The "good man," who has pre ferred his inner daimon in every circumstance, and is in some way its priest and its se ant, attains the supreme level of human happiness, which consists in acting in
accordance
with right reason (III, 7, 2).
Hadot - The Inner Citadel The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius
(V, 24)
If you suddenly und yourself transported into the air, and con templated human a airs and their variety om above, you would have contempt r them, as you saw, in the same glance, how vast is the domain ofthe inhabitants ofthe air and ofthe ether (XII, 24, 3).
You can cut o many of the super uous things which present obstacles to you, and which rest entirely on your value-judgment. Thus you will clear r yourself a vast open eld, by embracing the entire universe in your mind; you will comprehend perpetual eter nity, as you consider the rapid trans rmation of each individual thing. How short is the time om birth to dissolution; how gaping is the in nity be re birth, and similarly the in nity a er dissolution (IX, 32).
The soul traverses the entire world and the void which surrounds it; it examines the rm ofthe world; extends itselfinto the in nity of eternity, and embraces and conceives the periodic rebirth of the universe (XI, I, 3).
Asia and Europe are corners ofthe world; the entire sea is a drop of the world; Athas is a lump of earth in the world; all of present time is a point in eternity; everything is tiny, agile, and evanescent (VI, 36, 1).
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 255
We can immediately see the di erence between these passages and those by De Quincey. For the latter, the distention ofduration and space is an impression imposed upon the addict om outside, and he is in a sense its passive victim. For Marcus, by contrast, the consideration ofthe in nity of time and space is an active maneuver, as we can see om his equent admonitions to "represent to himself" or to "think" the totality. Here again, we are in the presence of a traditional spiritual exercise, which utilizes the culties ofthe imagination. Moreover, De Quincey speaks of a distention of the instant, which takes on outlandish propor tions; whereas Marcus speaks of an e ort to imagine the In nite in its totality, in order subsequently to see the instant, or the place, reduced to in nitesimal proportions. This voluntary exercise ofthe imagination pre supposes that Marcus adhered to the classical representation of the Stoic universe: the universe is situated within an in nite void, and its duration within an in nite time, within which the periodic rebirths of the uni verse repeat themselves eternally. This exercise is intended to obtain a vision of human a airs which resituates them within the perspective of universal Nature.
A procedure such as this is the very essence of philosophy. Thus we nd it, always identical beneath the diversity of vocabularies, in all the philosophical schools ofantiquity. Plato de ned the philosophical nature by its ability to contemplate the totality oftime and ofbeing, and there re to hold human a airs in contempt. 31 We nd this theme again among such Platonists as Philo32 or Maximus of Tyre,33 in Neopythagoreanism,34 among the Stoics,35 and even among the Epicure ans. Representative of the last-named is the llowing saying by Metro dorus:
Remember that, although you were born mortal and with a limited life, you have nevertheless, by means of discussions about nature, risen up to the eternity and in nity ofthings. You have also seen the ture and the past. 36
In Cicero's mous Dream ofScipio,37 the grandson ofScipio A icanus contemplates the world om the heights of the Milky Way. He sees the earth so small that the Roman Empire seems imperceptible to him; the inhabited portion of the world seems like a tiny island in the middle of Ocean; and life seems to be less than a point. This theme was to remain very much alive throughout the Western tradition. We have an echo of it in Pascal's "two in nites":38 "Let the earth appear to him as a point,
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compared to the vast circle described by this star . . . " Was Pascal, then, also an opium addict?
Marcus also transports this view om above onto the past (X, 27):
Think constantly about this: how all events which are similar to those which are happening now, have also happened in the past; and think that they will happen again. Place entire dramas, and homogeneous scenes, which you know through your personal ex perience or through ancient history, be re your eyes: r instance, all of Hadrian's court; or that of Antoninus; the whole courts of Philip, Alexander, or Croesus. For all of that was similar; only the actors were di erent.
T. W. Africa has read De Quincey, and has noticed the ne page in which the latter evokes the reveries in which there appeared to him the luminous spectacle of the ladies of the court of King Charles I, or Paulus Aemilius, surrounded by centurions, striding in ont of the Roman legions. A ica believes he nds an analogous phenomenon in Marcus Aurelius. Once again, however, it is enough to read Marcus attentively to recognize the di erence. De Quincey's description is purely oneiric: the dream is told r its own sake, as a strange and marvelous spectacle. For Marcus, however, it is not a dream: the Emperor demands an imagi native e ort om himsel in order to try to represent to himself the courts of the past. As Paul Rabbow has shown,39 this practice is carried out in accordance with the rules which rhetoric prescribed when one had to depict a scene or a circumstance in an expressive way. Moreover, the picture was not there r its own sake, but o y in order to provide a highly austere conviction in the soul of the person practicing the exer cise; namely, that human a airs are banal and ephemeral (VII, 49):
Behold the past. So many changes ofregime; and the ture can be predicted equally well. Things will be entirely homogeneous, and we cannot escape the rhythm of what is happening now. That is why there is no di erence between studying human life r rty years, or ten thousand years, or more: what more could one possi bly see?
I believe I have su ciently demonstrated the workings of a certain type of historical psychology. Generally speaking, it is based upon igno-
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 257
ranee ofthe modes ofthought and composition ofancient authors, and it anachronistically projects modern representations back upon ancient texts. It would, moreover, be interesting to psychologize some historical psychologists; I believe we could discover in them two tendencies. One is iconoclastic: it takes pleasure in attacking such gures as Plotinus or Marcus Aurelius, r example, who are naively respected by right-think ing people. The other is reductionist: it considers that elevation ofthe soul or of thought, all moral heroism, and all grandiose views of the universe can only be morbid and abnormal. Everything has to be ex plained by sex or drugs.
Stylistic elegance
From everything that has just been said, we must not conclude that Marcus is absent om his Meditations. Rather, he is present in them in many ways, and the work has an autobiographical value which is limited, but very real.
First and remost, Marcus is present by virtue ofhis stylistic elegance. We have already seen that the Emperor, who was writing r himsel usually makes an e rt to write with the greatest care, certainly because he is aware of the psychological power of a well-turned phrase. The procedures Marcus uses have been well analyzed by]. Dal n,40 Monique Alexandre,41 and R. B. Ruther rd,42 who have also pointed out the felicitous expressions in which they result. As Monique exandre has shown, Marcus here reveals himself to be a true student of Fronto. It appears that Fronto required his student to compose a saying nome) every day, and above all to rmulate it in di erent ways. As Fronto writes,43 "Each time you conceive ofa paradoxical thought, turn it over within yoursel vary it with diverse gures and nuances, make trial ofit, and dress it in splendid words. " Throughout this book, we have been able to admire Marcus' skill at developing multiple variations on the same theme. Fronto also advised his student to make collections ofsay ings r himself44
It is dif cult to add anything new to the remarkable studies that have been carried out on Marcus' style. I think, however, that it may be use l to cite some examples ofthe quest r stylistic elegance which appears in some passages om his work.
The quest r conciseness o en gives such passages a remarkable vigor, and an almost enigmatic character:
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Correct, not corrected! (VII, 12).
Grow on the same trunk, but don't pro ss the same doctrines! (XI,
8, 6: the opposition is between homothamnein and homodogmatein). Neither an actor nor a whore! (V, 28, 4).
For the stone thrown up in the air, it is neither bad to ll back down, nor good to rise up (IX, 1 7) .
Receive without pride, let go without attachment (VIII, 3 3) .
Men have come into being r one another; so either teach them or put up with them (VIII, 59).
Leave the ult of another right where it is (IX, 20) .
A bitter cucumber? Throw it away! Brambles on the road? Avoid
them! (VIII, 50).
We have already equently encountered the brutal, explosive rmu las which Marcus uses to describe the ugliness oflife when it is bereft of moral value:
A mime (mimos) and a war olemos); excitement toia) and numb ness (narka); the slavery (douleia) of every day! (X, 9) .
Note the assonances in this last passage, which are indicative ofMarcus' search r literary e ect.
In how short a time, ashes or a skeleton! A mere name, or no longer even a name. But a name is nothing but meaningless noise, or an echo .
And everything to which people attach so much importance in this life is empty, rotten, and petty: little dogs that nip at one an other; kids who ght, laugh, and then suddenly burst into tears. Faith, however, and Modesty, Justice, and Truth "have taken ight toward Olympus, eeing the road- rrowed earth" (V, 33). 45
The most striking mmlas deal with the brevity oflife, death, and the vanity of me:
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 259 Soon, you will have rgotten everything! Soon, everyone will have
rgotten you! (VII, 21).
Everything is ephemeral; both that which remembers, and that which is remembered (IV, 35).
Soon you too will close your eyes, and someone else will have wept r the person who laid you to rest (X, 34, 6).
Yesterday, a bit of phlegm; tomorrow, ashes or a mummy (IV, 48, 3).
Marcus not only had a knack r turning concise phrases, but he also knew how to tell of the beauty of things in few words, as in a passage om the Meditations (III, 2) cited earlier. There, Marcus evoked crusty bread and ripe gs which split, and maturity, which is already almost rottenness, which gives its beauty to the color of olives, and which also gives a kind of ourishing to elderly men and women, and makes heavy laden ears of com lean toward the earth. The "lion's wrinkled brow, " the " am dripping om the boar's muzzle," and the "gapingjaws ofwild beasts" also have their own savage beauty.
Fronto had taught his imperial student to introduce images and com parisons into his sayings and discourses, and Marcus learned his lesson well :
On the same altar, there are many grains ofincense. One falls be re the others, another later. What di erence does it make? (IV, 1 5) .
Dig within. That's where you'll nd the source ofthe good, and it can always burst rth anew, ifyou keep digging (VII, 59).
A spider hunts down a fly, and thinks he is pretty hot stu One man hunts down a little hare; another catches a sardine in his net; another hunts boars, another bears, another Sarmatians. Aren't they all thieves, ifyou examine the motives oftheir actions? (X, 10).
Have you ever seen a hand which has been cut o or a ot, or a severed head lying somewhere apart om the rest ofthe body? That is what a person does to himself . . . who does not wish r what happens, and who separates himself om the . . . (VIII, 34).
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In certain Meditations, we also notice a striving after rhythm and the harmonious balance of phrases, as r instance in the llowing prayer to the World:
Everything which is in accord with you is in accord with me, 0 World! Nothing ofwhat comes in an opportune way r you comes either too soon or too late r me! that your seasons produce, 0 Nature, is fruit r me (IV, 23).
Elsewhere, a thought is developed in parallel and ascending rmulas, as in the llowing passage, ofwhich I will cite only the beginning:
One is the light of the sun, even if it is divided by walls, moun tains, or a thousand other things.
One is the common substance, even ifit is divided into thousands ofbodies, each with its own individual qualities.
One is the soul, even ifit be divided into thousands of culties of growth and individual di erences.
One is the thinking soul, even ifit seems divided . . . (XII, 30).
I n these stylistic exercises, to which Marcus accorded all his attention, one may, I believe, glimpse two characteristic atures ofhis personality: a great aesthetic sensitivity and an intense search r perfection.
It may be ofinterest to point out that W. Williams46 has carried out a study of the style of Marcus' constitutions, and there re of the juridical texts which he wrote. According to this author, we can note in these writings a meticulousness highly concentrated upon details, and an al most exaggerated insistence on explaining points that are self-evident. This seems to indicate a certain lack of con dence in the moral and intellectual qualities of his subordinates, and a quest r purity in the use of Greek and of Latin. Finally, it shows the scrupulous attention that Marcus devoted to nding the most equitable, humane, and just solu tions possible.
Chronological signposts
The reader of a literary work always likes to know at what moment of the author's li it was written, and in what atmosphere. To be sure, there is something atemporal about the Meditations, and it must be admit ted that the attempts made by various historians to attach certain passages
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
to speci c moments of the Emperor's li have been disappointing. As we have seen, the Meditations are spiritual exercises, carried out upon a canvas pre bricated by the Stoic tradition, which did not leave any room r personal anecdotes. In order to suggest a date r their composition, we possess o y two pieces ofobjective evidence. Between what is now Book I and what is now Book II of the Meditations, the editio princ s contains a sentence which can be translated as llows: "Written in the land of the Quadi, on the banks of the Gran, I . " Between what is now Book II and what is now Book III, it contains the indication "Written in Camutum. " It may have been the Emperor himself who added these two speci cations, as he made r himself a classi cation of the notes he had written.
Camutum was a military base which the Romans had established starting at the beginning of the rst century B. c. on the Danube, not r om Vienna, and it was home r several thousand legionnaires. A small town had sprung up near the camp, with an amphitheater which was built in the second century. It was there that Marcus established his headquarters during his wars against the Quadi and the Marcomanni, om 170 to 173.
The river Gran is still called either by this name or by that ofthe Hron; it ows om north to south through Slovakia, andjoins the Danube in Hungary. Marcus' allusion to this river is invaluable: it reveals to us that the Emperor was not content to direct operations om the rti ed camp at Camutum, but that he had crossed the Danube and had pene trated the territory of the Quadi-a Germanic people who, together with the Marcomanni, had invaded the Empire in 169-tO a distance of more than 60 miles.
To what books of the Meditations do these two notations refer? The allusion to the Quadi is placed between Books I and II, whereas the mention of Camutum comes between Books II and III. In antiquity, indications ofthis kind could appear either at the beginning or at the end of a book. If these two notes were placed at the end, then the rst one refers to Book I, and the second to Book II. If they were placed at the beginning, then the rst one refers to Book II, and the second to Book III. Historians have adopted both views, without ever ishing decisive proo£ I am inclined to llow G. Breithaupt47 and W. Theiler48 in thinking that these indications were placed at the beginnings ofBooks II and III respectively.
It is most interesting, and even moving, to note that at least a part of the Meditations was written during the Roman operations carried out on
the Danube in 170-173-not only in the relative calm of a military headquarters, but amidst the discom rt ofan expedition into the land of the Quadi. This situation may explain the distinctive tone ofBooks II and III: the haunting presence ofthe theme ofdeath. There is no more time to read; it's not the moment to wander. I nd it easy to believe that this warlike atmosphere explains the decision Marcus seems to make in Book II to concentrate on the practice ofthose spiritual exercises which would help him nally to live the philosophical life which he should have lived, and would have liked to live, all throughout his life.
Although I have no proo I suspect that the manuscript which was copied by the editio princeps contained other indications of this kind, which were omitted by the editor. Thus, we do not know where the other books were composed. Are we to suppose, with Breithaupt,49 that the books which deal with the court and with speeches to the Senate were written between November 176 and August 178, after Marcus had returned to Rome? But already at Carnutum, Marcus could very well have thought in a general way about his li as an emperor. It is very likely that Books IV to XII were written between 173 and 180, when Marcus died.
Let us return to the indication placed between Books I and II: "Writ ten in the land ofthe Quadi, on the banks ofthe Gran, I. " How can we explain the number I, if this indication refers to Book II? What is now Book I, in which Marcus, in a style wholly di erent om that of the Meditations properly so called (Books II-XII) evokes all that he has re ceived om men and om the gods, seems to be a text in its own right, which has its own unity, and which was placed at the beginning of the Meditations, if not by Marcus himself, then at least by an ancient editor. Thus, what is now Book II was in ct the rst book of the Meditations properly so called. 50 This would explain the number I after the indication "Written in the land ofthe Quadi"; it must have been introduced by an editor or a secretary who had numbered the various groups of notes which Marcus had written.
Moreover, it is legitimate to suppose-although it cannot be proved with certainty-that what is now Book I was written very late in the Emperor's life. This book gives the impression that it speaks on of people who have died. Since the Empress Faustina, who is mentioned in these pages,51 died in 176, it seems that this book was written between
176 and 180. Perhaps it was written at Rome between 176 and 178, after the revolt of Avidius Cassius, when Marcus returned om his great eastern voyage; or perhaps it was at Sirmium, Marcus' headquarters om
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
1 78 to 1 80, when war with the Germans broke out again. It was probably at Sirmium that Marcus died, on March 1 7, 1 80. The present-day Book I, which has a marked unity with regard both to its style and to its overall structure, seems alien to the literary project of the Meditations properly so called (Books II-XII). It is now located at the beginning like a kind of introduction, but it is really more of a parallel work; it is obviously related to the Meditations (in Book VI, 30, r example, we can discern an initial sketch ofthe portrait ofAntoninus Pius), but it repre sents a wholly di erent psychic disposition. Book I is a prayer of thanks giving, whereas Books II to XII are a meditation on the Stoic dogmas and rule oflife. These latter books were composed on a day-to-day basis, with each thought llowing without any connection to the previous thought; whereas Book I was written at a precise moment, and in ac cordance with a precise plan.
Books II-XII
As discussed previously, it is not certain whether the twelve books as we have them today corresponded to twelve groups of meditations which, in the eyes of their author, had their own unity, de ned by one or more dominant themes. In that case, they would a ow us to glimpse some thing ofMarcus' personal preoccupations, or ofwhat he happened to be reading. Or is this grouping into twelve books purely accidental, perhaps a result of the rm and dimensions of the writing materials that were used? Book I obviously represents a coherent whole in itsel it responds to a very particular intention and is independent om the eleven other books. What can we say about Books II-XII?
At rst glance, the divisions between these groups ofmeditations seem purely arbitrary. The same themes and expressions are repeated through out them. The tripartite structure of the disciplines which I have de scribed has no influence on the work's literary rm; instead, it is re peated in the most varied rms. A precise plan cannot be discerned in any ofthese books, with the possible exception ofBook III, which turns out to be a kind ofseries ofessays on the theme ofthe good man.
Nevertheless, a close examination allows us to discover some charac teristics which are peculiar to each of these books: vorite themes, special vocabularies, the greater or lesser equency of the literary rms that are used-whether they are sayings, r example, or rather short dissertations. We are justi ed in supposing that if Marcus wrote his Meditations on a day-to-day basis, and probably during the last years ofhis
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li , then certain spiritual preoccupations or readings may have in uenced him in di erent ways at di erent moments in the process of composition.
The preferred themes in a given book o en appear by means of a process that I would call "interwoven composition. " Marcus does not gather together one a er the other those meditations which deal with the same subject; instead-probably on a day-to-day basis-he interweaves them with other thoughts which deal with entirely di erent subjects. In other words, after an interruption, which may be very brie he returns to the theme which, r the time being, has retained his attention. Throughout a given book, then, one or more precise themes reappear intermittently, like a leitmotif
Books II and III are very close to each other. Within them, death is sensed as imminent (II, 2; II, 5; II, 6; II, l l; II, 12; II, 14; II, 17), and there is no more time to distract oneselfby reading (II, 2; 3). Marcus decides not to write anything more which does not contribute to the trans rmation ofhis moral life and to his meditation on Stoic doctrines (III, 14). It is urgent that he change his life, especially since he has received so many reprieves om the gods (II, 14). Only one thing counts: philosophy (II, 17, 3), which consists of the three disciplines. First, it means keeping the guiding principle ofthe soul (hegemonikon; II, 2, 4), or-another way ofexpressing the same thing-the soul (II, 6) or else the inner daimon (II, 17, 4; II, 13, 2), ee om the slave offalse thoughts (II, 2, 4). This is the discipline ofthought orjudgment. Second, the soul must be kept pure ofall irritation against events, and accept the portion which has been attributed to it by destiny (II, 2, 4; II, 16, l-2; II, 17, 4); this is the discipline ofdesire. Finally, it must be kept pure ofall egoistic action, or actions which are undertaken lightly or without a goal (II, 2, 4; II, 17; 4); this is the discipline ofaction.
Book III takes up exactly the same themes. We nd in it the same atmosphere of the imminence of death, and Marcus' decision to devote himself exclusively to spiritual exercises intended to trans rm moral life:
Cease your wandering. Don't read your little notebooks any more (III, 14).
We also re-encounter the description ofthe one thing necessary, and the only thing that counts in such an urgent situation: to maintain the purity of one's daimon or guiding principle, in the areas of thought, desire, and action.
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
It is very interesting, however, to observe how Book III attempts to present these themes om Book II in a much more developed and elaborate way, so that Book III is essentially made up ofa series ofshort dissertations which are all on the same topic: the description ofthe "good man" as an ideal r life, and the enumeration ofthose precepts which permit the realization of such an ideal (III, 9-1 1). An initial attempt is presented in III, 4 (in about rty lines), then brie y taken up again in III, 5 ( r about ten lines), and then nally set rth abundantly once again in III, 6-8 (in about rty lines).
The "good man," who has pre ferred his inner daimon in every circumstance, and is in some way its priest and its se ant, attains the supreme level of human happiness, which consists in acting in accordance with right reason (III, 7, 2).
Books IV-XII are rather di erent om the two preceding books. First ofall, even ifwe do sometimes nd short dissertations ofthe same kind as those in Book III, especially in Books V, X, and XI, the majority of meditations in these books appear in the rm of short, striking sayings. Marcus himself seems to theorize about this literary genre when he mentions the "spiritual retreat into himsel " which consists precisely in the act ofconcentrating on "short and ndamental" sayings which can dissipate all griefand irritation (IV, 3, 1-3).
Some themes om Books II-III are still present in Book IV: r instance, the theme ofthe imminence ofdeath and the ideal ofthe "good man" (IV, 17; c£ IV, 25; 37):
Don't live as ifyou were going to live r ten thousand years. The inevitable is hanging over you. As long as you are still alive, and as long at it is still possible, become a good man.
As in the previous books, this sense ofurgency does not allow Marcus to waste his time by concerning himselfwith what others do or say (IV, 1 8) ; rather, one must hasten toward the goal by the shortest path possible (IV,
18; 51).
The notion of the daimon disappears almost completely in the later
books, and reappears in the Meditations only sporadically (V, IO, 6; V, 27; VIII, 45, 1; X, 13, 2; XII, 3, 4). By contrast, new themes, which be und throughout all the llowing books, make their appearance. For example, we ndthe dilemma "Providence or atoms" (IV, 3, 6), which I have already discussed at some length.
In Book V, the themes which had dominated Books II and III disap pear or become blurred once and r all. In particular, although death is
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sometimes still mentioned as a possibility which might compromise our e orts toward per ction, it is now also present as a liberation r which we must wait with patience and con dence; r it will deliver us om a human world in which moral li -the only thing that counts, and the only valu i s constantly ustrated (V, I O, 6; V, 3 3 , 5).
In another new theme, Marcus exhorts himselfto examine his con science (V, I I):
Toward which goal am I using my soul in this moment? Ask myself this question in every circumstance . . .
Similarly, he wonders (V, 3I) how he has behaved with regard to the gods, his mily, his teachers, his friends, and his slaves. Here we recog nize the domain of "duties" (kathekonta), which are the subject of the discipline of action. Marcus continues by sketching a kind of balance sheetofhisli (V,31, 2),which,asinV,IO, 6andV,33, 5,givesusto understand that he can wait r death with serenity, since he has had everything he could expect om life.
One particular notion, to which Book II had made only a brief allu sion (II, 9), is amply and equently developed in Book V: the distinction between universal Nature and "my" own nature. As we have seen, this distinction is the basis of the opposition between the discipline of desire, which consists in consenting to the ct that I "su er" owing to the action ofuniversal Nature, and the discipline ofaction, which consists in "acting" by virtue ofmy own rational nature (V, 3 , 2; V, IO, 6; V, 25, 2; V, 27):
In this very moment, I have what common Nature wants me to have at this moment, and at this moment I am doing what my own nature wants me to do at this moment (V, 25, 2).
As Marcus says, the road that these two natures llow is, in ct, the same (V, 3 , 2) ; it is the straightest and shortest road. It is here, moreover, that the notion ofthe daimon brie y reappears, and it is extremely inter esting to observe an identi cation and an opposition between the "outer" god, who is universal Nature or Reason, and the "inner" god the daimon or hegemonikon-who emanates om it (V, I O , 6) :
Nothing will happen to me which is not in con rmity with the Nature ofthe All. It depends on me to do nothing which is contrary to my god and my daimon.
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
This is why moral life can be de ned as "a life with the gods" (V, 27):
He lives with the gods who constantly shows them a soul which greets what has been allotted to it with joy, and, at the same time, does everything wanted by that daimon which Zeus [i. e. , universal Nature] has given to each person as a watchman and a guide, and which is a parcel detached om himself This is nothing other than the intellect and reason of each of us.
This theme ofthe two natures is und in otherbooks (VI, 58; VII, 55, XI, 13, 4 ; XII, 32, 3), but never as equently as in Book V.
l ;
Other themes also seem to be characteristic ofBook V. For example, it contains two allusions to a Stoic cosmological doctrine which Marcus mentions very rarely: that ofthe eternal return. Usually, Marcus imagines the metamo hoses ofthings and the destiny ofsouls within the "period" ofthe world in which we are now living, without worrying about the eternal return ofthis period. This is what he does rst, in V, 13, where he begins by a rming that each part ofthe universe, as it is born and dies, is trans rmed into another part ofthe universe. Yet he remarks:
There is nothing to prevent one om talking like this, even if the world is administered in accordance with determinate periods.
In this case, he means, all the parts of the universe will be reabsorbed at the end of each period into the original Fire-Reason, be re they are reborn om this same Fire in the llowing period. Elsewhere, in V, 32, we get a glimpse ofthe immensity ofthe space that opens up be re the soul which "knows"-that is, which accepts Stoic doctrine:
It knows the beginning and the end, and the Reason which tra verses universal substance, and which administers the All through out eternity, in accordance with determinate periods.
We do not nd another allusion to the eternal return until XI, l , 3 . Finally, an important autobiographical theme also makes its appear ance in Book V: the opposition, which constitutes a serious personal problem r Marcus, between the court at which he is obliged to live, and philosophy, to which he would like to devote himself entirely (V, 1 6 , 2). This theme will be taken up again in Book VI (12, 2), and in Book
VIII (9).
The rst meditations of Book VI present a good example of the
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"interwoven composition" of which I have been speaking. Chapter l deals with the Stoic doctrine that explains the constitution of reality by the opposition between the matter of the world-which is docile and ready r any and all trans rmations, and in which there is there re no evil-and the "Reason which guides it," in which there is similarly no place r evil. After three very short meditations, which have no connec tion with this problem, Marcus returns (VI, 5) to the theme of the beginning: the action which the "Reason which guides" exerts upon matter. The expression "Reason which guides/governs" (dioikon logos), which is attested in VI, l and 5, is not und elsewhere in the Meditations, with the exception of a quotation om Heraclitus in IV, 46, 3 . One could say that it is as if this book's rst meditations were inspired by a reading which dealt with the goodness of that Reason which governs matter.
Some personal features also appear in Book VI. For instance, Marcus mentions (VI, 26) his own name, Antoninus, which he received after having been adopted by Antoninus Pius. He also makes a distinction within himsel as it were, between "Antoninus," the Emperor whose city is Rome, and the "man," whose city is the World (VI, 44, 6). Marcus takes up this distinction between Emperor and man again in VI, 3 0, and he advises himself not to "become Caesarized, " or let the impe rial purple rub o on the man. He then turns to the model which Antoninus Pius, his adoptive ther, had represented r him. Advising himselfto "Do everything as a disciple ofAntoninus," Marcus describes some of the qualities he admired in Antoninus, which may guide him in his way of governing and living.
Even more than Book VI, Book VII gives a number of examples of "interwoven composition. " Marcus returns to a few vorite, recurrent themes, which, although they are present in other books as well, reap pear with regularity om one end of Book VII to the other, separated om each other only by a few meditations which deal with other sub
jects. Thus, he repeats several times that we have the power to criticize and to modi the value-judgments which we apply to things (VII, 2, 2; VII, 14; VII, 16; VII, 17, 2; VII, 68); that things are subject to rapid and universal metamorphosis (VII, rn; VII, 18; VII, 19; VII, 23; VII, 25); that it is vain to seek r me and glory (VII, 6; VII, rn; VII, 21; VII, 62). Marcus also speaks of how we are to behave and the principles we must recall when someone has committed a ult against us (VII, 22; VII, 26); and nally, he exalts the excellence and the supremacy of moral li (that is to say, ofthe three disciplines), by comparison with all other qualities (VII, 52; VII, 66-67; VII, 72).
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Chapters 3 l to 5 l are extremely interesting because they seem to have preserved r us traces ofthe notebooks Marcus wrote r himself These quotations om various authors-Democritus (VII, 3 l , 4), Plato (VII,
35; VII, 44-46), Antisthenes, and Euripides (VII, 38-42; VII, 50-51) are probably secondhand. For example, Marcus probably read the l lowing quote om Antisthenes, "To do good and yet to have a bad reputation is something which kings can expect," in the Discourses of Epictetus as recorded by Arrian (see IV, 6, 20). It was a the more likely to attract Marcus' attention in that it may have seemed to him to re ect his own experience. The quotations om Euripides, r their part, e quently appeared in collections of sayings. In another book (XI, 6), Marcus composes a brief history of the dramatic art, alluding successively to tragedy, old comedy, and new comedy. In the context of tragedy, Marcus notes that tragedians gave use l moral lessons, and he quotes the same three texts om Euripides-in which the Stoics recognized their own doctrine-which we nd in chapters 38, 40, and 41 ofBook VII:
Ifthe gods have abandoned me, as well as my children, there is a reason r that as well.
We must not become angry with things, r it is not their ult.
To harvest li like a swollen ear ofgrain; one exists; the other is no more .
"Interwoven composition" is also used quite abundantly in Book VIII; I shall give only one very typical example. Book VIII marks the reap pearance ofa theme that we have already encountered: the short, straight path which is proper to nature. Rational human nature llows its path and heads straight r its goal ifit practices the three disciplines (VIII, 7). In this book, however, the theme takes on a nuance which it did not have in the others: now Marcus speaks ofthe rectilinear movement not only of nature, but also of the intellect. Moreover, instead of describing the movement proper to the intellect on one occasion, Marcus returns to it three times in di erent chapters, and these occurrences are separated by meditations which are unrelated to this subject. He rst touches on the theme in chapter 54, where he urges himself to breathe the intellect which embraces all things as ifit were the surrounding air: r the power of the intellect, he writes, is d u sed eve where, like the air which beings breathe. Then come two chapters-55 and 56-which are unrelated to this theme. The theme reappears in chapter 57, where the movement of
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the intellect is no longer compared to that of the air, but to that of the light ofthe sun, which, says Marcus, is d u sed everywhere and extends in a straight line as it illuminates the objects it encounters, thus somehow assimilating them to itself Then come two other chapters, which deal with entirely di erent themes. In chapter 60, we return to our miliar theme: here the movement of the intellect is compared to that of an arrow. Like an arrow, the intellect moves in a straight line toward its goal when it advances prudently and takes the trouble to examine things attentively. Chapter 54 spoke only of the divine intellect in which we participate, whereas chapters 57 and 60 describe the movement of our intellect as it imitates the divine intellect. It is hard to imagine that Marcus would have thus returned three times to a very speci c theme unless he had been under the in uence of a particular reading, or at least ofa momentary preoccupation. Be that as it may, chapters 54, 57, and 60 are intimately linked to one another.
In Book VIII, the theme of universal metamorphosis takes on a very particular rm. Here, Nature has the power to use the detritus which results om its vital activity to create new beings (VIII, 50). Since it has no space outside itselfwhere it can throw this detritus, it trans rms it within itselfand makes it into its matter once again (VIII, 18). Intellectual or rational nature, r its part, trans rms the obstacles that oppose its
activity into a subject r exercises, which thereby permits it to attain its goal by using that which resists it (VIII, 7, 2; VIII, 32; VIII, 35; VIII, 41; VIII, 47; VIII, 54; VIII, 57).
We can note a few autobiographical allusions in Book VIII, such as life at court (VIII, 9) and speeches be re the Senate (VIII, 30). Figures ofthe dead who were close to Marcus are evoked: his mother (VIII, 25) and his adoptive brother (VIII, 37). Encouragements to examine his conscience, which had already occurred in Book V, reappear several times (VIII, 1-2) and are linked to the theme ofthe imminence ofdeath (VIII, i; VIII, 8; VIII, 22, 2).
Although Book IX, like Books IV, VI, VII, and VIII, is composed r the most part ofbriefsayings, it does contain ve rather long expositions, which vary in length om about thirty to rty lines, and which have either no parallels in the rest of Marcus' works, or at the very least few parallels. In IX, 1, Marcus demonstrates rigorously that the lapses one commits in the three disciplines of action, thought, and desire constitute ults ofimpiety and injustice with regard to Nature, the most venerable of deities. In IX, 3 , we nd an exposition on the theme of death: not only does Marcus expect and wait r the dissolution ofthe body, but, as
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in Book V, this dissolution is perceived as a liberation. When Marcus speaks of the tigue produced by discord in communal life (IX, 3 , 8) , and prays r death to come as soon as possible, we can perhaps detect an autobiographical trait; I shall return to this point later. In IX, 9, reason establishes that the higher up one rises in the hierarchy of beings, the more mutual attraction is increased. In IX, 40, the problem ofprayer is examined. Finally, in IX, 42, we nd a collection of considerations intended as a remedy r the temptation ofanger.
Book IX may also contain some rther autobiographical allusions: r example, the rapid evocation ofMarcus' childhood (IX, 21); a possible allusion to the plague which was then ravaging the Empire (IX, 2, 4) ; and above all a highly important re ection on the art of governing (IX, 29) .
Book IX also has its own peculiarities ofvocabulary. Nowhere else, r instance, does Marcus use the expression ektos aitia ("outer cause") to designate the causality ofFate and ofuniversal Nature (IX, 6; IX, 3 1).
I n the entirely di erent context o f the relations between oneself and others, Book IX is the only one to mention the paradigm of the gods, who, despite the ults ofmankind, maintain their benevolence toward humans and help them in the area of things which, to the Stoics, are indi erent and have no moral value, such as health and glory, r exam ple (IX, I I ; IX, 27) . The Emperor, too, will consequently also have to be attentive to those human desires which are not in con rmity with phi losophy.
Book IX likes to insist upon the necessity of "penetrating into the guiding principle of other people's souls, " in order to understand the motives which make them act in a certain way, and there re excuse them (IX, 18; IX, 22; IX, 27; IX, 34).
I n Book X , the number of longer expositions ( om thirty to one hundred lines) clearly increases, and we nd r fewer examples of "in terwoven composition. " One should note, however, the recurrence of the theme of a realistic vision of other people (X, 1 3 ; 1 9) . In order to
judge people in accordance with their true value, we must observe them or imagine them when they eat, sleep, make love, and relieve them selves.
When Marcus evokes the picture ofpeople whispering around a sick bed-which could be his own-we get the impression that the Emperor is sharing a con dence with us when he makes them say: "At last that schoolmaster is going to let us breathe! "
Book X is the only one to use the word theoretikon. It occurs in X, 9, 2, where the importance ofthe theoretic undations ofaction is a rmed;
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and again in X , l l , I , where Marcus exhorts himself to acquire a theoretic method, in order to practice the spiritual exercise which consists in recognizing the universal metamo hosis of all things; in other words, this exercise must be based upon solid, well-assimilated dogmas. It is also only in Book X that reason and the intellect, which take all events as od r their moral life, are compared to a healthy stomach, which assimilates to itselfallkinds of od (X, 3I, 6; X, 35, 3).
Book XI can be divided into two parts: there are the rst twenty-one chapters, and then there are the nal eighteen, which are a collection of quotations and notes jotted down in the course of Marcus' readings, comparable to the similar group which we encountered in the middle of Book VII. Why is it here? It is impossible to say. At least eight of these passages come om the Discourses of Epictetus, as collected by Arrian. The rest consists ofquotations om Homer and Hesiod, agments om the tragic poets, and other reminiscences om Marcus' readings.
In the rst part of Book XI, long expositions (of which there are urteen) are much more equent than short sayings (seven). The phe nomenon of "interwoven composition" scarcely appears, and there are few recurrent themes, with the exception ofthe theme ofthe eedom which we possess to criticize and to suspend our judgments on events and things. We nd this theme in two passages, almost identical in rm (XI, II; XI, 16, 2):
Things do not reach us, but they remain immobile outside of us.
Several ofthe longer expositions have no parallel in the rest ofMarcus' work: the detailed description of the properties of the rational soul (XI, l), r instance, or the method of division of objects and events (XI, 2); the history oftragedy and comedy (XI, 6), which I mentioned above; the
description ofthe luminous sphere ofthe soul (XI, 12), as well as that of true sincerity which one cannot help discerning immediately, like a man's bad odor (XI, 15). Finally, there is the long enumeration ofthe dogmas which can cure us ofanger (XI, 18). By its content and its rm, then, Book XI is rather di erent om the other books ofthe Meditations.
Book XII also has its characteristic expressions. "Stripped of their bark" umna ton phloi n), r instance, recurs twice in it. On the one hand, divine vision sees the guiding principles ofsouls "stripped oftheir bark" (XII, 2); on the other, we must exercise ourselves in order to be able to see the elements of those beings which have causal rce-in other words, none other than the guiding principles of souls-"stripped
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oftheir bark" (XII, 8). The theme ofthe separation ofthe center ofthe soul om all its envelopes is, moreover, one of the major motifs of the Meditations. We nd it sketched as ea y as the rst chapter, where we are urged not to recognize anything but the hegemonikon, or guiding princi ple of the soul, as the sole thing of value. The theme is developed in chapter 2 (like God himsel see nothing but the hegemonikon), and in chapter 3 (separate everything reign om the intellect, the culty of thought, and the guiding principle of the soul). We nd it again in chapter 8 (see those elements which have causal valu t hat is, the guid ing principles of souls-stripped of their bark) ; in chapter r 9 (become aware ofwhat is most noble and divine within us); and nally, in chapter 3 3 , where the Emperor asks himself about the use he is making of the guiding part ofhis soul, r "Everything depends upon that. "
We have just encountered the notion of an "element having a causal value" (aitiodes). For Marcus, this concept is opposed to the notion of a material element ulikon). As we have seen, this is one ofthe ndamen tal oppositions of Stoic physics. For Marcus, however, it serves above all to rmulate a spiritual exercise which is described again and again in Book XII: it consists in the intellect or guiding part ofthe soul becoming aware of itself as a causal, guiding, determining element, so that it may distinguish and separate itself om the material element. In other words, it must separate itself not only om the body, but om everything that does not depend upon us. This is why the theme of the opposition between the "causal" and the "material" also recurs constantly in Book XII (XII, 8; XII, ro; XII, r8; XII, 29).
The preceding brief analyses-no doubt somewhat tedious-should allow the reader to impse the ct that in almost all the books of the Meditations, a characteristic vocabulary and recurrent themes can be dis covered. This leads us to suspect that each chapter rms a comparatively autonomous unity. Although it is true that there are many literal repeti tions throughout the Meditations, it is nevertheless also true that particu larities can be observed that are proper to each chapter.
The nal three chapters of Book XII, which are also those of the entire work, are concerned with death. The last chapter, which is in the rm ofa dialogue, thus seems particularly moving (XII, 36):
0 man, you have played your part as a citizen in this great City! What does it matter to you whether you have played it r ve, or r one hundred years? For that which is distributed in accordance with the law is equal r all. What is there that is terrible ifyou are
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sent away om this City, not by a tyrant or an unjustjudge, but by that Nature who had put you on stage in the rst place, as a praetor dismisses an actor he has hired?
-But I acted only three acts, and not ve!
-You are right; but in li three acts make up a complete play; r what makes the play complete is determined by He who is the cause both of constitution and of dissolution. You, by contrast, are cause neither ofthe one nor ofthe other. Leave, then, in peace; r He who dismisses you does so in peace.
It has been claimed52 that the Meditations deliberately end with the word "peace. " Perhaps; but who placed it there? Was it Marcus, resee ing his imminent death? Was it the person who edited his meditations, and removed one om its place to put it there? These words are, more over, an echo ofthe rst pages ofBook II (3, 3): "Don't die murmuring, but truly in peace, thanking the gods om the bottom ofyour heart. "
We can thus see-in an entirely hypothetical way-that some kind of order and speci c correspondences have perhaps been introduced among these eleven books (II-XII) , which are groups of meditations written on a daily basis. It could no doubt be objected that in a work in which the thought of death plays so considerable a role, it is not surprising to encounter it-whether in the rst or the last lines-without this indicat ing any kind ofstylistic composition. One might also wonder, however, why at the beginnings ofBooks III, VIII, X, and XII, we nd examina tions ofconscience which are all analogously inspired by the imminence ofdeath. They are situated in a rather privileged position, as ifthe author or editor had wanted to provide a kind ofintroduction to the llowing meditations. In these examinations, Marcus exhorts himselfto immediate conversion, r he is a aid that even be re death, his intellectual capaci ties may be weakened to the point where they no longer allow him to live a moral life. He is still r om having succeeded in becoming a philosopher, and he recognizes that, in the last analysis, what he should fear the most is not ceasing to live, but iling to begin to live (XII, r , 5) . This is the source of Marcus' melancholy question at the beginning of Book X:
0 my soul; will you ever be good and simple; one and naked; more luminous than the body which surrounds you? Will you ever be l lled, without need, neither regretting nor desiring anything . . .
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 275 Will you ever be happy with what 1s happening to you at the
present moment?
Generally speaking, a short saying is never placed at the beginning of a book. Books II-XII always open with a relatively lengthy exposition, which can vary om ve to thirty- ve lines. Books II and V both begin with an exercise which is to be practiced in the morning: "At dawn . . . "; "In the morning, when you have trouble getting up . . . " The compara tively long dissertations on the rational soul (XI, 1 ) and on impiety with regard to nature (IX, I) also seem to have been placed at the beginning of these books because of the importance of the subject matter with which they deal.
As I have said, the equent repetitions which can be observed in the Meditations allow us to suppose that they were composed on a day-to-day basis. The slight indications which I have just enumerated, however, perhaps allow us to glimpse some ofMarcus' habits- r instance, that of beginning a new notebook with a speci c type of exhortation. In any event, I have thought it worthwhile to point out such details in the hope that they may inspire more in-depth research.
Remembe ng the dead
As we have seen, the Meditations are dominated, om one end to the other, by the thought of death. Within the work, death appears succes sively as an imminence which may prevent Marcus om nally raising himself up to the level of the philosophical life; or as a phenomenon of nature which is no more extraordinary than any other; and nally as a liberation, which will deliver Marcus om a world where people are ignorant ofthe sole value: that ofvirtue and the moral good.
From beginning to end, the Meditations are also an exercise ofprepara tion r death, which involves, among other things, evoking mous gures of bygone times, who, in spite of their power, knowledge, and renown, died like everybody else. Just like Fran ois Villon, Marcus thus composes his Ballad the Lords Former Times. To be sure, it was too ea y r Marcus to wonder: "But where is the knight Charlemagne? "53 Yet he does mention Alexander-as well as his mule-driver-Ar chimedes, Augustus, Caesar, Chrysippus, Croesus, Democritus, Epictetus, Eudoxus, Heraclitus, Hipparchus, Hippocrates, Menippus, Philip, Pompey, Pythagoras, Socrates, Tiberius, Trajan, and all those
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who are now no more than legendary names (VIII, 2 5 , 3) or are men tioned only rarely: Caeso, Volesus, Dentatus, Scipio, and Cato. He also speaks ofpeople who are less noble, but did have their moment of me, like the mimographers Philistion, Phoebus, and Origanion (VI, 47, 1). Marcus also thinks ofthe whole crowd ofanonymous people: doctors, astrologers, philosophers, princes, and tyrants ofbygone days; as well as the people of Pompeii (IV, 48, 1 ; VIII, 1 , 2) and Herculaneum. Finally, he thinks ofall the people who lived in the time ofVespasian or Trajan: they have all been swept away by death.
Marcus also thinks ofthe people he knew during his li . His adoptive brother Lucius Verus, who reigned together with Marcus, died compara tively young. He had married Lucilla, one of Marcus' daughters; but be re this marriage, when he was staying at Antioch, he had a mistress named Pantheia. Pantheia was om Smyrna, and she was delight lly portrayed by the satirist Lucian in 163-164. She gures in two of his works: Images and the D nse ef Images. Was she really as beauti l, cultivated, good-hearted, simple, sweet, and benevolent as Lucian says? And yet, unless he was mocking her, Lucian could scarcely have made up such details as that she sang while accompanying herself on the cithara; that she spoke Ionic Greek; that she behaved modestly and simply to those who approached her; and that she knew how to laugh at Lucian's praise. What happened to Pantheia a er the marriage ofLucilla? Did she remain in the entourage ofLucius, who, ifwe can believe the gossip of the Histo a Augusta, seems not to have had any qualms about bringing back om Antioch to Rome a band of eed slaves, with whom he caroused? 54
In any event, it is rather touching to encounter the gure ofPantheia in the Meditations. This allows us to suppose that she had remained close to Lucius Verus until his death, and that she herself had died a w years a ft e r h e r l o v e r ( V I I I , 3 7 ) :
Are Pantheia and Pergamos [perhaps a male lover o fLucius Verus? ] still sitting near the ashes ofVerus?
Or Chabrias and Diotimos near those ofHadrian?
How ridiculous! [probably because they too were dead].
And even if they were still sitting there, would the dead notice them? And if the dead noticed them, would they derive pleasure om their presence? And if the dead did derive some pleasure, would those who were sitting there be immortal? Has it not been xed by Destiny that those who were sitting there should rst
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become old women and men, and nally die? What will happen to the dead, when those who had been sitting near their ashes are dead too?
This same Book VIII describes analogous situations, in which living people weep r the dead, and are themselves wept over shortly a er wards (VIII, 25): Marcus' mother Lucilla, who lost her husband Verus, and then died in turn; Secunda, the wi of Maximus, one of Marcus' friends and teachers, who died after having buried Maximus; Antoninus, Marcus' adoptive ther, who decreed the apotheosis ofhis wi Faustina, and then did not survive her r long. Marcus also evokes Caninius Celer,55 one of his rhetoric teachers, who had been secretary to the emperor Hadrian, and who had perhaps delivered the latter's neral oration. He too was dead by the time Marcus was writing. In this context we also nd a certain Diotimos, no doubt a eedman ofHadrian, and the same person whom Marcus had pictured sitting near Hadrian's neral urn in the description cited above (VIII, 37).
Elsewhere, Marcus again causes all kinds o f characters whom h e has known to come to life be re our eyes; but it is di cult r us to identi them.
It is especially in Book I that Marcus evokes the dead who had been close to him: his parents, his teachers, Antoninus Pius, his adoptive brother Lucius Verus, and the Empress Faustina.
If you suddenly und yourself transported into the air, and con templated human a airs and their variety om above, you would have contempt r them, as you saw, in the same glance, how vast is the domain ofthe inhabitants ofthe air and ofthe ether (XII, 24, 3).
You can cut o many of the super uous things which present obstacles to you, and which rest entirely on your value-judgment. Thus you will clear r yourself a vast open eld, by embracing the entire universe in your mind; you will comprehend perpetual eter nity, as you consider the rapid trans rmation of each individual thing. How short is the time om birth to dissolution; how gaping is the in nity be re birth, and similarly the in nity a er dissolution (IX, 32).
The soul traverses the entire world and the void which surrounds it; it examines the rm ofthe world; extends itselfinto the in nity of eternity, and embraces and conceives the periodic rebirth of the universe (XI, I, 3).
Asia and Europe are corners ofthe world; the entire sea is a drop of the world; Athas is a lump of earth in the world; all of present time is a point in eternity; everything is tiny, agile, and evanescent (VI, 36, 1).
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We can immediately see the di erence between these passages and those by De Quincey. For the latter, the distention ofduration and space is an impression imposed upon the addict om outside, and he is in a sense its passive victim. For Marcus, by contrast, the consideration ofthe in nity of time and space is an active maneuver, as we can see om his equent admonitions to "represent to himself" or to "think" the totality. Here again, we are in the presence of a traditional spiritual exercise, which utilizes the culties ofthe imagination. Moreover, De Quincey speaks of a distention of the instant, which takes on outlandish propor tions; whereas Marcus speaks of an e ort to imagine the In nite in its totality, in order subsequently to see the instant, or the place, reduced to in nitesimal proportions. This voluntary exercise ofthe imagination pre supposes that Marcus adhered to the classical representation of the Stoic universe: the universe is situated within an in nite void, and its duration within an in nite time, within which the periodic rebirths of the uni verse repeat themselves eternally. This exercise is intended to obtain a vision of human a airs which resituates them within the perspective of universal Nature.
A procedure such as this is the very essence of philosophy. Thus we nd it, always identical beneath the diversity of vocabularies, in all the philosophical schools ofantiquity. Plato de ned the philosophical nature by its ability to contemplate the totality oftime and ofbeing, and there re to hold human a airs in contempt. 31 We nd this theme again among such Platonists as Philo32 or Maximus of Tyre,33 in Neopythagoreanism,34 among the Stoics,35 and even among the Epicure ans. Representative of the last-named is the llowing saying by Metro dorus:
Remember that, although you were born mortal and with a limited life, you have nevertheless, by means of discussions about nature, risen up to the eternity and in nity ofthings. You have also seen the ture and the past. 36
In Cicero's mous Dream ofScipio,37 the grandson ofScipio A icanus contemplates the world om the heights of the Milky Way. He sees the earth so small that the Roman Empire seems imperceptible to him; the inhabited portion of the world seems like a tiny island in the middle of Ocean; and life seems to be less than a point. This theme was to remain very much alive throughout the Western tradition. We have an echo of it in Pascal's "two in nites":38 "Let the earth appear to him as a point,
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compared to the vast circle described by this star . . . " Was Pascal, then, also an opium addict?
Marcus also transports this view om above onto the past (X, 27):
Think constantly about this: how all events which are similar to those which are happening now, have also happened in the past; and think that they will happen again. Place entire dramas, and homogeneous scenes, which you know through your personal ex perience or through ancient history, be re your eyes: r instance, all of Hadrian's court; or that of Antoninus; the whole courts of Philip, Alexander, or Croesus. For all of that was similar; only the actors were di erent.
T. W. Africa has read De Quincey, and has noticed the ne page in which the latter evokes the reveries in which there appeared to him the luminous spectacle of the ladies of the court of King Charles I, or Paulus Aemilius, surrounded by centurions, striding in ont of the Roman legions. A ica believes he nds an analogous phenomenon in Marcus Aurelius. Once again, however, it is enough to read Marcus attentively to recognize the di erence. De Quincey's description is purely oneiric: the dream is told r its own sake, as a strange and marvelous spectacle. For Marcus, however, it is not a dream: the Emperor demands an imagi native e ort om himsel in order to try to represent to himself the courts of the past. As Paul Rabbow has shown,39 this practice is carried out in accordance with the rules which rhetoric prescribed when one had to depict a scene or a circumstance in an expressive way. Moreover, the picture was not there r its own sake, but o y in order to provide a highly austere conviction in the soul of the person practicing the exer cise; namely, that human a airs are banal and ephemeral (VII, 49):
Behold the past. So many changes ofregime; and the ture can be predicted equally well. Things will be entirely homogeneous, and we cannot escape the rhythm of what is happening now. That is why there is no di erence between studying human life r rty years, or ten thousand years, or more: what more could one possi bly see?
I believe I have su ciently demonstrated the workings of a certain type of historical psychology. Generally speaking, it is based upon igno-
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ranee ofthe modes ofthought and composition ofancient authors, and it anachronistically projects modern representations back upon ancient texts. It would, moreover, be interesting to psychologize some historical psychologists; I believe we could discover in them two tendencies. One is iconoclastic: it takes pleasure in attacking such gures as Plotinus or Marcus Aurelius, r example, who are naively respected by right-think ing people. The other is reductionist: it considers that elevation ofthe soul or of thought, all moral heroism, and all grandiose views of the universe can only be morbid and abnormal. Everything has to be ex plained by sex or drugs.
Stylistic elegance
From everything that has just been said, we must not conclude that Marcus is absent om his Meditations. Rather, he is present in them in many ways, and the work has an autobiographical value which is limited, but very real.
First and remost, Marcus is present by virtue ofhis stylistic elegance. We have already seen that the Emperor, who was writing r himsel usually makes an e rt to write with the greatest care, certainly because he is aware of the psychological power of a well-turned phrase. The procedures Marcus uses have been well analyzed by]. Dal n,40 Monique Alexandre,41 and R. B. Ruther rd,42 who have also pointed out the felicitous expressions in which they result. As Monique exandre has shown, Marcus here reveals himself to be a true student of Fronto. It appears that Fronto required his student to compose a saying nome) every day, and above all to rmulate it in di erent ways. As Fronto writes,43 "Each time you conceive ofa paradoxical thought, turn it over within yoursel vary it with diverse gures and nuances, make trial ofit, and dress it in splendid words. " Throughout this book, we have been able to admire Marcus' skill at developing multiple variations on the same theme. Fronto also advised his student to make collections ofsay ings r himself44
It is dif cult to add anything new to the remarkable studies that have been carried out on Marcus' style. I think, however, that it may be use l to cite some examples ofthe quest r stylistic elegance which appears in some passages om his work.
The quest r conciseness o en gives such passages a remarkable vigor, and an almost enigmatic character:
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Correct, not corrected! (VII, 12).
Grow on the same trunk, but don't pro ss the same doctrines! (XI,
8, 6: the opposition is between homothamnein and homodogmatein). Neither an actor nor a whore! (V, 28, 4).
For the stone thrown up in the air, it is neither bad to ll back down, nor good to rise up (IX, 1 7) .
Receive without pride, let go without attachment (VIII, 3 3) .
Men have come into being r one another; so either teach them or put up with them (VIII, 59).
Leave the ult of another right where it is (IX, 20) .
A bitter cucumber? Throw it away! Brambles on the road? Avoid
them! (VIII, 50).
We have already equently encountered the brutal, explosive rmu las which Marcus uses to describe the ugliness oflife when it is bereft of moral value:
A mime (mimos) and a war olemos); excitement toia) and numb ness (narka); the slavery (douleia) of every day! (X, 9) .
Note the assonances in this last passage, which are indicative ofMarcus' search r literary e ect.
In how short a time, ashes or a skeleton! A mere name, or no longer even a name. But a name is nothing but meaningless noise, or an echo .
And everything to which people attach so much importance in this life is empty, rotten, and petty: little dogs that nip at one an other; kids who ght, laugh, and then suddenly burst into tears. Faith, however, and Modesty, Justice, and Truth "have taken ight toward Olympus, eeing the road- rrowed earth" (V, 33). 45
The most striking mmlas deal with the brevity oflife, death, and the vanity of me:
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 259 Soon, you will have rgotten everything! Soon, everyone will have
rgotten you! (VII, 21).
Everything is ephemeral; both that which remembers, and that which is remembered (IV, 35).
Soon you too will close your eyes, and someone else will have wept r the person who laid you to rest (X, 34, 6).
Yesterday, a bit of phlegm; tomorrow, ashes or a mummy (IV, 48, 3).
Marcus not only had a knack r turning concise phrases, but he also knew how to tell of the beauty of things in few words, as in a passage om the Meditations (III, 2) cited earlier. There, Marcus evoked crusty bread and ripe gs which split, and maturity, which is already almost rottenness, which gives its beauty to the color of olives, and which also gives a kind of ourishing to elderly men and women, and makes heavy laden ears of com lean toward the earth. The "lion's wrinkled brow, " the " am dripping om the boar's muzzle," and the "gapingjaws ofwild beasts" also have their own savage beauty.
Fronto had taught his imperial student to introduce images and com parisons into his sayings and discourses, and Marcus learned his lesson well :
On the same altar, there are many grains ofincense. One falls be re the others, another later. What di erence does it make? (IV, 1 5) .
Dig within. That's where you'll nd the source ofthe good, and it can always burst rth anew, ifyou keep digging (VII, 59).
A spider hunts down a fly, and thinks he is pretty hot stu One man hunts down a little hare; another catches a sardine in his net; another hunts boars, another bears, another Sarmatians. Aren't they all thieves, ifyou examine the motives oftheir actions? (X, 10).
Have you ever seen a hand which has been cut o or a ot, or a severed head lying somewhere apart om the rest ofthe body? That is what a person does to himself . . . who does not wish r what happens, and who separates himself om the . . . (VIII, 34).
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In certain Meditations, we also notice a striving after rhythm and the harmonious balance of phrases, as r instance in the llowing prayer to the World:
Everything which is in accord with you is in accord with me, 0 World! Nothing ofwhat comes in an opportune way r you comes either too soon or too late r me! that your seasons produce, 0 Nature, is fruit r me (IV, 23).
Elsewhere, a thought is developed in parallel and ascending rmulas, as in the llowing passage, ofwhich I will cite only the beginning:
One is the light of the sun, even if it is divided by walls, moun tains, or a thousand other things.
One is the common substance, even ifit is divided into thousands ofbodies, each with its own individual qualities.
One is the soul, even ifit be divided into thousands of culties of growth and individual di erences.
One is the thinking soul, even ifit seems divided . . . (XII, 30).
I n these stylistic exercises, to which Marcus accorded all his attention, one may, I believe, glimpse two characteristic atures ofhis personality: a great aesthetic sensitivity and an intense search r perfection.
It may be ofinterest to point out that W. Williams46 has carried out a study of the style of Marcus' constitutions, and there re of the juridical texts which he wrote. According to this author, we can note in these writings a meticulousness highly concentrated upon details, and an al most exaggerated insistence on explaining points that are self-evident. This seems to indicate a certain lack of con dence in the moral and intellectual qualities of his subordinates, and a quest r purity in the use of Greek and of Latin. Finally, it shows the scrupulous attention that Marcus devoted to nding the most equitable, humane, and just solu tions possible.
Chronological signposts
The reader of a literary work always likes to know at what moment of the author's li it was written, and in what atmosphere. To be sure, there is something atemporal about the Meditations, and it must be admit ted that the attempts made by various historians to attach certain passages
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
to speci c moments of the Emperor's li have been disappointing. As we have seen, the Meditations are spiritual exercises, carried out upon a canvas pre bricated by the Stoic tradition, which did not leave any room r personal anecdotes. In order to suggest a date r their composition, we possess o y two pieces ofobjective evidence. Between what is now Book I and what is now Book II of the Meditations, the editio princ s contains a sentence which can be translated as llows: "Written in the land of the Quadi, on the banks of the Gran, I . " Between what is now Book II and what is now Book III, it contains the indication "Written in Camutum. " It may have been the Emperor himself who added these two speci cations, as he made r himself a classi cation of the notes he had written.
Camutum was a military base which the Romans had established starting at the beginning of the rst century B. c. on the Danube, not r om Vienna, and it was home r several thousand legionnaires. A small town had sprung up near the camp, with an amphitheater which was built in the second century. It was there that Marcus established his headquarters during his wars against the Quadi and the Marcomanni, om 170 to 173.
The river Gran is still called either by this name or by that ofthe Hron; it ows om north to south through Slovakia, andjoins the Danube in Hungary. Marcus' allusion to this river is invaluable: it reveals to us that the Emperor was not content to direct operations om the rti ed camp at Camutum, but that he had crossed the Danube and had pene trated the territory of the Quadi-a Germanic people who, together with the Marcomanni, had invaded the Empire in 169-tO a distance of more than 60 miles.
To what books of the Meditations do these two notations refer? The allusion to the Quadi is placed between Books I and II, whereas the mention of Camutum comes between Books II and III. In antiquity, indications ofthis kind could appear either at the beginning or at the end of a book. If these two notes were placed at the end, then the rst one refers to Book I, and the second to Book II. If they were placed at the beginning, then the rst one refers to Book II, and the second to Book III. Historians have adopted both views, without ever ishing decisive proo£ I am inclined to llow G. Breithaupt47 and W. Theiler48 in thinking that these indications were placed at the beginnings ofBooks II and III respectively.
It is most interesting, and even moving, to note that at least a part of the Meditations was written during the Roman operations carried out on
the Danube in 170-173-not only in the relative calm of a military headquarters, but amidst the discom rt ofan expedition into the land of the Quadi. This situation may explain the distinctive tone ofBooks II and III: the haunting presence ofthe theme ofdeath. There is no more time to read; it's not the moment to wander. I nd it easy to believe that this warlike atmosphere explains the decision Marcus seems to make in Book II to concentrate on the practice ofthose spiritual exercises which would help him nally to live the philosophical life which he should have lived, and would have liked to live, all throughout his life.
Although I have no proo I suspect that the manuscript which was copied by the editio princeps contained other indications of this kind, which were omitted by the editor. Thus, we do not know where the other books were composed. Are we to suppose, with Breithaupt,49 that the books which deal with the court and with speeches to the Senate were written between November 176 and August 178, after Marcus had returned to Rome? But already at Carnutum, Marcus could very well have thought in a general way about his li as an emperor. It is very likely that Books IV to XII were written between 173 and 180, when Marcus died.
Let us return to the indication placed between Books I and II: "Writ ten in the land ofthe Quadi, on the banks ofthe Gran, I. " How can we explain the number I, if this indication refers to Book II? What is now Book I, in which Marcus, in a style wholly di erent om that of the Meditations properly so called (Books II-XII) evokes all that he has re ceived om men and om the gods, seems to be a text in its own right, which has its own unity, and which was placed at the beginning of the Meditations, if not by Marcus himself, then at least by an ancient editor. Thus, what is now Book II was in ct the rst book of the Meditations properly so called. 50 This would explain the number I after the indication "Written in the land ofthe Quadi"; it must have been introduced by an editor or a secretary who had numbered the various groups of notes which Marcus had written.
Moreover, it is legitimate to suppose-although it cannot be proved with certainty-that what is now Book I was written very late in the Emperor's life. This book gives the impression that it speaks on of people who have died. Since the Empress Faustina, who is mentioned in these pages,51 died in 176, it seems that this book was written between
176 and 180. Perhaps it was written at Rome between 176 and 178, after the revolt of Avidius Cassius, when Marcus returned om his great eastern voyage; or perhaps it was at Sirmium, Marcus' headquarters om
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Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
1 78 to 1 80, when war with the Germans broke out again. It was probably at Sirmium that Marcus died, on March 1 7, 1 80. The present-day Book I, which has a marked unity with regard both to its style and to its overall structure, seems alien to the literary project of the Meditations properly so called (Books II-XII). It is now located at the beginning like a kind of introduction, but it is really more of a parallel work; it is obviously related to the Meditations (in Book VI, 30, r example, we can discern an initial sketch ofthe portrait ofAntoninus Pius), but it repre sents a wholly di erent psychic disposition. Book I is a prayer of thanks giving, whereas Books II to XII are a meditation on the Stoic dogmas and rule oflife. These latter books were composed on a day-to-day basis, with each thought llowing without any connection to the previous thought; whereas Book I was written at a precise moment, and in ac cordance with a precise plan.
Books II-XII
As discussed previously, it is not certain whether the twelve books as we have them today corresponded to twelve groups of meditations which, in the eyes of their author, had their own unity, de ned by one or more dominant themes. In that case, they would a ow us to glimpse some thing ofMarcus' personal preoccupations, or ofwhat he happened to be reading. Or is this grouping into twelve books purely accidental, perhaps a result of the rm and dimensions of the writing materials that were used? Book I obviously represents a coherent whole in itsel it responds to a very particular intention and is independent om the eleven other books. What can we say about Books II-XII?
At rst glance, the divisions between these groups ofmeditations seem purely arbitrary. The same themes and expressions are repeated through out them. The tripartite structure of the disciplines which I have de scribed has no influence on the work's literary rm; instead, it is re peated in the most varied rms. A precise plan cannot be discerned in any ofthese books, with the possible exception ofBook III, which turns out to be a kind ofseries ofessays on the theme ofthe good man.
Nevertheless, a close examination allows us to discover some charac teristics which are peculiar to each of these books: vorite themes, special vocabularies, the greater or lesser equency of the literary rms that are used-whether they are sayings, r example, or rather short dissertations. We are justi ed in supposing that if Marcus wrote his Meditations on a day-to-day basis, and probably during the last years ofhis
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li , then certain spiritual preoccupations or readings may have in uenced him in di erent ways at di erent moments in the process of composition.
The preferred themes in a given book o en appear by means of a process that I would call "interwoven composition. " Marcus does not gather together one a er the other those meditations which deal with the same subject; instead-probably on a day-to-day basis-he interweaves them with other thoughts which deal with entirely di erent subjects. In other words, after an interruption, which may be very brie he returns to the theme which, r the time being, has retained his attention. Throughout a given book, then, one or more precise themes reappear intermittently, like a leitmotif
Books II and III are very close to each other. Within them, death is sensed as imminent (II, 2; II, 5; II, 6; II, l l; II, 12; II, 14; II, 17), and there is no more time to distract oneselfby reading (II, 2; 3). Marcus decides not to write anything more which does not contribute to the trans rmation ofhis moral life and to his meditation on Stoic doctrines (III, 14). It is urgent that he change his life, especially since he has received so many reprieves om the gods (II, 14). Only one thing counts: philosophy (II, 17, 3), which consists of the three disciplines. First, it means keeping the guiding principle ofthe soul (hegemonikon; II, 2, 4), or-another way ofexpressing the same thing-the soul (II, 6) or else the inner daimon (II, 17, 4; II, 13, 2), ee om the slave offalse thoughts (II, 2, 4). This is the discipline ofthought orjudgment. Second, the soul must be kept pure ofall irritation against events, and accept the portion which has been attributed to it by destiny (II, 2, 4; II, 16, l-2; II, 17, 4); this is the discipline ofdesire. Finally, it must be kept pure ofall egoistic action, or actions which are undertaken lightly or without a goal (II, 2, 4; II, 17; 4); this is the discipline ofaction.
Book III takes up exactly the same themes. We nd in it the same atmosphere of the imminence of death, and Marcus' decision to devote himself exclusively to spiritual exercises intended to trans rm moral life:
Cease your wandering. Don't read your little notebooks any more (III, 14).
We also re-encounter the description ofthe one thing necessary, and the only thing that counts in such an urgent situation: to maintain the purity of one's daimon or guiding principle, in the areas of thought, desire, and action.
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
It is very interesting, however, to observe how Book III attempts to present these themes om Book II in a much more developed and elaborate way, so that Book III is essentially made up ofa series ofshort dissertations which are all on the same topic: the description ofthe "good man" as an ideal r life, and the enumeration ofthose precepts which permit the realization of such an ideal (III, 9-1 1). An initial attempt is presented in III, 4 (in about rty lines), then brie y taken up again in III, 5 ( r about ten lines), and then nally set rth abundantly once again in III, 6-8 (in about rty lines).
The "good man," who has pre ferred his inner daimon in every circumstance, and is in some way its priest and its se ant, attains the supreme level of human happiness, which consists in acting in accordance with right reason (III, 7, 2).
Books IV-XII are rather di erent om the two preceding books. First ofall, even ifwe do sometimes nd short dissertations ofthe same kind as those in Book III, especially in Books V, X, and XI, the majority of meditations in these books appear in the rm of short, striking sayings. Marcus himself seems to theorize about this literary genre when he mentions the "spiritual retreat into himsel " which consists precisely in the act ofconcentrating on "short and ndamental" sayings which can dissipate all griefand irritation (IV, 3, 1-3).
Some themes om Books II-III are still present in Book IV: r instance, the theme ofthe imminence ofdeath and the ideal ofthe "good man" (IV, 17; c£ IV, 25; 37):
Don't live as ifyou were going to live r ten thousand years. The inevitable is hanging over you. As long as you are still alive, and as long at it is still possible, become a good man.
As in the previous books, this sense ofurgency does not allow Marcus to waste his time by concerning himselfwith what others do or say (IV, 1 8) ; rather, one must hasten toward the goal by the shortest path possible (IV,
18; 51).
The notion of the daimon disappears almost completely in the later
books, and reappears in the Meditations only sporadically (V, IO, 6; V, 27; VIII, 45, 1; X, 13, 2; XII, 3, 4). By contrast, new themes, which be und throughout all the llowing books, make their appearance. For example, we ndthe dilemma "Providence or atoms" (IV, 3, 6), which I have already discussed at some length.
In Book V, the themes which had dominated Books II and III disap pear or become blurred once and r all. In particular, although death is
266 THE INNER CITADEL
sometimes still mentioned as a possibility which might compromise our e orts toward per ction, it is now also present as a liberation r which we must wait with patience and con dence; r it will deliver us om a human world in which moral li -the only thing that counts, and the only valu i s constantly ustrated (V, I O, 6; V, 3 3 , 5).
In another new theme, Marcus exhorts himselfto examine his con science (V, I I):
Toward which goal am I using my soul in this moment? Ask myself this question in every circumstance . . .
Similarly, he wonders (V, 3I) how he has behaved with regard to the gods, his mily, his teachers, his friends, and his slaves. Here we recog nize the domain of "duties" (kathekonta), which are the subject of the discipline of action. Marcus continues by sketching a kind of balance sheetofhisli (V,31, 2),which,asinV,IO, 6andV,33, 5,givesusto understand that he can wait r death with serenity, since he has had everything he could expect om life.
One particular notion, to which Book II had made only a brief allu sion (II, 9), is amply and equently developed in Book V: the distinction between universal Nature and "my" own nature. As we have seen, this distinction is the basis of the opposition between the discipline of desire, which consists in consenting to the ct that I "su er" owing to the action ofuniversal Nature, and the discipline ofaction, which consists in "acting" by virtue ofmy own rational nature (V, 3 , 2; V, IO, 6; V, 25, 2; V, 27):
In this very moment, I have what common Nature wants me to have at this moment, and at this moment I am doing what my own nature wants me to do at this moment (V, 25, 2).
As Marcus says, the road that these two natures llow is, in ct, the same (V, 3 , 2) ; it is the straightest and shortest road. It is here, moreover, that the notion ofthe daimon brie y reappears, and it is extremely inter esting to observe an identi cation and an opposition between the "outer" god, who is universal Nature or Reason, and the "inner" god the daimon or hegemonikon-who emanates om it (V, I O , 6) :
Nothing will happen to me which is not in con rmity with the Nature ofthe All. It depends on me to do nothing which is contrary to my god and my daimon.
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
This is why moral life can be de ned as "a life with the gods" (V, 27):
He lives with the gods who constantly shows them a soul which greets what has been allotted to it with joy, and, at the same time, does everything wanted by that daimon which Zeus [i. e. , universal Nature] has given to each person as a watchman and a guide, and which is a parcel detached om himself This is nothing other than the intellect and reason of each of us.
This theme ofthe two natures is und in otherbooks (VI, 58; VII, 55, XI, 13, 4 ; XII, 32, 3), but never as equently as in Book V.
l ;
Other themes also seem to be characteristic ofBook V. For example, it contains two allusions to a Stoic cosmological doctrine which Marcus mentions very rarely: that ofthe eternal return. Usually, Marcus imagines the metamo hoses ofthings and the destiny ofsouls within the "period" ofthe world in which we are now living, without worrying about the eternal return ofthis period. This is what he does rst, in V, 13, where he begins by a rming that each part ofthe universe, as it is born and dies, is trans rmed into another part ofthe universe. Yet he remarks:
There is nothing to prevent one om talking like this, even if the world is administered in accordance with determinate periods.
In this case, he means, all the parts of the universe will be reabsorbed at the end of each period into the original Fire-Reason, be re they are reborn om this same Fire in the llowing period. Elsewhere, in V, 32, we get a glimpse ofthe immensity ofthe space that opens up be re the soul which "knows"-that is, which accepts Stoic doctrine:
It knows the beginning and the end, and the Reason which tra verses universal substance, and which administers the All through out eternity, in accordance with determinate periods.
We do not nd another allusion to the eternal return until XI, l , 3 . Finally, an important autobiographical theme also makes its appear ance in Book V: the opposition, which constitutes a serious personal problem r Marcus, between the court at which he is obliged to live, and philosophy, to which he would like to devote himself entirely (V, 1 6 , 2). This theme will be taken up again in Book VI (12, 2), and in Book
VIII (9).
The rst meditations of Book VI present a good example of the
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"interwoven composition" of which I have been speaking. Chapter l deals with the Stoic doctrine that explains the constitution of reality by the opposition between the matter of the world-which is docile and ready r any and all trans rmations, and in which there is there re no evil-and the "Reason which guides it," in which there is similarly no place r evil. After three very short meditations, which have no connec tion with this problem, Marcus returns (VI, 5) to the theme of the beginning: the action which the "Reason which guides" exerts upon matter. The expression "Reason which guides/governs" (dioikon logos), which is attested in VI, l and 5, is not und elsewhere in the Meditations, with the exception of a quotation om Heraclitus in IV, 46, 3 . One could say that it is as if this book's rst meditations were inspired by a reading which dealt with the goodness of that Reason which governs matter.
Some personal features also appear in Book VI. For instance, Marcus mentions (VI, 26) his own name, Antoninus, which he received after having been adopted by Antoninus Pius. He also makes a distinction within himsel as it were, between "Antoninus," the Emperor whose city is Rome, and the "man," whose city is the World (VI, 44, 6). Marcus takes up this distinction between Emperor and man again in VI, 3 0, and he advises himself not to "become Caesarized, " or let the impe rial purple rub o on the man. He then turns to the model which Antoninus Pius, his adoptive ther, had represented r him. Advising himselfto "Do everything as a disciple ofAntoninus," Marcus describes some of the qualities he admired in Antoninus, which may guide him in his way of governing and living.
Even more than Book VI, Book VII gives a number of examples of "interwoven composition. " Marcus returns to a few vorite, recurrent themes, which, although they are present in other books as well, reap pear with regularity om one end of Book VII to the other, separated om each other only by a few meditations which deal with other sub
jects. Thus, he repeats several times that we have the power to criticize and to modi the value-judgments which we apply to things (VII, 2, 2; VII, 14; VII, 16; VII, 17, 2; VII, 68); that things are subject to rapid and universal metamorphosis (VII, rn; VII, 18; VII, 19; VII, 23; VII, 25); that it is vain to seek r me and glory (VII, 6; VII, rn; VII, 21; VII, 62). Marcus also speaks of how we are to behave and the principles we must recall when someone has committed a ult against us (VII, 22; VII, 26); and nally, he exalts the excellence and the supremacy of moral li (that is to say, ofthe three disciplines), by comparison with all other qualities (VII, 52; VII, 66-67; VII, 72).
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
Chapters 3 l to 5 l are extremely interesting because they seem to have preserved r us traces ofthe notebooks Marcus wrote r himself These quotations om various authors-Democritus (VII, 3 l , 4), Plato (VII,
35; VII, 44-46), Antisthenes, and Euripides (VII, 38-42; VII, 50-51) are probably secondhand. For example, Marcus probably read the l lowing quote om Antisthenes, "To do good and yet to have a bad reputation is something which kings can expect," in the Discourses of Epictetus as recorded by Arrian (see IV, 6, 20). It was a the more likely to attract Marcus' attention in that it may have seemed to him to re ect his own experience. The quotations om Euripides, r their part, e quently appeared in collections of sayings. In another book (XI, 6), Marcus composes a brief history of the dramatic art, alluding successively to tragedy, old comedy, and new comedy. In the context of tragedy, Marcus notes that tragedians gave use l moral lessons, and he quotes the same three texts om Euripides-in which the Stoics recognized their own doctrine-which we nd in chapters 38, 40, and 41 ofBook VII:
Ifthe gods have abandoned me, as well as my children, there is a reason r that as well.
We must not become angry with things, r it is not their ult.
To harvest li like a swollen ear ofgrain; one exists; the other is no more .
"Interwoven composition" is also used quite abundantly in Book VIII; I shall give only one very typical example. Book VIII marks the reap pearance ofa theme that we have already encountered: the short, straight path which is proper to nature. Rational human nature llows its path and heads straight r its goal ifit practices the three disciplines (VIII, 7). In this book, however, the theme takes on a nuance which it did not have in the others: now Marcus speaks ofthe rectilinear movement not only of nature, but also of the intellect. Moreover, instead of describing the movement proper to the intellect on one occasion, Marcus returns to it three times in di erent chapters, and these occurrences are separated by meditations which are unrelated to this subject. He rst touches on the theme in chapter 54, where he urges himself to breathe the intellect which embraces all things as ifit were the surrounding air: r the power of the intellect, he writes, is d u sed eve where, like the air which beings breathe. Then come two chapters-55 and 56-which are unrelated to this theme. The theme reappears in chapter 57, where the movement of
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the intellect is no longer compared to that of the air, but to that of the light ofthe sun, which, says Marcus, is d u sed everywhere and extends in a straight line as it illuminates the objects it encounters, thus somehow assimilating them to itself Then come two other chapters, which deal with entirely di erent themes. In chapter 60, we return to our miliar theme: here the movement of the intellect is compared to that of an arrow. Like an arrow, the intellect moves in a straight line toward its goal when it advances prudently and takes the trouble to examine things attentively. Chapter 54 spoke only of the divine intellect in which we participate, whereas chapters 57 and 60 describe the movement of our intellect as it imitates the divine intellect. It is hard to imagine that Marcus would have thus returned three times to a very speci c theme unless he had been under the in uence of a particular reading, or at least ofa momentary preoccupation. Be that as it may, chapters 54, 57, and 60 are intimately linked to one another.
In Book VIII, the theme of universal metamorphosis takes on a very particular rm. Here, Nature has the power to use the detritus which results om its vital activity to create new beings (VIII, 50). Since it has no space outside itselfwhere it can throw this detritus, it trans rms it within itselfand makes it into its matter once again (VIII, 18). Intellectual or rational nature, r its part, trans rms the obstacles that oppose its
activity into a subject r exercises, which thereby permits it to attain its goal by using that which resists it (VIII, 7, 2; VIII, 32; VIII, 35; VIII, 41; VIII, 47; VIII, 54; VIII, 57).
We can note a few autobiographical allusions in Book VIII, such as life at court (VIII, 9) and speeches be re the Senate (VIII, 30). Figures ofthe dead who were close to Marcus are evoked: his mother (VIII, 25) and his adoptive brother (VIII, 37). Encouragements to examine his conscience, which had already occurred in Book V, reappear several times (VIII, 1-2) and are linked to the theme ofthe imminence ofdeath (VIII, i; VIII, 8; VIII, 22, 2).
Although Book IX, like Books IV, VI, VII, and VIII, is composed r the most part ofbriefsayings, it does contain ve rather long expositions, which vary in length om about thirty to rty lines, and which have either no parallels in the rest of Marcus' works, or at the very least few parallels. In IX, 1, Marcus demonstrates rigorously that the lapses one commits in the three disciplines of action, thought, and desire constitute ults ofimpiety and injustice with regard to Nature, the most venerable of deities. In IX, 3 , we nd an exposition on the theme of death: not only does Marcus expect and wait r the dissolution ofthe body, but, as
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations
in Book V, this dissolution is perceived as a liberation. When Marcus speaks of the tigue produced by discord in communal life (IX, 3 , 8) , and prays r death to come as soon as possible, we can perhaps detect an autobiographical trait; I shall return to this point later. In IX, 9, reason establishes that the higher up one rises in the hierarchy of beings, the more mutual attraction is increased. In IX, 40, the problem ofprayer is examined. Finally, in IX, 42, we nd a collection of considerations intended as a remedy r the temptation ofanger.
Book IX may also contain some rther autobiographical allusions: r example, the rapid evocation ofMarcus' childhood (IX, 21); a possible allusion to the plague which was then ravaging the Empire (IX, 2, 4) ; and above all a highly important re ection on the art of governing (IX, 29) .
Book IX also has its own peculiarities ofvocabulary. Nowhere else, r instance, does Marcus use the expression ektos aitia ("outer cause") to designate the causality ofFate and ofuniversal Nature (IX, 6; IX, 3 1).
I n the entirely di erent context o f the relations between oneself and others, Book IX is the only one to mention the paradigm of the gods, who, despite the ults ofmankind, maintain their benevolence toward humans and help them in the area of things which, to the Stoics, are indi erent and have no moral value, such as health and glory, r exam ple (IX, I I ; IX, 27) . The Emperor, too, will consequently also have to be attentive to those human desires which are not in con rmity with phi losophy.
Book IX likes to insist upon the necessity of "penetrating into the guiding principle of other people's souls, " in order to understand the motives which make them act in a certain way, and there re excuse them (IX, 18; IX, 22; IX, 27; IX, 34).
I n Book X , the number of longer expositions ( om thirty to one hundred lines) clearly increases, and we nd r fewer examples of "in terwoven composition. " One should note, however, the recurrence of the theme of a realistic vision of other people (X, 1 3 ; 1 9) . In order to
judge people in accordance with their true value, we must observe them or imagine them when they eat, sleep, make love, and relieve them selves.
When Marcus evokes the picture ofpeople whispering around a sick bed-which could be his own-we get the impression that the Emperor is sharing a con dence with us when he makes them say: "At last that schoolmaster is going to let us breathe! "
Book X is the only one to use the word theoretikon. It occurs in X, 9, 2, where the importance ofthe theoretic undations ofaction is a rmed;
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and again in X , l l , I , where Marcus exhorts himself to acquire a theoretic method, in order to practice the spiritual exercise which consists in recognizing the universal metamo hosis of all things; in other words, this exercise must be based upon solid, well-assimilated dogmas. It is also only in Book X that reason and the intellect, which take all events as od r their moral life, are compared to a healthy stomach, which assimilates to itselfallkinds of od (X, 3I, 6; X, 35, 3).
Book XI can be divided into two parts: there are the rst twenty-one chapters, and then there are the nal eighteen, which are a collection of quotations and notes jotted down in the course of Marcus' readings, comparable to the similar group which we encountered in the middle of Book VII. Why is it here? It is impossible to say. At least eight of these passages come om the Discourses of Epictetus, as collected by Arrian. The rest consists ofquotations om Homer and Hesiod, agments om the tragic poets, and other reminiscences om Marcus' readings.
In the rst part of Book XI, long expositions (of which there are urteen) are much more equent than short sayings (seven). The phe nomenon of "interwoven composition" scarcely appears, and there are few recurrent themes, with the exception ofthe theme ofthe eedom which we possess to criticize and to suspend our judgments on events and things. We nd this theme in two passages, almost identical in rm (XI, II; XI, 16, 2):
Things do not reach us, but they remain immobile outside of us.
Several ofthe longer expositions have no parallel in the rest ofMarcus' work: the detailed description of the properties of the rational soul (XI, l), r instance, or the method of division of objects and events (XI, 2); the history oftragedy and comedy (XI, 6), which I mentioned above; the
description ofthe luminous sphere ofthe soul (XI, 12), as well as that of true sincerity which one cannot help discerning immediately, like a man's bad odor (XI, 15). Finally, there is the long enumeration ofthe dogmas which can cure us ofanger (XI, 18). By its content and its rm, then, Book XI is rather di erent om the other books ofthe Meditations.
Book XII also has its characteristic expressions. "Stripped of their bark" umna ton phloi n), r instance, recurs twice in it. On the one hand, divine vision sees the guiding principles ofsouls "stripped oftheir bark" (XII, 2); on the other, we must exercise ourselves in order to be able to see the elements of those beings which have causal rce-in other words, none other than the guiding principles of souls-"stripped
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 273
oftheir bark" (XII, 8). The theme ofthe separation ofthe center ofthe soul om all its envelopes is, moreover, one of the major motifs of the Meditations. We nd it sketched as ea y as the rst chapter, where we are urged not to recognize anything but the hegemonikon, or guiding princi ple of the soul, as the sole thing of value. The theme is developed in chapter 2 (like God himsel see nothing but the hegemonikon), and in chapter 3 (separate everything reign om the intellect, the culty of thought, and the guiding principle of the soul). We nd it again in chapter 8 (see those elements which have causal valu t hat is, the guid ing principles of souls-stripped of their bark) ; in chapter r 9 (become aware ofwhat is most noble and divine within us); and nally, in chapter 3 3 , where the Emperor asks himself about the use he is making of the guiding part ofhis soul, r "Everything depends upon that. "
We have just encountered the notion of an "element having a causal value" (aitiodes). For Marcus, this concept is opposed to the notion of a material element ulikon). As we have seen, this is one ofthe ndamen tal oppositions of Stoic physics. For Marcus, however, it serves above all to rmulate a spiritual exercise which is described again and again in Book XII: it consists in the intellect or guiding part ofthe soul becoming aware of itself as a causal, guiding, determining element, so that it may distinguish and separate itself om the material element. In other words, it must separate itself not only om the body, but om everything that does not depend upon us. This is why the theme of the opposition between the "causal" and the "material" also recurs constantly in Book XII (XII, 8; XII, ro; XII, r8; XII, 29).
The preceding brief analyses-no doubt somewhat tedious-should allow the reader to impse the ct that in almost all the books of the Meditations, a characteristic vocabulary and recurrent themes can be dis covered. This leads us to suspect that each chapter rms a comparatively autonomous unity. Although it is true that there are many literal repeti tions throughout the Meditations, it is nevertheless also true that particu larities can be observed that are proper to each chapter.
The nal three chapters of Book XII, which are also those of the entire work, are concerned with death. The last chapter, which is in the rm ofa dialogue, thus seems particularly moving (XII, 36):
0 man, you have played your part as a citizen in this great City! What does it matter to you whether you have played it r ve, or r one hundred years? For that which is distributed in accordance with the law is equal r all. What is there that is terrible ifyou are
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sent away om this City, not by a tyrant or an unjustjudge, but by that Nature who had put you on stage in the rst place, as a praetor dismisses an actor he has hired?
-But I acted only three acts, and not ve!
-You are right; but in li three acts make up a complete play; r what makes the play complete is determined by He who is the cause both of constitution and of dissolution. You, by contrast, are cause neither ofthe one nor ofthe other. Leave, then, in peace; r He who dismisses you does so in peace.
It has been claimed52 that the Meditations deliberately end with the word "peace. " Perhaps; but who placed it there? Was it Marcus, resee ing his imminent death? Was it the person who edited his meditations, and removed one om its place to put it there? These words are, more over, an echo ofthe rst pages ofBook II (3, 3): "Don't die murmuring, but truly in peace, thanking the gods om the bottom ofyour heart. "
We can thus see-in an entirely hypothetical way-that some kind of order and speci c correspondences have perhaps been introduced among these eleven books (II-XII) , which are groups of meditations written on a daily basis. It could no doubt be objected that in a work in which the thought of death plays so considerable a role, it is not surprising to encounter it-whether in the rst or the last lines-without this indicat ing any kind ofstylistic composition. One might also wonder, however, why at the beginnings ofBooks III, VIII, X, and XII, we nd examina tions ofconscience which are all analogously inspired by the imminence ofdeath. They are situated in a rather privileged position, as ifthe author or editor had wanted to provide a kind ofintroduction to the llowing meditations. In these examinations, Marcus exhorts himselfto immediate conversion, r he is a aid that even be re death, his intellectual capaci ties may be weakened to the point where they no longer allow him to live a moral life. He is still r om having succeeded in becoming a philosopher, and he recognizes that, in the last analysis, what he should fear the most is not ceasing to live, but iling to begin to live (XII, r , 5) . This is the source of Marcus' melancholy question at the beginning of Book X:
0 my soul; will you ever be good and simple; one and naked; more luminous than the body which surrounds you? Will you ever be l lled, without need, neither regretting nor desiring anything . . .
Marcus Aurelius in His Meditations 275 Will you ever be happy with what 1s happening to you at the
present moment?
Generally speaking, a short saying is never placed at the beginning of a book. Books II-XII always open with a relatively lengthy exposition, which can vary om ve to thirty- ve lines. Books II and V both begin with an exercise which is to be practiced in the morning: "At dawn . . . "; "In the morning, when you have trouble getting up . . . " The compara tively long dissertations on the rational soul (XI, 1 ) and on impiety with regard to nature (IX, I) also seem to have been placed at the beginning of these books because of the importance of the subject matter with which they deal.
As I have said, the equent repetitions which can be observed in the Meditations allow us to suppose that they were composed on a day-to-day basis. The slight indications which I have just enumerated, however, perhaps allow us to glimpse some ofMarcus' habits- r instance, that of beginning a new notebook with a speci c type of exhortation. In any event, I have thought it worthwhile to point out such details in the hope that they may inspire more in-depth research.
Remembe ng the dead
As we have seen, the Meditations are dominated, om one end to the other, by the thought of death. Within the work, death appears succes sively as an imminence which may prevent Marcus om nally raising himself up to the level of the philosophical life; or as a phenomenon of nature which is no more extraordinary than any other; and nally as a liberation, which will deliver Marcus om a world where people are ignorant ofthe sole value: that ofvirtue and the moral good.
From beginning to end, the Meditations are also an exercise ofprepara tion r death, which involves, among other things, evoking mous gures of bygone times, who, in spite of their power, knowledge, and renown, died like everybody else. Just like Fran ois Villon, Marcus thus composes his Ballad the Lords Former Times. To be sure, it was too ea y r Marcus to wonder: "But where is the knight Charlemagne? "53 Yet he does mention Alexander-as well as his mule-driver-Ar chimedes, Augustus, Caesar, Chrysippus, Croesus, Democritus, Epictetus, Eudoxus, Heraclitus, Hipparchus, Hippocrates, Menippus, Philip, Pompey, Pythagoras, Socrates, Tiberius, Trajan, and all those
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who are now no more than legendary names (VIII, 2 5 , 3) or are men tioned only rarely: Caeso, Volesus, Dentatus, Scipio, and Cato. He also speaks ofpeople who are less noble, but did have their moment of me, like the mimographers Philistion, Phoebus, and Origanion (VI, 47, 1). Marcus also thinks ofthe whole crowd ofanonymous people: doctors, astrologers, philosophers, princes, and tyrants ofbygone days; as well as the people of Pompeii (IV, 48, 1 ; VIII, 1 , 2) and Herculaneum. Finally, he thinks ofall the people who lived in the time ofVespasian or Trajan: they have all been swept away by death.
Marcus also thinks ofthe people he knew during his li . His adoptive brother Lucius Verus, who reigned together with Marcus, died compara tively young. He had married Lucilla, one of Marcus' daughters; but be re this marriage, when he was staying at Antioch, he had a mistress named Pantheia. Pantheia was om Smyrna, and she was delight lly portrayed by the satirist Lucian in 163-164. She gures in two of his works: Images and the D nse ef Images. Was she really as beauti l, cultivated, good-hearted, simple, sweet, and benevolent as Lucian says? And yet, unless he was mocking her, Lucian could scarcely have made up such details as that she sang while accompanying herself on the cithara; that she spoke Ionic Greek; that she behaved modestly and simply to those who approached her; and that she knew how to laugh at Lucian's praise. What happened to Pantheia a er the marriage ofLucilla? Did she remain in the entourage ofLucius, who, ifwe can believe the gossip of the Histo a Augusta, seems not to have had any qualms about bringing back om Antioch to Rome a band of eed slaves, with whom he caroused? 54
In any event, it is rather touching to encounter the gure ofPantheia in the Meditations. This allows us to suppose that she had remained close to Lucius Verus until his death, and that she herself had died a w years a ft e r h e r l o v e r ( V I I I , 3 7 ) :
Are Pantheia and Pergamos [perhaps a male lover o fLucius Verus? ] still sitting near the ashes ofVerus?
Or Chabrias and Diotimos near those ofHadrian?
How ridiculous! [probably because they too were dead].
And even if they were still sitting there, would the dead notice them? And if the dead noticed them, would they derive pleasure om their presence? And if the dead did derive some pleasure, would those who were sitting there be immortal? Has it not been xed by Destiny that those who were sitting there should rst
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become old women and men, and nally die? What will happen to the dead, when those who had been sitting near their ashes are dead too?
This same Book VIII describes analogous situations, in which living people weep r the dead, and are themselves wept over shortly a er wards (VIII, 25): Marcus' mother Lucilla, who lost her husband Verus, and then died in turn; Secunda, the wi of Maximus, one of Marcus' friends and teachers, who died after having buried Maximus; Antoninus, Marcus' adoptive ther, who decreed the apotheosis ofhis wi Faustina, and then did not survive her r long. Marcus also evokes Caninius Celer,55 one of his rhetoric teachers, who had been secretary to the emperor Hadrian, and who had perhaps delivered the latter's neral oration. He too was dead by the time Marcus was writing. In this context we also nd a certain Diotimos, no doubt a eedman ofHadrian, and the same person whom Marcus had pictured sitting near Hadrian's neral urn in the description cited above (VIII, 37).
Elsewhere, Marcus again causes all kinds o f characters whom h e has known to come to life be re our eyes; but it is di cult r us to identi them.
It is especially in Book I that Marcus evokes the dead who had been close to him: his parents, his teachers, Antoninus Pius, his adoptive brother Lucius Verus, and the Empress Faustina.
