priscus: both paid with their lives . . . It was thought that the voice of the Roman people, the
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 297 ee speech �ibertas) of the Senate, and the conscience of the human
race could be sti ed.
It was almost fty years a er these events that Marcus Aurelius, through the intermediary of Claudius Severus, discovered this tradition of opposition. In turn, however, these opponents of the Empire had maintained the cult of other, older martyrs, who had lived in the last stages of the Republic, under Caesar. When Juvenal, a contemporary of Tacitus, speaks in his Satires , 36) of the high quality of a wine, he writes that it is similar to that which Paetus Thrasea and Helvidius Priscus drank on the birthdays ofBrutus and Cassius, the murderers ofCaesar.
According to Marcus, Claudius Severus had also told him about the gure ofBrutus, who lived in the rst century B. C. (85-42), and about Cato. The gure in question is obviously Cato ofUtica (95-46), who, as an opponent of Caesar, committed suicide upon the approach of the latter's troops.
Did Claudius Severus provide Marcus with the biographies of Thrasea, Helvidius Priscus, Brutus, and Cato? Thrasea had written a life of Cato, and Helvidius a li of Thrasea, while Herennius Senecion had composed a li of Helvidius. Did Claudius also have Marcus read the parallel lives of Brutus and Dio of Syracuse, written by Plutarch, who had also composed the parallel lives ofPhocion and Cato ofUtica? It is in any case surprising to see, in the list ofRomans enumerated by Claudius Severus, a Greek, who lived om about 409 to 354 B. c. : namely Dio, who deposed the Syracusan tyrant Dionysius, but who was in tu him selfassassinated. 76 It is hi ly unlikely that the Dio mentioned here could be Dio Chrysostom, the rhetor and philosopher who was exiled under Domitian but later recovered imperial vor. The rest of the list consists of only statesmen, so that Dio Chrysostom would be an exception, and he was not really a "martyr" ofopposition to the Empire.
Claudius Severus may very well have spoken of these gures in a conversation in which he emphasized the common element that linked them all together: the link between philosophy and a speci c conception ofpolitics; that is to say, the hatred oftyranny. Dio had been a disciple of Plato, and according to Plutarch,77 he practiced the philosophical virtues of ankness of speech, greatness of soul, gravity, clemency toward his enemies, and frugality. By deposing Dionysius, Dio brought eedom back to Syracuse and abolished the tyranny, but he supported a middle path between tyranny and democracy: a monarchy subject to laws,
which is the governmental program set rth in the Eighth Letter, attrib uted to Plato.
Brutus, a Roman, was also a Platonist. He llowed the tendency which was shionable in his time: that ofAntiochus ofAscalon, strongly tinged with Stoicism. Brutus had written treatises entitled "On Duty," "On Patience," and "On Virtue. " He was both the assassin ofCaesar and the man who killed himself a er having been defeated in the civil war which llowed Caesar's assassination. Like Dio, Brutus was an enemy of tyranny, and he ught r public liberty.
In the eyes of Seneca, Cato was one of the rare incarnations of the ideal of the Stoic Sage. 78 Be re his suicide, Cato discussed the Stoic paradox according to which only the Sage is ee. Then, he read Plato's Phaedo. 79 His whole way ofli was that ofa philosopher, who tried at the same time to revive the rigorous li ofthe ancient Romans. He trained himself r physical endurance, traveled on ot, went against current shions, a ected disdain r money, and re sed any rm of connivery or complicity with the exactions carried out by powerful Romans.
Brutus and Cato were republicans. Freedom, r them, was above all that of the Senate: in other words, the right to govern of a ruling class which opposed the arbitrariness of the tyranny of one man. Cato also wished to introduce moral or philosophical rigor into the senatorial class.
Under the Empire, Thrasea and Helvidius dreamed of a return to the ancient institutions ofthe Roman Republic; in other words, they wished to restore political authority to the Senate. Both were Stoics, and within the Stoic tradition-particularly in Epictetus80-they would remain as examples of constancy, mental rmness, and indi erence to indi erent things. Epictetus himselfknew this opposition to imperial power well, thanks to his teacher Musonius Ru s, who had been closely linked to Thrasea.
All these memories were awakened by the reign and the persecutions ofDomitian, as we can see om the numerous allusions to this somber period which can be und in the letters ofPliny the Younger. With the total change of atmosphere brought about by the accession of the em peror Nerva, which was prolonged under his successors Trajan, Hadrian, and Antoninus, both Senators and philosophers had the impression that the Empire had somehow become reconciled with the spirit of these supporters of the republican ideal and of Stoicism. This is certainly the meaning of the remarks by Claudius Severus on the martyrs who gave their lives in the ght against tyranny. 81
By evoking these almost legendary gures, Claudius Severus gave
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 299 Marcus a glimpse ofthe principles ofpolitical conduct (I, 14, 2). It is to
Claudius, writes Marcus, that he owes the
ct of having had a representation of a State oliteia) in which the laws are equal r , administered on the basis of equality and eedom of speech, and of a monarchy which respects the eedom ofits subjects above all else.
The idea of a law that is equal r goes back to the Eighth Letter, attributed to Plato. The equality in question is geometrical, and it distrib utes bene ts to each person in accordance with his or her merit. This is precisely the Aristotelian and Stoic de nition ofjustice: it accords advan tages in proportion to merit.
The ideas of equal rights, of equal rights to speech, and of eedom had been extremely closely linked since the most ancient period of Greek democracy. However, when Tacitus, writing under the Empire, spoke of the reconciliation between monarchy and eedom brought about by Nerva, the idea of eedom had lost much of its content. It no longer meant the citizen's possibility to participate unhindered in political li . Rather, it included such notions as the protection and safety ofindividu als, and individual eedom (the right to express oneself, r example, or to move eely). For the cities, it meant the possibility ofpreserving their traditions and a certain degree ofmunicipal autonomy; but above , r the Senate, it meant the ability to in uence the Emperor's decisions to a greater or lesser extent.
Claudius Severus taught the ture sovereign that eedom is compat ible with monarchy, if one understands by "monarchy" a regime that respects the laws and the citizens. In ct, since he was so close to the Emperor Antoninus, who exercised this kind of moderate power him sel Marcus could not il to be miliar with this way of governing. Claudius Severus thus did not cause Marcus to discover it; instead, he probably revealed to him the historical roots of this conception of mon archy: the opposition to tyranny ofthe philosopher-martyrs.
Claudius thus made Marcus aware of the principles of conduct that must guide an enlightened monarch: respect r the law, recognition of the rights of the Senate, attendance at its sessions, participation in its deliberations, and recognition of the right to speak, not only r the prince's council or the Senate, but also r simple citizens, when they addressed the Emperor.
The ancient historians have given us some examples of the way Mar-
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cus applied these principles. In order to nance the Danubian war, he took the trouble to ask the public treasu r nds. It was not, as Cassius Dio notes, 82 as if these nds were not at the Emperor's disposition; yet Marcus insisted on acknowledging that they belonged to the Senate and the Roman People. Speaking to the Senate, Marcus said:
We possess nothing ofour own, and it is in your house that we live.
According to the Historia Augusta,83 Marcus always deliberated with his council be re undertaking anything, whether in war or in peace; r his motto was:
It is morejust r me to llow the advice ofmy friends, than that the multitude ofmy friends should llow my will alone.
Marcus was extremely care l to take the Senate's opinion into con sideration. He let the mime-writers criticize him openly. The historian Herodian speci es that Marcus entertained all requests, and rbade his guards to bar the way to people who wished to approach him. 84 The Historia Augusta sums up Marcus' entire attitude in the llowing terms:
Toward the people, he behaved exactly as ifhe were acting in a ee State. 85
The portrait ofAntoninus Pius which Marcus gives in Book I serves in part to illustrate these principles ofgovernment. In a sense, it sketches the atures of the ideal prince, with whom the Emperor would like to identi himsel We nd a trace of this portrait in the Meditations I, 30), where Marcus exhorts himselfnot to become "Caesarized" and not to let the imperial purple rub o on him: instead, he is to become a true disciple ofAntoninus. Marcus takes particular care to describe the moral qualities that Antoninus showed in his way of governing, which Marcus intended to imitate. When, a er due re ection, Antoninus had made a decision, he held rmly to it: he was identical in every circumstance. He never abandoned a question without having examined it thoroughly. He put up with people who reproached him unjustly. He never hurried, did not listen to calumnies, and could thom people's morals and actions with penetrating acuity. He did not seek to humiliate; neither did he fear nor scorn anyone. Nor was he a sophist: he led a simple li , and was content with little with regard to his lodging, his clothing, his od, and his household servants. He was patient and hardworking, loyal and con-
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 301
stant in his iendships. He tolerated being contradicted with great ank ness, and he was happy to hear a better solution proposed. He was pious, but not superstitious.
In this initial portrait of the ideal prince, which was to be partially taken up again in Book I, we note some rms ofbehavior that Marcus often exhorts himselfto practice throughout the Meditations: r instance, to allow his counselors to have di erent opinions om his, and to agree to their opinion ifit is better (IV, 12; VIII, 16); not to humiliate people (XI, 13, 2; XI, 18, 18); and to remain identical with himselfthroughout his entire life (XI, 21).
In the middle ofthe Meditations, this portrait ofAntoninus appears like a reign body; it is surprising that Marcus should have taken the time to produce such a sketch, apparently so distant om the exhortations with which he showers himself elsewhere. Yet its presence con rms an im pression we may already have received while reading the work: the Meditations are addressed not only to Marcus the man, but to Marcus the man who exercises the imperial nction. Hence, the model of Anton inus acquires a capital importance.
The atures of Antoninus which are sketched in Book I (chapter 1 6) are more numerous and more precise: they are both memories and examples, and they often correspond to the canon of the ideal prince, which philosophical re ection, in accordance with an immemorial tradi tion, had attempted to rmulate. 86
Let us leave aside r the moment Marcus' remarks on his adoptive ther's moral qualities, and concentrate on some of the characteristic political attitudes in this portrait.
First, as r as the relations between sovereign and people are con cerned, we nd the rejection of all demagogy; a total lack of currying popular vor or gratitude; disdain r vain glory; and the re sal of acclamations. Antoninus knew when to keep a tight rein, and when to slacken it; and he practiced rigorous justice, which meant "in exibly distributing to each person what was due to his or her merit. "
More broadly, he was constantly attentive to the general needs of the Empire, and he was extremely thrifty when it came to public expendi tures. People made n of him r this, but he was very tolerant with regard to such criticisms. In particular, he thought long and hard be re o ering spectacles to the public, building monuments, or distributing gi s. Above all, he thought about what it was right to do, and not about the glory he could derive om his acts. He thus tried-without making a show ofit-to remain ith l to his ancestral customs.
Antoninus showed a great deal of gentleness in his way of governing;
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there was nothing hard, inexorable, or violent about him. He used me ticulous care in resolving the most minor a airs, and in using resight with the utmost detail. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it, and would not allow himself to be moved. He had few secrets.
He listened attentively to his counselors-traditionally called the "Emperor's iends"-and he accorded them a great deal of eedom; yet he enjoyed their company.
We can detect an implicit criticism ofAntoninus' predecessors in this portrait, and in particular of Hadrian. 87 If the Emperor took the trouble to emphasize that his adoptive ther put an end to "the love ofyoung boys," this was certainly an allusion to what went on in the courts of Trajan and Hadrian. Ifhe insisted on the ct that Antoninus liked to stay in the same place, this was probably in order to criticize Hadrian's many trips to every corner of the Empire. When Marcus spoke of Antoninus' prudent ugality with regard to expenditures incurred by organizing spectacles and building monuments, he probably had in mind Hadrian's prodigality and love of ne construction. Finally, Marcus probably in tended to contrast Antoninus' conservatism, and his wish to remain close to ancestral customs-in other words, to old Roman traditions-with Hadrian's innovations.
Marcus saw in Antoninus a true philosopher, comparable to Socrates, who knew how to enjoy good things when they were present, and to abstain om them when they were absent (I, 16, 30). He evokes Anton inus' per ct and invincible soul (I, 16, 3l), as well as the tranquil con science he displayed in his nal hour (VI, 3o, l5). We do not know if Antoninus considered himselfto be a philosopher, but it is quite remark able that at the moment of his death, he gave the llowing password to the tribune of the praetorian cohort: Aequanimitas, or "Serenity"-a word which lets us glimpse an entire philosophical attitude. 88 In any event, we have every reason to suppose that when it came to sketching the portrait of his adoptive ther, Marcus did not simply collect a few edi ing features. Rather, he expressed his adherence to a quite speci c way of governing: that of Antoninus. The Historia Augusta89 summarizes this continuity as llows:
From the beginning of their reign, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus behaved in a manner which was so benevolent and close to the people (civiliter), that no one had cause to miss the gentleness of Antoninus .
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 3 03 "Don't wait r Plato's republic"
How ridiculous are these little men who play at being politicians, and, as they think, deal with a airs of State like philosophers! Snotty little men! Man, what must you do? Do what Nature asks you to do in this very moment. Direct your will in this direction, if it is granted you to do so, and don't look around to see whether anyone will know about it. Don't wait r Plato's Republic! Rather, be content if one tiny thing makes some progress, and re ect on the ct that what results om this tiny thing is no tiny thing at all!
Indeed, who will change the principles upon which they guide their lives? And yet, without a change in these principles, what else is there but the slavery of people who moan as they pretend to obey?
Go on, now, quote me some Alexander, some Philip, or some Demetrius! Let them worry about whether they knew what Univer sal Nature wanted, and if they educated themselves. But if they were only acting, no one has condemned me to imitate them. Don't push me into acting solemn (IX, 29).
Who were these "ridiculous" and "snotty little men"? It is hard to say. Perhaps they were people who considered themselves philosophers, and criticized Marcus because he was not carrying out "great politics. " The continuation of the passage allows us to suppose that he was accused of two things: rst, he had not realized Plato's Republic. As the philoso pher-emperor, should he not re m1 the State completely, in accordance with the principles ofphilosophy? Second, he had not, unlike Alexander, Philip of Macedonia, or Demetrius Poliorcetes,90 the "taker of cities," carried out a politics of conquest, which would be glorious r him and r the Empire.
No, replies Marcus: what is essential is to concentrate on present political and moral action, however modest it may be. Do what Nature (that is to say, reason) asks you to do in this very moment, and don't let yourself be carried away by vast utopian views, to the point where you believe you are in "Plato's Republic. "
"Plato's Republic" was a proverbial expression, which had a very precise meaning. It did not, properly speaking, designate the political program set rth in the great philosopher's dialogue. Rather, more generally, it referred to a state in which all the citizens would have become philosophers, and there re perfect. It was in this sense that
Cicero91 told how the Stoic Mucius Scaevola had pleaded the cause of Rutilius Ru s "as it could have been pleaded in Plato's Republic"-in other words, as if he were addressing only philosophers. Elsewhere, Cicero says92 of Cato of Utica that he used to act as if he were living in Plato's Republic, and not in the mud ofRomulus. This is precisely what Marcus means. It is extremely di cult to trans rm the human masses; to change the values which scinate them, and the opinions which cause them to act; or to make philosophers of them. Unless one trans rms their way oflooking at things, completely changing the moral life ofeach individual, any re rm imposed without their consent would plunge them into the slavery "ofpeople who moan as they pretend to obey. " This is the eternal drama of humanity in general and of politics in par ticular. Unless it trans rms people completely, politics can never be anything other than a compromise with evil.
Marcus wants to be lucid and realistic: he has no illusions about the general conversion of humanity, or the possibility of imposing upon people some ideal state. Yet this does not mean that nothing can be done.
Just as Stoic philosophers knew that they would never be sages, but nevertheless attempted gradually to progress toward this ideal, so the statesman knows that humanity will never be perfect; yet he must be happy i om time to time, he manages to achieve some slight progress. A er all, even slight progress is no minor achievement: moral progress, however minimal, takes a lot of e ort and, above all, has a great deal of value; r no moral progress is ever slight.
We can perhaps nd an example of Marcus' political practice in his attitude toward gladiatorial combats. Stoic philosophy was hostile to such spectacles, because they went against the personal human dignity of the combatants. As Seneca wrote,93
It is a sacrilege to teach men how to in ict and receive wounds.
Man, a sacred thing r man, is nowadays killed out of sport and by way ofpastime.
It is there re lse, I might add, to maintain as does G. Ville94 that the Stoics were hostile to such spectacles only because they were degrading r the spectators, but that these philosophers completely ignored the drama of the victims. This is another example of the prejudice of certain historians, who persist in attempting to minimize the importance of the reversal of values represented by Stoic philosophy. Un rtunately r
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 305
them, however, the texts are there and they cannot be avoided: as Seneca says, Homo sac res homini.
It would have been utopian to suppress the games, which were an essential part ofthe people's life. Thus, when Marcus enrolled the gladi ators to ght on the Danube, and the spectacles at Rome were inter rupted, the people already began to murmur that the Emperor wanted to convert them to philosophy by taking away their pleasures. 95 Be that as it may, Marcus must have considered it a small but not ne igible progress to have achieved what we are told by the historian Cassius Dio:96
Marcus Aurelius was so averse to the killing that, at Rome, he attended combats in which the gladiators ught like athletes, with out danger. For he did not allow them to be given sha weapons, but they had to ght with blunt ones, with buttons on the point.
No utopia, then, but a realistic view of the possibilities and limits of human nature, and a political policy that had only precise and limited objectives as its goal. Moreover, the philosopher-emperor rejected any rm ofprestige politics: he had to do what was ordered by reason "at that very moment," and "not look around to see whether anyone will know about it" (IX, 29, 4).
It goes without saying that Marcus could be crushed by a comparison with Alexander, Philip, or Demetrius (the person in question is De metrius Poliorcetes, the "taker of cities"). They were certainly great conquerors, but Marcus could reply that they were also people domi nated by their passions. Stoic tradition- r instance, Epictetus (II, 13, 24)-opposed to their brute material power the spiritual and moral power of Diogenes, who did not hesitate to speak ankly to them. This is, moreover, the meaning ofone ofMarcus' Meditations, which expresses an analogous idea (VIII, 3):
Alexander, Caesar, and Pompey: what are they compared to Dio genes, Heraclitus, or Socrates? The latter saw realities, causes, and matter; and the guiding principles oftheir souls were su cient unto themselves. As r the others: so much pillage! 97 so many people reduced to slavery!
Alexander, Philip, and Demetrius may have been great conquerors; but did they know what Nature or universal Reason wanted? Were they masters, not only of the world, but also of themselves? Or were they,
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instead, nothing but "tragic actors"? In other words, were they people who, by means of their conquests, were the cause of atrocious events, worthy of being represented in a tragedy, and were they themselves actors who took up lse and solemn poses? Pace the "snotty little men" to whom Marcus alludes, nothing can make him imitate them. He will continue to do his job as an emperor and a true philosopher: that is to say, by con rming at every instant to the will ofReason and Nature, not with turgid solemnity but with simplicity.
For Marcus, philosophy does not propose a political program. Rather, he expects that philosophy will rm him and prepare him, by means of the spiritual exercises which he performs, to carry out his political action in a speci c spirit and style. What one does matters less than the way in which one does it. In the last analysis, the o y true politics is ethics. It consists, above all, in the discipline of action, which, as we have seen, consists essentially in service to the human community, devotion to others, andjustice. Like the discipline ofaction, politics cannot be sepa rated om the great human and cosmic perspectives that are opened up r us by our recognition of a transcendent universality-Reason or Nature-which, by means of its harmony with itsel unds both peo ple's love r one another and their love r that Whole of which they are the parts. It is hard not to think ofthe recent comments ofVaclav Havel,98 as he discusses what he calls the "moral State" or the "spiritual State " :
True politics-the only thing worthy of the name, and the only thing I will consent to practice-is politics in the service of our fellow man, and in the service of the community. . . . Its basis is ethical, inso r as it is only the realization of the responsibility of all toward all. . . . [It] is nourished by the certainty, conscious or un conscious, that . . . everything is inscribed rever; that everything is evaluated elsewhere, somewhere "above us," in what I have called "the memory ofBeing": it is that part which is indissociable om the cosmos, om nature and om life which believers call God, and to whosejudgment all things are submitted. . . . To try to remain, in all circumstances, courteous, just, tolerant, understanding; and at the same time uncorruptible and in llible. In sum, to try and re main in harmony with my conscience and with my better sel
CONCLUSION
At the beginning of this book I alluded to the extraordinary success which Marcus Aurelius' Meditations have enjoyed throughout the centu ries, beginning with the rst edition in the sixteenth century. How can we explain this phenomenon? Why does this work continue, even today, to scinate us to such an extent? Perhaps one reason is the consummate art with which the Emperor chiseled out his aphorisms. In the words of Nietzsche:
A good saying is too hard r the teeth oftime, and all the millennia are not enough to consume it, although it serves as od r every epoch. It is thus the great paradox ofliterature: the imperishable in the midst ofthe changing, the od which always is appreciated, like salt, and again like salt, it never becomes insipid. 1
Yet the nutritive substance which we nd in this work is, as we have seen, the Stoic system, as it was set rth by Epictetus. Is it possible that it could still serve as spiritual nourishment r us, people of the modern era?
Ernest Renan,2 r one, did not think so. For him, the Meditations went beyond Epictetus, Stoicism, and all de nitive doctrines:
Fortunately, the little box which contained the Meditations on the banks ofthe Gran and the philosophy ofCarnonte was saved. There came out of it this incomparable book, in which Epictetus was surpassed: this manual of the resigned life, this Gospel of those who do not believe in the supernatural, which has not been able to be understood until our time. A true eternal Gospel, the Meditations will never grow old, r it a rms no dogma. The Gospel has grown old in some ofits parts: science no longer allows the naive concep-
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tion of the supernatural which constitues its undation. In the Meditations, the supernatural is only a tiny, insigni cant stain which does not a ect the wonderful beauty of the background. Science could destroy God and the soul, but the Meditations would still remain young with life and truth. The religion ofMarcus Aurelius is, like that ofJesus was at times, absolute religion: that which results om the simple ct of a high moral conscience ced with the universe. It is not of one race, nor of one country; no revolution, no progress, no discovery will be able to change it.
These lines do an admirable job of describing the impression that may be lt by Marcus' readers. They must, however, be quali ed and made more precise. Like many other historians who llowed him, Renan was wrong about the meaning which the famous dilemma " Nature or atoms " had r Marcus. He thought it meant that Marcus was completely indif ferent to the dogmas of Stoicism (Nature) or of Epicureanism (atoms) . According to Renan-and this, he thought, was the secret of the eternal youth of the Meditations-Marcus discovered that the moral conscience is independent of all theories about the world and of all de nite dogmas, "as i " in Renan's words,3 "he had read Kant's Critique Practical Rea- son. "
In ct, as I have noted, the meaning of this dilemma is entirely di erent. In the rst place, Marcus did not invent it: it was traditional within the Stoic school. Moreover, the Stoics had elaborated this reason ing in order to establish irre tably that, even if Epicureanism were true-a hypothesis which they excluded absolutely-one would still have to live as a Stoic. In other words, one would still have to act in accordance with reason, and consider moral good to be the only good, even i all around us, everything were nothing but chaos and chance. Such a position does not imply skepticism-quite the contrary. Yet the ct that the Stoics constructed such an argument is extremely interesting. By imagining that their physical theories might be false, and yet people would still have to live as Stoics, they revealed that which, in their eyes, was absolutely essential in their system. What de ned a Stoic above all else was the choice of a life in which every thought, every desire, and every action would be guided by no other law than that of universal Reason. Whether the world is ordered or chaotic, it depends only on us to be rationally coherent with ourselves. In ct, all the dogmas of Stoi cism derive om this existential choice. It is impossible that the universe could produce human rationality, unless the latter were already in some
Conclusion
way present within the rmer. The essence of Stoicism is thus the experience of the absolute nature of moral conscience and of the purity of intention. Moral conscience, moreover, is only moral if it is pure that is to say, if it is based upon the universality of reason, which takes itselfas an end, not in the particular interest ofan individual or a state. Stoics, and not just Marcus Aurelius, could have subscribed to the twin Kantian rmulations of the categorical imperative:
Act only in accordance with the maxim which is such that you can wish, at the same time, that it become a universal law.
Act as ifthe maxim ofyour action were, by your will, to be erected as a universal law ofNature. 4
We must not say, there re, that "Marcus writes as though he had read the Critique of Practical Reason, " but rather that Kant uses these rmulas because, among other reasons, he has read the Stoics.
With these quali cations, Renan was right to say that we nd in the Meditations the a rmation of the absolute value of moral conscience. Can we speak ofreligion here? I do not think so. The word "philoso phy" is enough, I think, to describe the purity of this attitude, and we ought to avoid mixing with philosophy all the vague and imprecise implications, both social and mythical, which the notion of religion brings with it.
An eternal Gospel? Renan thought that some parts of the Christian Gospel had grown old, whereas the Meditations would always remain young. And yet, are not some of Marcus' pages-the religious ones also very distant om us? Isn't it better to say that all gospels grow old, to the same extent that they have been shionable-in other words, to the extent that they have re ected the myths and collective representations of the time and milieu in which they were written? There are some works, however-among them both the Gospel and the Meditations which are like ever-new springs to which humanity comes to drink. If we can transcend their perishable aspects, we can sense in them an imperishable spirit which calls us to a choice oflife, to the trans rmation of ourselves, and to a complete revision of our attitude with regard to human beings and to the world.
The Meditations call us to a Stoic choice of life, as we have seen throughout this book. This obviously does not mean that the work is capable ofleading us to a complete conversion to the dogmas and prac-
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tices ofStoicism. Yet, inso r as we attempt to give meaning to our lives, the Meditations invite us to discover the trans rmation which could be brought to our lives, if we were to realize-in the fullest sense of the term-those speci c values which constitute the spirit ofStoicism.
It could be said, moreover, that there is a universal Stoicism in human ity. By this I mean that the attitude we call "Stoic" is one ofthe nda mental, permanent possibilities ofhuman existence, when people search r wisdom. For instance, J. Gemet5 has shown how some aspects of Chinese thought were related to what we call Stoicism. They obviously developed without Greco-Roman Stoicism having exercised any in uence on them whatsoever. This phenomenon may be observed, among other places, in Wang-Fou-chih,6 a Chinese philosopher of the seventeenth century, who writes:
Vulgar knowledge (that which limits itself to what one has seen or heard) is constituted in the egotism of the self and is r om the "great objectivity" [ta kong, a term which has both a moral and an inte ectual meaning] .
We can glimpse that this "great objectivity" is entirely analogous to Marcus' method of physical de nition, which also consists in liberating oneself om an egoistic point of view, and in placing oneself within the perspective ofuniversal Nature. As Gemet comments:
Morality and reason are one. Once the sage has enlarged his spirit to the dimensions of the universe (ta sin: the exact equivalent of the term megalopsuchia, or "greatness ofsoul") and "made his person an object ofthe world," he is able to grasp the spirit ofthe "Great Trans rmation"; that is, ofthe life ofuniversal exchanges by which the beat of the world is marked.
The sage's "great objectivity"-or, as we could say, the expansion of his spirit to the dimensions of universal Reason-inspires a moral atti tude which is entirely Stoic. We can see this in the llowing passage om Wang-Fou-chih:7
The good man waits r what destiny reserves r him, and is not saddened by death. He uses his particular capacities as r as he can, and develops the good dispositions ofhis nature [which is a re ec-
Conclusion 3 1 1 tion o f the celestial principle of order] , s o that h e does not sm
against the relevant norms.
We can recognize another theme that we have encountered in Marcus Aurelius in Tang Zhen, another Chinese philosopher ofthe same period who has been translated by Gemet: the opposition between the puniness ofhuman beings, lost in the cosmos, and the transcendence ofthe moral conscience, which makes it equal to the universe:
In the immensity of the space and time of the universe, man resem bles a speck of dust blown by the wind, or a tiny spark of light. What makes him equal to it, however, is the perfection of his ndamental goodness, and the nobility ofhis moral e rt. 8
Among the numerous attitudes which human beings can adopt with regard to the universe, there is one which was called "Stoic" in the Greco-Roman world, but which could be called by many other names, and which is characterized by speci c tendencies.
In the rst place, the "Stoic," in the universal sense in which we understand him, is conscious of the ct that no being is alone, but that we are parts of a Whole, constituted by the totality of human beings as well as by the totality of the cosmos. The Stoic constantly has his mind on this Whole. One could also say that the Stoic feels absolutely serene, ee, and invulnerable, inso r as he has become aware that there is no other evil than moral evil, and that the only thing that counts is the purity ofmoral conscience.
Finally, the Stoic believes in the absolute value ofthe human person. It is too o en rgotten, and cannot be repeated too much, that Stoicism is the origin ofthe modem notion of "human rights. " I have already cited Seneca's ne rmula on this subject:9 "man is a sacred thing r man. " Yet how could I il to cite also the remark ofEpictetus, when someone asked him how he should put up with a clumsy slave (I, 13, 3):
You are the slave! So you can't put up with your brother, who has Zeus as his ancestor, and who, as a son, was born om the same seed as you and, like you, descends om on high . . . Don't you remember whom you are ordering around? Your kinsmen, your brothers by nature, and progeny of Zeus.
-But I've got rights with regard to them because I bought them; they don't have any with regard to me!
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-Can you see where you are looking? You see the earth, a pit, and you see only these miserable laws, which are the laws of the dead. Don't you look to the laws ofthe gods?
Epictetus uses the mythical, imagistic representation ofthe liation of all human beings om God, which may seem antiquated to a modem audience. Yet when he talks about Zeus-and, as we have seen, the same thing holds true ofMarcus Aurelius-he is thinking rst and remost of reason. What Epictetus means is simply the llowing: this slave is a living being like you, and, like you, a man gifted with reason. Even if human laws re se to recognize that he is your equal, the laws ofthe gods, which are the laws ofreason, recognize his absolute value. We people ofmod em times think that we have abolished these laws ofthe dead, but in the last analysis they still dominate the world.
V. Goldschmidt10 was right to point out that another aspect ofwhat could be called "eternal Stoicism" is the exercise ofconcentration on the present instant. This consists, on the one hand, in living as if we were seeing the world r the rst and last time; and, on the other, in being aware that within this lived present of the instant, we have access to the totality oftime and ofthe world.
The reader may rightly object at this point: the ct that there is a kind of universal, perennial character to this peculiar attitude which we call "Stoic" may perhaps explain why, despite the distance which separates us om them, we can still understand the Meditations, and, better yet, nd rules r our thought and action in them. Yet this doesn't explain the unique scination that they exert upon us. Could we not say that if this book is still so attractive to us, it is because when we read it we get the impression ofencountering, not the Stoic system, although Marcus con stantly re rs to it, but a man of good will, who does not hesitate to criticize and examine himsel who constantly takes up again the task of exhorting and persuading himsel and of nding the words which will help him to live, and to live well? To be sure, these are spiritual exercises, carried out in accordance with a speci c method. Yet, in a sense, we are present at them: we catch them in actu, in the very moment in which they are being practiced.
In wo d literature one nds lots ofpreachers, lesson-givers, and cen sors, who moralize to others with complacency, irony, cynicism, or
Conclusion 3 1 3
bitterness; but it is extremely rare to nd a person training himselfto live and to think like a human being (V, I ) :
In the morning, when you have trouble waking up, let the llow ing thought be present to you: 'Tm getting up to do the job of a human being. "
One must admit that there are w hesitations, mblings, or search ings in these exercises which llow a canvas that Stoic philosophy and Epictetus have drawn in advance with precision. The personal e rt appears rather in the repetitions, the multiple variations developed around the same theme, and the stylistic e ort as well, which always seeks r a striking, e ective rmula. Nevertheless, we feel a highly particular emotion when we enter, as it were, into the spiritual intimacy of a soul's secrets, and are thus directly associated with the e orts of a man who, scinated by the only thing necessary-the absolute value of moral good-is trying to do what, in the last analysis, we are all trying to do: to live in complete consciousness and lucidity; to give each of our instants its llest intensity; and to give meaning to our entire life. Marcus is talking to himsel but we get the impression that he is talking to each one ofus.
AB B RE V I AT I O N S
Birley: A. R. Birley, Marcus Aurelius (London, 1966); 19872•
Breithaupt: G. Breithaupt, De M. Aurelii Antonini commentariis quaestiones se lectae (G ttingen, 1913).
It is possible that the gods, to whom Marcus addresses his thanks at the end of Book I, did not bestow upon him the supreme blessing, in the sense of supreme ease and beauty: the ability to make others believe that one does good deeds by nature. I think, however, that no one can deny the good will and scrupulous conscientiousness with which Marcus at tempted to do good. In this point, at least, he was scrupulously sincere.
The solitude of the emperor and of the philosopher
In the mous portrait of the philosopher which he sketches m the Theaetetus (174e), Plato did not rget to mention what the philosopher thinks ofkings and tyrants. What is a king? What is a tyrant? A shepherd or a cowherd, who is happy ifhe can squeeze lots ofmilk om his herd. In ct, however, he is not as rtunate as he seems, r the beasts he must milk and pasture are much more unpleasant, di cult, sneaky, and treach erous than those of a simple shepherd. Moreover, absorbed by the cares ofgoverning these disagreeable beasts called men, he has no more mental eedom, and he is just as rough and uncultivated as the shepherds, " once he has surrounded himself with an enclosure around his animal pen in
the mountains. "
This is precisely what Marcus the philosopher te s Marcus the em
peror: wherever he goes, he will be enclosed in the prison of power alone, without any leisure, and con onted by the sneaky beasts men tioned by Plato (X, 23):
Let it always be clear to you that your countryside is the place where you are living at this moment, and that everything here is identical to what is on a high mountain or on the seashore, or wherever you like; you'll immediately nd there what Plato talks about: "Surrounding himselfwith a pen in the mountains," he says, and "milking his ocks. "
What Marcus means is the llowing: wherever you go, you will nd the prison of power and the solitude in which you are enclosed by your position as shepherd of men. Wherever you go, however, it will be
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
within you and only within you that you will nd that countryside, seashore, or mountain which can liberate you om the prison you nd everywhere (c£ IV, 3, l). In other words, it is the emperor's inner dispositions that will decide if he is imprisoned within his mountain enclosure, like Plato's king, or if he will nd pleasure and relaxation in the mountains or the countryside, as he would like. No matter where we go, we nd-according to our wishes-servitude or eedom.
"Mountain" here has two meanings: it is the symbol ofthe enclosure within which the tyrant/king lives as a prisoner together with the ock ofanimals he exploits; but it is also the symbol ofretreat within ourselves and the inner eedom which we can nd anywhere, as long as we want it (X, 15, 2):
Live as if you were on a mountain. It doesn't matter whether one lives in one place or another, as long as one lives everywhere as within one's own City, which is the World.
And yet the philosopher's inner retreat, which is his philosophical li in con rmity with Stoicism, will provoke another solitude and rupture between the ock and its shepherd: a serious disparity between the values ofboth parties.
This uneasiness explains Marcus' repugnance with regard to life at court, which he compares to a stepmother (VI, 12), whereas his true mother is philosophy, which allows him to put up with the court, and to make himselfbearable to those who live at court. Yet he blames himself r this attitude (VIII, 9):
Let no one hear you blame the life people lead at court any longer! Let not you yourselfhear yourselfdoing it!
Here we encounter once again what we could call the theme oflife on a mountain: wherever one can live, one can live well; that is to say, philosophically. But it is possible to live at court; there re, it is possible to live well there (V, 16, 2). Marcus gives this argument as an example of the way in which the soul can su use itselfwith speci c representations.
Marcus' repugnance r life at court was not, however, mere su per cial annoyance: rather, the discord ran extremely deep. As he con tinues this meditation on life "on a mountain"-that is to say, within the City of the World-Marcus allows us to glimpse just how deep this discord and this rupture go (X, l5, 3):
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Let people see and discover what a man who truly lives in accord ance with nature is like! Ifthey can't put up with you, then let them kill you! That would be better than to live like them!
The con ict is situated in the pro und di erence between the two parties' principles of li , and it is summarized by Marcus in a lapidary rmula which opposes the two Greek words homothamnein and homodog matein (XI, 8, 6):
Grow on the same trunk, but don't profess the same principles.
These two duties are hard to reconcile: on the one hand, our duty to love other human beings, with whom we rm one single body, tree, or city; on the other, our duty not to let ourselves be cajoled into adopting their lse values and maxims ofli .
This is the drama ofMarcus' li . He loves mankind, and wants to love them; but he hates what they love. Only one thing counts r him: the search r virtue and the purity ofmoral intention. This human world om which this unique value is absent-provokes in Marcus an intense reprobation and lassitude; yet he gets hold of himself, and attempts to reintroduce gentleness and indulgence within himself
This disgust and lassitude make Marcus long r death, and he knows that this is wrong. We know how important a part is played in the Meditations by the "helps," or arguments r preparing oneself r death. Some are entirely philosophical, as r instance those which teach us to consider death as a particular case ofuniversal metamorphosis, or a mys tery ofnature (II, 12, 3; IV, 5; IX, 3, 1-4). Some ofthem, however, are not philosophical, but are coarse (idiotika) and vulgar, although highly e ective: r instance, those which consist in making a list ofpeople who hung on desperately to li , unwilling to let go, and who nevertheless died (IV, 50). A similar consideration, which Marcus admits (IX, 3, 5) is also completely unphilosophical (idiotikon), but which touches the heart, consists in telling oneself that, in the last analysis, what one is leaving is not really worth much. This method consists in
care lly examining the kinds of objects om which you are about to separate yoursel and with what bad characters your soul will no longer be mixed. To be sure, you must by no means be disgusted by them; on the contrary, you must be lled with solicitude r them, and put up with them gently. Nevertheless, you must also remem-
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 293
her that you must take leave of people who do not share your principles. Ifit were possible, the only thing which could push you back in the other direction and maintain you in life, would be ifit were possible r you to live in a society ofpeople who had adopted the same principles as you.
As things are, however, you can see how much you are ed with lassitude at the discords of social life; to the point where you say: "Hurry up, 0 Death, lest I too rget mysel£"
One thinks ofBaudelaire's cry, so expressive of tigue with terrestrial li and an aspiration r the in nite: "0 Death, old captain . . . this land is boring! Let us cast o ! " Yet ifMarcus calls on Death to come quickly, it is less out oflassitude than out offear ofbecoming similar to those who rget themselves and live in a state ofunconsciousness.
The disgust which Marcus els r his entourage is certai y surpris ing. Did he not surround himselfwith iends and counselors who were also philosophers, like his beloved Rusticus and all those whom we were able to glimpse thanks to the testimony of Galen? It could be supposed that, by these last years of Marcus' life, his iends had disappeared, and that he now misses the be nning of his reign. And yet we know om Cassius Dio72 that Marcus admitted that no one could be perfect:
He used to say that it is impossible to create people as one would like them to be, but that each one had to be utilized in the task which he was capable ofaccomplishing.
He used to praise them r the service they had rendered, and he paid no attention to the rest oftheir behavior.
Are we to suppose that he had become more intransigent in his old age? Alternatively, can we perceive in these lines the disappointment Marcus felt as he saw the development ofthe character ofCommodus? This was the view of Renan, especially a propos of another passage (X, 36), which is also very striking in its expression oflassitude and disap pointment:
No one is so well- vored by Destiny that, at the moment of his death, he is not surrounded by people who rejoice at this sad event. The dead man was conscientious and well-behaved; yet someone nally turn up to say, "This schoolteacher aidagogos)
294 THE INNER CITADEL will now nally let us breathe. To be sure, he was not harsh with
any of us; but I could el that he was condemning us in silence. "
Later on in the text, Marcus opposes the case of this good man to his own situation. In a sense, however, when he speaks ofthis good man, he is already thinking about himsel r he is well aware ofthe ct that not only those around him, but also the entire Empire, knew that he was trying to be a philosopher. An apocryphal letter om Lucius Verus to his adoptive brother, preserved by the Historia Augusta, may re ect an opin ion widespread in Marcus' time: it warns Marcus that Avidius Cassius, who was to revolt against him near the end of Marcus' reign, spoke of him as an " old woman who plays at being a philosopher. "73 Many people must have had similar views of the Emperor; perhaps they had even nicknamed him "the pedagogue. " In any case, Marcus uses this descrip tion of the death of a good man as an a fortiori argument: if such a man must expect such an end, then all the more must Marcus himself expect similar reactions at the moment ofhis own death:
This is what people will say about a good man. In my case, how ever, how many more reasons there are r there to be many people to want to get rid ofme. You'll have to think ofthat when you die. You will leave li more easily, if you think: the life that I am leaving is one in which my associates (koinonoi), r whom I have ught so hard and prayed so much, r whom I have had so much concern, want me to go away. Perhaps they hope r some relief om my disappearance.
Who were these associates or companions (koinonoi)? They could have been the Emperor's counselors, who made up the imperial council and who, in the words ofthe Emperor's contemporary Aelius Aristides, were participants in power. Yet the expressions "I have ught so hard" and "I have prayed so much" imply a very special relationship between the Emperor and these "associates. " It is hard not to think, with Renan, of Commodus, Marcus' young son, who had been given imperial power in 177, three years be re the Emperor's death, and who was probably already manifesting the disastrous tendencies that would develop during his reign.
Be that as it may, Marcus trans s his meditation on the ingratitude of others into a preparation r death. Unlike the preparation mentioned above, this one is not philosophical, since it sins against the discipline of action, which requires us to love our fellow human beings. Nevertheless,
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 295 it is powerfully e ective, since it di nishes the anguish and su ering
caused by the loss oflife:
Why should we try to prolong our stay in this place?
Yet Marcus corrects himselfimmediately (X, 36, 6):
And yet, don't go away r that reason less well-disposed toward them. Rather, you must remain ith l to your own character, and be iendly, benevolent, and merci l toward them.
This is the disposition in which we should always remain. Yet lassitude and disappointment sometimes win the day, and Marcus implicitly rec ognizes that they are not philosophical, but are a weakness, and perhaps even a pass10n.
Such a complex sentiment appears to consist of several elements. In the rst place, we nd in it a view ofhuman ailty that is ee ofillusion. Marcus had a sharp and highly realistic sense of both his own llibility and that of others, which sometimes went so r as to consider these others incorrigible (VIII, 4):
They'll still do the same things, even ifit kills you!
As W. Williams has shown, this is why Marcus was always care l to dot the i's and cross the t's ofthe o cial documents which expressed his decisions. He seems to have ared that his subordinates might il to understand his orders, or re se to carry them out in the way he wanted. For instance, in one case a slave was set ee by a will, but this might have been contested because ofthe rm ofthe will. Marcus, however, was in vor of the " cause of eedom, " and always tended to make en anchise
ment easier; thus he took the trouble to speci that his decision should be not left as a dead letter, by bringing up some other motive, such as the ct that the Treasury might claim the property left by the testator. As Marcus writes,
Those who have our interests at heart must know that the cause of eedom is to be placed be re nancial advantage. 74
One the one hand, we can perceive here the importance of the hu man, moral point of view r Marcus. On the other hand, we can also impse a certain lack ofcon dence in the intellectual and moral qualities
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ofhis subordinates. These di culties with his entourage, moreover, took on greater proportions as a result of Marcus' undeniable propensity to ward anger, which the Emperor made no attempt to conceal; he was aware that becoming angry constituted a weakness (XI, 9, 2).
The main cause ofMarcus' lassitude, however, was his passionate love r moral good. A world in which this absolute value was not recognized seemed to him an empty world, in which life no longer had any mean ing. As he grew old in such an enormous empire, in the huge crowds which surrounded and acclaimed him, in the atrocious Danubian war as well as in the triumphal parades of the city of Rome, he felt himself alone. Marcus felt a void around himsel since he could not realize his ideal (IX, 3 , 7) : to live in community with others, in search of the only thing necessary.
Political models
Marcus does not propose any speci c governmental program in the Meditations. This should not su rise us, r he is less concerned with what must be done than with how it must be done. Nevertheless, Book I does contain some allusions to political practice. Through Claudius Severus, Marcus writes (I, 14), he has come to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dio, and Brutus. This list of names has a quite precise meaning. 75
Paetus Thrasea was the mous senator who, in the year 66, was rced to commit suicide because of his outspoken opposition to the emperor Nero. Helvidius Priscus, Thrasea's son-in-law, was assassinated in the reign ofVespasian, probably in the year 75. Both were opponents ofthe emperors, and this attitude was a kind of mily tradition, in which the women also often took part. The portraits of these martyrs were kept within the great aristocratic milies, and their biographies were written. Under some emperors, however, writing such works also meant risking death. At the beginning ofhis L e ofAgricola, Tacitus evokes the happi ness which the emperor Nerva brought to Rome by establishing a reign which, says Tacitus, reconciled monarchy and eedom. Under Nerva's predecessor Domitian, by contrast, it had been rbidden to write the biographies ofopponents ofthe emperor.
Arulenus Rusticus wrote a panegyric ofPaetus Thrasea, and Heren nius Senecion wrote one ofHelvidius Priscus: both paid with their lives . . . It was thought that the voice of the Roman people, the
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 297 ee speech �ibertas) of the Senate, and the conscience of the human
race could be sti ed.
It was almost fty years a er these events that Marcus Aurelius, through the intermediary of Claudius Severus, discovered this tradition of opposition. In turn, however, these opponents of the Empire had maintained the cult of other, older martyrs, who had lived in the last stages of the Republic, under Caesar. When Juvenal, a contemporary of Tacitus, speaks in his Satires , 36) of the high quality of a wine, he writes that it is similar to that which Paetus Thrasea and Helvidius Priscus drank on the birthdays ofBrutus and Cassius, the murderers ofCaesar.
According to Marcus, Claudius Severus had also told him about the gure ofBrutus, who lived in the rst century B. C. (85-42), and about Cato. The gure in question is obviously Cato ofUtica (95-46), who, as an opponent of Caesar, committed suicide upon the approach of the latter's troops.
Did Claudius Severus provide Marcus with the biographies of Thrasea, Helvidius Priscus, Brutus, and Cato? Thrasea had written a life of Cato, and Helvidius a li of Thrasea, while Herennius Senecion had composed a li of Helvidius. Did Claudius also have Marcus read the parallel lives of Brutus and Dio of Syracuse, written by Plutarch, who had also composed the parallel lives ofPhocion and Cato ofUtica? It is in any case surprising to see, in the list ofRomans enumerated by Claudius Severus, a Greek, who lived om about 409 to 354 B. c. : namely Dio, who deposed the Syracusan tyrant Dionysius, but who was in tu him selfassassinated. 76 It is hi ly unlikely that the Dio mentioned here could be Dio Chrysostom, the rhetor and philosopher who was exiled under Domitian but later recovered imperial vor. The rest of the list consists of only statesmen, so that Dio Chrysostom would be an exception, and he was not really a "martyr" ofopposition to the Empire.
Claudius Severus may very well have spoken of these gures in a conversation in which he emphasized the common element that linked them all together: the link between philosophy and a speci c conception ofpolitics; that is to say, the hatred oftyranny. Dio had been a disciple of Plato, and according to Plutarch,77 he practiced the philosophical virtues of ankness of speech, greatness of soul, gravity, clemency toward his enemies, and frugality. By deposing Dionysius, Dio brought eedom back to Syracuse and abolished the tyranny, but he supported a middle path between tyranny and democracy: a monarchy subject to laws,
which is the governmental program set rth in the Eighth Letter, attrib uted to Plato.
Brutus, a Roman, was also a Platonist. He llowed the tendency which was shionable in his time: that ofAntiochus ofAscalon, strongly tinged with Stoicism. Brutus had written treatises entitled "On Duty," "On Patience," and "On Virtue. " He was both the assassin ofCaesar and the man who killed himself a er having been defeated in the civil war which llowed Caesar's assassination. Like Dio, Brutus was an enemy of tyranny, and he ught r public liberty.
In the eyes of Seneca, Cato was one of the rare incarnations of the ideal of the Stoic Sage. 78 Be re his suicide, Cato discussed the Stoic paradox according to which only the Sage is ee. Then, he read Plato's Phaedo. 79 His whole way ofli was that ofa philosopher, who tried at the same time to revive the rigorous li ofthe ancient Romans. He trained himself r physical endurance, traveled on ot, went against current shions, a ected disdain r money, and re sed any rm of connivery or complicity with the exactions carried out by powerful Romans.
Brutus and Cato were republicans. Freedom, r them, was above all that of the Senate: in other words, the right to govern of a ruling class which opposed the arbitrariness of the tyranny of one man. Cato also wished to introduce moral or philosophical rigor into the senatorial class.
Under the Empire, Thrasea and Helvidius dreamed of a return to the ancient institutions ofthe Roman Republic; in other words, they wished to restore political authority to the Senate. Both were Stoics, and within the Stoic tradition-particularly in Epictetus80-they would remain as examples of constancy, mental rmness, and indi erence to indi erent things. Epictetus himselfknew this opposition to imperial power well, thanks to his teacher Musonius Ru s, who had been closely linked to Thrasea.
All these memories were awakened by the reign and the persecutions ofDomitian, as we can see om the numerous allusions to this somber period which can be und in the letters ofPliny the Younger. With the total change of atmosphere brought about by the accession of the em peror Nerva, which was prolonged under his successors Trajan, Hadrian, and Antoninus, both Senators and philosophers had the impression that the Empire had somehow become reconciled with the spirit of these supporters of the republican ideal and of Stoicism. This is certainly the meaning of the remarks by Claudius Severus on the martyrs who gave their lives in the ght against tyranny. 81
By evoking these almost legendary gures, Claudius Severus gave
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 299 Marcus a glimpse ofthe principles ofpolitical conduct (I, 14, 2). It is to
Claudius, writes Marcus, that he owes the
ct of having had a representation of a State oliteia) in which the laws are equal r , administered on the basis of equality and eedom of speech, and of a monarchy which respects the eedom ofits subjects above all else.
The idea of a law that is equal r goes back to the Eighth Letter, attributed to Plato. The equality in question is geometrical, and it distrib utes bene ts to each person in accordance with his or her merit. This is precisely the Aristotelian and Stoic de nition ofjustice: it accords advan tages in proportion to merit.
The ideas of equal rights, of equal rights to speech, and of eedom had been extremely closely linked since the most ancient period of Greek democracy. However, when Tacitus, writing under the Empire, spoke of the reconciliation between monarchy and eedom brought about by Nerva, the idea of eedom had lost much of its content. It no longer meant the citizen's possibility to participate unhindered in political li . Rather, it included such notions as the protection and safety ofindividu als, and individual eedom (the right to express oneself, r example, or to move eely). For the cities, it meant the possibility ofpreserving their traditions and a certain degree ofmunicipal autonomy; but above , r the Senate, it meant the ability to in uence the Emperor's decisions to a greater or lesser extent.
Claudius Severus taught the ture sovereign that eedom is compat ible with monarchy, if one understands by "monarchy" a regime that respects the laws and the citizens. In ct, since he was so close to the Emperor Antoninus, who exercised this kind of moderate power him sel Marcus could not il to be miliar with this way of governing. Claudius Severus thus did not cause Marcus to discover it; instead, he probably revealed to him the historical roots of this conception of mon archy: the opposition to tyranny ofthe philosopher-martyrs.
Claudius thus made Marcus aware of the principles of conduct that must guide an enlightened monarch: respect r the law, recognition of the rights of the Senate, attendance at its sessions, participation in its deliberations, and recognition of the right to speak, not only r the prince's council or the Senate, but also r simple citizens, when they addressed the Emperor.
The ancient historians have given us some examples of the way Mar-
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cus applied these principles. In order to nance the Danubian war, he took the trouble to ask the public treasu r nds. It was not, as Cassius Dio notes, 82 as if these nds were not at the Emperor's disposition; yet Marcus insisted on acknowledging that they belonged to the Senate and the Roman People. Speaking to the Senate, Marcus said:
We possess nothing ofour own, and it is in your house that we live.
According to the Historia Augusta,83 Marcus always deliberated with his council be re undertaking anything, whether in war or in peace; r his motto was:
It is morejust r me to llow the advice ofmy friends, than that the multitude ofmy friends should llow my will alone.
Marcus was extremely care l to take the Senate's opinion into con sideration. He let the mime-writers criticize him openly. The historian Herodian speci es that Marcus entertained all requests, and rbade his guards to bar the way to people who wished to approach him. 84 The Historia Augusta sums up Marcus' entire attitude in the llowing terms:
Toward the people, he behaved exactly as ifhe were acting in a ee State. 85
The portrait ofAntoninus Pius which Marcus gives in Book I serves in part to illustrate these principles ofgovernment. In a sense, it sketches the atures of the ideal prince, with whom the Emperor would like to identi himsel We nd a trace of this portrait in the Meditations I, 30), where Marcus exhorts himselfnot to become "Caesarized" and not to let the imperial purple rub o on him: instead, he is to become a true disciple ofAntoninus. Marcus takes particular care to describe the moral qualities that Antoninus showed in his way of governing, which Marcus intended to imitate. When, a er due re ection, Antoninus had made a decision, he held rmly to it: he was identical in every circumstance. He never abandoned a question without having examined it thoroughly. He put up with people who reproached him unjustly. He never hurried, did not listen to calumnies, and could thom people's morals and actions with penetrating acuity. He did not seek to humiliate; neither did he fear nor scorn anyone. Nor was he a sophist: he led a simple li , and was content with little with regard to his lodging, his clothing, his od, and his household servants. He was patient and hardworking, loyal and con-
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 301
stant in his iendships. He tolerated being contradicted with great ank ness, and he was happy to hear a better solution proposed. He was pious, but not superstitious.
In this initial portrait of the ideal prince, which was to be partially taken up again in Book I, we note some rms ofbehavior that Marcus often exhorts himselfto practice throughout the Meditations: r instance, to allow his counselors to have di erent opinions om his, and to agree to their opinion ifit is better (IV, 12; VIII, 16); not to humiliate people (XI, 13, 2; XI, 18, 18); and to remain identical with himselfthroughout his entire life (XI, 21).
In the middle ofthe Meditations, this portrait ofAntoninus appears like a reign body; it is surprising that Marcus should have taken the time to produce such a sketch, apparently so distant om the exhortations with which he showers himself elsewhere. Yet its presence con rms an im pression we may already have received while reading the work: the Meditations are addressed not only to Marcus the man, but to Marcus the man who exercises the imperial nction. Hence, the model of Anton inus acquires a capital importance.
The atures of Antoninus which are sketched in Book I (chapter 1 6) are more numerous and more precise: they are both memories and examples, and they often correspond to the canon of the ideal prince, which philosophical re ection, in accordance with an immemorial tradi tion, had attempted to rmulate. 86
Let us leave aside r the moment Marcus' remarks on his adoptive ther's moral qualities, and concentrate on some of the characteristic political attitudes in this portrait.
First, as r as the relations between sovereign and people are con cerned, we nd the rejection of all demagogy; a total lack of currying popular vor or gratitude; disdain r vain glory; and the re sal of acclamations. Antoninus knew when to keep a tight rein, and when to slacken it; and he practiced rigorous justice, which meant "in exibly distributing to each person what was due to his or her merit. "
More broadly, he was constantly attentive to the general needs of the Empire, and he was extremely thrifty when it came to public expendi tures. People made n of him r this, but he was very tolerant with regard to such criticisms. In particular, he thought long and hard be re o ering spectacles to the public, building monuments, or distributing gi s. Above all, he thought about what it was right to do, and not about the glory he could derive om his acts. He thus tried-without making a show ofit-to remain ith l to his ancestral customs.
Antoninus showed a great deal of gentleness in his way of governing;
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there was nothing hard, inexorable, or violent about him. He used me ticulous care in resolving the most minor a airs, and in using resight with the utmost detail. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it, and would not allow himself to be moved. He had few secrets.
He listened attentively to his counselors-traditionally called the "Emperor's iends"-and he accorded them a great deal of eedom; yet he enjoyed their company.
We can detect an implicit criticism ofAntoninus' predecessors in this portrait, and in particular of Hadrian. 87 If the Emperor took the trouble to emphasize that his adoptive ther put an end to "the love ofyoung boys," this was certainly an allusion to what went on in the courts of Trajan and Hadrian. Ifhe insisted on the ct that Antoninus liked to stay in the same place, this was probably in order to criticize Hadrian's many trips to every corner of the Empire. When Marcus spoke of Antoninus' prudent ugality with regard to expenditures incurred by organizing spectacles and building monuments, he probably had in mind Hadrian's prodigality and love of ne construction. Finally, Marcus probably in tended to contrast Antoninus' conservatism, and his wish to remain close to ancestral customs-in other words, to old Roman traditions-with Hadrian's innovations.
Marcus saw in Antoninus a true philosopher, comparable to Socrates, who knew how to enjoy good things when they were present, and to abstain om them when they were absent (I, 16, 30). He evokes Anton inus' per ct and invincible soul (I, 16, 3l), as well as the tranquil con science he displayed in his nal hour (VI, 3o, l5). We do not know if Antoninus considered himselfto be a philosopher, but it is quite remark able that at the moment of his death, he gave the llowing password to the tribune of the praetorian cohort: Aequanimitas, or "Serenity"-a word which lets us glimpse an entire philosophical attitude. 88 In any event, we have every reason to suppose that when it came to sketching the portrait of his adoptive ther, Marcus did not simply collect a few edi ing features. Rather, he expressed his adherence to a quite speci c way of governing: that of Antoninus. The Historia Augusta89 summarizes this continuity as llows:
From the beginning of their reign, Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus behaved in a manner which was so benevolent and close to the people (civiliter), that no one had cause to miss the gentleness of Antoninus .
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 3 03 "Don't wait r Plato's republic"
How ridiculous are these little men who play at being politicians, and, as they think, deal with a airs of State like philosophers! Snotty little men! Man, what must you do? Do what Nature asks you to do in this very moment. Direct your will in this direction, if it is granted you to do so, and don't look around to see whether anyone will know about it. Don't wait r Plato's Republic! Rather, be content if one tiny thing makes some progress, and re ect on the ct that what results om this tiny thing is no tiny thing at all!
Indeed, who will change the principles upon which they guide their lives? And yet, without a change in these principles, what else is there but the slavery of people who moan as they pretend to obey?
Go on, now, quote me some Alexander, some Philip, or some Demetrius! Let them worry about whether they knew what Univer sal Nature wanted, and if they educated themselves. But if they were only acting, no one has condemned me to imitate them. Don't push me into acting solemn (IX, 29).
Who were these "ridiculous" and "snotty little men"? It is hard to say. Perhaps they were people who considered themselves philosophers, and criticized Marcus because he was not carrying out "great politics. " The continuation of the passage allows us to suppose that he was accused of two things: rst, he had not realized Plato's Republic. As the philoso pher-emperor, should he not re m1 the State completely, in accordance with the principles ofphilosophy? Second, he had not, unlike Alexander, Philip of Macedonia, or Demetrius Poliorcetes,90 the "taker of cities," carried out a politics of conquest, which would be glorious r him and r the Empire.
No, replies Marcus: what is essential is to concentrate on present political and moral action, however modest it may be. Do what Nature (that is to say, reason) asks you to do in this very moment, and don't let yourself be carried away by vast utopian views, to the point where you believe you are in "Plato's Republic. "
"Plato's Republic" was a proverbial expression, which had a very precise meaning. It did not, properly speaking, designate the political program set rth in the great philosopher's dialogue. Rather, more generally, it referred to a state in which all the citizens would have become philosophers, and there re perfect. It was in this sense that
Cicero91 told how the Stoic Mucius Scaevola had pleaded the cause of Rutilius Ru s "as it could have been pleaded in Plato's Republic"-in other words, as if he were addressing only philosophers. Elsewhere, Cicero says92 of Cato of Utica that he used to act as if he were living in Plato's Republic, and not in the mud ofRomulus. This is precisely what Marcus means. It is extremely di cult to trans rm the human masses; to change the values which scinate them, and the opinions which cause them to act; or to make philosophers of them. Unless one trans rms their way oflooking at things, completely changing the moral life ofeach individual, any re rm imposed without their consent would plunge them into the slavery "ofpeople who moan as they pretend to obey. " This is the eternal drama of humanity in general and of politics in par ticular. Unless it trans rms people completely, politics can never be anything other than a compromise with evil.
Marcus wants to be lucid and realistic: he has no illusions about the general conversion of humanity, or the possibility of imposing upon people some ideal state. Yet this does not mean that nothing can be done.
Just as Stoic philosophers knew that they would never be sages, but nevertheless attempted gradually to progress toward this ideal, so the statesman knows that humanity will never be perfect; yet he must be happy i om time to time, he manages to achieve some slight progress. A er all, even slight progress is no minor achievement: moral progress, however minimal, takes a lot of e ort and, above all, has a great deal of value; r no moral progress is ever slight.
We can perhaps nd an example of Marcus' political practice in his attitude toward gladiatorial combats. Stoic philosophy was hostile to such spectacles, because they went against the personal human dignity of the combatants. As Seneca wrote,93
It is a sacrilege to teach men how to in ict and receive wounds.
Man, a sacred thing r man, is nowadays killed out of sport and by way ofpastime.
It is there re lse, I might add, to maintain as does G. Ville94 that the Stoics were hostile to such spectacles only because they were degrading r the spectators, but that these philosophers completely ignored the drama of the victims. This is another example of the prejudice of certain historians, who persist in attempting to minimize the importance of the reversal of values represented by Stoic philosophy. Un rtunately r
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 305
them, however, the texts are there and they cannot be avoided: as Seneca says, Homo sac res homini.
It would have been utopian to suppress the games, which were an essential part ofthe people's life. Thus, when Marcus enrolled the gladi ators to ght on the Danube, and the spectacles at Rome were inter rupted, the people already began to murmur that the Emperor wanted to convert them to philosophy by taking away their pleasures. 95 Be that as it may, Marcus must have considered it a small but not ne igible progress to have achieved what we are told by the historian Cassius Dio:96
Marcus Aurelius was so averse to the killing that, at Rome, he attended combats in which the gladiators ught like athletes, with out danger. For he did not allow them to be given sha weapons, but they had to ght with blunt ones, with buttons on the point.
No utopia, then, but a realistic view of the possibilities and limits of human nature, and a political policy that had only precise and limited objectives as its goal. Moreover, the philosopher-emperor rejected any rm ofprestige politics: he had to do what was ordered by reason "at that very moment," and "not look around to see whether anyone will know about it" (IX, 29, 4).
It goes without saying that Marcus could be crushed by a comparison with Alexander, Philip, or Demetrius (the person in question is De metrius Poliorcetes, the "taker of cities"). They were certainly great conquerors, but Marcus could reply that they were also people domi nated by their passions. Stoic tradition- r instance, Epictetus (II, 13, 24)-opposed to their brute material power the spiritual and moral power of Diogenes, who did not hesitate to speak ankly to them. This is, moreover, the meaning ofone ofMarcus' Meditations, which expresses an analogous idea (VIII, 3):
Alexander, Caesar, and Pompey: what are they compared to Dio genes, Heraclitus, or Socrates? The latter saw realities, causes, and matter; and the guiding principles oftheir souls were su cient unto themselves. As r the others: so much pillage! 97 so many people reduced to slavery!
Alexander, Philip, and Demetrius may have been great conquerors; but did they know what Nature or universal Reason wanted? Were they masters, not only of the world, but also of themselves? Or were they,
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instead, nothing but "tragic actors"? In other words, were they people who, by means of their conquests, were the cause of atrocious events, worthy of being represented in a tragedy, and were they themselves actors who took up lse and solemn poses? Pace the "snotty little men" to whom Marcus alludes, nothing can make him imitate them. He will continue to do his job as an emperor and a true philosopher: that is to say, by con rming at every instant to the will ofReason and Nature, not with turgid solemnity but with simplicity.
For Marcus, philosophy does not propose a political program. Rather, he expects that philosophy will rm him and prepare him, by means of the spiritual exercises which he performs, to carry out his political action in a speci c spirit and style. What one does matters less than the way in which one does it. In the last analysis, the o y true politics is ethics. It consists, above all, in the discipline of action, which, as we have seen, consists essentially in service to the human community, devotion to others, andjustice. Like the discipline ofaction, politics cannot be sepa rated om the great human and cosmic perspectives that are opened up r us by our recognition of a transcendent universality-Reason or Nature-which, by means of its harmony with itsel unds both peo ple's love r one another and their love r that Whole of which they are the parts. It is hard not to think ofthe recent comments ofVaclav Havel,98 as he discusses what he calls the "moral State" or the "spiritual State " :
True politics-the only thing worthy of the name, and the only thing I will consent to practice-is politics in the service of our fellow man, and in the service of the community. . . . Its basis is ethical, inso r as it is only the realization of the responsibility of all toward all. . . . [It] is nourished by the certainty, conscious or un conscious, that . . . everything is inscribed rever; that everything is evaluated elsewhere, somewhere "above us," in what I have called "the memory ofBeing": it is that part which is indissociable om the cosmos, om nature and om life which believers call God, and to whosejudgment all things are submitted. . . . To try to remain, in all circumstances, courteous, just, tolerant, understanding; and at the same time uncorruptible and in llible. In sum, to try and re main in harmony with my conscience and with my better sel
CONCLUSION
At the beginning of this book I alluded to the extraordinary success which Marcus Aurelius' Meditations have enjoyed throughout the centu ries, beginning with the rst edition in the sixteenth century. How can we explain this phenomenon? Why does this work continue, even today, to scinate us to such an extent? Perhaps one reason is the consummate art with which the Emperor chiseled out his aphorisms. In the words of Nietzsche:
A good saying is too hard r the teeth oftime, and all the millennia are not enough to consume it, although it serves as od r every epoch. It is thus the great paradox ofliterature: the imperishable in the midst ofthe changing, the od which always is appreciated, like salt, and again like salt, it never becomes insipid. 1
Yet the nutritive substance which we nd in this work is, as we have seen, the Stoic system, as it was set rth by Epictetus. Is it possible that it could still serve as spiritual nourishment r us, people of the modern era?
Ernest Renan,2 r one, did not think so. For him, the Meditations went beyond Epictetus, Stoicism, and all de nitive doctrines:
Fortunately, the little box which contained the Meditations on the banks ofthe Gran and the philosophy ofCarnonte was saved. There came out of it this incomparable book, in which Epictetus was surpassed: this manual of the resigned life, this Gospel of those who do not believe in the supernatural, which has not been able to be understood until our time. A true eternal Gospel, the Meditations will never grow old, r it a rms no dogma. The Gospel has grown old in some ofits parts: science no longer allows the naive concep-
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tion of the supernatural which constitues its undation. In the Meditations, the supernatural is only a tiny, insigni cant stain which does not a ect the wonderful beauty of the background. Science could destroy God and the soul, but the Meditations would still remain young with life and truth. The religion ofMarcus Aurelius is, like that ofJesus was at times, absolute religion: that which results om the simple ct of a high moral conscience ced with the universe. It is not of one race, nor of one country; no revolution, no progress, no discovery will be able to change it.
These lines do an admirable job of describing the impression that may be lt by Marcus' readers. They must, however, be quali ed and made more precise. Like many other historians who llowed him, Renan was wrong about the meaning which the famous dilemma " Nature or atoms " had r Marcus. He thought it meant that Marcus was completely indif ferent to the dogmas of Stoicism (Nature) or of Epicureanism (atoms) . According to Renan-and this, he thought, was the secret of the eternal youth of the Meditations-Marcus discovered that the moral conscience is independent of all theories about the world and of all de nite dogmas, "as i " in Renan's words,3 "he had read Kant's Critique Practical Rea- son. "
In ct, as I have noted, the meaning of this dilemma is entirely di erent. In the rst place, Marcus did not invent it: it was traditional within the Stoic school. Moreover, the Stoics had elaborated this reason ing in order to establish irre tably that, even if Epicureanism were true-a hypothesis which they excluded absolutely-one would still have to live as a Stoic. In other words, one would still have to act in accordance with reason, and consider moral good to be the only good, even i all around us, everything were nothing but chaos and chance. Such a position does not imply skepticism-quite the contrary. Yet the ct that the Stoics constructed such an argument is extremely interesting. By imagining that their physical theories might be false, and yet people would still have to live as Stoics, they revealed that which, in their eyes, was absolutely essential in their system. What de ned a Stoic above all else was the choice of a life in which every thought, every desire, and every action would be guided by no other law than that of universal Reason. Whether the world is ordered or chaotic, it depends only on us to be rationally coherent with ourselves. In ct, all the dogmas of Stoi cism derive om this existential choice. It is impossible that the universe could produce human rationality, unless the latter were already in some
Conclusion
way present within the rmer. The essence of Stoicism is thus the experience of the absolute nature of moral conscience and of the purity of intention. Moral conscience, moreover, is only moral if it is pure that is to say, if it is based upon the universality of reason, which takes itselfas an end, not in the particular interest ofan individual or a state. Stoics, and not just Marcus Aurelius, could have subscribed to the twin Kantian rmulations of the categorical imperative:
Act only in accordance with the maxim which is such that you can wish, at the same time, that it become a universal law.
Act as ifthe maxim ofyour action were, by your will, to be erected as a universal law ofNature. 4
We must not say, there re, that "Marcus writes as though he had read the Critique of Practical Reason, " but rather that Kant uses these rmulas because, among other reasons, he has read the Stoics.
With these quali cations, Renan was right to say that we nd in the Meditations the a rmation of the absolute value of moral conscience. Can we speak ofreligion here? I do not think so. The word "philoso phy" is enough, I think, to describe the purity of this attitude, and we ought to avoid mixing with philosophy all the vague and imprecise implications, both social and mythical, which the notion of religion brings with it.
An eternal Gospel? Renan thought that some parts of the Christian Gospel had grown old, whereas the Meditations would always remain young. And yet, are not some of Marcus' pages-the religious ones also very distant om us? Isn't it better to say that all gospels grow old, to the same extent that they have been shionable-in other words, to the extent that they have re ected the myths and collective representations of the time and milieu in which they were written? There are some works, however-among them both the Gospel and the Meditations which are like ever-new springs to which humanity comes to drink. If we can transcend their perishable aspects, we can sense in them an imperishable spirit which calls us to a choice oflife, to the trans rmation of ourselves, and to a complete revision of our attitude with regard to human beings and to the world.
The Meditations call us to a Stoic choice of life, as we have seen throughout this book. This obviously does not mean that the work is capable ofleading us to a complete conversion to the dogmas and prac-
]IO THE INNER CITADEL
tices ofStoicism. Yet, inso r as we attempt to give meaning to our lives, the Meditations invite us to discover the trans rmation which could be brought to our lives, if we were to realize-in the fullest sense of the term-those speci c values which constitute the spirit ofStoicism.
It could be said, moreover, that there is a universal Stoicism in human ity. By this I mean that the attitude we call "Stoic" is one ofthe nda mental, permanent possibilities ofhuman existence, when people search r wisdom. For instance, J. Gemet5 has shown how some aspects of Chinese thought were related to what we call Stoicism. They obviously developed without Greco-Roman Stoicism having exercised any in uence on them whatsoever. This phenomenon may be observed, among other places, in Wang-Fou-chih,6 a Chinese philosopher of the seventeenth century, who writes:
Vulgar knowledge (that which limits itself to what one has seen or heard) is constituted in the egotism of the self and is r om the "great objectivity" [ta kong, a term which has both a moral and an inte ectual meaning] .
We can glimpse that this "great objectivity" is entirely analogous to Marcus' method of physical de nition, which also consists in liberating oneself om an egoistic point of view, and in placing oneself within the perspective ofuniversal Nature. As Gemet comments:
Morality and reason are one. Once the sage has enlarged his spirit to the dimensions of the universe (ta sin: the exact equivalent of the term megalopsuchia, or "greatness ofsoul") and "made his person an object ofthe world," he is able to grasp the spirit ofthe "Great Trans rmation"; that is, ofthe life ofuniversal exchanges by which the beat of the world is marked.
The sage's "great objectivity"-or, as we could say, the expansion of his spirit to the dimensions of universal Reason-inspires a moral atti tude which is entirely Stoic. We can see this in the llowing passage om Wang-Fou-chih:7
The good man waits r what destiny reserves r him, and is not saddened by death. He uses his particular capacities as r as he can, and develops the good dispositions ofhis nature [which is a re ec-
Conclusion 3 1 1 tion o f the celestial principle of order] , s o that h e does not sm
against the relevant norms.
We can recognize another theme that we have encountered in Marcus Aurelius in Tang Zhen, another Chinese philosopher ofthe same period who has been translated by Gemet: the opposition between the puniness ofhuman beings, lost in the cosmos, and the transcendence ofthe moral conscience, which makes it equal to the universe:
In the immensity of the space and time of the universe, man resem bles a speck of dust blown by the wind, or a tiny spark of light. What makes him equal to it, however, is the perfection of his ndamental goodness, and the nobility ofhis moral e rt. 8
Among the numerous attitudes which human beings can adopt with regard to the universe, there is one which was called "Stoic" in the Greco-Roman world, but which could be called by many other names, and which is characterized by speci c tendencies.
In the rst place, the "Stoic," in the universal sense in which we understand him, is conscious of the ct that no being is alone, but that we are parts of a Whole, constituted by the totality of human beings as well as by the totality of the cosmos. The Stoic constantly has his mind on this Whole. One could also say that the Stoic feels absolutely serene, ee, and invulnerable, inso r as he has become aware that there is no other evil than moral evil, and that the only thing that counts is the purity ofmoral conscience.
Finally, the Stoic believes in the absolute value ofthe human person. It is too o en rgotten, and cannot be repeated too much, that Stoicism is the origin ofthe modem notion of "human rights. " I have already cited Seneca's ne rmula on this subject:9 "man is a sacred thing r man. " Yet how could I il to cite also the remark ofEpictetus, when someone asked him how he should put up with a clumsy slave (I, 13, 3):
You are the slave! So you can't put up with your brother, who has Zeus as his ancestor, and who, as a son, was born om the same seed as you and, like you, descends om on high . . . Don't you remember whom you are ordering around? Your kinsmen, your brothers by nature, and progeny of Zeus.
-But I've got rights with regard to them because I bought them; they don't have any with regard to me!
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-Can you see where you are looking? You see the earth, a pit, and you see only these miserable laws, which are the laws of the dead. Don't you look to the laws ofthe gods?
Epictetus uses the mythical, imagistic representation ofthe liation of all human beings om God, which may seem antiquated to a modem audience. Yet when he talks about Zeus-and, as we have seen, the same thing holds true ofMarcus Aurelius-he is thinking rst and remost of reason. What Epictetus means is simply the llowing: this slave is a living being like you, and, like you, a man gifted with reason. Even if human laws re se to recognize that he is your equal, the laws ofthe gods, which are the laws ofreason, recognize his absolute value. We people ofmod em times think that we have abolished these laws ofthe dead, but in the last analysis they still dominate the world.
V. Goldschmidt10 was right to point out that another aspect ofwhat could be called "eternal Stoicism" is the exercise ofconcentration on the present instant. This consists, on the one hand, in living as if we were seeing the world r the rst and last time; and, on the other, in being aware that within this lived present of the instant, we have access to the totality oftime and ofthe world.
The reader may rightly object at this point: the ct that there is a kind of universal, perennial character to this peculiar attitude which we call "Stoic" may perhaps explain why, despite the distance which separates us om them, we can still understand the Meditations, and, better yet, nd rules r our thought and action in them. Yet this doesn't explain the unique scination that they exert upon us. Could we not say that if this book is still so attractive to us, it is because when we read it we get the impression ofencountering, not the Stoic system, although Marcus con stantly re rs to it, but a man of good will, who does not hesitate to criticize and examine himsel who constantly takes up again the task of exhorting and persuading himsel and of nding the words which will help him to live, and to live well? To be sure, these are spiritual exercises, carried out in accordance with a speci c method. Yet, in a sense, we are present at them: we catch them in actu, in the very moment in which they are being practiced.
In wo d literature one nds lots ofpreachers, lesson-givers, and cen sors, who moralize to others with complacency, irony, cynicism, or
Conclusion 3 1 3
bitterness; but it is extremely rare to nd a person training himselfto live and to think like a human being (V, I ) :
In the morning, when you have trouble waking up, let the llow ing thought be present to you: 'Tm getting up to do the job of a human being. "
One must admit that there are w hesitations, mblings, or search ings in these exercises which llow a canvas that Stoic philosophy and Epictetus have drawn in advance with precision. The personal e rt appears rather in the repetitions, the multiple variations developed around the same theme, and the stylistic e ort as well, which always seeks r a striking, e ective rmula. Nevertheless, we feel a highly particular emotion when we enter, as it were, into the spiritual intimacy of a soul's secrets, and are thus directly associated with the e orts of a man who, scinated by the only thing necessary-the absolute value of moral good-is trying to do what, in the last analysis, we are all trying to do: to live in complete consciousness and lucidity; to give each of our instants its llest intensity; and to give meaning to our entire life. Marcus is talking to himsel but we get the impression that he is talking to each one ofus.
AB B RE V I AT I O N S
Birley: A. R. Birley, Marcus Aurelius (London, 1966); 19872•
Breithaupt: G. Breithaupt, De M. Aurelii Antonini commentariis quaestiones se lectae (G ttingen, 1913).
