No More Learning

Some manuscript collections of extracts om it do bear the notice: ta kat' heauton, which could be translated: "Writing concerning Himsel " or " Private Writing. "
After the publication of the Greek text in 1 5 59, various translations, corresponding to various theories and interpretations, were given to the work. Xylander's translation, which accompanied the Greek text in 1559, proposed the title De seipso seu vita sua ("On Himself or on His Life"). In the editions of Strasburg (1590) and ofLyon (1626), the title was De vita sua ("On his life"). When Meric Casaubon published his Graeco-Latin edition in London in 1643, he preferred the title De seipso et ad seipsum ("About Himself and to Himself"); but when the English translation appeared in 1634, he had entitled it Meditations conce ing himse . Thomas Gataker, another En ish humanist of the same period, placed the llowing rmula at the beginning of his Latin translation with commentary: De rebus suis sive de eis quae ad se pertinere censebat (" On His Private A irs, or the Matters which He Thought Concerned H1"m").
Thus, the work was to receive all kinds of titles, in all sorts of lan­ guages. In Latin: De o cio vitae ("On the Duty ofLife"); Pugillaria ("Tab­ lets"); Commentaria quae ipse sibi scripsit ("Notes which He Wrote r Himself"). In French: Pensees mo les ("Moral Thoughts"); Pensees
A First Glimpse ofthe Meditations 25
("Thoughts"); A moi-meme ("To Myself"). In English: Conversations with Himse Meditations; Though ; To Himse Communings with Himse and in German, Betrachtungen uber sich selbst or mit sich selbst ("Re ections on Himself" or "with Himself"); Selbstbetrachtungen ("Re ections on Him­ self"); Wege zu sich selbst ("Paths toward Himself").
Hypotheses on the work's literary genre
Many historians and readers of the Meditations did not understand, and still do not understand, what Marcus Aurelius' intentions were in writing them down. Consequently, they have projected back upon him, in a totally anachronistic way, the prejudices and literary habits of their own time. The rst editor, "Xylander" (Holzmann), noting that the text he was publishing lacked the ne structure of a dialogue by Plato or a treatise by Cicero, had already co ectured that the Meditations, in the state in which they existed in the manuscript he was editing, were only loose extracts om the works ofMarcus Aurelius, and that the Emperor's book had come down to us mutilated, incomplete, and in utter disor­ der. 16 It seemed to him inconceivable that Marcus could have left these obscure, disorderly texts to posteri , since in this period the systematic treatise was considered the perfect rm ofphilosophical production.
Meric Casaubon, who translated Marcus Aurelius into English and Latin in the seventeenth century (1634 and 1643 respectively), seems to have been much better in rmed about the variety of literary genres in antiquity. In the Pre ce to his Latin translation, he reminds his readers that there then existed the literary genre of the aphorism-used, r example, by Theognis and Phocylides-which consisted in expressing one's thoughts in the rm of short sayings; he added that Epictetus' Manual, as composed by Arrian, was presented entirely in this way. Moreover, he adds, ifone is able to discern the real unities that make up the text, one be better able to understand both the ow of ideas within each passage and the themes which often recur throughout the work.
Besides, Casaubon went on, we must not rget that Marcus was writing r himsel and was not seeking clarity, as an author would who was addressing himselfto the public. This gives Casaubon17 the opportu­ nity to criticize the custom that had arisen in his time ofquoting Marcus' work by the title De vita sua ("On His Life"). True, he writes, some emperors-such as Augustus-did write books about their lives; but their subject was the acts and events of their public and private lives.
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With Marcus this is not the case; rather, as the Souda indicated, what we have is a writing dealing with "the rule of his own li . " Some editors had expressed this idea by means of the title De cio suo ("On His Duty"); but this did not render the speci city ofthe title Eis heauton, which, in order to be rendered with exactitude, must be translated as De seipso et ad seipsum ("About Himselfand to Himself"). Thus, the work is a dialogue Marcus had with himself and about himself Casaubon here reminds the reader that Solon was supposed to have written some "In­ structions r Himself" (hypothekas eis heauton); above all, he reminds the reader that, r the Platonists and the Stoics, the "self" was the soul or the spirit.
Thomas Gataker de nes the speci c character ofthe work even more precisely. He opposes the Discourses of Epictetus-transmitted to us by his disciple Arrian, who was thus their editor, just as the Evangelists were in the case of Christ-to the writings of Marcus, which emanated om his own notes. Gataker uses the word adversaria, meaning "that which is always in ont of one," or "the rough draft which one always has handy. " The Emperor's mind, says Gataker, was always devoted to philosophical occupations, and he developed the habit ofwriting down the thoughts that came to him in the course of his meditations, without feeling compelled to put them into any kind of order. They were ar­ ranged solely in accordance with the places and times in which he had either composed them himsel or encountered them in the course ofhis readings and conversations. This is shown, moreover, by such remarks as "In the Land ofthe Quades" and "At Carnutum," placed at the begin­ ning of Books II and III. This resulted in some inconsistencies and repetitions, and a style that is o en elliptical or abrupt: su cient to allow the Emperor to recall such-and-such an idea, but liable to lead to a great deal ofobscurity. These were notes intended r Marcus' personal use. 18
As early as the beginning of the seventeenth century, however, the philologist Caspar Barth,19 writing in 1624, emphasized that traces of organization, and sometimes even long chains of reasoning, could be und in Marcus' writings. Barth thus returned to the theory of Xylan­ der, according to which the text, in the state in which it had been preserved, represented mere extracts (eclogai) taken om a vast systematic treatise on ethics which the Emperor was supposed to have composed.
In the eighteenth century, an analogous opinion was set rth by Jean-Pierre de Joly, who edited and translated the Meditations in 1 742 and again in l773. Marcus, saidJoly, had composed a systematic treatise on ethics, written on tablets which were dispersed after his death; an editor
A First Glimpse ofthe Meditations
then published them in their state of disorder. The task of the modern editor, then, was to rediscover the systematic order of the treatise; and this is what Joly attempted to do by publishing a systematic presentation of the Meditations, divided into thirty- ve sections. 20
In the twentieth century, A. S. L. Farquharson published, in I 944, an edition, English translation, and commentary on Marcus' text which was remarkable in every respect. He took up the hypothesis ofBarth andJoly om another angle: r a period of ten to fteen years, he thought, Marcus had accumulated materials of every variety with a view to the composition of "a work of consolation and of encouragement. " Indeed, certain meditations do show signs of highly conscientious literary com­ position. After the Emperor's death, it was perhaps a secretary who made a choice om among these notes. Their present disorder could be the result either of the ct that the secretary le them as they were, or that he introduced into them an order which does not satis us, or the ct that the text has been mutilated or disorganized by scribes through the course of the years. In any event, Marcus' intention was to write a handbook of use l advice r the philosophical li . In Farquharson's view, Marcus' Meditations can be compared to the Meditations of Guigues of Chartres, the well-known Rel io Medici of Thomas Browne, and above all the Pensees ofPascal. 21
The apparent lack of order of the Meditations did not disturb nine­ teenth-century readers at . In the century of Romanticism, it was thought that the work was the Emperor's own "journal intime. " "It is probable, " wrote Renan,22 " that Marcus kept a private diary of his inner states starting om an early age. In it, he would inscribe in Greek the maxims to which he had recourse in order to rti himself, reminis­ cences om his vorite authors, passages om those moralists who most impressed him, the principles which had sustained him throughout the day, and sometimes the reproaches which his scrupulous conscience thought it had to address to itself " I should state right away that, if we understand by "dia " notes which one writes r oneself and which accumulate day after day, then we can indeed say, with G. Misch in his Histo Autobiography,23 that the Emperor did write a "diary," or, in the words ofP. Brunt24 in his excellent study entitled "Marcus Aurelius in his Meditations," a "spiritual diary. " I however, we understand by "diary" a writing to which one consigns the outpourings of one's heart and spiri­ tual states, then the Meditations are not a "diary," and the ct that Marcus Aurelius wrote his Meditations does not allow us, as Renan claimed, to know whether or not the Emperor had an uneasy soul. Renan was too
28 THE INNER CITADEL
much inclined to imagine the philosopher-emperor as a kind ofAmiel or Maurice de Guerin, expressing their worries and su erings every day. Following Renan, twentieth-century historians have taken pleasure in the image of Marcus nding consolation om reality by exhaling his resignation, pessimism, or resentment into his Meditations.
A strange work
We must try to imagine the state in which the rst humanists discovered the manuscript containing the copy of Marcus Aurelius' book. They were ced with a work without a title, which began with a list of the examples or advice which Marcus had received om his parents, his teachers, his iends, and om the emperor Antoninus Pius, as well as a list of the vors which the gods had accorded to him. After this enu­ meration-in the manuscript, at any rate, which was used r the estab­ lishment of the editio princeps-one could read a note which was both geographical and chronological in nature: "Written in the land of the Quades, on the banks of the Gran. " Then there came a series of re ec­ tions, several pages long, which sometimes contained divisions, marked by a paragraph and by capital letters, which do not always correspond to our modern-day division ofthe work into chapters. At the beginning of what we now call chapter III, we nd the llowing indication: "Written in Carnutum. " The re ections then begin again, and continue until the end ofthe work. In the Vaticanus, the books are not numbered: the most this manuscript contains is a two-line separation between what are today Books I and II; between today's Books II and III; between today's Book IV and Book V; between today's Book VIII and Book IX; and a dividing mark between today's Book XI and Book XII. This means that the divisions between Books III and IV; V and VI; VI and VII; VII and VIII; and IX and X are not indicated.
Who is responsible r remarks like "in the land ofthe Quades" or "in Carnutum? " Was it Marcus himsel who wanted to remind himself of the circumstances in which a speci c group of notes had been written? Or was it some secretary responsible r preserving the Emperor's docu­ ments, who added a kind oftag to the package that had been entrusted to him? The rst hypothesis is the more likely; but if so it is, I believe, something unique in the entire history of ancient literature, and well suited to show to what extent we are dealing with writings recorded day by day and linked, not perhaps to precise circumstances, but to the variations in the spiritual state of their author. Did such geographical
A First Glimpse ofthe Meditations 29
indications exist among the other books, and did they then become lost? Or was the greater part ofthe book written at Carnutum? Was it Marcus himselfwho gave up supplying such indications? We do not know. Did the twelve books which we distinguish today correspond to twelve groups which represented, in the view of their author, sequences of thoughts having their own unity and di erent om one another? Or was this division purely accidental, due, r instance, to the rm and dimen­ sions of the physical materials of Marcus' writing? Again, were the books separated by an editor, either just after Marcus' death, or by Arethas, when he produced an edition ofthe text in the tenth century? We have seen that the breaks between books, at any rate in the Vaticanus, were intly marked, if not nonexistent.
The contents of the work are rather disconcerting as well. After Book I, which presents an undeniable unity in its evocation of those, gods and men, to whom Marcus is expressing his gratitude, the rest ofthe work is nothing but a completely incoherent series-at least in appear­ ance-of re ections which are not even composed in accordance with the rules of the same litera genre. We encounter many very short sentences, often quite striking and well written, r example:
Soon you will have rgotten everything, and soon everyone will have rgotten you (VII, 21).
Everything is ephemeral, that which remembers and that which is remembered (IV, 3 5) .
The best way to get even with them is not to resemble them (VI, 6).
Alongside these short rmulas, we nd a certain number of longer developments, which vary in length om twenty to sixty lines; they may have the rm of a dialogue with a ctitious interlocutor, or of one that Marcus carries out with himself In them, Marcus exhorts himself to llow a speci c moral attitude, or else he discusses certain general philo­ sophical problems: if souls survive after death, r instance, where can they be located (IV, 21)? In most ofthese passages, whether they are long or short, Marcus' individuality can scarcely be discerned; most of the time, we have to do with exhortations addressed to a moral person. We also nd, however, some passages in which Marcus speaks to himselfas an Emperor (VI, 30, 1; VI, 44, 6); or in which he speaks ofhis attitude toward li at court (V, 16, 2; VI, 12; VIII, 9); about the way he must
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express himselfin the Senate (VIII, 30); about his ults (V, 5, l); or about his entourage (X, 36). He also evokes the people he has known in his life (VIII, 37, l; X, 3l, 1), in imaginatory exercises in the course ofwhich, in order to prepare himself r death, he represents to himselfthe agility of all things human, and the continuity of the processes of metamorphosis, which will not spare anyone in his entourage.
In addition to these various litera rms, we must also add two collections of quotations in Books VII (p-51) and XI (22-39). Bor­ rowed om the tragedians, Plato, and Epictetus, they have obviously been chosen r their moral ef cacy.
How, then, are we to de ne this work, which, by its multiple aspects and unusual tone, seems to be the only example of its genre in all of antiquity?
The Meditations as personal notes (hypomnemata)
It's time to stop rambling. You will no longer reread the notes ypomnematia) that you had taken, the great deeds of the ancient Greeks and the Romans, or the extracts om the works you had
been putting aside until your old age (III, 14).
Here we can catch a glimpse ofthe intellectual activity to which Marcus devoted himselfall his life. Already in his youth, when still the student of Fronto, he assiduously copied out extracts om Latin authors. 25 He must later have gone to the trouble ofmaking up " r his old age" an anthol­ ogy of edi ing quotations, of which we can discover traces in some pages of the Meditations. He had also put together a historical collection: "the great deeds ofthe ancient Greeks and Romans. " Finally, Marcus also speaks of his "personal notes, " using the diminutive word hypomne­ matia. It has often been suggested that these notes should be identi ed with the Meditations. 26 It is extremely di cult to give a de nitive judg­ ment on this point; nevertheless, with the help of other ancient parallels, we can at any rate imagine the way in which the Meditations were composed.
In the rst place, it seems that, as he wrote the Meditations, Marcus decided to change completely the nality of his literary activity. In Books II and III, we nd numerous allusions both to the imminence of death weighing upon Marcus, who was then engaged in the military campaigns of the Danube, and to the urgency of the total conversion he
A First Glimpse of the Meditations 3 1 felt he was about to undergo, and the change in his literary activity which
would be a necessary result of this:
Leave your books alone. Don't let yourselfbe distracted any longer; youcan'tallowyourselfthatanymore (II, 2, 2).
Throw away your thirst r reading, so that when you die, you will not be grumbling, but will be in true serenity, thanking the gods om the bottom ofyour heart (II, 3, 3).
Marcus is no longer t o disperse himself by gathering extracts om authors in the course of his readings, r he no longer has time to read. He is no longer, out of intellectual curiosity or speculative interest, to write great quantities of "note-cards, " as we would call them nowadays: rather, he is to write only in order to in uence himsel and concentrate on the essential principles (II, 3, 3):
Let these thoughts be enough, if they are life-principles (dogmata) r you.
Marcus, then, is to keep on writing. From now on, however, he will write only e cacious thoughts: that is, those which totally trans rm his way ofliving.
As he wrote these texts, which were to become our Meditations, Mar­ cus no doubt used these "note-cards" which he was a aid he would no longer have the time to reread; just as he no doubt had recourse to his co ections of extracts in order to take om them the quotations om authors which he reproduced in several books ofthe Meditations.
Formally, then, Marcus' literary activity did not change. He continued to write down r himself all kinds of notes and re ections ypomne­ mata); but the nality of these intellectual exercises had become com­ pletely modi ed. From the point ofview ofthe imminence ofdeath, one ' thing counts, and one alone: to strive always to have the essential rules of life present in one's mind, and to keep placing oneselfin the ndamental disposition of the philosopher, which consists essentially in controlling one's inner discourse, in doing only that which is of bene t to the human community, and in accepting the events brought to us by the course ofthe Nature ofthe .
Thus, the Meditations belong to that type ofwriting called hypomnemata in antiquity, which we could de ne as "personal notes taken on a day-to-
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day basis. " This was a very widespread practice, and on this point we have the remarkable testimony ofPamphila, a married woman who lived at the time of Nero in the rst century A. D. , who had published her hypomnemata. In the introduction she had placed at the beginning ofthis collection-now un rtunately lost-she tells the reader that, during the course ofthirteen years ofmarried li , which "was not interrupted r a day nor even r an hour," she noted down what she learned om her husband, om visitors who came to the house, and om the books she read. "I wrote them down," she said, "in the rm ofnotes (hypomne­ mata), in no special order, and without sorting them out and distinguish­ ing them according to their subject matter. Rather, I wrote them down at random, in the order in which each matter presented itselfto me. " She could, she adds, have ordered them by subject matter with a view to their publication, but she und variety and the absence of a plan more pleas­ ant and more grace l. that she wrote under her own name was an overall introduction and, apparently, a few transitional passages. The notes she had gathered together dealt with the lives of philosophers, history, rhetoric, and poetry. 27
In the llowing century, the Latin author Aulus Gellius also published his personal notes, under the title ofAttic N hts. In his pre ce, he writes: "Whether I was reading a Greek or a Latin book, or whether I had heard someone say something worthy of being remembered, I jotted down what interested me, of whatever kind it was, without any order, and I then set it aside, in order to support my memory [this is the etymological meaning ofhypomnemata]". The book he is now o ering to the public, he adds, will preserve the same variety and disorder as his notes. 28
At the beginning ofhis treatise On the T nquillity the Soul, Plutarch explains to the work's addressee that, since he was in a hurry to hand over his manuscript to the mail-courier who was just about to leave r Rome, he had not had the time to put together a well-written treatise, but had merely communicated to him the notes (hypomnemata) that he had gathered together on this theme. 29
It is probable that many educated people-and especially philoso­ phers-were in the habit of making such collections of all kinds of notes r their personal use: both in order to in rm themselves, and also in order to rm themselves; that is, to ensure their spiritual progress. It was no doubt with this goal in mind that Plutarch had put together his collection on the tranquillity ofthe soul.
This, then, is the genre of writings among which we should place the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. It is important to emphasize, however,
A First Glimpse ofthe Meditations 33
that in his case, most of these notes were exhortations to himsel or a dialogue with himsel usually composed with the utmost care.
Inner dialogue gave rise to a highly particular literary genre, ofwhich we know only one written and published example: the Soliloquies of Augustine. For him the writer's ego is no longer situated-as is o en the case with Marcus-at the level of Reason, exhorting the soul. Rather, Augustine's ego takes the place ofthe soul listening to Reason:
For a long time, I had being going over a thousand thoughts in my mind; indeed, r many days I had been ardently searching r myself and my good, and r that evil which I had to avoid, when suddenly I was told (was it I who was speaking, or someone, either outside me or within me, I do not know; that is precisely what I am trying with all my strength to nd out) ; at any rate, I was told. . . .
What the voice tells Augustine is that he must write down what it is going to make known to him. He himselfis to write, not dictate, r it is not tting to dictate things so intimate: they demand absolute solitude. 30
Let us pause r a moment and consider this extremely interesting remark. Throughout antiquity, authors either wrote themselves, or else they dictated their works. For instance, we know om Po hyry that Plotinus wrote his treatises by hand. 31 There were many drawbacks to dictation, as was pointed out by that great user of secretaries, St. Jerome: "It is one thing to twirl one's pen around in its ink several times be re one writes, and thus to write only that which is worthy ofbeing retained; but it is another to dictate to a secretary everything that comes into one's head, r fear of lling silent, because the secretary is waiting. "32 Augustine, however, allows us to glimpse a wholly other point ofview: it is only in the presence of ourselves, he implies, that we can re ect upon that which is most intimate to us. The presence of another, to whom one speaks or dictates, instead ofspeaking to onesel makes inner discourse in some way banal and impersonal. This, in all probability, is
why Marcus too wrote his Meditations in his own hand, as he also did in the case ofthe letters he wrote to his friends. 33
Tiziano Dorandi34 has recently drawn attention to the variety ofstages leading to the completion of a literary work in antiquity. As a rst stage, the author might compose rough drafts, written on tablets ofwax or of wood. Alternatively, he might, either at the outset or a er this stage, compose a provisional version ofhis work. Then, in the third stage, came the de nitive revision of the work, which was indispensable be re its
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nal publication. Now, Marcus was clearly writing only r himself, and we must imagine that he probably never envisaged this third stage. our evidence points to the conclusion that Marcus, as he wrote down his thoughts om day to day, always remained at the rst stage. He probably used tablets ugillares), or some other medium use l r handwritten notes, such as leaves (schedae). 35 At what point was this material copied and corrected by a scribe? Possibly during Marcus' lifetime, r his own personal use. It is also possible, however, and perhaps more probable, that it was after his death; and on this hypothesis we may imagine, without having recourse to the destruction postulated by Joly,36 that the tablets or leaves may not have been copied down in the precise order in which they were written. It is perhaps not irrelevant in this context that our Book I, which was in all probability written later and independently om the others, was placed at the beginning ofthe collection. Neverthe­ less, the essential part seems to be in order. Each book is characterized, at least in part, by a specialized vocabulary and by its emphasis on certain themes; this allows us to suppose that each book has its own unity, and was written during a period when the Emperor's attention was concen­ trated on a speci c question.
Obviously, it is di cult, and even impossible, to obtain a clear idea of what really happened. We must, it would seem, be content with three certainties: rst of all, the Emperor wrotefor himse . 37 Second, he wrote day by day, without attempting to write a uni ed work, destined r the public. This is to say that his works remained in the state of hypomnemata or personal notes, perhaps written on a "mobile" kind ofmedium like tablets. In the third place, Marcus took the trouble to write down his thoughts, aphorisms, and re ections in a highly r ned litera form, since it was precisely the perfection of the rmulas which could ensure their psychological e cacy and persuasive rce.
These characteristics su ce to distinguish the personal notes ofMar­ cus Aurelius om those of Pamphila or of Aulus Gellius, or even om the "note-cards" assembled by Plutarch in order to compose his treatise on the tranquillity of the soul-as well as om the notes taken by Arrian at the classes of Epictetus. It seems, in ct, that unlike these other hypomnemata, the Meditations ofMarcus Aurelius were spiritual exercises, practiced in accordance with a speci c method. We must now explore what this means.
3
THE MEDITATIONS AS SPIRITUAL EXERCISES
"Theory" and "practice"
The Meditations have only one theme: philosophy. We can see this om passages such as the llowing:
What is it that can escort you in order to protect you in this life? Only one thing: philosophy. It consists in keeping your inner god ee om pollution and om damage (II, 1 7 , 3 ) .
Be care l of becoming "caesarized" . . . Keep yourself simple, good, pure, grave, natural, a iend ofjustice. Revere the gods, be benevolent, a ectionate, and rm in accomplishing your duties. Fight in order to remain as philosophy has wished you to be (VI, 3 0, r-3).
For the ancients m general, but particularly r the Stoics and r Marcus Aurelius, philosophy was, above all, a way oflife. This is why the Meditations strive, by means of an ever-renewed e ort, to describe this way of life and to sketch the model that one must have constantly in view: that of the ideal good man. Ordinary people are content to think in any old way, to act haphazardly, and to undergo grudgin y whatever be s them. The good man, however, will try, inso r as he is able, to act
justly in the service of other people, to accept serenely those events which do not depend on him, and to think with rectitude and veracity (VII, 54):
Always and everywhere, it depends o n you piously to b e satis ed with the present conjunction of events,
36
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to conduct yourselfjustly toward whatever other people are pre­ sent, and
to apply the rules of discernment to the inner representation you are having now, so that nothing which is. not objective may in l­ trate its way into you.
Many of the Meditations present these three rules of life-or one or another ofthem-in a variety of rms. But these practical rules manifest a global attitude, a vision of the world, and a ndamental inner choice, which is expressed in a " discourse, " or in universal rmulas which Marcus, llowing Epictetus,1 calls dogmata (Marcus Aurelius II, 3 , 3 ; III, I 3, I; IV, 49, 6). A dogma is a universal principle which unds and
justi es a speci c practical conduct, and which can be rmulated in one or in several propositions. Our word "dogma" has, moreover, retained something ofthis meaning, r instance in Victor Hugo: "Liberty, Equal­ ity, Fraternity: these are dogmas of peace and of harmony. Why should we make them seem ightening? "2
In addition to the three rules ofli , then, the Meditations rmulate, in every possible way, those dogmas which express, in discursive rm, the indivisible inner disposition that mani sts itself in the three rules of action.
Marcus himself ves us good examples of the relationship between general principles and rules of life . We have seen that one of the rules of life he proposes consists in consenting with serenity to events willed by Destiny, which do not depend on us. But he also exhorts himse in the llowing terms (IV, 49, 6) :
On the occasion ofeverything that causes you sadness, remember to use this "dogma": not only is this not a mis rtune, but it is a piece ofgood rtune r you to bear up under it courageously.
This dogma is deduced om the ndamental dogma of Stoicism, which is the undation r a Stoic behavior: only moral good, or virtue, is a good, and only moral evil, or vice, is an evil. 3 Marcus rmu­ lates this explicitly elsewhere (VIII, I , 6):
What does happiness consist of? It consists ofdoing that which the nature of mankind desires. How shall we do this? By possessing those dogmas which are the principles of impulses and of action. Which dogmas? Those which pertain to the distinction ofwhat is
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises 3 7
good om what is bad: there is no good r mankind but that which renders him just, temperate, courageous and ee, and there is no evil r mankind, except that which brings about in him the con­ trary vices.
Marcus also employs the word theorema to designate the "dogmas," inasmuch as every art entails principles, and consequently so too does that art of living called philosophy (XI , 5 ) :
What art do you practice? That of being good. How can you practice this except by starting out om theorems, some ofwhich concern the Nature of the , and others of which deal with the constitution proper to mankind?
Dogmas, as Marcus says (VII, 2), run the risk ofdying out, ifone does not constantly reignite those inner images, or phantasiai, which make them present to us.
Thus, we can say that the Meditations-with the exception of Book I-are wholly made up of the repeated, ever-renewed rmulation of the three rules of action which we have just seen, and of the various dogmas which are their undation.
Do as and their rmulation
These dogmas, or undational and ndamental rules, were the subject ofdemonstrations within the Stoic schools.
Marcus learned such demon­ strations om his Stoic teachers Junius Rusticus, Apollonius, and Sextus, to whom he renders homage in the rst book ofthe Meditations. Above , he read about them in the Discourses of Epictetus as collected by Arrian. In his Meditations, Marcus mentions "the large number ofproofs by which it is demonstrated that the world is like a City," or else the teachings he has received on the subject of pleasure and pain, and to which he has given his assent (IV, 3 , 5, 6) .
With the aid ofthese demonstrations, the dogmas imposed themselves upon Marcus with absolute certainty, and he usually restricts himself to rmulating them in the rm of a simple proposition, as he does in Book II, r , 3 . The nature of the good, he says there, is moral good (to kalon); while that of evil is moral evil (to aischron). This condensed rm is su cient to evoke the theoretical demonstration ofwhich they were the subject, and it allows the inner disposition which was a result ofhis clear
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view o f these principles-that is, the resolution to do good-to b e re­ awakened within his soul. To repeat the dogmas to onesel or write them down r onesel is "to retreat," as Marcus says (IV, 3, 1), "not to the countryside, the seashore, or the mountains, " but within oneself It is there that one can nd the rmulas "which shall renew us. " "Let them be concise and essential," Marcus continues, in order that their e cacy be complete. This is why, in order to be ready to apply the three rules of action, Marcus sometimes gathers together a series of chapter-heads ephalaia), extremely briefin rm, which constitute an enumeration of points which, by their very accumulation, can increase their psychic e cacy (II, 1; IV, 3; IV, 26; VII, 22, 2; VIII, 21, 2; XI, 18; XII, 7; XII, 8; XII, 26). I cannot quote these lists in their entirety, but I shall take one example (XII, 26) in which eight kephalaia, or ndamental points, pro­ vide a group ofresources with a view to the practice ofthat rule ofaction which prescribes that we must serenely accept that which happens to us, but does not depend on our will:
Ifyou are annoyed at something, it is because you have rgotten: (1) that everything happens in accordance with universal Nature; (2) that whatever ult was committed is not your concern;
(3) and, moreover, that everything that happens has always hap­
pened thus and will always happen thus, and is, at this very mo­ ment, happening thus everywhere;
(4)how close is the relationship between man and the whole human race: r this is no community ofblood or ofseed, but ofthe intellect.
You have also rgotten:
(s)that the intellect of each person is God, and that it has owed down here om above;
(6) and that nothing belongs to any of us in the strict sense, but that our child, our body and our soul come om above;
(7)and that everything is ajudgment-value;
(8) and the only thing each ofus lives and loses is the present.
the points presented here in the rm of a laconic aide-memoire, which does nothing but evoke demonstrations with which Marcus is miliar om elsewhere, can be und separated om one another throughout the Meditations: they are repeated, ruminated upon; but also explained and sometimes demonstrated. If we assemble these series of kephalaia (II, 1; IV, 3; IV, 26; VII, 22, 2; VIII, 21, 2; XI, 18; XII, 7; XII,
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises 39
8; XII, 26) we can thus discover almost all the themes announced or developed in the Meditations. By connecting them to the most nda­ mental dogmas of Stoicism, we can present, in a structured rm, the whole ensemble of doctrines which constitute the essential core of the Meditations.
From the absolutely primary principle according to which the only good is moral good and the only evil is moral evil (II, 1, 3), it llows that neither pleasure nor pain are evils (IV, 3, 6; XII, 8); that the only thing shame l is moral evil (II, 1, 3); that ults committed against us cannot touch us (II, 1, 3; XII, 26); that he who commits a ult hurts only himself (IV, 26, 3); and that the ult cannot be und elsewhere than within oneself(VII, 29, 7; XII, 26). It rther llows that I can su er no harm whatsoever om the actions ofanyone else (II, 1, 3; VII, 22, 2).
From the general principles
1 . only that which depends on us can be either good or evil; and
2. ourjudgment and our assent depend on us (XII, 22),
it llows that the only evil or trouble there can be r us resides in our own judgment; that is to say, in the way we represent things to ourselves (IV, 3, 10; XI, 18, I I); and that people are the authors of their own problems (IV, 26, 2; XII, 8). Everything, there re, is a matter ofjudg­ ment (XII, 8; XII, 22; XII, 26). The intellect is independent ofthe body (IV, 3 , 6) , and things do not come inside us in order to trouble us (IV, 3 , 10). If everything is a matter ofjudgment, every ult is in ct a false
judgment, and proceeds om ignorance (II, 1, 2; IV, 3, 4; XI, 18, 4-5).
I n the enumeration of kephalaia in Book XI (XI , 1 8 , 2) , Marcus tells
himsel
Go higher up still, starting om the principle that if we reject atoms, it must be Nature which governs the All.
In the list in Book IV, he says:
Remember the disjunction: either providence or atoms.
These brief mentions of a principle, which it is assumed is known, allow us to glimpse that Marcus is here again alluding to teachings he has received, which placed ce to ce the Epicurean position (atoms) and the Stoic position (Nature and providence) , to conclude in vor of the
40 THE INNER CITADEL
latter. I shall return to this point. For the moment, suf ce it to say that om the dogma that a rms a unity and rationality of the world, many consequences may be drawn, to which Marcus alludes in his series of kephalaia. Everything comes om universal Nature and in con rmity with the will of universal Nature (XII, 26)-even the malevolence of mankind (XI, 18, 24), which is a necessa consequence of the gi of liberty. Everything occurs in con rmity with Destiny (IV, 26, 4) : thus, it is in con rmity with the order of the universe that all things undergo continuous metamorphosis (IV, 3 , I I ; XII, 21), but are also ceaselessly repeated (XII, 26), and that we must die (IV, 3, 4; XI, 18, rn). Universal Reason gives rm and energy to matter that is docile, but without strength; this is why we must always and everywhere distinguish the causal (reason) and the material (XII, 8; XII, 18). It is om universal Reason that comes that reason which is common to all mankind and assures its relatedness, which is not a community of blood or of seed (II, 1, 3; XII, 26). This is why people are made r one another (II, 1, 4; IV, 3, 4; XI, 18, 1-2).
One last series ofkephalaia can be grouped around the grandiose vision of the immensity of universal Nature, and the in nity of space and of time (IV, 3, 7; XII, 7). From this perspective, the whole oflife seems to be ofminuscule duration (VIII, 21, 2; IV, 26, 5; XII, 7); the instant seems in nitesimal (II, 14, 3; XII, 26); the earth seems like a point (IV, 3, 8; VIII, 21, 2); current me and posthumous glory seem completely vain (IV, 3, 8; VIII, 21, 3; XII, 21; IV, 3, 7), all the more so since they can only be obtained om people who contradict themselves and each other (IV, 3, 8; VII, 21, 3), and whom one cannot respect, ifone sees them as they really are (XI, 18, 3).
All these "dogmas" can, then, be deduced om more ndamental dogmas. Yet they all become crystallized around the three rules or disci­ plines ofli , which we have distinguished. The discipline ofthought, r example, obviously presupposes the dogmas which concern eedom of
judgment; the discipline of action presupposes those which a rm the existence of a community of reasonable beings; and the discipline of consent to events presupposes the dogma ofthe providence and rational­ ity of the universe. We can glimpse a similar grouping in IV, 3 .
Lists of kephalaia or ndamental points: such is the rst mode of rmulation of dogmas in the Meditations. Yet these ndamental points are also taken up by themselves and equently repeated throughout the course of the work. Thus the invitation, rmulated in one of the series of kephalaia (XII, 8), to discern what is causal in each thing, is repeated
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises 41
eight times in isolated rm, without any commentary or explanation, in the body ofthe Meditations (IV, 21, 5; VII, 29, 5; VIII, u ; IX, 25; IX, 37; XII, rn; XII, 18; XII, 29). Likewise, the a rmation " isjudgment," which gures in two lists of kephalaia (XII , 8 and XII , 26) is und twice by itself, either without commentary or accompanied by a very brief explanation (II, 15; XII, 22). Above , the dogma according to which our troubles come only om our judgments, and that things do not penetrate within us (IV, 3, 1o), recurs eighteen times in the course ofthe Meditations, sometimes repeated almost word r word, and sometimes in slightly di erent rm (V, 19; VI, 52; VII, 2; VIII, 47; IX, 13; IX, 15; XI, 11; XI, 16; XII, 22; XII, 25; IV, 7; IV, 39, 2; V, 2; VII, 14; VII, 16; VIII, 29; VIII, 40; VIII, 49).
Let us now consider another theme which we have encountered in the series ofkephalaia: that ofthe eternal repetition ofall things both in universal Nature and in human history (XII, 26, 3). This, too, is a point which is dear to Marcus, and which he goes over inde tigably. It does not matter, he writes, whether one attends the spectacle ofthe world r a short or a long time, since the totality ofbeing is present at each instant and in each thing. All things are thus homoeideis; that is, they have the same content, and there re repeat themselves in nitely.
From all eternity, all things have identical contents, and pass through the same cycles (II, 14, 1).
Everything is ofthe same kind, and ofidentical contents (VI, 37). From all eternity, all things are produced with identical contents,
and r in nity there will be other things of this kind (IX, 3 5) .
In a sense, a man of rty-if he is not devoid of intelligence-has seen all that has been and all that shall be, once he recognizes that all things have identical contents (XI, 1, 3).
It would be tedious to cite other examples ofthe many repetitions which one nds all throughout the work. It su ces to note that most of the Meditations take up again-o en in a highly elaborate and striking rm-these various kephalaia and dogmas, the list ofwhich Marcus gives us several times in the course ofhis work.
It is, however, not enough to "retreat, " returning equently to these dogmas to reorient one's actions; after all, in the art ofliving, we must do
42 THE INNER CITADEL
nothing which is not m con rmity "with the theorems of the art" (IV, 2). Rather, we must often return to their theoretical undations. Marcus clearly explains this need, in a passage which has been misunder­ stood by many interpreters (X, 9). Within it, we must distinguish two di erent lines of thought. The rst is a concentrated and brutal descrip­ tion ofthe unhappiness ofthe human condition, when it is not guided by
reason:
Bu oonery and bloody struggles; torpor and agitation; the slavery ofevery day! 4
Then there comes another thought, completely independent om the rst, which has to do with the importance oftheory:
All your ne sacred dogmas, which you think without unding them on a science ofNature, and then abandon: they will disappear rapidly. From now on, you must see and practice everything, so that that which is required by the present circumstances is accomplished, but, at the same time, the theoretical undation ofyour actions is always present in an e cacious way, and that you always maintain within yourself-latent, but not buried-that self-con dence which is procured by science, applied to each particular case.
We must, then, not only act in con rmity with the theorems of the art ofliving and the ndamental dogmas, but also keep present to our consciousness the theoretical undations which justi them. This is what Marcus means by the "science of Nature," because, in the nal analysis, all oflife's principles merge in the knowledge ofNature. 5 With­ out this, the rmulations of dogmas will become devoid of sense, no matter how often they are repeated.
This is why Marcus uses a third method of rmulating dogmas. Here the technique involves reconstructing the arguments used to justi them, or even re ecting upon the di culties to which they may give rise. For instance, Marcus alludes, without citing them, to all the proo which demonstrate that the world is like a City (IV, 3 , 5 ) ; and this rmula entailed a quite speci c attitude vis-a-vis events and other peo­ ple. Elsewhere, however, he bases this rmula on a complex series of rationalizations, and we can summarize the sorites he constructs as l­ lows: a city is a group ofbeings subject to the same laws. Now, the world is a group ofbeings subject to the same laws: the law ofReason. There-
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises 43
re, the world is a City (IV, 4). This reasoning was traditional in Stoi­ cism; traces of it can be und, r example, in Cicero. 6 Yet elsewhere, Marcus remarks that we must imbibe our spirit with the help of reason­ ing-that is, the linkages between representations (V, 16, l)-and he proposes rther demonstrations, one of which also has the rm of a sorites.
This theoretical work does not, however, consist solely in reproducing a simple series ofreasonings. It may take on several rms: either that of literary or rhetorical-sounding developments, or ofmore technical dis­ cussions concerning aporiai. The dogma according to which "Everything happens in con rmity with universal Nature" (XII, 26, l), r instance, i s presented i n what one might call a highly orchestrated manner i n V, 8 , as well as in VII, 9:
things are linked together mutually, and their linkage is sacred. Nothing, so to speak, is reign to anything else, r everything is coordinated and everything contributes to the order of one single world. One single world is the result of all things, and one single God penetrates throughout them all; there is one single substance, and one sin e law which is the Reason common to all intelligent beings; there is one truth.
This theme of the unity of the world, based on the unity of its origin, is often repeated in analogous terms (VI, 38; XII, 29); but it is also discussed critically, sometimes in schematic shion, but at other times in a more diluted way, particularly in the numerous passages in which we nd what Marcus calls the "disjunction": either atoms (that is, Epicurean dispersion), or one Nature (Stoic unity; c£ IV, 27; VI, 10; VI, 44; VII, 75; VIII, 18; IX, 28; IX, 39; X, 6-7).
Many other major points are discussed in comparatively long develop­ ments: r instance, the mutual attraction that reasonable beings feel r one another, which explains that people are made r one another (IX, 9); or the dogma that nothing can constitute an obstacle r intellect or reason (X, 33).
The three rules oflife or disciplines
As we have seen, practical conduct obeys three rules ofli which deter­ mine the individual's relationship to the necessa course of Nature, to other people, and to his own thought. As in the case ofhis exposition of
44 THE INNER CITADEL
the dogmas, Marcus' exposition ofthese rules is highly structured. The three rules oflife or discipline correspond to the three activities ofthe soul: judgment, desire, and impulse; and to the three domains of reality: our individual culty ofjudgment, universal Nature, and human nature. This can be seen in the llowing diagram:
activi
(1) judgment
(2) desire
(3) impulse toward action
domain efreality
culty ofjudgment universal Nature human Nature
inner attitude
objectivity consent to Destiny
justice and altruism We encounter this ternary model very equently throughout the
Meditations. I shall cite a few important passages:
Always and everywhere, it depends on you
-piously to rejoice in the present conjunction ofevents (2);
-to conduct yourself with justice toward whatever people are present (3);
-to apply the rules of discernment to your present representation ( 1 ) , s o t h a t n o t h i n g n o n o bj e c t i v e m a y i n l t r a t e i t s w a y i n ( V I I , 5 4 ) .
The llowing are enough r you:
-your present value-judgment (1), as long as it is objective; -your present action (3) , as long as it is accomplished in the service ofthe human community;
-your present inner disposition (2), as long as it nds its joy in every conjunction of events brought about by the external cause (IX, 6).
Reasonable nature is indeed llowing its proper path
-i with regard to its representations (1), it gives its assent neither to what is false, nor to what is obscure;
-if it directs its impu es (3) only toward those actions which serve the human community;
-ifit has desire (2) and aversion only r that which depends on us; while it joyfully greets all that which is granted to it by universal Nature (VIII, 7).
Again,
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises
45
Erase your representation hantasia) (I);
Stop your impulse toward action orme) (3)
Extinguish your desire (orexis) (2) ;
Have your guiding principle (hegemonikon) within your power (IX, 7).
What must you practice?
One thing only:
-thought devoted to justice and actions accomplished in the service ofthe community (3);
-speech which can never deceive (I);
-an inner disposition (2) which lovingly greets each conjunction of events, recognizing it as necessary, miliar, and owing rth om so great a principle, and so great a source (IV, 33, 3).
I n addition t o these explicit mmlations, w e nd numerous allusions to the three disciplines, in various rms. Thus, Marcus lists as a triad of virtues: "truth," "justice," and "temperance" (XII, 15); or "unhurried­ ness injudgment," "love ofpeople," and "the disposition to place one­ selfin the cortege ofthe gods" (III, 9, 2)-which correspond to the three rules ofli . It sometimes happens that only two or even only one ofthe disciplines appears, as r instance in IV, 22:
To accomplish justice on the occasion of each impulse toward action, and, on the occasion of each representation, retain only that part ofit which exactly corresponds to reality (here we can recog­ nize the disciplines ofaction and ofjudgment).
In X, I I , 3 :
He is content with two things: to accomplish the present action with justice, and to love the te which has, here and now, been allotted to him.
And again, in VIII, 23 :
Am I accomplishing some action? I accomplish it, relating it to the well-being of mankind. Is something happening to me? I greet it, relating what happens to me to the gods and to the source of all
things, whence is rmed the amework of events (here we recog­ nize the disciplines ofaction and ofdesire).
O en, only one theme is evoked, as r instance the discipline of desire (VII, 57):
Love only the event which comes upon us, and which is linked to us by Destiny.
or the discipline ofjudgment (IV, 7) :
Suppress the value-judgment (which you add), and the "I've been hurt" is also suppressed. Suppress the "I've been hurt," and the harm is suppressed.
or, nally, the discipline ofimpulses (XII, 20):
In the rst place: nothing at random, and nothing unrelated to some goal or end. Second, don't relate your actions to anything except an end or goal which serves the human community.
The Meditations, then, take up the various dogmas one by one, either brie y or in more developed rm, and di erent chapters give longer lists ofthem than others. Likewise, they tirelessly repeat, either concisely or in more extended rm, the rmulation of the three rules of l e, which can be und gathered together in their entirety in certain chapters. As we shall see, Book III attempts to give a detailed, ideal portrait of the good man, and the three rules ofli , which correspond precisely to the good man's behavior, are set rth in great detail. On the other hand, we can also nd the three rules oflife-mixed together with other related exhortations-presented in a rm so concise that it makes them almost enigmatic :
Erase this representation [discipline ofjudgment].
Stop dancing around like a puppet [discipline ofaction]. Circumscribe the precise moment oftime.
Recognize what is happening to you or to someone else [disci­
pline ofthe consent to Destiny].
Divide the object and analyze it into "causal" and "material. " Think about your last hour.
THE INNER CITADEL
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises
As r the wrong committed by so-and-so: leave it right where
the ult was committed (VII, 29).
These three disciplines of li are the true key to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, r the various dogmas I have discussed crystallize around them. The dogmas a rming our eedom ofjudgment, and the possibility r mankind to criticize and modi his own thought, are linked to the discipline ofjudgment, while the theorems on the causality of universal Nature are grouped around that discipline which directs our attitude toward external events. Finally, the discipline of action is fed by a the theoretical propositions concerning the mutual attraction which unites rational beings.
In the last analysis, we realize that behind their apparent disorder, we can discern a highly rigorous conceptual system in Marcus' Meditations. I shall now turn to a detailed description ofits structure.
Imaginative exercises
The Meditations do notjust rmulate the rules oflife and the dogmas by which they are nourished; r it is not only reason which is exercised in them, but the imagination as well. For example, Marcus does not restrict himselfto saying that life is short and that we all must soon die, by virtue of the laws of metamorphosis imposed by Nature. Instead, he brings to l i fe b e r e h i s e y e s ( V I I I , 3 1 )
the court of Augustus; his wi , his daughter, his descendants, his progeny, his sister, Agrippa, his relatives, his acquaintances, his iends Arius and Maecenas, his doctors, his sacri cers, the death of an entire Court . . .
Yet it is not only the disappearance ofa court that he tries to represent to himself, but that of a whole generation (IV, 3 2) :
For instance, imagine the time of Vespasian. You'll see all o f that: people getting married, raising a mily, lling ill, dying, going to war, celebrating festivals, doing business, working the elds; there'll be atterers, arrogant or suspicious people, conspirators; there'll be people who desire the death of others; others who grumble about present events; there'll be lovers, misers, others who lust after con-
47
THE INNER CITADEL
sulate or kingship. That life oftheirs: is it not true that it is nowhere now?
At other times, Marcus thinks of the great men of the past: Hip­ pocrates, Alexander, Pompey, Caesar, Augustus, Hadrian, Heraclitus, Democritus, Socrates, Eudoxus, Hipparchus, and Archimedes. " of them long dead! " he writes (VI, 47); "No more and nowhere! " (VIII, 5). By so doing, Marcus takes his place in the great literary tradition which, om Lucretius to Fran ois Villon,7 has evoked the famous dead: "Where are the snows of yesteryear? " "Where are they? " Marcus had already asked (X, 31, 2); "Nowhere; no matter where! "
Such imaginative exercises recur rather o en in the Meditations (IV, 50; VI, 24; VII, 19, 2; VII, 48; VIII, 25; VIII, 37; IX, 30; XII, 27). It is by this means that Marcus attempts vigorously to place the dogma of universal metamorphosis be re his eyes.
Life itsel however, is a kind of death, when it is not illuminated by virtue, by the practice ofthe rules oflife, and by the knowledge ofthose dogmas which provide knowledge of things human and divine. This is what explains those descriptions of the vanity of human life-worthy of a Cynic-which we sometimes nd in the Meditations, as in the llow­ ing extraordinary passage (VII, 3):
The vain solemnity o fa procession; dramas played out o n the stage; troops ofsheep or goats; ghts with spears; a little bone thrown to dogs; a chunk of bread thrown into a sh-pond; the exhausting labor and heavy burdens under which ants must bear up; crazed mice running r shelter; puppets pulled by strings. . . .
And we have already encountered the llowing briefbut striking note (X, 9):
Bu oonery and bloody struggles; to or and agitation; the slavery of every day.
Writing as a spiritual exercise
As we have seen throughout these analyses, the Meditations appear to be variations on a small number of themes. The result of this is the large number of repetitions they contain, which are sometimes almost verba-
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises 49 tim. We have already encountered several examples of this, and the
llowing ones can be added:
How could that which does not make a man worse, make li
worse? (II, I I , 4)
That which does not make a man worse than he is, does not make
his life worse, either. . . . (IV, 8) .
is ephemeral: that which remembers, and that which it remem­ bers (IV, 35).
Ephemeral . . . is he who remembers and that which he remembers (VIII, 21, 2).
Nothing is so capable ofproducing greatness ofsoul (III, I I , 2).
Nothing is so capable of producing greatness of soul (X, I I , I ) .
Many more examples could be cited, including long developments such as VIII, 34 and XI, 8, both of which are structurally parallel, and are devoted to the power which man has received om God to reunite himselfwith the All om which he has separated himsel
The advice on distinguishing within each thing "that which is causal" om "that which is material" is repeated almost ten times, with only very slight variations. Here we can recognize one of the ndamental struc­ tures of Stoic physics,8 and there re-once again-the technical nature of the rmulas Marcus uses. But Marcus does not merely repeat this distinction as ifhe were reproducing something he had learned in a Stoic school; r him, it has an existential meaning. To distinguish the causal element is to recognize the presence within oneself of the hegemonikon, that is, the principle which directs all being. This is that principle of thought andjudgn1ent which makes us independent ofthe body, and the principle ofliberty which delimits the sphere of"that which depends on us," as opposed to "that which does not depend on us. "
Marcus does not say this; however, we can deduce it om the overall structure ofhis system. He is content merely to recommend to himselfto apply this distinction, without ever giving an example which ght help us to understand what this exercise might mean. The reason is that Marcus has no need of examples; he knows per ctly well what he's
50 THE INNER CITADEL
talking about. These rmulas, which are repeated throughout the Medi­ tations, never set rth a doctrine. Rather, they serve only as a catalyst which, by means of the association of ideas, reactivates a series of repre­ sentations and practices, about which Marcus-since he is writing only
r himself-has no need to go into detail.
Marcus writes only in order to have the dogmas and rules ofli always
present to his mind. He is thus llowing the advice ofEpictetus, who, after having set rth the distinction between what does and does not depend on us-the ndamental do a of Stoicism-adds:
It is about this that philosophers ought to meditate; this is what they should write down every day, and it should be the subject of their exercises (I, I, 25).
You must have these principles at hand rocheira) both night and day; you must w te them down; you must read them (III, 24, 103).
The Stoic philosophical life consists essentially in mastering one's in­ ner discourse. Everything in an individual's life depends on how he represents things to himself-in other words, how he tells them to him­ self in inner dialogue. " It is not things that trouble us, " as Epictetus said (Manual, §5), "but our judgments about things," in other words, our inner discourse about things. I will have a great deal to say later on about the Discourses ofEpictetus, which were collected by his disciple Arrian. They depict Epictetus speaking with his students during his philosophy classes, and, as Arrian says in his brief pre ce, "When he spoke, he certainly had no other desire than to set the thoughts of his listeners in motion toward what is best . . . when Epictetus spoke these words, his audience could not help elingjust what this man wanted them to feel. "
Epictetus' speech, then, was intended to modi his audience's inner discourse. We are thus in the presence oftwo therapies: one was that of the word, practiced in a variety of rms, by means ofstriking or moving rmulas and with the help oflogical and technical rational processes, but also with the help of seductive and persuasive imagery. Another was the therapy ofwriting r onesel which, r Marcus, consisted in taking up the dogmas and rules of action as they were stated by Epictetus-all the while addressing himself-and assimilating them, so that they might be­ come the principles of his inner discourse. There re, one must con­ stantly rekindle the "representations" hantasiai) within onesel in other words, those discourses which rmulate dogmas (VII, 2).
The Meditations as Spiritual Exercises 5 1
Such writing exercises thus lead necessarily to incessant repetitions, and this is what radically di erentiates the Meditations om every other work. Do as are not mathematical rules, learned once and r all and then mechanically applied. Rather, they must somehow become achievements of awareness, intuitions, emotions, and moral experiences which have the intensity of a mystical experience or a vision. This spiritual and a ective spirituality is, however, quick to dissipate. In order to reawaken it, it is not enough to reread what has already been written. Written pages are already dead, and the Meditations were not made to be reread. What counts is the re rmulation: the act ofwriting or talking to onesel right now, in the very moment when one needs to write. It is also the act of composing with the greatest care possible: to search r that version which, at a given moment, will produce the greatest e ect, in the moment be re it des away, almost instantaneously, almost as soon as it is written. Characters traced onto some medium do not x anything: everything is in the act ofwriting. Thus, we witness a succes­ sion of new attempts at composition, repetitions of the same rmulas, and endless variations on the same themes: the themes ofEpictetus.
The goal is to reactualize, rekindle, and ceaselessly reawaken an inner state which is in constant danger ofbeing numbed or extinguished. The task-ever-renewe is to bring back to order an inner discourse which becomes dispersed and diluted in the tility ofroutine.
As he wrote the Meditations, Marcus was thus practicing Stoic spiritual exercises. He was using writing as a technique or procedure in order to in uence himsel and to trans rm his inner discourse by meditating on the Stoic dogmas and rules ofli . This was an exercise ofwriting day by day, ever-renewed, always taken up again and always needing to be taken up again, since the true philosopher is he who is conscious of not yet having attained wisdom.
"Greek" exercises
It is not su rising to the modern reader that the Meditations were written in Greek. One might, however, wonder why the Emperor, whose mother tongue was Latin, chose to use Greek to write personal notes intended only r himself
First of , we must note that Marcus was completely bilingual, having studied Greek rhetoric with Hera es Atticus and Latin rhetoric with Fronto. More generally, the population of Rome was made up of the most diverse elements, who had converged upon the Empire's metropo-
52 THE INNER CITADEL
lis r a wide variety of reasons, and the two languages were in constant use. In the streets of Rome, the Greek doctor Galen could rub elbows with the Christian apologist Justin, or else with some Gnostic. these gures taught in Rome and had students om the educated classes. 9
Even in Rome, Greek was the language ofphilosophy. The rhetori­ cian Quintillian, writing at the end of the rst century A.