B 
 
 /fcro 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Date Due 
 
 lUffT^lS^MB^ 
 
 -Hi 
 
 e^^^=J3?ti:£ 
 
 
 PRINTED IN U. 9. A. 
 
 (Sf 
 
 CAT. NO. 23233 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 B580 .C33 1900 
 
 Marcus Aurellus Antoninus the Roman empe 
 
 Clin 
 
 3 1924 029 002 108 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029002108 
 
MARCVS AVRELIVS 
 
 ANTONINUS 
 
All righti racrved 
 
MARCVS AVRELIVS 
 
 ANTONINUS 
 
 THE ROMAN EMPEROVR, 
 
 HIS MEDITATIONS 
 
 concerning Himselfe: 
 
 TREATING OF A NATVRALL 
 
 Mans happineflej Wherein it confifteth, and of 
 the meanes to attaine unto it. 
 
 TRANSLATED OFT OF THE 
 
 Original! Greeks ; with Notes : 
 
 BY 
 
 Meric C^savbon, B. of D. and Prebendarie 
 
 of Christ Church, Canterbury. 
 
 And now Edited, with an Introduction, Appendix, 
 and Glossary, by W. H. D. ROUSE. 
 
 EccLvs, x8. 8. 
 
 JVkat is man, and •whereto fervetk he? 
 What is his goodj and zvhat is his euill? 
 
 N£fr YORK: E. P. DUTTON ?S CO. 
 
 LONDON: J. M. DENT ^3" CO. 
 MDCCCC. 
 
3}ZS7SE 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson <5r» Co. 
 
 At the Ballantyne Press 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction 
 First Book . 
 Second Book 
 Third Book 
 Fourth Book 
 Fifth Book . 
 Sixth Book . 
 Seventh Book 
 Eighth Book 
 Ninth Book. 
 Tenth Book 
 Eleventh Book 
 Twelfth Book 
 Appendix 
 Notes . 
 Glossary 
 Index . 
 
 FACE 
 
 ix 
 
 I 
 
 14 
 21 
 
 32 
 49 
 66 
 84 
 103 
 122 
 
 139 
 158 
 172 
 18s 
 205 
 
 211 
 
 215 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Marcus Aurelius ...... Frontispiece 
 
 (From a Bust in the Naples Bduseum) 
 
 The Emperor receiving the Symboi, of Power . To face p. vi 
 
 {From a bas-relief in the Palazzo dei Censervatori at Rome) 
 
 Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius . . „ i 
 
 {From the original on the Capitol at Rome) 
 
 The Triumphal Entry of Marcus Aurelius . ,,32 
 
 {^From a bas-relief in the Palaxza dei Canservatori at Rome) 
 
 Marcus Aurelius preparing to Offer Sacrifice . „ 66 
 
 {From a bas-relief in the Palazzo dei Conservator! at Rome) 
 
 Conquered Barbarians craving Mercy from Marcus 
 
 Aurelius . . . . . . . ,,198 
 
 {From a bas-relief in the Palazzo dei Canservatori at Rome) 
 
 Vll 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ^ARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS 
 was born on April 26, a.d. 121. His 
 real name was M, Annius Verus, and 
 he was sprung of a noble family 
 which claimed descent from Numa, 
 second King of Rome. Thus the 
 most religious of emperors came of 
 the blood of the most pious of early kings. His father, 
 Annius Verus, had held high office in Rome, and his grand- 
 father, of the same name, had been thrice Consul. Both 
 his parents died young, but Marcus held them in loving 
 remembrance.^ On his father's death Marcus was adopted 
 by his grandfather, the consular Annius Verus, and there 
 was deep love between these two. On the very jfirst page 
 of his book Marcus gratefully declares how of his grand- 
 father he had learned to be gentle and meek, and to refrain 
 from all anger and passion. The Emperor Hadrian divined 
 the fine character of the lad, whom he used to call not 
 Verus but Verissimus, more Truthful than his own name. 
 He advanced Marcus to equestrian rank when six years of 
 age, and at the age of eight made him a member of the 
 ancient Salian priesthood. The boy's aunt, Annia Galeria 
 Faustina, was married to Antoninus Pius, afterwards 
 emperor. Hence it came about that Antoninus, having 
 no son, adopted Marcus, changing his name to that which 
 
 ' See below, page xxii. 
 
 ix 
 
Introduction 
 
 he is known by, and betrothed him to his daughter Faustina. 
 His education was conducted with all care. The ablest 
 teachers were engaged for him, and he was trained in the 
 strict doctrine of the Stoic philosophy, which was his great 
 delight. He was taught to dress plainly and to live simply, 
 to avoid all softness and luxury. His body was trained to 
 hardihood by wrestling, hunting, and outdoor games ; and 
 though his constitution was weak, he showed great personal 
 courage to encounter the fiercest boars. At the same time, 
 he was kept from the extravagancies of his day. The great 
 excitement in Rome was the strife of the Factions, as they 
 were called, in the circus. The racing drivers used to 
 adopt one of four colours — red, blue, white, or green — and 
 their partisans showed an eagerness in supporting them 
 which nothing could surpass. Riot and corruption went 
 in the train of the racing chariots ; and from all these 
 things Marcus held severely aloof. 
 
 In 140 Marcus was raised to the consulship, and in 
 145 his betrothal was consummated by marriage. Two 
 years later Faustina brought him a daughter ; and soon 
 after the tribunate and other imperial honours were con- 
 ferred upon him. 
 
 Antoninus Pius died in 161, and Marcus assumed the 
 imperial state. He at once associated with himself L. 
 Ceionius Commodus, whom Antoninus had adopted as 
 a younger son at the same time with Marcus, giving him 
 the name of Lucius Aurelius Verus. Henceforth the two 
 are colleagues in the empire, the junior being trained as it 
 were to succeed. No sooner was Marcus settled upon the 
 throne than wars broke out on all sides. In the east, 
 Vologeses III. of Parthia began a long-meditated revolt by 
 destroying a whole Roman legion and invading Syria (162). 
 Verus was sent oflF in hot haste to quell this rising ; and 
 
Introduction 
 
 • 
 
 he fulfilled his trust by plunging into drunkenness and 
 debauchery, While the war was left to his officers. Soon after 
 Marcus had to face a more serious danger at home in the 
 coalition of several powerful tribes on the northern frontier. 
 Chief among those were the Marcomanni or Marchmen, 
 the Quadi (mentioned in this book), the Sarmatians, the 
 Catti, the Jazyges. In Rome itself there was pestilence 
 and starvation, the one brought from the east by Verus's 
 legions, the other caused by floods which had destroyed vast 
 quantities of grain. After all had been done possible to 
 allay famine and to supply pressing needs — Marcus being 
 forced even to sell the imperial jewels to find money — both 
 emperors set forth to a struggle which was to continue more 
 or less during the rest of Marcus's reign. During these 
 wars, in 169, Verus died. We have no means of following 
 the campaigns in detail ; but thus much is certain, that in 
 the end the Romans succeeded in crushing the barbarian 
 tribes, and effecting a settlement which made the empire 
 more secure. Marcus was himself commander-in-chief, and 
 victory was due no less to his own ability than to his 
 wisdom in choice of lieutenants, shown conspicuously in 
 the case of Pertinax. There were several important battles 
 fought in these campaigns ; and one of them has become 
 celebrated for the legend of the Thundering Legion. In 
 a battle against the Quadi in 174, the day seemed to be 
 going in favour of the foe, when on a sudden arose a great 
 storm of thunder and rain : the lightning struck the bar- 
 barians with terror, and they turned to rout. In later days 
 this storm was said to have been sent in answer to the 
 prayers of a legion which contained many Christians, and 
 the name Thundering Legion should be given to it on this 
 account. The title of Thundering Legion is known at 
 an earlier date, so this part of the story at least cannot be 
 
 xi 
 
Introduction 
 
 true ; but the aid of the storm is acknowledged by one of 
 the scenes carved on Antonine's Column at Rome, which 
 commemorates these wars. 
 
 The settlement made after these troubles might have 
 been more satisfactory but for an unexpected rising in the 
 east. Avidius Cassius, an able captain who had won 
 renown in the Parthian wars, was at this time chief gover- 
 nor of the eastern provinces. By whatever means induced, 
 he had conceived the project of proclaiming himself emperor 
 as soon as Marcus, who was then in feeble health, should 
 die ; and a report having been conveyed to him that Marcus 
 was dead, Cassius did as he had planned. Marcus, on 
 hearing the news, immediately patched up a peace and 
 returned home to meet this new peril. The emperor's 
 great grief was that he must needs engage in the horrors 
 of civil strife. He praised the qualities of Cassius, and ex- 
 pressed a heartfelt wish that Cassius might not be driven to 
 do himself a hurt before he should have the opportunity 
 to grant a free pardon. But before he could come to the 
 east news had come to Cassius that the emperor still lived ; 
 his followers fell away from him, and he was assassinated. 
 Marcus now went to the east, and while there the mur- 
 derers brought the head of Cassius to him ; but the emperor 
 indignantly refused their gift, nor would he admit the men 
 to his presence. 
 
 On this journey his wife, Faustina, died. At his return 
 the emperor celebrated a triumph (176). Immediately 
 afterwards he repaired to Germany, and took up once more 
 the burden of war. His operations were followed by Com- 
 plete success ; but the troubles of late years had been too 
 much for his constitution, at no time robust, and on March 
 17, 180, he died in Pannonia. 
 
 The good emperor was not spared domestic troubles, 
 xii 
 
Introduction 
 
 Faustina had borne him several children, of whom he was 
 passionately fond. Their innocent faces may still be seen 
 in many a sculpture gallery, recalling with odd effect the 
 dreamy countenance of their father. But they died one 
 by one, and when Marcus came to his own end only one 
 of his sons still lived — the weak and worthless Commodus. 
 On his father's death Commodus, who succeeded him, 
 undid the work of many campaigns by a hasty and unwise 
 peace ; and his reign of twelve years proved him to be 
 a ferocious and bloodthirsty tyrant. Scandal has made free 
 with the name of Faustina herself, who is accused not only 
 of unfaithfulness, but of intriguing with Cassius and egging 
 him on to his fetal rebellion. It must be admitted that 
 these charges rest on no sure evidence ; and the emperor, 
 at all events, loved her dearly, nor ever felt the slightest 
 qualm of suspicion. 
 
 As a soldier we have seen that Marcus was both 
 capable and successful ; as an administrator he was prudent 
 and conscientious. Although steeped in the teachings of 
 philosophy, he did not attempt to remodel the world on 
 any preconceived plan. He trod the path beaten by his 
 predecessors, seeking only to do his duty as well as he could, 
 and to keep out corruption. He did some unwise things 
 it is true. To create a compeer in empire, as he did with 
 Verus, was a dangerous innovation which could only succeed 
 if one of the two effaced himself; and under Diocletian this 
 very precedent caused the Roman Empire to split into halves. 
 He erred in his civil administration by too much centralising. 
 But the strong point of his reign was the administratibn 
 of justice. Marcus sought by laws to protect the weak, 
 to make the lot of the slaves less hard, to stand in place 
 of father to the fatherless. Charitable foundations were 
 endowed for rearing and educating poor children. The 
 
 xiii 
 
Introduction 
 
 provinces were protected against oppression, and public 
 help was given to cities or districts which might be visited 
 by calamity. The great blot on his name, and one hard 
 indeed to explain, is his treatment of the Christians. In 
 his reign Justin at Rome became a martyr to his faith, 
 and Polycarp at Smyrna, and we know of many outbreaks 
 of fanaticism in the provinces which caused the death of 
 the faithful. It is no excuse to plead that he knew nothing 
 about the atrocities done in his name : it was his duty 
 to know, and if he did not he would have been the first to 
 confess that he had failed in his duty. But from his own 
 tone in speaking of the Christians it is clear he knew them 
 only from calumny ; and we hear of no measures taken even 
 to secure that they should have a fair hearing. In this 
 respect Trajan was better than he. 
 
 To a thoughtful mind such a religion as that of Rome 
 would give small satisfaction. Its legends were often 
 childish or impossible ; its teaching had little to do with 
 morality. The Roman religion was in fact of the nature 
 of a bargain : men paid certain sacrifices and rites, and the 
 gods granted their favour, irrespective of right or wrong. 
 In this case all devout souls were thrown back upon 
 philosophy, as they had been, though to a less extent, in 
 Greece. There were under the early empire two rival 
 schools which practically divided the field between them, 
 Stoicism and Epicureanism. The ideal set before each was 
 nominally much the same. The Stoics aspired to airadeia, 
 the repression of all emotion, and the Epicureans to arapa- 
 ^la, freedom from all disturbance ; yet in the upshot the 
 one has become a synonym of stubborn endurance, the 
 other for unbridled licence. With Epicureanism we have 
 nothing to do now ; but it will be worth while to sketch 
 the history and tenets of the Stoic sect. 
 
 xiv 
 
Introduction 
 
 w 
 
 Zeno, the founder of Stoicism, was born in Cyprus at 
 some date unknown, but his life may be said roughly to be 
 between the years 350 and 250 B.C. Cyprus has been from 
 time immemorial a meeting-place of the East and West, 
 and although we cannot grant any importance to a possible 
 strain of Phoenician blood in him (for the Phoenicians were 
 no philosophers), yet it is quite likely that through Asia 
 Minor he may have come in touch with the Far East. He 
 studied under the cynic Crates, but he did not neglect other 
 philosophical systems. After many years' study he opened 
 his own school in a colonnade in Athens called the Painted 
 Porch, or Stoa, which gave the Stoics their name. Next to 
 Zeno, the School of the Porch owes most to Chrysippus 
 (280-207 B.C.), who organised Stoicism into a system. Of 
 him it was said, 
 
 ' But for Chrysippus, there had been no Porch.' 
 
 The Stoics regarded speculation as a means to an end ; 
 and that end was, as Zeno put it, to live consistently {6/jio- 
 T^ovfjiivcoi ^rjv), or as it was later explained, to live in 
 conformity with nature {ofioXoyovfievo)'} ry <jiva-ei ^fjv). This 
 conforming of the life to nature was the Stoic idea of Virtue. 
 This dictum might easily be taken to mean that virtue 
 consists in yielding to each natural impulse ; but that was 
 very far from the Stoic meaning. In order to live in accord 
 with nature, it is necessary to know what nature is ; and 
 to this end a threefold division of philosophy is made — into 
 Physics, dealing with the universe and its laws, the problems 
 of divine government and teleology ; Logic, which trains the 
 mind to discern true from false ; and Ethics, which applies 
 the knowledge thus gained and tested to practical life. 
 
 The Stoic system of physics was materialism with an 
 infusion of pantheism. In contradiction to Plato's view 
 
 XV i 
 
Introduction 
 
 that the Ideas, or Prototypes, of phenomena alone really 
 exist, the Stoics held that material objects alone existed ; 
 but immanent in the material universe was a spiritual force 
 which acted through them, manifesting itself under many 
 ] forms, as fire, aether, spirit, soul, reason, the ruling principle. 
 The universe, then, is God, of whom the popular gods 
 are manifestations ; while legends and myths are allegorical. 
 The soul of man is thus an emanation from the godhead, 
 into whom it will eventually be re-absorbed. The divine 
 ruling principle makes all things work together for good, 
 but for the good of the whole. The highest good of man 
 is consciously to work with God for the common good, 
 and this is the sense in which the Stoic tried to live in 
 accord with nature. In the individual it is virtue alone 
 which enables him to do this ; as Providence rules the 
 universe, so virtue in the soul must rule man. 
 
 In Logic, the Stoic system is noteworthy for their theory 
 as to the test of truth, the Criterion. They compared the 
 new-born soul to a sheet of paper ready for writing. Upon 
 this the senses write their impressions {^avraaiai), and by 
 experience of a number of these the soul unconsciously 
 conceives general notions {koivoi evvoiai) or anticipations 
 {irp6Krj\lr6K). When the impression was such as to be 
 irresistible it was called KaraKrjirTiKr) tf>avTaaia, one that 
 holds fast, or as they explained it, one proceeding from 
 truth. Ideas and inferences artificially produced by deduc- 
 tion or the like were tested by this ' holding perception.' 
 
 Of the Ethical application I have already spoken. The 
 highest good was the virtuous life. Virtue alone is happi- 
 ness, and vice is unhappiness. Carrying this theory to its 
 extreme, the Stoic said that there could be no gradations 
 between virtue and vice, though of course each has its 
 special manifestations. Moreover, nothing is good but 
 
 xvi 
 
Introduction 
 
 • 
 
 virtue, and nothing but vice is bad. Those outside thinK 
 which are commonly called good or bad, such as heal^ 
 and sickness, virealth and poverty, pleasure and pain, are to 
 him indifferent {aStd<l3opa,). All these things are merely 
 the sphere in which virtue may act. The ideal Wise Man 
 is sufficient unto himself in all things {avrapK'^t;) ; and 
 knowing these truths, he will be happy even when stretched 
 upon the rack. It is probable that no Stoic claimed for 
 himself that he was this Wise Man, but that each strove 
 after it as an ideal much as the Christian strives after a 
 likeness to Christ. The exaggeration in this statement 
 was, however, so obvious, that the later Stoics were 
 driven to make a further subdivision of things indifferent 
 into what is preferable {irporjyf/.iva) and what is undesirable 
 {a-jroTTpoTiy/j.eva), They also held that for him who had 
 not attained to the perfect wisdom, certain actions were 
 proper {KadriKovTa). These were neither virtuous nor 
 vicious, but, like the indifferent things, held a middle place. 
 Two points in the Stoic system deserve special mention. 
 One is a careful distinction between things which are in 
 our power and things which are not. Desire and dislike, 
 opinion and affection, are within the power of the will ; 
 whereas health, wealth, honour, and other such are generally 
 not so. The Stoic was called upon to control his desires 
 and affections, and to guide his opinion ; to bring his whole 
 being under the sway of the will or leading principle, just 
 as the universe is guided and governed by divine Providence. 
 This is a special application of the favourite Greek virtue of 
 moderation {a-to^poawij), and has also its parallel in Christian 
 ethics. The second point is a strong insistence on the unity 
 of^he .universe, and on man's duty as part of a great whole.' 
 Public spirit was the most splendid political virtue of the 
 ancient world, and it is here made cosmopolitan. It is 
 
 xvii 
 
Introduction 
 
 / again instructive to note that Christian sages insisted on the 
 
 ! same thing. Christians are taught that they are members 
 
 of a world-wide brotherhood, where is neither Greek nor 
 
 Hebrew, bond nor free; and that they live their lives as 
 
 fellow-workers with God. 
 
 Such is the system which underlies the Meditations of 
 Marcus Aurelius. Some knowledge of it is necessary to the 
 right understanding of the book, but for us the chief interest 
 lies elsewhere. We do not come to Marcus Aurelius for a 
 treatise on Stoicism. He is no head of a school to lay 
 down a body of doctrine for students ; he does not even 
 contemplate that others should read what he writes. His 
 philosophy is not an eager intellectual inquiry, but more 
 what we should call religious feeling. The uncompromising 
 stiffness of Zeno or Chrysippus is softened and transformed 
 by passing through a nature reverent and tolerant, gentle 
 and free from guile ; the grim resignation which made life 
 possible to the Stoic sage becomes in him almost a mood of 
 aspiration. His book records the inmost thoughts of his 
 heart, set down to ease it, with such moral maxims and 
 reflections as may help him to bear the burden of duty and 
 the countless annoyances of a busy life. 
 
 It is instructive to compare the Meditations v/ith another 
 famous book, the Imitation of Christ?- There is the same 
 ideal of self-control in both. It should be a man's task, 
 ;says the Imitatt6n,~ ' to overcome himself, and every day 
 to be stronger than himself.'^ 'In withstanding of the 
 i passions standeth very peace of heart.' ^ 'Let us set 
 ithe axe to the root, that we being purged of our passions 
 may have a peaceable mind.' * To this end there must be 
 
 ^ The references are to an early translation published by the Early 
 Engluh Text Society, Extra Series, Ixiii. , by book and section. 
 
 2 i. 3. See below, pages 18, 32, 117, etc, * i. 6. *i. 11. 
 
 xviii 
 
Introduction 
 
 • 
 
 continual self-examination. 'If thou may not continually 
 gather thyself together, namely sometimes do it, at least 
 once a day, the morning or the evening. In the morning 
 purpose, in the evening discuss the manner, what thou hast 
 been this day, in word, work, and thought.' ^ But while 
 the Roman's temper is a modest self-reliance, the Christian 
 aims at a more passive mood, humbleness and meekness, 
 and reliance on the presence and personal friendship of 
 God.* The Roman scrutinises his faults with severity, but 
 without the self-contempt which makes the Christian ' vile 
 in his own sight.' ^ The Christian, like the Roman, bids 
 'study to withdraw thine heart from the love of things 
 visible ' ; * but it is not the busy life of duty he has in mind 
 so much as the contempt of all worldly things, and the 
 ' cutting away of all lower delectations.' ^ Both rate men's 
 praise or blame at their real worthlessness ; ' Let not thy 
 peace,' says the Christian, 'be in the mouths of men.'*^ 
 But it is to God's censure the Christian appeals, the Roman 
 to his own soul.'^ The petty annoyances of injustice or 
 unkindness are looked on by each with the same magna- 
 nimity. 'Why doth a little thing said or done against 
 thee make thee sorry ? It is no new thing ; it is not the 
 first, nor shall not be the last, if thou live long. At best 
 suffer patiently, if thou canst not suffer joyously.'^ The 
 Christian should sorrow more for other men's malice than 
 for our own wrongs ; ® but the Roman is inclined to wash 
 his hands of the offender.^" ' Study to be patient in suffering 
 and bearing other men's defaults and all manner infirmities,' 
 
 ' i. 19; pages II, 49, 144; compare 65. 
 
 ' i. 6 ; iii. 3, 16 ; ii. 8 ; page 14. ' i. z, p. 17. 
 
 * i. I, ' iii. 13. ' iii. 33. 
 
 'i. 2; iii. 3; pages 13, 26, 37, 132, 164, 174. » iii. 62; page 120. 
 
 » i. 25 ; pages 73, 91. " Pages 40, 61, 163. 
 
 xix 
 
Introduction 
 
 says the Christian ; but the Roman would never have 
 thought to add, 'If all men were perfect, what had we 
 then to suffer of other men for God ? ' i The virtue of 
 suffering in itself is an idea which does not meet us in the 
 Meditations. Both alike realise that man is one of a great 
 community. 'No man is sufficient to himself,' says the 
 Christian ; ' we must bear tbgether, help together, comfort 
 together.' ^ But while he sees a chief importance in zeal, 
 in exalted emotion that is, and avoidance of lukewarmness,^ 
 the Roman thought, mainly of the duty to be done as well 
 as might be, and less of the feeling which should go with 
 the doing of it.* To the saint as to the emperor, the world 
 is a poor thing at best. ' Verily it is a misery to live upon 
 the earth,' says the Christian ; ^ few and evil are the days 
 of man's life, which passeth away suddenly as a shadow.* 
 
 But there is one great difference between the two books 
 we are considering. The Imitation is addressed to others, 
 the Meditations by the writer to himself. We learn nothing 
 from the Imitation of the author's own life, except in so far 
 as he may be assumed to have practised his own preachings ; 
 the Meditations reflect mood by mood the mind of him who 
 wrote them. In their intimacy and frankness lies their great 
 charm. These notes are not sermons ; they are not even 
 confessions. There is always an air of self-consciousness 
 in confessions ; in such revelations there is always a danger of 
 unctuousness or of vulgarity for the best of men. St. Augus- 
 tine is not always clear of offence, and John Bunyan himself 
 exaggerates venial peccadilloes into heinous sins. But 
 Marcus Aurelius is neither vulgar nor unctuous ; he extenuates 
 nothing, but nothing sets down in malice. He never poses 
 before an audience ; he may not be profound, he is always 
 
 1 i. i6. 2 i_ ig. pages 14, 25, 79, 87, 112, 129, 161. ^ ;_ 25. 
 
 * Page 13. » i. 22. ' >■ «S > "'■ 53 ; pages 20, 43. 
 
 XX 
 
Introduction 
 
 sincere. And it is a lofty and serene soul which is here 
 disclosed before us. Vulgar vices seem to have no temptation 
 for him ; this is not one tied and bound with chains which he 
 strives to break. The faults he detects in himself are often 
 such as most men would have no eyes to see. To serve the 
 divine spirit which is implanted within him, a man must 
 'keep himself pure from all violent passion and evil affec- 
 tion, from all rashness and vanity, and from all manner of 
 discontent, either in regard of the gods or men : ' ^ or, as he, 
 says elsewhere, ^ ' unspotted by pleasure, undaunted by. 
 pain.' Unwavering courtesy and consideration are his 
 aims. ' Whatsoever any man either doth or saith, thow 
 must be good ;' ^ 'doth any man oflfend ? It is against him-, 
 self that he doth oiFend ; why should it trouble thee ? ' * 
 The offender needs pity, not wrath ; ^ those who must needs 
 be corrected, should be treated with tact and gentleness ; * 
 and one must be always ready to learn better. ^ ' The best 
 kind of revenge is, not to become like unto them.'^ 
 There are so many hints of offence forgiven, that we 
 may believe the notes followed sharp on the facts. Per- 
 haps he has fallen short of his aim, and thus seeks to call his 
 principles to mind, and to strengthen himself for the future. 
 That these sayings are not mere talk is plain from the 
 story of Avidius Cassius, who would have usurped his im- 
 perial throne. Thus the emperor faithfully carries out his 
 own principle, that evil must be overcome with good. For 
 each fault in others, Nature (says he) has given us a counter- 
 acting virtue ; ' as, for example, against the unthankful, it 
 hati? given goodness and meekness, as an antidote.' ^ 
 
 One so gentle towards a foe was sure to be a good 
 
 1 Page iS. » Page 24. » Page 88. 
 
 * Pages 40, 125, 128, 134, 140. « Pages 73, 91. « Page 4. 
 
 ' Pages 36, 107. ' Page 67. ^ Page 137. 
 
 xxi 
 
Introduction 
 
 friend ; and indeed his pages are full of generous gratitude 
 to those who had served him. In his First Book he sets 
 down to account all the debts due to his kinsfolk and 
 teachers. To his grandfather he owed his own gentle 
 spirit, to his father shamefastness and courage ; he learnt of 
 his mother to be religious and bountiful and single-minded. 
 Rusticus did not work in vain, if he showed his pupil that 
 his life needed amending. ApoUonius taught him simplicity, 
 reasonableness, gratitude, a love of true liberty. So the list 
 runs on ; every one he had dealings with seems to have 
 given him something good, a sure proof of the goodness of 
 his nature, which thought no evil. 
 
 If his was that honest and true heart which is the 
 Christian ideal, this is the more wonderful in that he lacked 
 the faith which makes Christians strong. He could say, it 
 is true, ' either there is a God, and then all is well ; or if 
 all things go by chance and fortune, yet mayest thou use 
 thine own providence in those things that concern thee 
 properly ; and then art thou well.' ^ Or again, ' We must 
 needs grant that there is a nature that doth govern the 
 universe.'^ But his own part in the scheme of things is 
 so small, that he does not hope for any personal happiness 
 beyond what a serene soul may win in this mortal life. 
 ' O my soul, the time I trust will be, when thou shalt be 
 good, simple, more open and visible, than that body by 
 which it is enclosed ; ' * but this is said of the calm con- 
 tentment with human lot which he hopes to attain, not of 
 a time when the trammels of the body shall be cast oflF. 
 For the rest, the world and its fame and wealth, 'all is 
 vanity.'* The gods may perhaps have a particular care 
 for him, but their especial care is for the universe at large : * 
 
 ' Page 130. » Page 165. ' Page 139, compare 1x4. 
 
 * Page 43. 5 Pages 78, 79. 
 
 xxii 
 
Introduction 
 
 thus much should suffice. His gods are better than the 
 Stoic gods, who sit aloof from all human things, untroubled 
 and uncaring, but his personal hope is hardly stronger. 
 On this point he says little, though there are many allusionsj. 
 to death as the natural end ; ^ doubtless he expected his soul 
 one day to be absorbed into the universal soul, since nothing 
 comes out of nothing, and nothing can be annihilated.* 
 His mood is one of strenuous weariness ; he does his duty 
 as a good soldier, waiting for the sound of the trumpet 
 which shall sound the retreat ; * he has not that cheerful 
 confidence which led Socrates through a life no less noble^ 
 to a death which was to bring him into the company o^ 
 gods he had worshipped and men whom he had revered. 
 
 But although Marcus Aurelius may have held intellec- 
 tually that his soul was destined to be absorbed, and to lose 
 consciousness of itself, there were times when he felt, as all 
 who hold it must sometimes feel, how unsatisfying is such a 
 creed. Then he gropes blindly after something less empty 
 and vain. 'Thou hast taken ship,' he says, 'thou hast 
 sailed, thou art come to land, go out, if to another life, 
 there also shalt thou find gods, who are everywhere.'* 
 There is more in this than the assumption of a rival theory 
 for argument's sake. If worldly things be but as a dream,* 
 the thought is not far oiF that there may be an awakening 
 to what is real. When he speaks of death as a necessary 
 change, and points out that nothing useful and profitable 
 can be brought about without change," did he perhaps 
 think of the change in a corn of wheat, which is not 
 quickened except it die ? Nature's marvellous power of 
 recreating out of corruption ^ is surely not confined to 
 bodily things. Many of his thoughts sound like far-off 
 
 ' Pages 17, 89. ' Page 35. ' Page 25. ' Page 23. 
 
 * Page 7S. * Page 89. ' Page Ii8. 
 
 xxiii 
 
Introduction 
 
 !; echoes of St. Paul ; and it is strange indeed that this most 
 I Christian of emperors has nothing good to say of the Chris- 
 I tians. To him they are only sectaries 'violently and pas- 
 1 sionately set upon opposition.' * 
 
 *, Profound as philosophy these Meditations certainly are 
 not; but Marcus Aurelius was too sincere not to see the 
 essence of such things as came within his experience. 
 Ancient religions were for the most part concerned with 
 outward things. Do the necessary rites, and you propitiate 
 the gods ; and these rites were often trivial, sometimes vio- 
 lated right feeling or even morality. Even when the gods 
 stood on the side of righteousness, they were concerned with 
 the act more than with the intent. But Marcus Aurelius 
 knows that what the heart is full of, the man will do. 
 'Such as thy thoughts and ordinary cogitations are,' he 
 says, ' such will thy mind be in time.' * And every page 
 of the book shows us that he knew thought was sure to 
 issue in act. He drills his soul, as it were, in right 
 principles, that when the time comes it may be guided 
 by them. To wait until the emergency is to be too 
 late. 
 
 He sees also the true essence of happiness. 'If happi- 
 ness did consist in pleasure, how came notorious robbers, 
 impure abominable livers, parricides, and tyrants, in so large 
 a measure to have their part of pleasures ? ' ' He who 
 had all the world's pleasures at command can write thus : 
 f A happy lot and portion is, good inclinations of the soul, 
 good desires, good actions.' * 
 
 By the irony of fate this man, so gentle and good, so 
 desirous of quiet joys and a mind free from care, was set 
 at the head of the Roman Empire when great dangers 
 threatened from east and west. For several years he 
 
 1 Page 159. ^ Page 58. ' Page 76. * Page 65. 
 
 xxiv 
 
 \ 
 
Introduction 
 
 himself commanded his armies in chief. In camp before 
 the Quadi he dates the first book of his Meditations, 
 and shows how he could retire within himself amid the 
 coarse clangour of arms.^ The pomps and glories which 
 he despised were all his ; what to most men is an am- 
 bition or a dream, to him was a round of weary tasks 
 which nothing but the stern sense of duty could carry 
 him through. And he did his work well. His wars 
 were slow and tedious, but successful. With a states- 
 man's wisdom he foresaw the danger to Rome of the 
 barbarian hordes from the north, and took measures to 
 meet it. As it was, his settlement gave two centuries 
 of respite to the Roman Empire ; had he fulfilled the 
 plan of pushing the imperial frontiers to the Elbe, which 
 seems to have been in his mind, much more might have 
 been accomplished. But death cut short his designs. 
 
 Truly a rare opportunity was given to Marcus Aurelius 
 
 of showing what the mind can do in despite of circumstances. 
 
 Most peaceful of warriors, a magnificent monarch whose 
 
 ideal was quiet happiness in home life, bent to obscurity yet 
 
 born to greatness, the loving father of children who died 
 
 young or turned out hateful, his life was one 
 
 paradox. That nothing might lack, it was 
 
 in camp before the face of the enemy 
 
 that he passed away and went to 
 
 his own place. 
 
 1 See page 33, etc. 
 
 XXV 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 ANTONINUS 
 THE ROMAN EMPEROR, 
 
 HIS FIRST BOOK 
 
 concerning Himself : 
 
 Wherein Antoninus recordeth. What and of whom^ whether 
 
 Parents, Friends, or Masters ; by their good examples, 
 
 or good advice and counsel, he had learned : 
 
 Divided into Numbers or Sections. 
 
 Antoninus Book vi. Num. xlviii. Whensoever thou wilt r^oice thyself, 
 think and meditate upon those good parts and especial gift's, which thou 
 hast observed in any of them that live with thee : as industry in one, in 
 another modesty, in another bountifulness, in another some other thing. 
 For nothing can so much rejoice thee, as the resemblances and parallels of 
 several virtues, eminent in the dispositions of them that live with thee, 
 especially when all at once, as it were, they represent themselves untO' 
 thee. See therefore, that thou have them always in a readiness. 
 
 The First Book 
 
 F my grandfather Verus I have learned 
 to be gentle and meek, and to refrain 
 from all anger and passion. From the 
 tame and memory of him that begot 
 me I have learned both shamefast- 
 ness and manlike behaviour. Of my 
 mother I have learned to be religious, 
 and bountiful ; and to forbear, not only to do, but to intend 
 any evil ; to content myself v/ith a spare diet, and to fly all 
 such excess as is incidental to great wealth. Of my great- 
 
 I A 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 grandfather, both to frequent public schools and auditories, 
 and to get me good and able teachers at home ; and that 
 I ought not to think much, if upon such occasions, I were 
 at excessive charges. 
 
 II. Of him that brought me up, not to be fondly addicted 
 to either of the two great fections of the coursers in the 
 circus, called Prasini, and Veneti : nor in the amphi- 
 theatre partially to favour any of the gladiators, or fencers, 
 as either the Parmularii, or the Secutores. Moreover, to 
 endure labour ; nor to need many things ; when I have 
 anything to do, to do it myself rather than by others ; not 
 to meddle with many businesses ; and not easily to admit 
 of any slander. 
 
 III. Of Diognetus, not to busy myself about vain things, 
 and not easily to believe those things, which are commonly 
 spoken, by such as take upon them to work wonders, and 
 by sorcerers, or prestidigitators, and impostors ; concerning 
 the power of charms, and their driving out of demons, 
 or evil spirits ; and the like. Not to keep quails for 
 the game ; nor to be mad after such things. Not to be 
 oiFended with other men's liberty of speech, and to apply 
 myself unto philosophy. Him also I must thank, that ever 
 I heard first Bacchius, then Tandasis and Marcianus, and 
 that I did write dialogues in my youth ; and that I took 
 liking to the philosophers' little couch and skins, and such 
 other things, which by the Grecian discipline are proper to 
 those who profess philosophy. 
 
 IV. To Rusticus I am beholding, that I first entered into 
 the conceit that my life wanted some redress and cure. 
 And then, that I did not fall into the ambition of ordinary 
 sophists, either to write tracts concerning the common 
 theorems, or to exhort men unto virtue and the study of 
 philosophy by public orations ; as also that I never by way 
 
 2 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 of ostentation did affect to show myself an active able man, 
 for any kind of bodily exercises. And that I gave over the 
 study of rhetoric and poetry, and of elegant neat language. 
 That I did not use to walk about the house in my long 
 robe, nor to do any such things. Moreover I learned of 
 him to write letters without any affectation, or curiosity ; 
 such as that was, which by him was written to my mother 
 from Sinuessa : and to be easy and ready to be reconciled, 
 and well pleased again with them that had offended me, as 
 soon as any of them would be content to seek unto me 
 again. To read with diligence ; not to rest satisfied with 
 a light and superficial knowledge, nor quickly to assent to 
 things commonly spoken of : whom also I must thank that 
 ever I lighted upon Epictetus his Hypomnemata, or moral 
 commentaries and commonefactions : which also he gave me 
 of his own. 
 
 V. From Apollonius, true liberty, and unvariable stead- 
 fastness, and not to regard anything at all, though never so 
 little, but right and reason : and always, whether in the 
 sharpest pains, or after the loss of a child, or in long diseases, 
 to be still the same man ; who also was a present and 
 visible example unto me, that it was possible for the same 
 man to be both vehement and remiss : a man not subject to 
 be vexed, and effended with the incapacity of his scholars 
 and auditors in his lectures and expositions ; and a true 
 pattern of a man who of all his good gifts and faculties, 
 least esteemed in himself, that his excellent skill and ability 
 to teach and persuade others the common theorems and 
 maxims of the Stoic philosophy. Of him also I learned 
 how to receive favours and kindnesses (as commonly they 
 are accounted :) from friends, so that I might not become 
 obnoxious unto them, for them, nor more yielding upon 
 occasion, than in right I ought ; and yet so that I should 
 
 3 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 not pass them neither, as an unsensible and unthankful 
 man. 
 
 VI. Of Sextus, mildness and the pattern of a family 
 governed with paternal affection ; and a purpose to live 
 according to nature : to be grave without affectation : to 
 observe carefully the several dispositions of my friends, not 
 to be offended with idiots, nor unseasonably to set upon 
 those that are carried with the vulgar opinions, with the 
 theorems, and tenets of philosophers : his conversation 
 being an example how a man might accommodate himself 
 to all men and companies ; so that though his company 
 were sweeter and more pleasing than any flatterer's cogging 
 and fawning ; yet was it at the same time most respected 
 and reverenced : who also had a proper happiness and 
 faculty, rationally and methodically to find out, and set 
 in order all necessary determinations and instructions 
 for a man's life. A man without ever the least appear- 
 ance of anger, or any other passion ; able at the same 
 time most exactly to observe the Stoic Apathia., or un- 
 passionateness, and yet to be most tender-hearted : ever of 
 good credit ; and yet almost without any noise, or rumour : 
 very learned, and yet making little show. 
 
 VII. From Alexander the Grammarian, to be unreprov- 
 able myself, and not reproachfully to reprehend any man for 
 a barbarism, or a solecism, or any false pronunciation, but 
 dextrously by way of answer, or testimony, or confirmation 
 of the same matter (taking no notice of the word) to utter 
 it as it should have been spoken ; or by some other such 
 close and indirect admonition, handsomely and civilly to tell 
 him of it. 
 
 VIII. Of Fronto, to how much envy and fraud and 
 hypocrisy the state of a tyrannous king is subject unto, 
 and how they who are commonly called evirarpiSai, i.e. 
 
 4 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 nobly born, are in some sort incapable, or void of natural 
 afiFection. 
 
 IX. Of Alexander the Platonic, not often nor without 
 great necessity to say, or to write to any man in a letter, ' I 
 am not at leisure ' ; nor in this manner still to put off those 
 duties, which we owe to our friends and acquaintances (to 
 every one in his kind) under pretence of urgent affairs. 
 
 X. Of Catulus, not to contemn any friend's expostula- 
 tion, though unjust, but to strive to reduce him to his 
 former disposition : freely and heartily to speak well of all 
 my masters upon any occasion, as it is reported of Domitius, 
 and Athenodotus : and to love my children with true affec- 
 tion. 
 
 XI. From my brother Severus, to be kind and loving to 
 all them of my house and family ; by whom also I came 
 to the knowledge of Thrasea and Helvidius, and Cato, and 
 Dio, and Brutus. He it was also that did put me in the 
 first conceit and desire of an equal commonwealth, admini- 
 stered by justice and equality ; and of a kingdom wherein 
 should be regarded nothing more than the good and welfare 
 of the subjects. Of him also, to observe a constant tenor, 
 (not interrupted, with any other cares and distractions,) in 
 the study and esteem of philosophy : to be bountiful and 
 liberal in the largest measure ; always to hope the best ; and 
 to be confident that my friends love me. In whom I more- 
 over observed open dealing towards those whom he reproved 
 at any time, and that his friends might without all doubt 
 or much observation know what he would, or would not, so 
 open and plain was he. 
 
 XII. From Claudius Maximus, in all things to endeavour 
 to have power of myself, and in nothing to becarried about ; 
 to be cheerful and courageous in all sudden chances and 
 accidents, as in sicknesses : to love mildness, and moderation, 
 
 5 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 and gravity : and to do my business, whatsoever it be, 
 thoroughly, and without querulousness. Whatsoever he said, 
 all men believed him that as he spake, so he thought, and 
 whatsoever he did, that he did it with a good intent. His 
 manner was, never to wonder at anything ; never to be in 
 haste, and yet never slow : nor to be perplexed, or dejected, 
 or at any time unseemly, or excessively to laugh : nor to be 
 angry, or suspicious, but ever ready to do good, and to for- 
 give, and to speak truth ; and all this, as one that seemed 
 rather of himself to have been straight and right, than ever 
 to have been rectified or redressed ; neither was there any 
 man that ever thought himself undervalued by him, or that 
 could find in his heart, to think himself a better man than 
 he. He would also be very pleasant and gracious. 
 
 XIII. In my father, I observed his meekness ; his con- 
 stancy without wavering in those things, which after a due 
 examination and deliberation, he had determined. How 
 free from all vanity he carried himself in matter of honour 
 and dignity, (as they are esteemed :) his laboriousness and 
 assiduity, his readiness to hear any man, that had aught to 
 say tending to any common good : how generally and 
 impartially he would give every man his due ; his skill and 
 knowledge, when rigour or extremity, or when remissness or 
 moderation was in season ; how he did abstain from all 
 unchaste love of youths ; his moderate condescending to 
 other men's occasions as an ordinary man, neither absolutely 
 requiring of his friends, that they should wait upon him 
 at his ordinary meals, nor that they should tf necessity 
 accompany him in his journeys ; and that whensoever any 
 business upon some necessary occasions was to be put off 
 and omitted before it could be ended, he was ever found 
 when he went about it again, the same man that he was 
 before. His accurate examination of things in consultations, 
 
 6- 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 and patient hearing of others. He would not hastily give 
 over the search of the matter, as one easy to be satisfied 
 with sudden notions and apprehensions. His care to pre- 
 serve his friends ; how neither at any time he would carry 
 himself towards them with disdainfiil neglect, and grow 
 weary of them ; nor yet at any time be madly fond of them. 
 His contented mind in all things, his cheerful countenance, 
 his care to foresee things afar oiF, and to take order for the 
 least, without any noise or clamour. Moreover, how all 
 acclamations and flattery were repressed by him : how care- 
 fiilly he observed all things necessary to the government, 
 and kept an account of the common expenses, and how 
 patiently he did abide that he was reprehended by some for 
 this his strict and rigid kind of dealing. How he was neither 
 a superstitious worshipper of the gods, nor an ambitious 
 pleaser of men, or studious of popular applause ; but sober 
 in all things, and everywhere observant of that which was 
 fitting ; no affecter of novelties : in those things which 
 conduced to his ease and convenience, (plenty whereof his 
 fortune did afford him,) without pride and bragging, yet 
 with all freedom and liberty : so that as he did freely enjoy 
 them without any anxiety or afiFectation when they were 
 present ; so when absent, he found no want of them. 
 Moreover, that he was never commended by any man, as 
 either a learned acute man, or an obsequious officious 
 man, or a fine orator ; but as a ripe mature man, a perfect 
 sound man ; one that could not endure to be flattered ; able 
 to govern both himself and others. Moreover, how much 
 he did honour all true philosophers, without upbraiding those 
 that were not so ; his sociableness, his gracious and delight- 
 ful conversation, but never unto satiety ; his care of his 
 body within bounds and measure, not as one that desired 
 to live long, or over-studious of neatness, and elegancy ; and 
 
 7 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 yet not as one that did not regard it : so that through his 
 own care and providence,' he seldom needed any inward 
 physic, or outward applications : but especially how ingeni- 
 ously he would yield to any that had obtained any peculiar 
 facility, as either eloquence, or the knowledge of the laws, 
 or of ancient customs, or the like ; and how he concurred 
 with them, in his best care and endeavour that every one of 
 them might in his kind, for that wherein he excelled, be 
 regarded and esteemed : and although he did all things care- 
 fully after the ancient customs of his forefathers, yet even of 
 this was he not desirous that men should take notice, that 
 he did imitate ancient customs. Again, how he was not 
 easily moved and tossed up and down, but loved to be 
 constant, both in the same places and businesses ; and how 
 after his great fits of headache he would return fresh and 
 vigorous to his wonted affairs. Again, that secrets he 
 neither had many, nor often, and such only as concerned 
 public matters : his discretion and moderation, in ex- 
 hibiting of the public sights and shows for the plea- 
 sure and pastime of the people : in public buildings, 
 congiaries, and the like. In all these things, having a 
 respect unto men only as men, and to the equity of the 
 things themselves, and not unto the glory that might fol- 
 low. Never wont to use the baths at unseasonable hours ; 
 no builder ; never curious, or solicitous, either about his 
 meat, or about the workmanship, or colour of his clothes, 
 or about anything that belonged to external beauty. In 
 all his conversation, far from all inhumanity, all bold- 
 ness, and incivility, all greediness and impetuosity ; never 
 doing anything with such earnestness, and intention, that a 
 man could say of him, that he did sweat about it : but 
 contrariwise, all things distinctly, as at leisure ; without 
 trouble ; orderly, soundly, and agreeably. A man might 
 
 8 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 have applied that to him, which is recorded of Socrates, that 
 he knew how to want, and to enjoy those things, in the 
 want whereof, most men show themselves weak ; and in 
 the fruition, intemperate : but to hold out firm and con- 
 stant, and to keep within the compass of true moderation 
 and sobriety in either estate, is proper to a man, who hath a 
 perfect and invincible soul ; such as he showed himself in 
 the sickness of Maximus. 
 
 XIV. From the gods I received that I had good grand- 
 fathers, and parents, a good sister, good masters, good 
 domestics, loving kinsmen, almost all that I have ; and that 
 I never through haste and rashness transgressed against any 
 of them, notwithstanding that my disposition was such, as 
 that such a thing (if occasion had been) might very well 
 have been committed by me, but that it was the mercy of 
 the gods, to prevent such a concurring of matters and 
 occasions, as might make me to incur this blame. That I 
 was not long brought up by the concubine of my father ; 
 that I preserved the flower of my youth. That I took not 
 upon me to be a man before my time, but rather put it off 
 longer than I needed. That I lived under the government 
 of my lord and father, who would take away from me all 
 pride and vainglory, and reduce me to that conceit and 
 opinion that it was not impossible for a prince to live in the 
 court without a troop of guards and followers, extraordinary 
 apparel, such and such torches and statues, and other like 
 particulars of state and magnificence ; but that a man may 
 reduce and contract himself almost to the state of a private 
 man, and yet for all that not to become the more base and 
 remiss in those public matters and affairs, wherein power 
 and authority is requisite. That I have had such a brother, 
 who by his own example might stir me up to think of 
 myself ; and by his respect and love, delight and please me. 
 
 9 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 That I have got ingenuous children, and that they were 
 not born distorted, nor with any other natural deformity. 
 That I was no great proficient in the study of rhetoric and 
 poetry, and of other faculties, which perchance I might 
 have dwelt upon, if I had found myself to go on in them 
 with success. That I did by times prefer those, by whom 
 I was brought up, to such places and dignities, which they 
 seemed unto me most to desire ; and that I did not put 
 them off with hope and expectation, that (since that they 
 were yet but young) I would do the same hereafter. That 
 I ever knew Apollonius and Rusticus, and Maximus. That 
 I have had occasion often and effectually to consider and 
 meditate with myself, concerning that life which is accord- 
 ing to nature, what the nature and manner of it is : so that 
 as for the gods and such suggestions, helps and inspirations, 
 as might be expected from them, nothing did hinder, but 
 that I might have begun long before to live according to 
 nature ; or that even now that I was not yet partaker and 
 in present possession of that life, that I myself (in that I did 
 not observe those inward motions, and suggestions, yea and 
 almost plain and apparent instructions and admonitions of 
 the gods,) was the only cause of it. That my body in such 
 a life, hath been able to hold out so long. That I never 
 had to do with Benedicta and Theodotus, yea and after- 
 wards when I fell into some fits of love, I was soon cured. 
 That having been often displeased with Rusticus, I never 
 did him anything for which afterwards I had occasion to 
 repent. That it being so that my mother was to die young, 
 yet she lived with me all her latter years. That as often as 
 I had a purpose to help and succour any that either were 
 poor, or fallen into some present necessity, I never was 
 answered by my oiEcers that there was not ready money 
 enough to do it ; and that I myself never had occasion to 
 
 10 
 
His Meditations 
 
 require the like succour from any other. That I have such 
 a wife, so obedient, so loving, so ingenuous. That I had 
 choice of fit and able men, to whom I might commit the 
 bringing up of my children. That by dreams I have 
 received help, as for other things, so in particular, how I 
 might stay my casting of blood, and cure ray dizziness, as 
 that also that happened to thee in Cajeta, as unto Chryses 
 when he prayed by the sea-shore. And when I did fijst 
 apply myself to philosophy, that I did not fall into the hands 
 of some sophists, or spent my time either in reading the 
 manifold volumes of ordinary philosophers, nor in practising 
 myself in the solution of arguments and fallacies, nor dwelt 
 upon the studies of the meteors, and other natural 
 curiosities. All these things without the assistance of the 
 gods, and fortune, could not have been. 
 
 XV. In the country of the Quadi at Granua, these. 
 
 Betimes in the morning say to thyself, This day I shall 
 have to do with an idle curious man, with an unthankful 
 man, a railer, a crafty, false, or an envious man ; an un- 
 sociable uncharitable man. All these ill qualities have 
 happened unto them, through ignorance of that which is 
 truly good and truly bad. But I that understand the nature 
 of that which is good, that it only is to be desired, and of 
 that which is bad, that it only is truly odious and shameful : 
 who know moreover, that this transgressor, whosoever he 
 be, is my kinsman, not by the same blood and seed, but by 
 participation of the same reason, and of the same divine 
 particle ; How can I either be hurt by any of those, since 
 it is not in their power to make me incur anything that is 
 truly reproachful ? or angry, and ill affected towards him, 
 who by nature is so near unto me ? for we are all born to 
 be fellow-workers, as the feet, the hands, and the eyelids ; 
 as the rows of the upper and under teeth : for such there- 
 
 II 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 fore to be in opposition, is against nature ; and what is it 
 to chafe at, and to be averse from, but to be in opposition ? 
 
 XVI. Whatsoever I am, is either flesh, or life, or that 
 which we commonly call the mistress and overruling part 
 of man ; reason. Away with thy books, suffer not thy 
 mind any more to be distracted, and carried to and fro ; for 
 it will not be ; but as even now ready to die, think little of 
 thy flesh : blood, bones, and a skin ; a pretty piece of knit 
 and twisted work, consisting of nerves, veins and arteries ; 
 think no more of it, than so. And as for thy life, consider 
 what it is ; a wind ; not one constant wind neither, but 
 every moment of an hour let out, and sucked in again. The 
 third, is thy ruling part ; and here consider ; Thou art an 
 old man ; suffer not that excellent part to be brought in 
 subjection, and to become slavish : suffer it not to be drawn 
 up and down with unreasonable and unsociable lusts and 
 motions, as it were with wires and nerves ; suffer it not 
 any more, either to repine at anything now present, or to 
 fear and fly anything to come, which the destiny hath 
 appointed thee. 
 
 XVII. Whatsoever proceeds from the gods immediately, 
 that any man will grant totally depends from their divine 
 providence. As for those things that are commonly said to 
 happen by fortune, even those must be conceived to have 
 dependence from nature, or from that first and general con- 
 nection, and concatenation of all those things, which more 
 apparently by the divine providence are administered and 
 brought to pass. All things flow from thence : and what- 
 soever it is that is, is both necessary, and conducing to the 
 whole (part of which thou art), and whatsoever it is 
 that is requisite and necessary for the preservation of the 
 general, must of necessity for every particular nature, be 
 good and behoveful. And as for the whole, it is preserved, 
 
 12 
 
His Meditations 
 
 as by the perpetual mutation and conversion of the simple 
 
 elements one into another, so also by the mutation, and 
 
 alteration of things mixed and compounded. Let these 
 
 things suffice thee ; let them be always unto thee, as 
 
 thy general rules and precepts. As for thy thirst 
 
 after books, away with it with all speed, that 
 
 thou die not murmuring and complaining, 
 
 but truly meek and well satisfied, and 
 
 from thy heart thankful unto the gods. 
 
 13 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Second Book 
 
 lEMEMBER how long thou hast al- 
 ready put o£F these things, and how 
 often a certain day and hour as it were, 
 having been set unto thee by the gods, 
 thou hast neglected it. It is high time 
 for thee to understand the true nature 
 both of the world, whereof thou art a 
 part ; and of that Lord and Governor of the world, 
 from whom, as a channel from the spring, thou thyself didst 
 flow : and that there is but a certain limit of time appointed 
 unto thee, which if thou shalt not make use of to calm and 
 allay the many distempers of thy soul, it will pass away and 
 thou with it, and never after return. 
 
 II. Let it be thy earnest and incessant care as a Roman 
 and a man to perform whatsoever it is that thou art about, 
 with true and unfeigned gravity, natural aflFection, freedom 
 and justice : and as for all other cares, and imaginations, how 
 thou mayest ease thy mind of them. Which thou shalt 
 do ; if thou shalt go about every action as thy last action, 
 free from all vanity, all passionate and wilful aberration 
 from reason, and from all hypocrisy, and self-love, and dislike 
 of those things, which by the fates or appointment of God 
 have happened unto thee. Thou seest that those things, 
 which for a man to hold on in a prosperous course, and to 
 live a divine life, are requisite and necessary, are not many, 
 for the gods will require no more of any man, that shall but 
 keep and observe these things. 
 
 III. Do, soul, do; abuse and contemn thyself; yet a 
 
 14 
 
His Meditations 
 
 while and the time for thee to respect thyself, will be at an 
 end. Every man's happiness depends from himself, but be- 
 hold thy life is almost at an end, whiles affording thyself no 
 respect, thou dost make thy happiness to consist in the souls, 
 and conceits of other men. 
 
 IV. Why should any of these things that happen exter- 
 nally, so much distract thee ? Give thyself leisure to learn 
 some good thing, and cease roving and wandering to and 
 fro. Thou must also take heed of another kind of wander- 
 ing, for they are idle in their actions, who toil and labour in 
 this life, and have no certain scope to which to direct all 
 their motions, and desires. 
 
 V. For not observing the state of another man's soul, 
 scarce was ever any man known to be unhappy. But who- 
 soever they be that intend not, and guide not by reason and 
 discretion the motions of their own souls, they must of 
 necessity be unhappy. 
 
 VI. These things thou must always have in mind : 
 What is the nature of the universe, and what is mine in 
 particular : This unto that what relation it hath : what 
 kind of part, of what kind of universe it is : And that 
 there is nobody that can hinder thee, but that thou mayest 
 always both do and speak those things which are agreeable to 
 that nature, whereof thou art a part. 
 
 VII. Theophrastus, where he compares sin with sin (as 
 after a vulgar sense such things I grant may be compared :) 
 says well and like a philosopher, that those sins are greater 
 which are committed through lust, than those which are 
 committed through anger. For he that is angry seems with 
 a kind of grief and close contraction of himself, to turn away 
 from reason ; but he that sins through lust, being overcome 
 by pleasure, doth in his very sin bewray a more impotent, and 
 unmanlike disposition. Well then and like a philosopher 
 
 15 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 doth he say, that he of the two is the more to be condemned, 
 that sins with pleasure, than he that sins with grief. For 
 indeed this latter may seem first to have been wronged, and 
 so in some manner through grief thereof to have been forced 
 to be angry, whereas he who through lust doth commit any- 
 thing, did of himself merely resolve upon that action. 
 
 VIII. Whatsoever thou dost afiect, whatsoever thou dost 
 project, so do, and so project all, as one who, for aught thou 
 knowest, may at this very present depart out of this life. 
 And as for death, if there be any gods, it is no grievous 
 thing to leave the society of men. The gods will do thee 
 no hurt, thou mayest be sure. But if it be so that there be 
 no gods, or that they take no care of the world, why should 
 I desire to live in a world void of gods, and of all divine 
 providence ? But gods there be certainly, and they _ take 
 care for the world ; and as for those things which be truly 
 evil, as vice and wickedness, such things they have put in a 
 man's own power, that he might avoid them if he would : 
 and had there been anything besides that had been truly bad 
 and evil, they would have had a care of that also, that a man 
 might have avoided it. But why should that be thought to 
 hurt and prejudice a man's life in this world, which cannot 
 any ways make man himself the better, or the worse in his 
 own person ? Neither must we think that the nature of 
 the universe did either through ignorance pass these things, 
 or if not as ignorant of them, yet as unable either to prevent, 
 or better to order and dispose them. It cannot be that; she 
 through want either of power or skill, should have com- 
 mitted such a thing, so as to suffer all things both good and 
 bad, equally and promiscuously, to happen unto all both good 
 and bad. As for life therefore, and death, honour and dis- 
 honour, labour and pleasure, riches and poverty, all these 
 things happen unto men indeed, both good and bad, equally ; 
 
 i6 
 
His Meditations 
 
 but as things which of themselves are neither good nor bad ; 
 because of themselves, neither shameful nor praiseworthy. 
 
 IX. Consider how quickly all things are dissolved and 
 resolved : the bodies and substances themselves, into the 
 matter and substance of the world : and their memories 
 into the general age and time of the world. Consider 
 the nature of all worldly sensible things ; of those especi- 
 ally, which either ensnare by pleasure, or for their irksome- 
 ness are dreadful, or for their outward lustre and show are 
 in great esteem and request, how vile and contemptible, 
 how base and corruptible, how destitute of all true life and 
 being they are. 
 
 X. It is the part of a man endowed with a good under- 
 standing faculty, to consider what they themselves are in 
 very deed, from whose bare conceits and voices, honour and 
 credit do proceed : as also what it is to die, and how if a 
 man shall consider this by itself alone, to die, and separate 
 from it in his mind all those things which with it usually 
 represent themselves unto us, he can conceive of it no 
 otherwise, than as of a work of nature, and he that fears any 
 work of nature, is a very child. Now death, it is not only 
 a work of nature, but also conducing to nature. 
 
 XI. Consider with thyself how man, and by what part 
 of his, is joined unto God, and how that part of man is 
 affected, when it is said to be diffused. There is nothing 
 more wretched than that soul, which in a kind of circuit 
 compasseth all things, searching (as he saith) even the very 
 depths of the earth ; and by all signs and conjectures piy- 
 ing into the very thoughts of other men's souls ; and yet of 
 this is not sensible, that it is sufficient for a man to apply 
 himself wholly, and to confine all his thoughts and cares to 
 the tendance of that spirit which is within him, and truly 
 and really to serve him. His service doth consist in this, 
 
 17 B 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 that a man keep himself pure from all violent passion and 
 evil affection, from all rashness and vanity, and from all 
 manner of discontent, either in regard of the gods or men. 
 For indeed whatsoever proceeds from the gods, deserves 
 respect for their worth and excellency ; and whatsoever 
 proceeds from men, as they are our kinsmen, should by us 
 be entertained, with love, always ; sometimes, as proceeding 
 from their ignorance, of that which is truly good and bad, 
 (a blindness no less, than that by which we are not able to 
 discern between white and black :) with a kind of pity and 
 compassion also. 
 
 XII. If thou shouldst live three thousand, or as many 
 as ten thousands of years, yet remember this, that man can 
 part with no life properly, save with that little part of life, 
 which he now lives : and that which he lives, is no other, 
 than that which at every instant he parts with. That then 
 which is longest of duration, and that which is shortest, 
 come both to one effect. For although in regard of that 
 which is already past there may be some inequality, yet that 
 time which is now present and in being, is equal unto all 
 men. And that being it which we part with whensoever 
 we die, it doth manifestly appear, that it can be but a 
 moment of time, that we then part with. For as for that 
 which is either past or to come, a man cannot be said 
 properly to part with it. For how should a man part with 
 that which he hath not ? These two things therefore thou 
 must remember. First, that all things in the world from 
 all eternity, by a perpetual revolution of the same times and 
 things ever continued and renewed, are of one kind and 
 nature ; so that whether for a hundred or two hundred 
 years only, or for an infinite space of time, a man see those 
 things which are still the same, it can be no matter of great 
 moment. And secondly, that that life which any the longest 
 
 i8 
 
His Meditations 
 
 liver, or the shortest liver parts with, is for length and dura- 
 tion the very same, for that only wrhich is present, is that, 
 which either of them can lose, as being that only which 
 they have ; for that which he hath not, no man can truly 
 be said to lose. 
 
 XIII. Remember that all is but opinion and conceit, for 
 those things are plain and apparent, which were spoken 
 unto Monimus the Cynic ; and as plain and apparent is the 
 use that may be made of those things, if that which is true 
 and serious in them, be received as well as that which is 
 sweet and pleasing. 
 
 XIV. A man's soul doth wrong and disrespect itself first 
 and especially, when as much as in itself lies it becomes an 
 aposteme, and as it were an excrescency of the world, for 
 to be grieved and displeased with anything that happens in 
 the world, is direct apostacy from the nature of the uni- 
 verse ; part of which, all particular natures of the world, 
 are. Secondly, when she either is averse from any man, or 
 led by contrary desires or affections, tending to his hurt 
 and prejudice ; such as are the souls of them that are angry. 
 Thirdly, when she is overcome by any pleasure or pain. 
 Fourthly, when she doth dissemble, and covertly and falsely 
 either doth or saith anything. Fifthly, when she doth 
 either affect or endeavour anything to no certain end, but 
 rashly and without due ratiocination and consideration, how 
 consequent or inconsequent it is to the common end. For 
 even the least things ought not to be done, without relation 
 unto the end ; and the end of the reasonable creatures is, 
 to follow and obey him, who is the reason as it were, and the 
 law of this great city, and ancient commonwealth, 
 
 XV. The time of a man's life is as a point ; the sub- 
 stance of it ever flowing, the sense obscure ; and the whole 
 composition of the body tending to corruption. His soul is 
 
 19 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 restless, fortune uncertain, and fame doubtful ; to be brief, 
 as a stream so are all things belonging to the body ; as a 
 dream, or as a smoke, so are all that belong unto the soul. 
 Our life is a warfere, and a mere pilgrimage. Fame after 
 life is no better than oblivion. What is it then that will 
 adhere and follow ? Only one thing, philosophy. And 
 philosophy doth consist in this, for a man to preserve that 
 spirit which is within him, from all manner of contumelies 
 and injuries, and above all pains or pleasures ; never to 
 do anything either rashly, or feignedly, or hypocritically : 
 wholly to depend from himself, and his own proper actions : 
 all things that happen unto him to embrace contentedly, as 
 coming from Him from whom he himself also came ; and 
 above all things, with all meekness and a calm cheerfulness, 
 to expect death, as being nothing else but the resolution of 
 those elements, of which every creature is composed. And 
 if the elements themselves suflfer nothing by this their 
 perpetual conversion of one into another, that dis- 
 solution, and alteration, which is so common 
 unto all, why should it be feared by 
 any ? Is not this according to nature ? 
 But nothing that is according to 
 nature can be evil. 
 
 Whilst I was at Carnuntum. 
 
 20 
 
His Meditations 
 
 The Third Book 
 
 3^ MAN must not only consider how 
 daily his life wasteth and decreaseth, 
 but this also, that if he live long, 
 he cannot be certain, whether his 
 understanding shall continue so able 
 and sufficient, for either discreet con- 
 sideration, in matter of businesses ; 
 or for contemplation : it being the thing, whereon true 
 knowledge of things both divine and human, doth depend. 
 For if once he shall begin to dote, his respiration, nutri- 
 tion, his imaginative, and appetitive, and other natural 
 faculties, may still continue the same : he shall find no 
 want of them. But how to make that right use of him- 
 self that he should, how to observe exactly in all things 
 that which is right and just, how to redress and rectify 
 all wrong, or sudden apprehensions and imaginations, and 
 even of this particular, whether he should live any longer 
 or no, to consider duly ; for all such things, wherein 
 the best strength and vigour of the mind is most re- 
 quisite ; his power and ability will be past and gone. 
 Thou must hasten therefore ; not only because thou art 
 every day nearer unto death than other, but also because 
 that intellective faculty in thee, whereby thou art enabled 
 to know the true nature of things, and to order all thy 
 actions by that knowledge, doth daily waste and decay : or, 
 may fail thee before thou die. 
 
 II. This also thou must observe, that whatsoever it is 
 that naturally doth happen to things natural, hath some- 
 
 21 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 what in itself that is pleasing and delightful : as a great 
 loaf when it is baked, some parts of it cleave as it were, 
 and part asunder, and make the crust of it rugged and 
 unequal, and yet those parts of it, though in some sort it 
 be against the art and intention of baking itself, that they 
 are thus cleft and parted, which should have been and 
 were first made all even and uniform, they become it well 
 nevertheless, and have a certain peculiar property, to stir 
 the appetite. So figs are accounted fairest and ripest then, 
 when they begin to shrink, and wither as it were. So ripe 
 olives, when they are next to putrefaction, then are they 
 in their proper beauty. The hanging down of grapes, the 
 brow of a lion, the froth of a foaming wild boar, and 
 many other like things, though by themselves considered, 
 they are far from any beauty, yet because they happen 
 naturally, they both are comely, and delightful ; so that if 
 a man shall with a profound mind and apprehension, con- 
 sider all things in the world, even among all those things 
 which are but mere accessories and natural appendices 
 as it were, there will scarce appear anything unto him, 
 wherein he will not find matter of pleasure and delight. 
 So will he behold with as much pleasure the true rictus of 
 wild beasts, as those which by skilful painters and other 
 artificers are imitated. So will he be able to perceive the 
 proper ripeness and beauty of old age, whether in man or 
 woman : and whatsoever else it is that is beautiful and 
 alluring in whatsoever is, with chaste and continent eyes 
 he will soon find out and discern. Those and many other 
 things will he discern, not credible unto every one, but 
 unto them only who are truly and familiarly acquainted, 
 both with nature itself, and all natural things. 
 
 III. Hippocrates having cured many sicknesses, fell sick 
 himself and died. The Chaldeans and Astrologians having 
 
 22 
 
His Meditations 
 
 foretold the deaths of divers, were afterwards themselves 
 surprised by the fates. Alexander and Pompeius, and 
 Caius Caesar, having destroyed so many towns, and cut oiF 
 in the field so many thousands both of horse and foot, yet 
 they themselves at last were fain to part with their own 
 lives. Heraditus having written so many natural tracts 
 concerning the last and general conflagration of the world, 
 died afterwards all filled with water within, and all bedaubed 
 with dirt and dung without. Lice killed Democritus ; and 
 Socrates, another sort of vermin, wicked ungodly men. 
 How then stands the case ? Thou hast taken ship, thou 
 hast sailed, thou art come to land, go out, if to another life, 
 there also shalt thou find gods, who are everywhere. If all 
 life and sense shall cease, then shalt thou cease also to be 
 subject to either pains or pleasures ; and to serve and tend 
 this vile cottage ; so much the viler, by how much that 
 which ministers unto it doth excel ; the one being a rational 
 substance, and a spirit, the other nothing but earth and 
 blood. 
 
 IV. Spend not the remnant of thy days in thoughts and 
 fancies concerning other men, when it is not in relation to 
 some common good, when by it thou art hindered from some 
 other better work. That is, spend not thy time in think- 
 ing, what such a man doth, and to what end : what he 
 saith, and what he thinks, and what he is about, and such 
 other things or curiosities, which make a man to rove and 
 wander from the care and observation of that part of him- 
 self, which is rational, and overruling. See therefore in 
 the whole series and connection of thy thoughts, that thou 
 be careful to prevent whatsoever is idle and impertinent : 
 but especially, whatsoever is curious and malicious : and 
 thou must use thyself to think only of such things, of which 
 if a man upon a sudden should ask thee, what it is that thou 
 
 23 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 art now thinking, thou mayest answer This, and That, freely 
 and boldly, that so by thy thoughts it may presently appear 
 that in all thee is sincere, and peaceable ; as becometh one 
 that is made for society, and regards not pleasures, nor gives 
 way to any voluptuous imaginations at all : free from all con- 
 tentiousness, envy, and suspicion, and from whatsoever else 
 thou wouldest blush to confess thy thoughts were set upon. 
 He that is such, is he surely that doth not put off to lay hold 
 on that which is best indeed, a very priest and minister of 
 the gods, well acquainted and in good correspondence with 
 him especially that is seated and placed within himself, as 
 in a temple and sacrary : to whom also he keeps and pre- 
 serves himself unspotted by pleasure, undaunted by pain ; 
 free from any manner of wrong, or contumely, by himself 
 offered unto himself : not capable of any evil from others : 
 a wrestler of the best sort, and for the highest prize, that he 
 may not be cast down by any passion, or affection of his 
 own ; deeply dyed and drenched in righteousness, embracing 
 and accepting with his whole heart whatsoever either hap- 
 peneth or is allotted unto him. One who not often, nor 
 without some great necessity tending to some public good, 
 mindeth what any other, either speaks, or doth, or purposeth : 
 for those things only that are in his own power, or that are 
 truly his own, are the objects of his employments, and his 
 thoughts are ever taken up with those things, which of the 
 whole universe are by the fates or Providence destinated 
 and appropriated unto himself. Those things that are his 
 own, and in his own power, he himself takes order, for that 
 they be good : and as for tho^e that happen unto him, he 
 believes them to be so. For that lot and portion which is 
 assigned to every one, as it is unavoidable and necessary, so 
 is it always profitable. He remembers besides that whatso- 
 ever partakes of reason, is akin unto him, and that to care 
 
 24 
 
His Meditations 
 
 m 
 
 for all men generally, is agreeing to the nature of a man : 
 but as for honour and praise, that they ought not generally 
 to be admitted and accepted of from all, but from such only, 
 who live according to nature. As for them that do not, 
 what manner of men they be at home, or abroad ; day or 
 night, how conditioned themselves with what manner of 
 condition^ or with men of what conditions they moil and 
 pass away the time together, he knoweth, and remembers 
 right well, he therefore regards not such praise and approba- 
 tion, as proceeding from them, who cannot like and approve 
 themselves. 
 
 V. Do nothing against thy will, nor contrary to the 
 community, nor without due examination, nor with reluc- 
 tancy. AfiFect not to set out thy thoughts with curious 
 neat language. Be neither a great talker, nor a great under- 
 taker. Moreover, let thy God that is in thee to rule over 
 thee, find by thee, that he hath to do with a man ; an aged 
 man ; a sociable man ; a Roman ; a prince ; one that hath 
 ordered his life, as one that expecteth, as it were, nothing 
 but the sound of the trumpet, sounding a retreat to depart 
 out of this life with all expedition. One who for his word 
 or actions neither needs an oath, nor any man to be a 
 witness. 
 
 VI. To be cheerful, and to stand in no need, either of 
 other men's help or attendance, or of that rest and tranquillity, 
 which thou must be beholding to others for. Rather like 
 one that is straight of himself, or hath ever been straight, 
 than one that hath been rectified. 
 
 VII. If thou shah find anything in this mortal life 
 better than righteousness, than truth, temperance, fortitude, 
 and in general better than a mind contented both with 
 those things which according to right and reason she doth, 
 and in those, which without her will and knowledge 
 
 25 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 happen unto thee by the providence ; if I say, thou canst 
 find out anything better than this, apply thyself unto it 
 with thy whole heart, and that which is best wheresoever 
 thou dost find it, enjoy freely. But if nothing thou shalt 
 find worthy to be preferred to that spirit which is within 
 thee ; if nothing better than to subject unto thee thine own 
 lusts and desires, and not to give way to any fancies or 
 imaginations before thou hast duly considered of them, 
 nothing better than to withdraw thyself (to use Socrates his 
 words) from all sensuality, and submit thyself unto the gods, 
 and to have care of all men in general : if thou shalt find 
 that all other things in comparison of this, are but vile, and 
 of little moment ; then give not way to any other thing, 
 which being once though but affected and inclined unto, it 
 will no more be in thy power without all distraction as thou 
 oughtest to prefer and to pursue after that good, which is 
 thine own and thy proper good. For it is not lawful, that 
 anything that is of another and inferior kind and nature, be 
 it what it will, as either popular applause, or honour, or riches, 
 or pleasures ; should be suffered to confront and contest as 
 it were, with that which is rational, and operatively good. 
 For all these things, if once though but for a while, they 
 begin to please, they presently prevail, and pervert a man's 
 mind, or turn a man from the right way. Do thou there- 
 fore I say absolutely and freely make choice of that which 
 is best, and stick unto it. Now, that they say is best, 
 which is most profitable. If they mean profitable to man 
 as he is a rational man, stand thou to it, and maintain 
 it ; but if they mean profitable, as he is a creature, only 
 reject it ; and from this thy tenet and conclusion keep 
 off carefully all plausible shows and colours of external 
 appearance, that thou mayest be able to discern things 
 rightly. 
 
 26 
 
His Meditations 
 
 VIII. Never esteem of anything as profitable, which shall 
 ever constrain thee either to break thy faith, or to lose thy 
 modesty ; to hate any man, to suspect, to curse, to dis- 
 semble, to lust after anything, that requireth the secret of 
 walls or veils. But he that preferreth before all things his 
 rational part and spirit, and the sacred mysteries of virtue 
 which issueth from it, he shall never lament and exclaim, 
 never sigh ; he shall never want either solitude or company : 
 and which is chiefest of all, he shall live without either 
 desire or fear. And as for life, whether for a long or short 
 time he shall enjoy his soul thus compassed about with a 
 body, he is altogether indiflFerent. For if even now he were 
 to depart, he is as ready for it, as for any other action, which 
 may be performed with modesty and decenfcy. For all his 
 life long, this is his only care, that his mind may always be 
 occupied in such intentions and objects, as are proper to a 
 rational sociable creature. 
 
 IX. In the mind that is once truly disciplined and purged, 
 thou canst not find anything, either foul or impure, or as it 
 were festered : nothing that is either servile, or affected : 
 no partial tie ; no malicious averseness ; nothing obnoxious ; 
 nothing concealed. The life of such an one, death can 
 never surprise as imperfect ; as of an actor, that should die 
 before he had ended, or the play itself were at an end, a 
 man might speak. 
 
 X. Use thine opinative faculty with all honour and 
 respect, for in her indeed is all : that thy opinion do not 
 beget in thy understanding anything contrary to either 
 nature, or the proper constitution of a rational creature. 
 The end and object of a rational constitution is, to do 
 nothing rashly, to be kindly affected towards men, and in 
 all things willingly to submit unto the gods. Casting there- 
 fore all other things aside, keep thyself to these few, and 
 
 27 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 remember withal that no man properly can be said to live 
 more than that which is now present, which is but a 
 moment of time. Whatsoever is besides either is already- 
 past, or uncertain. The time therefore that any man doth 
 live, is but a little, and the place where he liveth, is but a 
 very little corner of the earth, and the greatest fame that 
 can remain of a man after his death, even that is but little, 
 and that too, such as it is whilst it is, is by the succession of 
 silly mortal men preserved, who likewise shall shortly die, 
 and even whiles they live know not what in very deed they 
 themselves are : and much less can know one, who long 
 before is dead and gone. 
 
 XI. To these ever-present helps and mementoes, let one 
 more be added, ever to make a particular description and 
 delineation as it were of every object that presents itself to 
 thy mind, that thou mayest wholly and throughly contem- 
 plate it, in its own proper nature, bare and naked ; wholly, 
 and severally ; divided into its several parts and quarters : 
 and then by thyself in thy mind, to call both it, and those 
 things of which it doth consist, and in which it shall be 
 resolved, by their own proper true names, and appellations. 
 For there is nothing so effectual to beget true magnanimity, 
 as to be able truly and methodically to examine and consider 
 all things that happen in this life, and so to penetrate into 
 their natures, that at the same time, this also may concur 
 in our apprehensions : what is the true use of it ? and what 
 is the true nature of this universe, to which it is useful ? 
 how much in regard of the universe may it be esteemed ? 
 how much in regard of man, a citizen of the supreme city, 
 of which all other cities in the world are as it were but 
 houses and families ? 
 
 XII. What is this, that now my fancy is set upon ? of 
 what things doth it consist ? how long can it last ? which 
 
 28 
 
His Meditations 
 
 of all the virtues is the proper virtuS for this present use ? 
 as whether meekness, fortitude, truth, faith, sincerity, con- 
 tentation, or any of the rest ? Of everything therefore thou 
 must use thyself to say. This immediately comes from God, 
 this by that fatal connection and concatenation of things, or 
 (which almost comes to one) by some coincidental casualty. 
 And as for this, it proceeds from my neighbour, my kinsman, 
 my fellow : through his ignorance indeed, because he knows 
 not what is truly natural unto him : but I know it, and 
 therefore carry myself towards hfm according to the natural 
 law of fellowship ; that is kindly, and justly. As for those 
 things that of themselves are altogether indifferent, as in my 
 best judgment I conceive everything to deserve more or 
 less, so I carry myself towards it. 
 
 XIII. If thou shalt intend that which is present, follow- 
 ing the rule of right and reason carefully, solidly, meekly, 
 and shalt not intermix any other businesses, but shall study 
 this only to preserve thy spirit impoUuted, and pure, and 
 shall cleave unto him without either hope or fear of any- 
 thing, in all things that thou shalt either do or speak, 
 contenting thyself with heroical truth, thou shalt live 
 happily ; and from this, there is no man that can hinder 
 thee. 
 
 XIV. As physicians and chirurgeons have always their 
 instruments ready at hand for all sudden cures ; so have 
 thou always thy dogmata in a readiness for the knowledge 
 of things, both divine and human : and whatsoever thou 
 dost, even in the smallest things that thou dost, thou must 
 ever remember that mutual relation, and connection that is 
 between these two things divine, and things human. For 
 without relation unto God, thou shalt never speed in any 
 worldly actions ; nor on the other side in any divine, with- 
 out some respect had to things human. 
 
 29 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 XV. Be not deceived ; for thou shalt never live to read 
 thy moral commentaries, nor the acts of the famous Romans 
 and Grecians ; nor those excerpta from several books ; all 
 which, thou hadst provided and laid up for thyself against 
 thine old age. Hasten therefore to an end, and giving over 
 all vain hopes, help thyself in time if thou carest for thyself, 
 as thou oughtest to do. 
 
 XVI. To steal, to sow, to buy, to be at rest, to see 
 what is to be done (which is not seen by the eyes, but by 
 another kind of sight :) what these words mean, and how 
 many ways to be understood, they do not understand. The 
 body, the soul, the understanding. As the senses naturally 
 belong to the body, and the desires and affections to the 
 soul, so do the dogmata to the understanding. 
 
 XVII. To be capable of fancies and imaginations, is 
 common to man and beast. To be violently drawn and 
 moved by the lusts and desires of the soul, is proper to wild 
 beasts and monsters, such as Phalaris and Nero were. To 
 follow reason for ordinary duties and actions is common to 
 them also, who believe not that there be any gods, and 
 for their advantage would make no conscience to betray 
 their own country ; and who when once the doors be shut 
 upon them, dare do anything. If therefore all things 
 else be common to these likewise, it follows, that for a 
 man to like and embrace all things that happen and are des- 
 tinated unto him, and not to trouble and molest that spirit 
 which is seated in the temple of his own breast, with a 
 multitude of vain fancies and imaginations, but to keep him 
 propitious and to obey him as a god, never either speaking 
 anything contrary to truth, or doing anything contrary to 
 justice, is the only true property of a good man. And such 
 a one, though no man should believe that he liveth as he 
 doth, either sincerely and conscionably, or cheerful and con- 
 
 30 
 
His Meditations 
 
 tentedly; yet is he neither with ari^ man at all angry for 
 it, nor diverted by it from the way that leadeth to the 
 end of his life, through which a man must pass pure, 
 ever ready to depart, and willing of himself with- 
 out any compulsion to fit and accommodate 
 himself to his proper lot and portion. 
 
 31 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Fourth Book 
 
 ' HAT inward mistress part of man if • 
 it be in its own true natural temper, 
 is towards all worldly chances and 
 events ever so disposed and affected, 
 that it will easily turn and apply itself 
 to that which may be, and is within 
 its own power to compass, when that 
 cannot be which at first it intended. For it never doth 
 absolutely addict and apply itself to any one object, but 
 whatsoever it is that it doth now intend and prosecute, it 
 doth prosecute it with exception and reservation ; so that 
 whatsoever it is that falls out contrary to its first in- 
 tentions, even that afterwards it makes its proper object. 
 Even as the fire when it prevails upon those things that are 
 in his way; by which things indeed a little fire would 
 have been quenched, but a great fire doth soon turn to its 
 own nature, and so consume whatsoever comes in his way : 
 yea by those very things it is made greater and greater. 
 
 II. Let nothing be done rashly, and at random, but all 
 things according to the most exact and perfect rules of art. 
 
 III. They seek for themselves private retiring places, as 
 country villages, the sea-shore, mountains ; yea thou thyself 
 art wont to long much after such places. But all this thou 
 must know proceeds from simplicity in the highest degree. 
 At what time soever thou wilt, it is in thy power to retire 
 into thyself, and to be at rest, and free from all businesses. 
 A man cannot any whither retire better than to his own 
 soul ; he especially who is beforehand provided of such 
 
 32 
 
His Meditations 
 
 things within, which whensoever he doth withdraw himself 
 to look in, may presently afford unto him perfect ease and 
 tranquillity. By tranquillity I understand a decent orderly 
 disposition and carriage, free from all confusion and tumul- 
 tuousness. Afford then thyself this retiring continually, and 
 thereby refresh and renew thyself. Let these precepts be 
 brief and fundamental, which as soon as thou dost call them 
 to mind, may suffice thee to purge thy soul throughly, and 
 to send thee away well pleased with those things whatsoever 
 they be, which now again after this short withdrawing of 
 thy soul into herself thou dost return unto. For what is it 
 that thou art offended at ? Can it be at the wickedness of 
 men, when thou dost call to mind this conclusion, that all 
 reasonable creatures are made one for another ? and that it 
 is part of justice to bear with them ? and that it is against 
 their wills that they offend ? and how many already, who 
 once likewise prosecuted their enmities, suspected, hated, 
 and fiercely contended, are now long ago stretched out, and 
 reduced unto ashes ? It is time for thee to make an end. 
 As for those things which among the common chances of 
 the world happen unto thee as thy particular lot and portion, 
 canst thou be displeased with any of them, when thou dost 
 call that our ordinary dilemma to mind, either a providence, 
 or Democritus his atoms ; and with it, whatsoever we 
 brought to prove that the whole world is as it were one 
 city ? And as for thy body, what canst thou fear, if thou 
 dost consider that thy mind and understanding, when once 
 it hath recollected itself, and knows its own power, hath in 
 this life and breath (whether it run smoothly and gently, or 
 whether harshly and rudely), no interest at all, but is alto- 
 gether indifferent : and whatsoever else thou hast heard and 
 assented unto concerning either pain or pleasure ? But the 
 care of thine honour and reputation will perchance distract 
 
 33 c 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 thee ? How can that be, if thou dost look back, and con- 
 sider both how quickly all things that are, are forgotten, 
 and what an immense chaos of eternity was before, and will 
 follow after all things : and the vanity of praise, and the in- 
 constancy and variableness of human judgments and opinions, 
 and the narrowness of the place, wherein it is limited and 
 circumscribed ? For the whole earth is but as one ooint ; 
 and of it, this inhabited part of it, is but a very little part ; 
 and of this part, how many in number, and what manner 
 of men are they, that will commend thee ? What remains 
 then, but that thou often put in practice this kind of retir- 
 ing of thyself, to this little part of thyself ; and above all 
 things, keep thyself from distraction, and intend not any- 
 thing vehemently, but be free and consider all things, as a 
 man whose proper object is virtue, as a man whose true 
 nature is to be kind and sociable, as a citizen, as a mortal 
 creature. Among other things, which to consider, and look 
 into thou must use to withdraw thyself, let those two be 
 among the most obvious and at hand. One, that the things 
 or objects themselves reach not unto the soul, but stand 
 without still and quiet, and that it is from the opinion only 
 which is within, that all the tumult and all the trouble doth 
 proceed. The next, that all these things, which now thou 
 seest, shall within a very little while be changed, and be 
 no more : and ever call to mind, how many changes and 
 alterations in the world thou thyself hast already been an 
 eyewitness of in thy time. This world is mere change, 
 and this life, opinion. 
 
 IV. If to understand and to be reasonable be common 
 unto all men, then is that reason, for which we are termed 
 reasonable, common unto all. If reason is general, then is 
 that reason also, which prescribeth what is to be done and 
 what not, common unto all. If that, then law. If law, 
 
 34 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 then are we fellow-citizens. If so, then are we partners 
 in some one commonweal. If so, then the world is as it 
 were a city. For which other commonweal is it, that all 
 men can be said to be members of ? From this common 
 city it is, that understanding, reason, and law is derived 
 unto us, for from whence else ? For as that which in me 
 is earthly I have from some common earth ; and that which 
 is moist from some other element is imparted ; as my 
 breath and life hath its proper fountain ; and that likewise 
 which is dry and fiery in me : (for there is nothing which 
 doth not proceed from something ; as also there is nothing 
 that can be reduced unto mere nothing :) so also is there 
 some common beginning from whence my understanding 
 hath proceeded. 
 
 V. As generation is, so also death, a secret of nature's 
 wisdom : a mixture of elements, resolved into the same 
 elements again, a thing surely which no man ought to be 
 ashamed of: in a series of other fatal events and conse- 
 quences, which a rational creature is subject unto, not im- 
 proper or incongruous, nor contrary to the natural and 
 proper constitution of man himself. 
 
 VI. Such and such things, from such and such causes, 
 must of necessity proceed. He that would not have such 
 things to happen, is as he that would have the fig-tree 
 grow without any sap or moisture. In sum, remember 
 this, that within a very little while, both thou and he 
 shall both be dead, and after a little while more, not so 
 much as your names and memories shall be remaining. 
 
 VII. Let opinion be taken away, and no man will 
 think himself wronged. If no man shall think himself 
 wronged, then is there no more any such thing as wrong. 
 That which makes not man himself the worse, cannot make 
 his life the worse, neither can it hurt him either inwardly 
 
 35 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 or outwardly. It was expedient in nature that it should 
 be so, and therefore necessary. 
 
 VIII. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, doth 
 happen justly, and so if thou dost well take heed, thou 
 shalt find it. I say not only in right order by a series of 
 inevitable consequences, but according to justice and as 
 it were by way of equal distribution, according to the true 
 worth of everything. Continue then to take notice of it, 
 as thou hast begun, and whatsoever thou dost, do it not 
 without this proviso, that it be a thing of that nature that a 
 good man (as the word good is properly taken) may do it. 
 This observe carefully in every action. 
 
 IX. Conceit no such things, as he that wrongeth thee 
 conceiveth, or would have thee to conceive, but look into 
 the matter itself, and see what it is in very truth. 
 
 X. These two rules, thou must have always in » 
 readiness. First, do nothing at all, but what reason pro- 
 ceeding from that regal and supreme part, shall for the good 
 and benefit of men, suggest unto thee. And secondly, if 
 any man that is present shall be able to rectify thee or to 
 turn thee from some erroneous persuasion, that thou be 
 always ready to change thy mind, and this change to 
 proceed, not from any respect of any pleasure or credit 
 thereon depending, but always from some probable apparent 
 ground of justice, or of some public good thereby to be 
 furthered ; or from some other such inducement. 
 
 XL Hast thou reason ? I have. Why then makest 
 thou not use of it ? For if thy reason do her part, what 
 more canst thou require ? 
 
 XII. As a part hitherto thou hast had a particular 
 subsistence : and now shalt thou vanish away into the 
 common substance of Him, who first begot thee, or rather 
 thou shalt be resumed again into that original rational 
 
 36 
 
His Meditations 
 
 m 
 
 substance, out of which all others have issued, and are 
 propagated. Many small pieces of frankincense are set 
 upon the same altar, one drops first and is consumed, an- 
 other after ; and it comes all to one. 
 
 XIII. Within ten days, if so happen, thou shalt be 
 esteemed a god of them, who now if thou shalt return to 
 the dogmata and to the honouring of reason, will esteem 
 of thee no better than of a mere brute, and of an ape. 
 
 XIV. Not as though thou hadst thousands of years to 
 live. Death hangs over thee : whilst yet thou livest, whilst 
 thou mayest, be good. 
 
 XV. Now much time and leisure doth he gain, who 
 is not curious to know what his neighbour hath said, or 
 hath done, or hath attempted, but only what he doth 
 himself, that it may be just and holy ? or to express it in 
 Agathos' words. Not to look about upon the evil conditions 
 of others, but to run on straight in the line, without any 
 loose and extravagant agitation. 
 
 XVI. He who is greedy of credit and reputation after 
 his death, doth not consider, that they themselves by whom 
 he is remembered, shall soon after every one of them be 
 dead ; and they likewise that succeed those ; until at last 
 all memory, which hitherto by the succession of men 
 admiring and soon after dying hath had its course, be quite 
 extinct. But suppose that both they that shall remember 
 thee, and thy memory with them should be immortal, what 
 is that to thee ? I will not say to thee after thou art dead ; 
 but even to thee living, what is thy praise ? But only for 
 a secret and politic consideration, which we call oiKovo/ilav, 
 or dispensation. For as for that, that it is the gift of 
 nature, whatsoever is commended in thee, what might be 
 objected from thence, let that now that we are upon 
 another consideration be omitted as unseasonable. That 
 
 37 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 which is feir and goodly, whatsoever it be, and in what 
 respect soever it be, that it is fair and goodly, it is so of 
 itself, and terminates in itself, not admitting praise as a 
 part or member : that therefore which is praised, is not 
 thereby made either better or worse. This I understand 
 even of those things, that are commonly called fair and 
 good, as those which are commended either for the matter 
 itself, or for curious workmanship. As for that which is 
 truly good, what can it stand in need of more than either 
 justice or truth ; or more than either kindness and modesty ? 
 Which of all those, either becomes good or fair, because 
 commended ; or dispraised suffers any damage ? Doth the 
 emerald become worse in itself, or more vile if it be not 
 commended ? Doth gold, or ivory, or purple ? Is there 
 anything that doth though never so common, as a knife, 
 a flower, or a tree ? 
 
 XVII. If so be that the souls remain after death (say 
 they that will not believe it) ; how is the air from all 
 eternity able to contain them ? How is the earth (say I) 
 ever from that time able to contain the bodies of them that 
 are buried ? For as here the change and resolution of dead 
 bodies into another kind of subsistence, (whatsoever it be ;) 
 makes place for other dead bodies : so the souls after 
 death transferred into the air, after they have conversed 
 there a while, are either by way of transmutation, or trans- 
 fusion, or conflagration, received again into that original 
 rational substance, from which all others do proceed : and 
 so give way to those souls, who before coupled and as- 
 sociated unto bodies, now begin to subsist single. This, 
 upon a supposition that the souls after death do for a while 
 subsist single, may be answered. And here, (besides the 
 number of bodies, so buried and contained by the earth), 
 we may further consider the number of several beasts, 
 
 38 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 eaten by us men, and by other creatures. For notwith- 
 standing that such a multitude of them is daily consumed, 
 and as it were buried in the bodies of the eaters, yet is the 
 same place and body able to contain them, by reason of 
 their conversion, partly into blood, partly into air and fire. 
 What in these things is the speculation of truth ? to divide 
 things into that which is passive and material ; and that 
 which is active and formal. 
 
 XVIII. Not to wander out of the way, but upon every 
 motion and desire, to perform that which is just : and ever 
 to be careful to attain to the true natural apprehension of 
 every fancy, that presents itself. 
 
 XIX. Whatsoever is expedient unto thee, O World, is 
 expedient unto me ; nothing can either be unseasonable unto 
 me, or out of date, which unto thee is seasonable. What- 
 soever thy seasons bear, shall ever by me be esteemed as 
 happy Aruit, and increase. O Nature ! from thee are all 
 things, in thee all things subsist, and to thee all tend. 
 Could he say of Athens, Thou lovely city of Cecrops ; 
 and shalt not thou say of the world. Thou lovely city of 
 God? 
 
 XX. They will say commonly. Meddle not with many 
 things, if thou wilt live cheerfully. Certainly there is 
 nothing better, than for a man to confine himself to neces- 
 sary actions ; to such and so many only, as reason in a 
 creature that knows itself born for society, will command 
 and enjoin. This will not only procure that cheerfulness, 
 which from the goodness, but that also, which from the 
 paucity of actions doth usually proceed. For since it is so, 
 that most of those things, which we either speak or do, 
 are unnecessary ; if a man shall cut them off, it must needs 
 follow that he shall thereby gain much leisure, and save 
 much trouble, and therefore at every action & man must 
 
 39 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 privately by way of admonition suggest unto himself, What ? 
 may not this that now I go about, be of the number of 
 unnecessary actions ? Neither must he use himself to cut 
 off actions only, but thoughts and imaginations also, that 
 are unnecessary ; for so will unnecessary consequent actions 
 the better be prevented and cut off. 
 
 XXI. Try also how a good man's life ; (of one, who 
 is well pleased with those things whatsoever, which among 
 the common changes and chances of this world fall to his 
 own lot and share ; and can live well contented and fully 
 satisfied in the justice of his own proper present action, and 
 in the goodness of his disposition for the future :) will agree 
 with thee. Thou hast had experience of that other kind 
 of life : make now trial of this also. Trouble not thyself 
 any more henceforth, reduce thyself unto perfect simplicity. 
 Doth any man offend ? It is against himself that he doth 
 offend : why should it trouble thee ? Hath anything 
 happened unto thee ? It is well, whatsoever it be, it is that 
 which of all the common chances of the world from the 
 very beginning in the series of all other things that have, or 
 shall happen, was destinated and appointed unto thee. To 
 comprehend all in few words, our life is short ; we must 
 endeavour to gain the present time with best discretion and 
 justice. Use recreation with sobriety. 
 
 XXII. Either this world is a Koa-fioi, or a comely piece, 
 because all disposed and governed by certain order : or if it 
 be a mixture, though confused, yet still it is a comely piece. 
 For is it possible that in thee there should be any beauty 
 at all, and that in the whole world there should be nothing 
 but disorder and confusion ? and all things in it too, by 
 natural different properties one from another differenced 
 and distinguished ; and yet all through diffiised, and by 
 natural sympathy, one to another united, as they are ? 
 
 40 
 
His Meditations 
 
 XXIII. A black or malign disposition, an effeminate 
 disposition ; an hard inexorable disposition, a wild inhuman 
 disposition, a sheepish disposition, a childish disposition ; a 
 blockish, a false, a scurril, a fraudulent, a tyrannical : what 
 then ? If he be a stranger in the world, that knows not 
 the things that are in it ; why not he a stranger as well, 
 that wonders at the things that are done in it ? 
 
 XXIV. He is a true fugitive, that flies from reason, by 
 which men are sociable. He blind, who cannot see with 
 the eyes of his understanding. He poor, that stands in 
 need of another, and hath not in himself all things needful 
 for this life. He an aposteme of the world, who by being 
 discontented with those things that happen' unto him in 
 the world, doth as it were apostatise, and separate himself 
 from common nature's rational administration. For the 
 same nature it is that brings this unto thee, whatsoever it 
 be, that first brought thee into the world. He raises 
 sedition in the city, who by irrational actions withdraws 
 his own soul from that one and common soul of all rational 
 creatures. 
 
 XXV. There is, who without so much as a coat ; and 
 there is, who without so much as a book, doth put philo- 
 sophy in practice. I am half naked, neither have I bread 
 to eat, and yet I depart not from reason, saith one. But 
 I say ; I want the food of good teaching, and instructions, 
 and yet I depart not from reason. 
 
 XXVI. What art and profession soever thou hast 
 learned, endeavour to afFect it, and comfort thyself in it ; 
 and pass the remainder of thy life as one who from his 
 whole heart commits himself and whatsoever belongs unto 
 him, unto the gods : and as for men, carry not thyself 
 either tyrannically or servilely towards any. 
 
 XXVII. Consider in my mind, for example's sake, the 
 
 41 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 times of Vespasian : thou shalt see but the same things : 
 some marrying, some bringing up children, some sick, some 
 dying, some fighting, some feasting, some merchandising, 
 some tilling, some flattering, some boasting, some suspect- 
 ing, some undermining, some wishing to die, some fretting 
 and murmuring at their present estate, some wooing, some 
 hoarding, some seeking after magistracies, and some after 
 kingdoms. And is not that their age quite over, and 
 ended ? Again, consider now the times of Trajan. 
 There likewise thou seest the very self-same things, 
 and that age also is now over and ended. In the like 
 manner consider other periods, both of times and of 
 whole nations, and see how many men, after they had with 
 all their might and main intended and prosecuted some 
 one worldly thing or other, did soOn after drop away, and 
 were resolved into the elements. But especially thou must 
 call to mind them, whom thou thyself in thy lifetime hast 
 known much distracted about vain things, and in the mean- 
 time neglecting to do that, and closely and unseparably (as 
 fully satisfied with it) to adhere unto it, which their own 
 proper constitution did require. And here thou must 
 remember, that thy carriage in every business must be 
 according to the worth and due proportion of it, for so shalt 
 thou not easily be tired out and vexed, if thou shalt not 
 dwell upon small matters longer than is fitting. 
 
 XXVIII. Those words which once were common and 
 ordinary, are now become obscure and obsolete ; and so the 
 names of men once commonly known and femous, are now 
 become in a manner obscure and obsolete names. Camillus, 
 Caeso, Volesius, Leonnatus ; not long after, Scipio, Cato, 
 then Augustus, then Adrianus, then Antoninus Pius : all 
 these in a short time will be out of date, and, as things of 
 another world as it were, become fabulous. And this I say 
 
 42 
 
His Meditations 
 
 « 
 
 of them, who once shined as the wonders of their ages, for as 
 for the rest, no sooner are they expired, than with them all 
 their fame and memory. And what is it then that shall 
 always be remembered ? all is vanity. What is it that we 
 must bestow our care and diligence upon ? even upon this 
 only : that our minds and wills be just ; that our actions be 
 charitable ; that our speech be never deceitful, or that our 
 understanding be not subject to error ; that our inclination 
 be always set to embrace whatsoever shall happen unto us, 
 as necessary, as usual, as ordinary, as flowing from such a 
 beginning, and such a fountain, from which both thou thy- 
 self and all things are. Willingly therefore, and wholly 
 surrender up thyself unto that fatal concatenation, yielding 
 up thyself unto the fates, to be disposed of at their pleasure. 
 
 XXIX. Whatsoever is now present, and from day to day 
 hath its existence ; all objects of memories, and the minds 
 and memories themselves, incessantly consider, all things that 
 are, have their being by change and alteration. Use thyself 
 therefore often to meditate upon this, that the nature of the 
 universe delights in nothing more, than in altering those 
 things that are, and in making others like unto them. So 
 that we may say, that whatsoever is, is but as it were 
 the seed of that which shall be. For if thou think that that 
 only is seed, which either the earth or the womb receiveth, 
 thou art very simple. 
 
 XXX. Thou art now ready to die, and yet hast thou 
 not attained to that perfect simplicity : thou art yet subject 
 to many troubles and perturbations ; not yet free from all 
 fear and suspicion of external accidents ; nor yet either so 
 meekly disposed towards all men, as thou shouldest ; or so 
 affected as one, whose only study and only wisdom is, to be 
 just in all his actions. 
 
 XXXI. Behold and observe, what is the state of their 
 
 43 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 rational part ; and those that the world doth account wise, 
 see what things they fly and are afraid of; and what things 
 they hunt after. 
 
 XXXII. In another man's mind and understanding thy 
 evil cannot subsist, nor in any proper temper or distemper 
 of the natural constitution of thy body, which is but as it 
 were the coat or cottage of thy soul. Wherein then, but in 
 that part of thee, wherein the conceit, and apprehension of 
 any misery can subsist ? Let not that part therefore admit 
 any such conceit, and then all is well. Though thy body 
 which is so near it should either be cut or burnt, or suffer 
 any corruption or putrefaction, yet let that part to which 
 it belongs to judge of these, be still at rest ; that is, let her 
 judge this, that whatsoever it is, that equally may happen to 
 a wicked man, and to a good man, is neither good nor evil. 
 For that which happens equally to him that lives according 
 to nature, and to him that doth not, is neither according to 
 nature, nor against it ; and by consequent, neither good nor 
 bad. 
 
 XXXIII. Ever consider and think upon the world as 
 being but one living substance, and having but one soul, and 
 how all things in the world, are terminated into one sensi- 
 tive power ; and are done by one general motion as it were, 
 and deliberation of that one soul ; and how all things that 
 are, concur in the cause of one another's being, and by 
 what manner of connection and concatenation all things 
 happen. 
 
 XXXIV. What art thou, that better and divine part 
 excepted, but as Epictetus said well, a wretched soul, 
 appointed to carry a carcass up and down ? 
 
 XXXV. To suffer change can be no hurt ; as no 
 benefit it is, by change to attain to being. The age and 
 time of the world is as it were a flood and swift current, 
 
 44 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 consisting of the things that are brought to pass in the world. 
 For as soon as anything hath appeared, and is passed away, 
 another succeeds, and that also will presently out of sight. 
 
 XXXVI. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, is, in 
 the course of nature, as usual and ordinary as a rose in the 
 spring, and fruit in summer. Of the same nature is sickness 
 and death ; slander, and lying in wait, and whatsoever else 
 ordinarily doth unto fools use to be occasion either of joy 
 or sorrow. That, whatsoever it is, that comes after, doth 
 always very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon 
 that which was before. For thou must consider the things 
 of the world, not as a loose independent number, consisting 
 merely of necessary events ; but as: a discreet connection of 
 things orderly and harmoniously disposed. There is then to 
 be seen in the things of the world, not a bare succession, 
 but an admirable correspondence and affinity. 
 
 XXXVII. Let that of Heraclitus never be out of thy 
 mind, that the death of earth, is water, and the death of 
 water, is air ; and the death of air, is fire ; and so on the 
 contrary. Remember him also who was ignorant whither 
 the way did lead, and how that reason being the thing 
 by which all things in the world are administered, and 
 which men are continually and most inwardly conversant 
 with : yet is the thing, which ordinarily they are most in 
 opposition with, and how those things which daily happen 
 among them, cease not daily to be strange unto them, and 
 that we should not either speak, or do anything as men in 
 their sleep, by opinion and bare imagination : for then we 
 think we speak and do, and that we must not be as children, 
 who follow their father's example ; for best reason alleging 
 their bare KaOort irapeiK'^^a/j.ev ; or, as by successive 
 tradition from our forefathers we have received it. 
 
 XXXVIII. Even as if any of the gods should tell 
 
 45 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 thee, Thou shalt certainly die to-morrow, or next day, thou 
 wouldst not, except thou wert extremely base and pusillani- 
 mous, take it for a great benefit, rather to die the next day 
 after, than to-morrow ; (for alas, what is the difference !) 
 so, for the same reason, think it no great matter to die 
 rather many years after, than the very next day. 
 
 XXXIX, Let it be thy perpetual meditation, how many 
 physicians who once looked so grim, and so tetrically shrunk 
 their brows upon their patients, are dead and gone them- 
 selves. How many astrologers, after that in great ostenta- 
 tion they had foretold the death of some others, how many 
 philosophers after so many elaborate tracts and volumes 
 concerning either mortality or immortality ; how many 
 brave captains and commanders, after the death and 
 slaughter of so many ; how many kings and tyrants, after 
 they had with such horror and insolency abused their power 
 upon men's lives, as though themselves had been immortal ; 
 how many, that I may so speak, whole cities both men and 
 towns : Helice, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and others in- 
 numerable are dead and gone. Run them over also, whom 
 thou thyself, one after another, hast known in thy time 
 to drop away. Such and such a one took care of such and 
 such a one's burial, and soon after was buried himself. 
 So one, so another : and all things in a short time. For 
 herein lieth all indeed, ever to look upon all worldly things, 
 as things for their continuance, that are but for a day : and 
 for their worth, most vile, and contemptible, as for example. 
 What is man ? That which but the other day when he 
 was conceived was vile snivel ; and within few days shall 
 be either an embalmed carcass, or mere ashes. Thus must 
 thou according to truth and nature, throughly consider how 
 man's life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart 
 meek and contented : even as if a ripe olive falling should 
 
 46 
 
His Meditations 
 
 praise the ground that bare her, and give thanks to the tree 
 that begat her. 
 
 XL. Thou must be like a promontory of the sea, 
 against which though the waves beat continually, yet it 
 both itself stands, and about it are those swelling waves 
 stilled and quieted. 
 
 XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance is 
 happened ! nay, happy I, to whom this thing being hap- 
 pened, I can continue without grief; neither wounded by 
 that which is present, nor in fear of that which is to come. 
 For as for this, it might have happened unto any man, but 
 any man having such a thing befallen him, could not have 
 continued without grief. Why then should that rather be 
 an unhappiness, than this a happiness? But however, 
 canst thou, O man ! term that unhappiness, which is no 
 mischance to the nature of man ! Canst thou think that 
 a mischance to the nature of man, which is not contrary 
 to the end and will of his nature ? What then hast thou 
 learned is the will of man's nature ? Doth that then 
 which hath happened unto thee, hinder thee from being 
 just ? or magnanimous ? or temperate ? or wise ? or cir- 
 cumspect ? or true ? or modest ? or free ? or from anything 
 else of all those things in the present enjoying and posses- 
 sion whereof the nature of man, (as then enjoying all that 
 is proper unto her,) is fully 'satisfied ? Now to conclude ; 
 upon all occasion of sorrow remember henceforth to make 
 use of this dogma, that whatsoever it is that hath happened 
 unto thee, is in very deed no such thing of itself, as a 
 misfortune ; but that to bear it generously, is certainly 
 great happiness. 
 
 XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet it is a good 
 effectual remedy against the fear of death, for a man to 
 consider in his mind the examples of such, who greedily 
 
 47 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 and covetously (as it were) did for a long time enjoy their 
 lives. What have they got more, than they whose deaths 
 have been untimely ? Are not they themselves dead at the 
 last ? as Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, Lepidus, or any other 
 who in their lifetime having buried many, were at the last 
 buried themselves. The whole space of any man's life, is 
 but little ; and as little as it is, with what troubles, with 
 what manner of dispositions, and in the society of how 
 wretched a body must it be passed ! Let it be therefore 
 unto thee altogether as a matter of indifFerency. For if 
 thou shalt look backward ; behold, what an infinite chaos 
 of time doth present itself unto thee ; and as infinite a 
 chaos, if thou shalt look forward. In that which is so 
 infinite, what difference can there be between that which 
 liveth but three days, and that which liveth three ages ? 
 XLIII. Let thy course ever be the most compen- 
 dious way. The most compendious, is that which 
 is according to nature : that is, in all both words 
 and deeds, ever to follow that which is most 
 sound and perfect. For such a resolution 
 will free a man from all trouble, strife, 
 dissembling, and ostentation. 
 
 48 
 
His Meditations 
 
 The Fifth Book 
 
 >N the morning when thou findest thy- 
 self unwilling to rise, consider with 
 thyself presently, it is to go about a 
 man's work that I am stirred up. Am 
 I then yet unwilling to go about that, 
 for which I myself was born and 
 brought forth into this world? Or 
 was I made for this, to lay me down, and make much 
 of myself in a warm bed ? ' O but this is pleasing.' And 
 was it then for this that thou wert born, that thou mightest 
 enjoy pleasure? Was it not in very truth for this, that 
 thou mightest always be busy and in action ? Seest thou 
 not how all things in the world besides, how every tree and 
 plant, how sparrows and ants, spiders and bees : how all 
 in their kind are intent as it were orderly to perform what- 
 soever (towards the preservation of this orderly universe) 
 naturally doth become and belong unto them ? And wilt 
 not thou do that, which belongs unto a man to do ? Wilt 
 not thou run to do that, which thy nature doth require ? 
 ' But thou must have some rest.' Yes, thou must. Nature 
 hath of that also, as well as of eating and drinking, allowed 
 thee a certain stint. But thou goest beyond thy stint, and 
 beyond that which would suflice, and in matter of action, 
 there thou comest short of that which thou mayest. It 
 must needs be therefore, that thou dost not love thyself, for if 
 thou didst, thou wouldst also love thy nature, and that which 
 thy nature doth propose unto herself as her end. Others, 
 as many as take pleasure in their trade and profession, can 
 
 49 D 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 even pine themselves at their w^orks, and neglect their bodies 
 and their food for it ; and doest thou less honour thy nature, 
 than an ordinary mechanic his trade ; or a good dancer his 
 art ? than a covetous man his silver, and a vainglorious 
 man applause ? These to whatsoever they take an affec- 
 tion, can be content to want their meat and sleep, to 
 further that every one which he affects : and shall actions 
 tending to the common good of human society, seem more 
 vile unto thee, or worthy of less respect and intention ? 
 
 II. How easy a thing is it for a man to put off from him 
 all turbulent adventitious imaginations, and presently to be 
 in perfect rest and tranquillity ! 
 
 III. Think thyself fit and worthy to speak, or to do 
 anything that is according to nature, and let not the re- 
 proach, or report of some that may ensue upon it, ever 
 deter thee. If it be right and honest to be spoken or done, 
 undervalue not thyself so much, as to be discouraged from it. 
 As for them, they have their own rational over-ruling part, 
 and their own proper inclination : which thou must not 
 stand and look about to take notice of, but go on straight, 
 whither both thine own particular, and the common nature 
 do lead thee ; and the way of both these, is but one. 
 
 IV. I continue my course by actions according to nature, 
 until I fall and cease, breathing out my last breath into that 
 air, by which continually breathed in I did live ; and falling 
 upon that earth, out of whose gifts and fruits my fether 
 gathered his seed, my mother her blood, and my nurse her milk, 
 out of which for so many years I have been provided, both of 
 meat and drink. And lastly, which beareth me that tread 
 upon it, and beareth with me that so many ways do abuse it, 
 or so freely make use of it, so many ways to so many ends. 
 
 V. No man can admire thee for thy sharp acute lan- 
 guage, such is thy natural disability that way. Be it so : 
 
 5° 
 
His Meditations 
 
 yet there be many other good things, for the want of which 
 thou canst not plead the want or natural ability. Let 
 them be seen in thee, which depend wholly from thee ; 
 sincerity, gravity, laboriousness, contempt of pleasures ; be 
 not querulous, be content with little, be kind, be free ; 
 avoid all superfluity, all vain prattling ; be magnanimous. 
 Doest not thou perceive, how many things there be, which 
 notwithstanding any pretence of natural indisposition and 
 unfitness, thou mightest have performed and exhibited, and 
 yet still thou doest voluntarily continue drooping downwards ? 
 Or wilt thou say, that it is through defect of thy natural 
 constitution, that thou art constrained to murmur, to be 
 base and wretched ; to flatter ; now to accuse, and now to 
 please, and pacify thy body : to be vainglorious, to be so 
 giddy-headed, and unsettled in thy thoughts? nay (wit- 
 nesses be the Gods) of all these thou mightest have been 
 rid long ago : only, this thou must have been contented 
 with, to have borne the blame of one that is somewhat slow 
 and dull. Wherein thou must so exercise thyself, as one 
 who neither doth much take to heart this his natural defect, 
 nor yet pleaseth himself in it. 
 
 VI. Such there be, who when they have done a good 
 turn to any, are ready to set them on the score for it, and 
 to require retaliation. Others there be, who though they 
 stand not upon retaliation, to require any, yet they think 
 with themselves nevertheless, that such a one is their debtor, 
 and they know as their word is what they have done. 
 Others again there be, who when they have done any such 
 thing, do not so much as know what they have done ; but 
 are like unto the vine, which beareth her grapes, and when 
 once she hath borne her own proper fruit, is contented and 
 seeks for no further recompense. As a horse after a race, 
 and a hunting dog when he hath hunted, and a bee when 
 
 51 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 she hath made her honey, look not for applause and com- 
 mendation ; so neither doth that man that rightly doth 
 understand his own nature when he hath done a good turn : 
 but from one doth proceed to do another, even as the vine 
 after she hath once borne fruit in her own proper season, is 
 ready for another time. Thou therefore must be one of 
 them, who what they do, barely do it without any further 
 thought, and are in a manner insensible of what they do. 
 'Nay but,' will some reply perchance, 'this very thing a 
 rational man is bound unto, to understand what it is, that 
 he doeth.' For it is the property, say they, of one that is 
 naturally sociable, to be sensible, that he doth operate 
 sociably : nay, and to desire, that the party himself that is 
 sociably dealt with, should be sensible of it too. I answer. 
 That which thou sayest is true indeed, but the true meaning 
 of that which is said, thou dost not understand. And therefore 
 art thou one of those first, whom I mentioned. For they also 
 are led by a probable appearance of reason. But if thou dost 
 desire to understand truly what it is that is said, fear not that 
 thou shalt therefore give over any sociable action. 
 
 VII. The form of the Athenians' prayer did run thus : 
 ' O rain, rain, good Jupiter, upon all the grounds and fields 
 that belong to the Athenians.' Either we should not pray 
 at all, or thus absolutely and freely ; and not every one for 
 himself in particular alone. 
 
 VIII. As we say commonly, The physician hath pre- 
 scribed unto this man, riding ; unto another, cold baths j 
 unto a third, to go barefoot : so it is alike to say. The 
 nature of the universe hath prescribed unto this man sick- 
 ness, or blindness, or some loss, or damage or some such 
 thing. For as there, when we say of a physician, that 
 he hath prescribed anything, our meaning is, that he 
 hath appointed this for that, as subordinate and conducing 
 
 52 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 to health : so here, whatsoever doth happen unto any, is 
 ordained unto him as a thing subordinate unto the fates, 
 and therefore do we say of such things, that they do 
 <rvfjLl3alv6iv, that is, happen, or fell together ; as of square 
 stones, when either in walls, or pyramids in a certain 
 position they fit one another, and agree as it were in an 
 harmony, the masons say, that they do av/i^aivetv ; as if 
 thou shouldest say, fall together : so that in the general, 
 though the things be divers that make it, yet the consent 
 or harmony itself is but one. And as the whole world is 
 made up of all the particular bodies of the world, one perfect 
 and complete body, of the same nature that particular bodies ; 
 so is the destiny of particular causes and events one general 
 one, of the same nature that particular causes are. What I 
 now say, even they that are mere idiots are not ignorant of : 
 for they say commonly tovto e^epev dvr^, that is. This his 
 destiny hath brought upon him. This therefore is by the 
 fates properly and particularly brought upon this, as that 
 unto this in particular is by the physician prescribed. These 
 therefore let us accept of in like manner, as we do those 
 that are prescribed unto us by our physicians. For them 
 also in themselves shall we find to contain many harsh 
 things, but we nevertheless, in hope of health, and recovery, 
 accept of them. Let the fulfilling and accomplishment of 
 those things which the common nature hath determined, 
 be unto thee as thy health. Accept then, and be pleased 
 with whatsoever doth happen, though otherwise harsh and 
 unpleasing, as tending to that end, to the health and welfare 
 of the universe, and to Jove''s happiness and prosperity. 
 For this whatsoever it be, should not have been produced, 
 had it not conduced to the good of the universe. For 
 neither doth any ordinary particular nature bring anything 
 to pass, that is not to whatsoever is within the sphere of its 
 
 53 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 own proper administration and government agreeable and 
 subordinate. For these two considerations then thou must 
 be well pleased with anything that doth happen unto thee. 
 First, because that for thee properly it was brought to pass, 
 and unto thee it was prescribed ; and that from the very 
 beginning by the series and connection of the first causes, 
 it hath ever had a reference unto thee. And secondly, 
 because the good success and perfect welfare, and indeed 
 the very continuance of Him, that is the Administrator of 
 the whole, doth in a manner depend on it. For the whole 
 (because whole, therefore entire and perfect) is maimed, and 
 mutilated, if thou shalt cut off anything at all, whereby 
 the coherence, and contiguity as of parts, so of causes, is 
 maintained and preserved. Of which certain it is, that 
 thou doest (as much as lieth in thee) cut off, and in some 
 sort violently take somewhat away, as often as thou art 
 displeased with anything that happeneth. 
 
 IX. Be not discontented, be not disheartened, be not 
 out of hope, if often it succeed not so well with thee 
 punctually and precisely to do all things according to the 
 right dogmata, but being once cast off, return unto them 
 again: and as for those many and more frequent occur- 
 rences, either of worldly distractions, or human infirmities, 
 which as a man thou canst not but in some measure be 
 subject unto, be not thou discontented with them ; but 
 however, love and affect that only which thou dost return 
 unto : a philosopher's life, and proper occupation after the 
 most exact manner. And when thou dost return to thy 
 philosophy, return not unto it as the manner of some is, 
 after play and liberty as it were, to their schoolmasters and 
 pedagogues ; but as they that have sore eyes to their sponge 
 and egg : or as another to his cataplasm ; or as others to 
 their fomentations : so shalt not thou make it a matter of 
 
 S4 
 
His Meditations 
 
 ostentation at all to obey reason ; \tut of ease and comfort. 
 And remember that philosophy requireth nothing of thee, 
 but what thy nature requireth, and wouldest thou thyself 
 desire anything that is not according to nature ? for which 
 of these sayest thou ; that which is according to nature or 
 against it, is of itself more kind and pleasing ? Is it not for 
 that respect especially, that pleasure itself is to so many 
 men's hurt and overthrow, most prevalent, because esteemed 
 commonly most kind, and natural ? But consider well 
 whether magnanimity rather, and true liberty, and true 
 simplicity, and equanimity, and holiness ; whether these be 
 not most kind and natural ? And prudency itself, what 
 more kind and amiable than it, when thou, shalt truly 
 consider with thyself, what it is through all the proper 
 objects of thy rational intellectual faculty currently to go 
 on without any fall or stumble ? As for the things of the 
 world, their true nature is in a manner so involved with 
 obscurity, that unto many philosophers, and those no mean 
 ones, they seemed altogether incomprehensible : and the 
 Stoics themselves, though they judge them not altogether 
 incomprehensible, yet scarce and not without much diffi- 
 culty, comprehensible, so that all assent of ours is fallible, 
 for who is he that is infallible in his conclusions ? From 
 the nature of things, pass now unto their subjects and 
 matter : how temporary, how vile are they I such as may be 
 in the power and possession of some abominable loose liver, 
 of some common strumpet, of some notorious oppressor and 
 extortioner. Pass from thence to the dispositions of them 
 that thou doest ordinarily converse with, how hardly do we 
 bear, even with the most loving and amiable ! that I may 
 not say, how hard it is for us to bear even with our own 
 selves. In such obscurity, and impurity of things : in such 
 and so continual a flux both of the substances and time ; 
 
 55 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 both of the motions themselves, and things moved ; what it 
 is that we can £asten upon ; either to honour, and respect 
 especially ; or seriously, and studiously to seek after ; I 
 cannot so much as conceive. For indeed they are things 
 contrary. 
 
 X. Thou must comfort thyself in the expectation of thy 
 natural dissolution, and in the meantime not grieve at the 
 delay ; but rest contented in those two things. First, that 
 nothing shall happen unto thee, which is not according to 
 the nature of the universe. Secondly, that it is in thy 
 power, to do nothing against thine own proper God, and 
 inward spirit. For it is not in any man's power to constrain 
 thee to transgress against him. 
 
 XI. What is the use that now at this present I make of 
 my soul ? Thus from time to time and upon all occasions 
 thou must put this question to thyself, what is now that part 
 of mine which they call the rational mistress part, employed 
 about ? Whose soul do I now properly possess ? a child's ? or 
 a youth's ? a woman's ? or a tyrant's ? some brute, or some 
 wild beast's soul ? 
 
 XII. What those things are in themselves, which by the 
 greatest part are esteemed good, thou mayest gather even from 
 this. For if a man shall hear things mentioned as good, which 
 are really, good indeed, such as are prudence, temperance, 
 justice, fortitude ; after so much heard and conceived, he 
 cannot endure to hear of any more, for the word good is 
 properly spoken of them. But as for those which by the 
 vulgar are esteemed good, if he shall hear them mentioned 
 as good, he doth hearken for more. He is well contented 
 to hear, that what is spoken by the comedian, is but 
 familiarly and popularly spoken, so that even the vulgar 
 apprehend the difference. For why is it else, that this 
 ofiends not and needs not to be excused, when virtues are 
 
 56 
 
His Meditations 
 
 styled good : but that which is spoken in commendation of 
 wealth, pleasure, or honour, we entertain it only as merrily 
 and pleasantly spoken? Proceed therefore, and inquire 
 further, whether it may not be that those things also which 
 being mentioned upon the stage were merrily, and with 
 great applause of the multitude, scoffed at with this jest, that 
 they that possessed them, had not in all the world of their 
 own, (such was their affluence and plenty) so much as a 
 place where to avoid their excrements. Whether, I say, 
 those ought not also in very deed to be much respected, and 
 esteemed of, as the only things that are truly good. 
 
 XIII. All that I consist of, is either form or matter. No 
 corruption can reduce either of these unto nothing : for 
 neither did I of nothing become a subsistent creature. 
 Every part of mine then, will by mutation be disposed into 
 a certain part of the whole world, and that in time into 
 another part ; and so in infinitum ; by which kind of muta- 
 tion, I also became what I am, and so did they that begot 
 me, and they before them, and so upwards in infinitum. 
 For so we may be allowed to speak, though the age and 
 government of the world, be to some certain periods of 
 time limited, and confined. 
 
 XIV. Reason, and rational power, are faculties which 
 content themselves with themselves, and their own proper 
 operations. And as for their first inclination and motion, 
 that they take from themselves. But their progress is right 
 to the end and object, which is in their way, as it were, and 
 lieth just before them : that is, which is feasible and 
 possible, whether it be that which at the first they proposed 
 to themselves, or no. For which reason also such actions 
 are termed KUTopdcoaei'}, to intimate the directness of the 
 way, by which they are achieved. Nothing must be thought 
 to belong to a man, which doth not belong unto him as he 
 
 57 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 is a man. These, the event of purposes, are not things 
 required in a man. The nature of man doth not profess 
 any such things. The final ends and consummations of 
 actions are nothing at all to a man's nature. The end 
 therefore of a man, or the summum bonum whereby that 
 end is fulfilled, cannot consist in the consummation of 
 actions purposed and intended. Again, concerning these 
 outward worldly things, were it so that any of them did 
 properly belong unto man, then would it not belong unto 
 man, to condemn them and to stand in opposition with 
 them. Neither would he be praiseworthy that can live 
 without them ; or he good, (if these were good indeed) who 
 of his own accord doth deprive himself of any of them. 
 But we see contrariwise, that the more a man doth withdraw 
 himself from these wherein external pomp and greatness 
 doth consist, or any other like these ; or the better he doth 
 bear with the loss of these, the better he is accounted. 
 
 XV. Such as thy thoughts and ordinary cogitations are, 
 such will thy mind be in time. For the soul doth as it 
 were receive its tincture from the fancies, and imaginations. 
 Dye it therefore and thoroughly soak it with the assiduity 
 of these cogitations. As for example. Wheresoever thou 
 mayest live, there it is in thy power to live well and happy. 
 But thou mayest live at the Court, there then also mayest 
 thou live well and happy. Again, that which everything 
 is made for, he is also made unto that, and cannot but 
 naturally incline unto it. That which anything doth 
 naturally incline unto, therein is his end. Wherein the 
 end of everything doth consist, therein also doth his good 
 and benefit consist. Society therefore is the proper good 
 of a rational creature. For that we are made for society, it 
 hath long since been demonstrated. Or can any man make 
 any question of this, that whatsoever is naturally worse and 
 
 58 
 
His Meditations 
 
 .• 
 
 inferior, is ordinarily subordinated to that which is better ? 
 and that those things that are best, are made one for another ? 
 And those things that have souls, are better than those that 
 have none ? and of those that have, those best that have 
 rational souls i 
 
 XVI. To desire things impossible is the part of a mad 
 man. Bufit is a thing impossible, that wicked man should 
 not commit some such things. Neither doth anything 
 happen to any man, which in the ordinary course of nature 
 as natural unto him doth not happen. Again, the same 
 things happen unto others also. And truly, if either he 
 that is ignorant that such a thing hath happened unto him, 
 or he that is ambitious to be commended for his magna- 
 nimity, can be patient, and is not grieved : is it not a 
 grievous thing, that either ignorance, or a vain desire to 
 please and to be commended, should be more powerful and 
 effectual than true prudence ? As for the things them- 
 selves, they touch not the soul, neither can they have any 
 access unto it : neither can they of themselves any ways 
 either affect it, or move it. For she herself alone can affect 
 and move herself, and according as the dogmata and opinions 
 are, which she doth vouchsafe herself, so are those things 
 which, as accessories, have any co-existence with her. 
 
 XVII. After one consideration, man is nearest unto us ; 
 as we are bound to do them good, and to bear with them. 
 But as he may oppose any of our true proper actions, so 
 man is unto me but as a thing indiiFerent : even as the sun, 
 or the wind, or some wild beast. By some of these it may 
 be, that some operation or other of mine, may be hindered ; 
 however, of my mind and resolution itself, there can be no 
 let or impediment, by reason of that ordinary constant both 
 exception (or reservation wherewith it inclineth) and ready 
 conversion of objects ; from that which may not bp, to that 
 
 59 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 which may be, which in the prosecution of its inclinations, 
 as occasion serves, it doth observe. For by these the mind 
 doth turn and convert any impediment whatsoever, to be 
 her aim and purpose. So that what before was the impedi- 
 ment, is now the principal object of her working ; and that 
 which before was in her way, is now her readiest way. 
 
 XVIII. Honour that which is chiefest and most power- 
 ful in the world, and that is it, which makes use of all 
 things, and governs all things. So also in thyself, honour 
 that which is chiefest, and most powerfiil ; and is of one 
 kind and nature with that which we now spake of. For 
 it is the very same, which being in thee, turneth all 
 other things to its own use, and by whom also thy life is 
 governed. 
 
 XIX. That which doth not hurt the city itself, cannot 
 hurt any citizen. This rule thou must remember to apply 
 and make use of upon every conceit and apprehension of 
 wrong. If the whole city be not hurt by this, neither am 
 I certainly. And if the whole be not, why should I make 
 it my private grievance ? consider rather what it is wherein 
 he is overseen that is thought to have done the wrong. 
 Again, often meditate how swiftly all things that subsist, 
 and all things that are done in the world, are carried away, 
 and as it were conveyed out of sight : for both the sub- 
 stance themselves, we see as a flood, are in a continual 
 flux ; and all actions in a perpetual change ; and the causes 
 themselves, subject to a thousand alterations, neither is there 
 anything almost, that may ever be said to be now settled 
 and constant. Next unto this, and which follows upon it, 
 consider both the infiniteness of the time already past, 
 and the immense vastness of that which is to come, wherein 
 all things are to be resolved and annihilated. Art not thou 
 then a very fool, who for these things, art either puffed up 
 
 60 
 
His Meditations 
 
 with pride, or distracted with cares, or canst find in thy 
 heart to make such moans as for a thing that would trouble 
 thee for a very long time ? Consider the whole universe, 
 whereof thou art but a very little part, and the whole age 
 of the world together, whereof but a short and very mo- 
 mentary portion is allotted unto thee, and all the fates and 
 destinies together, of which how much is it that comes to 
 thy part and share ! Again : another doth trespass against 
 me. Let him look to that. He is master of his own 
 disposition, and of his own operation. I for my part am 
 in the meantime in possession of as much, as the common 
 nature would have me to possess : and that which mine 
 own nature would have me do, I do. 
 
 XX. Let not that chief commanding part of thy soul 
 be ever subject to any variation through any corporal either 
 pain or pleasure, neither suffer it to be mixed with these, 
 but let it both circumscribe itself, and confine those affec- 
 tions to their own proper parts and members. But if at 
 any time they do reflect and rebound upon the mind and 
 understanding (as in an united and compacted body it must 
 needs ;) then must thou not go about to resist sense and 
 feeling, it being natural. However let not thy understand- 
 ing to this natural sense and feeling, which whether unto 
 our flesh pleasant or painfiil, is unto us nothing properly, add 
 an opinion of either good or bad and all is well. 
 
 XXI. To live with the Gods, He liveth with the Gods, 
 who at all times affords unto them the spectacle of a soul, 
 both contented and well pleased with whatsoever is afforded, 
 or allotted unto her ; and performing whatsoever is pleasing 
 to that Spirit, whom (being part of himself) Jove hath ap- 
 pointed to every man as his overseer and governor. 
 
 XXII. Be not angry neither with him whose breath, 
 neither with him whose arm holes, are offensive. What 
 
 6i 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 can he do ? such is his breath naturally, and such are his 
 arm holes ; and from such, such an effect, and such a smell 
 must of necessity proceed. ' O, but the man (sayest thou) 
 hath understanding in him, and might of himself know, 
 that he by standing near, cannot choose but offend.* And 
 thou also (God bless thee !) hast understanding. Let thy 
 reasonable faculty, work upon his reasonable faculty ; show 
 him his fault, admonish him. If he hearken unto thee, thou 
 hast cured him, and there will be no more occasion of anger. 
 
 XXIII. 'Where there shall neither roarer be, nor 
 harlot.' Why so ? As thou dost purpose to live, when 
 thou hast retired thyself to some such place, where 
 neither roarer nor harlot is : so mayest thou here. And 
 if they will not suffer thee, then mayest thou leave thy 
 life rather than thy calling, but so as one that doth not 
 think himself anyways wronged. Only as one would say. 
 Here is a smoke ; I will out of it. And what a great 
 matter is this ! Now till some such thing force me out, I 
 will continue free ; neither shall any man hinder me to do 
 what I will, and my will shall ever be by the proper nature 
 of a reasonable and sociable creature, regulated and directed. 
 
 XXIV. That rational essence by which the universe is 
 governed, is for community and society ; and therefore 
 hath it both made the things that are worse, for the best, 
 and hath allied and, knit together those which are best, as 
 it were in an harmony. Seest thou not how it hath sub- 
 ordinated, and co-ordinated ? and how it hath distributed 
 unto everything according to its worth ? and those which 
 have the pre-eminency and superiority above all, hath it 
 united together, into a mutual consent and agreement. 
 
 XXV. How hast thou carried thyself hitherto towards 
 the Gods ? towards thy parents ? towards thy brethren ? 
 towards thy wife ? towards thy children ? towards thy 
 
 62 
 
His Meditations 
 
 masters? thy foster-fathers? thy "friends? thy domestics? 
 thy servants ? Is it so with thee, that hitherto thou hast 
 neither by word or deed wronged any of them ? Remember 
 withal through how many things thou hast already passed, 
 and how many thou hast been able to endure ; so that now 
 the legend of thy life is full, and thy charge is accomplished. 
 Again, how many truly good things have certainly by thee 
 been discerned ? how many pleasures, how many pains 
 hast thou passed over with contempt ? how many things 
 externally glorious hast thou despised ? towards how many 
 perverse unreasonable men hast thou carried thyself kindly, 
 and discreetly ? 
 
 XXVI. Why should imprudent unlearned souls trouble 
 that which is both learned, and prudent ? And which is 
 that that is so ? she that understandeth the beginning and 
 the end, and hath the true knowledge of that rational 
 essence, that passeth through all things subsisting, and 
 through all ages being ever the same, disposing and dis- 
 pensing as it were this universe by certain periods of time. 
 
 XXVII. Within a very little while, thou wilt be either 
 ashes, or a sceletum ; and a name perchance ; and per- 
 chance, not so much as a name. And what is that but an 
 empty sound, and a rebounding echo ? Those things which 
 in this life are dearest unto us, and of most account, they 
 are in themselves but vain, putrid, contemptible. The 
 most weighty and serious, if rightly esteemed, but as 
 puppies, biting one another : or untoward children, now 
 laughing and then crying. As for faith, and modesty, and 
 justice, and truth, they long since, as one of the poets hath 
 it, have abandoned this spacious earth, and retired them- 
 selves unto heaven. What is it then that doth keep thee 
 here, if things sensible be so mutable and unsettled ? and 
 the senses so obscure, and so fallible ? and our souls nothing 
 
 63 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 but an exhalation of blood ? and to be in credit among 
 such, be but vanity ? What is it that thou dost stay for ? 
 an extinction, or a translation ; either of them with a 
 propitious and contented mind. But till that time come, 
 what will content thee ? what else, but to worship and 
 praise the Gods ; and to do good unto men. To bear with 
 them, and to forbear to do them any wrong. And for all 
 external things belonging either to this thy wretched body, 
 or life, to remember that they are neither thine, nor in 
 thy power, 
 
 XXVIII. Thou mayest always speed, if thou wilt but 
 make choice of the right way ; if in the course both of 
 thine opinions and actions, thou wilt observe a true method. 
 These two things be common to the souls, as of God, so 
 of men, and of every reasonable creature, first that in their 
 own proper work they cannot be hindered by anything : 
 and secondly, that their happiness doth consist in a disposi- 
 tion to, and in the practice of righteousness ; and that in 
 these their desire is terminated. 
 
 XXIX. If this neither be my wicked act, nor an act 
 anyways depending from any wickedness of mine, and that 
 by it the public is not hurt ; what doth it concern me ? 
 And wherein can the public be hurt ? For thou must not 
 altogether be carried by conceit and common opinion : as 
 for help thou must afford that unto them after thy best 
 ability, and as occasion shall require, though they sustain 
 damage, but in these middle or worldly things ; but how- 
 ever do not thou conceive that they are truly hurt thereby : 
 for that is not right. But as that old foster-father in the 
 comedy, being now to take his leave doth with a great 
 deal of ceremony, require his foster-child's rhombus, or 
 rattle-top, remembering nevertheless that it is but a rhom- 
 bus ; so here also do thou likewise. For indeed what is all 
 
 64 
 
His Meditations 
 
 this pleading and public bawling for at the courts ? O man, 
 
 hast thou forgotten what those things are ! yea but they 
 
 are things that others much care for, and highly esteem 
 
 of. Wilt thou therefore be a fool too ? Once I was ; let 
 
 that sufSce. 
 
 XXX. Let death surprise me when it will, and where it 
 
 will, I may be eiiiocpo<s, or a happy man, nevertheless. 
 
 For he is a happy man, who in his lifetime dealeth 
 
 unto himself a happy lot and portion. A happy 
 
 lot and portion is, good inclinations of the 
 
 soul, good desires, good actions. 
 
 65 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Sixth Book 
 
 ' HE matter itself, of which the uni- 
 verse doth consist, is of itself very 
 tractable and pliable. That rational 
 essence that doth govern it, hath in 
 itself no cause to do evil. It hath 
 no evil in itself, neither can it do 
 anything that is evil : neither can 
 anything be hurt by it. And all things are done and 
 determined according to its will and prescript. 
 
 II. Be it all one unto thee, whether half frozen or well 
 warm ; whether only slumbering, or after a full sleep ; 
 whether discommended or commended thou do thy duty : 
 or whether dying or doing somewhat else ; for that also 
 * to die,' must among the rest be reckoned as one of the 
 duties and actions of our lives. 
 
 III. Look in, let not either the proper quality, or the 
 true worth of anything pass thee, before thou hast fiiUy 
 apprehended it. 
 
 IV. All substances come soon to their change, and 
 either they shall be resolved by way of exhalation (if so be 
 that all things shall be reunited into one substance), or as 
 others maintain, they shall be scattered and dispersed. As 
 for that Rational Essence by which all things are governed, 
 as it best understandeth itself, both its own disposition, 
 and what it doth, and what matter it hath to do with and 
 accordingly doth all things ; so we that do not, no wonder, 
 if we wonder at many things, the reasons whereof we can- 
 not comprehend. 
 
 66 
 
\ . 
 
His Meditations 
 
 V. The best kind of revenge is, not to become like 
 unto them. 
 
 VI. Let this be thy only joy, and thy only comfort, 
 from one sociable kind action without intermission to pass 
 unto another, God being ever in thy mind. 
 
 VII. The rational commanding part, as it alone can 
 stir up and turn itself; so it maketh both itself to be, and 
 everything that happeneth, to appear unto itself, as it will 
 itself. 
 
 VIII. According to the nature of the universe all things 
 particular are determined, not according to any other nature, 
 either about compassing and containing ; or within, dis- 
 persed and contained ; or without, depending. Either this 
 universe is a mere confused mass, and an intricate context 
 of things, which shall in time be scattered and dispersed 
 again : or it is an union consisting of order, and admini- 
 stered by Providence. If the first, why should I desire to 
 continue any longer in this fortuit confusion and commix- 
 tion ? or why should I take care for anything else, but 
 that as soon as may be I may be earth again ? And why 
 should I trouble myself any more whilst I seek to please 
 the Gods ? Whatsoever I do, dispersion is my end, and 
 will come upon me whether I will or no. But if the latter 
 be, then am not I religious in vain ; then will I be quiet and 
 patient, and put my trust in Him, who is the Governor of all. 
 
 IX. Whensoever by some present hard occurrences 
 thou art constrained to be in some sort troubled and vexed, 
 return unto thyself as soon as may be, and be not out of 
 tune longer than thou must needs. For so shalt thou be 
 the better able to keep thy part another time, and to main- 
 tain the harmony, if thou dost use thyself to this con- 
 tinually ; once out, presently to have recourse unto it, and 
 
 to begin again. 
 
 67 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 X. If it were that thou hadst at one time both a step- 
 mother, and a natural mother living, thou wouldst honour 
 and respect her also ; nevertheless to thine own natural 
 mother would thy refuge, and recourse be continually. So 
 let the court and thy philosophy be unto thee. Have re- 
 course unto it often, and comfort thyself in her, by 
 whom it is that those other things are made tolerable 
 unto thee, and thou also in those things not intolerable 
 unto others. 
 
 XI. How marvellous useful it is for a man to represent 
 unto himself meats, and all such things that are for the 
 mouth, under a right apprehension and imagination ! as for 
 example : This is the carcass of a fish ; this of a bird ; and 
 this of a hog. And again more generally ; This phaler- 
 num, this excellent highly commended wine, is but the 
 bare juice of an ordinary grape. This purple robe, but 
 sheep's hairs, dyed with the blood of a shell-fish. So for 
 coitus, it is but the attrition of an ordinary base entrail, and 
 the excretion of a little vile snivel, with a certain kind of 
 convulsion : according to Hippocrates his opinion. How 
 excellent useful are these lively fancies and representations' 
 of things, thus penetrating and passing through the objects,, 
 to make their true nature known and apparent ! This 
 must thou use all thy life long, and upon all occasions : and 
 then especially, when matters are apprehended as of great 
 worth and respect, thy art and care must be to uncover 
 them, and to behold their vileness, and to take away from, 
 them all those serious circumstances and expressions, under 
 which they made so grave a show. For outward pomp 
 and appearance is a great juggler ; and then especially art 
 thou most in danger to be beguiled by it, when (to a man's 
 thinking) thou most seemest to be employed about matters^ 
 of moment. 
 
 68 
 
His Meditations 
 
 XII. See what Crates pronounceth concerning Xeno- 
 crates himself. 
 
 XIII. Those things which the common sort of people 
 do admire, are most of them such things as are very general, 
 and may be comprehended under things merely natural, or 
 naturally affected and qualified : as stones, wood, figs, vines, 
 olives. Those that be admired by them that are more 
 moderate and restrained, are comprehended under things 
 animated : as flocks and herds. Those that are yet more 
 gentle and curious, their admiration is commonly confined 
 to reasonable creatures only ; not in general as they are 
 reasonable, but as they are capable of art, or of some craft 
 and subtile invention : or perchance barely to reasonable 
 creatures ; as they that delight in the possession of many 
 slaves. But he that honours a reasonable soul in general, 
 as it is reasonable and naturally sociable, doth little regard 
 anything else : and above all things is careful to preserve 
 his own, in the continual habit and exercise both of reason 
 and sociableness : and thereby doth co-operate with him, of 
 whose nature he doth also participate ; God. 
 
 XIV. Some things hasten to be, and others to be no 
 more. And even whatsoever now is, some part thereof 
 hath already perished. Perpetual fluxes and alterations 
 renew the world, as the perpetual course of time doth make 
 the age of the world (of itself infinite) to appear always 
 fresh and new. In such a flux and course of all things, 
 what of these things that hasten so fast away should any 
 man regard, since among all there is not any that a man 
 may fasten and fix upon ? as if a man would settle his 
 affection upon some ordinary sparrow flying by him, who is 
 no sooner seen, than out of sight. For we must not think 
 otherwise of our lives, than as a mere exhalation of blood, 
 or of an ordinary respiration of air. For what in our com- 
 
 69 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 mon apprehension is, to breathe in the air and to breathe it 
 out again, which we do daily : so much is it and no more, 
 at once to breathe out all thy respirative faculty into that 
 common air from whence but lately (as being but from 
 yesterday, and to-day), thou didst first breathe it in, and 
 with it, life. 
 
 XV. Not vegetative spiration, it is not surely (which 
 plants have) that in this life should be so dear unto us ; nor 
 sensitive respiration, the proper life of beasts, both tame and 
 wild ; nor this our imaginative faculty ; nor that we are 
 subject to be led and carried up and down by the strength 
 of our sensual appetites ; or that we can gather, and live 
 together ; or that we can feed : for that in effect is no 
 better, than that we can void the excrements of our food. 
 What is it then that should be dear unto us? to hear 
 a clattering noise ? if not that, then neither to be applauded 
 by the tongues of men. For the praises of many tongues, 
 is in eflfect no better than the clattering of so many tongues. 
 If then neither applause, what is there remaining that 
 should be dear unto thee ? This I think : that in all thy 
 motions and actions thou be moved, and restrained accord- 
 ing to thine own true natural constitution and construction 
 only. And to this even ordinary arts and professions do 
 lead us. For it is that which every art doth aim at, that 
 whatsoever it is, that is by art effected and prepared, may 
 be fit for that work that it is prepared for. This is the 
 end that he that dresseth the vine, and he that takes upon 
 him either to tame colts, or to train up dogs, doth aim at. 
 What else doth the education of children, and all learned 
 professions tend unto ? Certainly then it is that, which 
 should be dear unto us also. If in this particular it 
 go well with thee, care not for the obtaining of other 
 things. But is it so, that thou canst not but respect other 
 
 70 
 
His Meditations 
 
 things also ? Then canst not thou truly be free ? then canst 
 thou not have self-content : then wilt thou ever be subject 
 to passions. For it is not possible, but that thou must 
 be envious, and jealous, and suspicious of them whom thou 
 knowest can bereave thee of such things ; and again, a 
 secret underminer of them, whom thou seest in present 
 possession of that which is dear unto thee. To be short, 
 he must of necessity be full of confusion within himself, 
 and often accuse the Gods, whosoever stands in need of 
 these things. But if thou shalt honour and respect thy 
 mind only, that will make thee acceptable towards thyself, 
 towards thy friends very tractable ; and conformable and 
 concordant with the Gods ; that is, accepting with praises 
 whatsoever they shall think good to appoint and allot unto 
 thee. 
 
 XVI. Under, above, and about, are the motions of the 
 elements ; but the motion of virtue, is none of those 
 motions, but is somewhat more excellent and divine. 
 Whose way (to speed and prosper in it) must be through 
 a way, that is not easily comprehended. 
 
 XVII. Who can choose but wonder at them ? They 
 will not speak well of them that are at the same time with 
 them, and live with them ; yet they themselves are very 
 ambitious, that they that shall follow, whom they have 
 never seen, nor shall ever see, should speak well of them. 
 As if a man should grieve that he hath not been commended 
 by them, that lived before him. 
 
 XVIII. Do not ever conceive anything impossible to 
 man, which by thee cannot, or not without much difficulty 
 be effected ; but whatsoever in general thou canst conceive 
 possible and proper unto any man, think that very possible 
 unto thee also. 
 
 XIX. Suppose that at the palestra somebody hath all 
 
 71 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 to-torn thee with his nails, and hath broken thy head. 
 Well, thou art wounded. Yet thou dost not exclaim ; 
 thou art not ofiFended with him. Thou dost not suspect 
 him for it afterwards, as one that watcheth to do thee 
 a mischief. Yea even then, though thou dost thy best to 
 save thyself from him, yet not from him as an enemy. 
 It is not by way of any suspicious indignation, but by way 
 of gentle and friendly declination. Keep the same mind 
 and disposition in other parts of thy life also. For many 
 things there be, which we must conceit and apprehend, 
 as though we had had to do with an antagonist at the 
 palestra. For as I said, it is very possible for us to avoid 
 and decline, though we neither suspect, nor hate. 
 
 XX. If anybody shall reprove me, and shall make it 
 apparent unto me, that in any either opinion or action 
 of mine I do err, I will most gladly retract. For it is 
 the truth that I seek after, by which I am sure that never 
 any man was hurt ; and as sure, that he is hurt that con- 
 tinueth in any error, or ignorance whatsoever. 
 
 XXI. I for my part will do what belongs unto me ; as 
 for other things, whether things unsensible or things irra- 
 tional ; or if rational, yet deceived and ignorant of the true 
 way, they shall not trouble or distract me. For as for those 
 creatures which are not endued with reason, and all other 
 things and matters of the world whatsoever, I freely, and 
 generously, as one endued with reason, of things that have 
 none, make use of them. And as for men, towards them 
 as naturally partakers of the same reason, my care is to 
 carry myself sociably. But whatsoever it is that thou art 
 about, remember to call upon the Gods. And as for the 
 time how long thou shalt live to do these things, let it 
 be altogether indiflferent unto thee, for even three such 
 hours are sufficient. 
 
 72 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 XXII. Alexander of Macedon, and he that dressed his 
 mules, when once dead both came to one. For either they 
 were both resumed into those original rational essences from 
 whence all things in the world are propagated ; or both 
 after one fashion were scattered into atoms. 
 
 XXIII. Consider how many dilFerent things, whether 
 they concern our bodies, or our souls, in a moment of time 
 come to pass in every one of us, and so thou wilt not wonder 
 if many more things or rather all things that are done, 
 can at one time subsist, and coexist in that both one and 
 general, which we call the world. 
 
 XXIV. If any should put this question unto thee, how 
 this word Antoninus is written, wouldst thou not presently 
 fix thine intention upon it, and utter out in order every 
 letter of it ? And if any shall begin to gainsay thee, and 
 quarrel with thee about it ; wilt thou quarrel with him 
 again, or rather go on meekly as thou hast begun, until 
 thou hast numbered out every letter ? Here then likewise 
 remember, that every duty that belongs unto a man doth 
 consist of some certain letters or numbers as it were, to 
 which without any noise or tumult keeping thyself, thou 
 must orderly proceed to thy proposed end, forbearing to 
 quarrel with him that would quarrel and fall out with thee. 
 
 XXV. Is it not a cruel thing to forbid men to aflFect 
 those things, which they conceive to agree best with their 
 own natures, and to tend most to their own proper good 
 and behoof? But thou after a sort deniest them this liberty, 
 as often as thou art angry with them for their sins. For 
 surely they are led unto those sins whatsoever they be, as 
 to their proper good and commodity. But it is not so (thou 
 wilt object perchance). Thou therefore teach them better, 
 and make it appear unto them : but be not thou angry 
 with them. 
 
 73 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 XXVI. Death is a cessation from the impression of the 
 senses, the tyranny of the passions, the errors of the mind, 
 and the servitude of the body. 
 
 XXVII. If in this kind of life thy body be able to hold 
 out, it is a shame that thy soul should faint first, and give 
 over. Take heed, lest of a philosopher thou become a 
 mere Caesar in time, and receive a new tincture from the 
 court. For it may happen if thou dost not take heed. 
 Keep thyself therefore, truly simple, good, sincere, grave, 
 free from all ostentation, a lover of that which is just, re- 
 ligious, kind, tender-hearted, strong and vigorous to undergo 
 anything that becomes thee. Endeavour to continue such, 
 as philosophy (hadst thou wholly and constantly applied thy- 
 self unto it) would have made, and secured thee. Worship 
 the Gods, procure the welfare of men, this life is short. 
 Charitable actions, and a holy disposition, is the only fruit 
 of this earthly life. 
 
 XXVin, Do all things as becometh the disciple of 
 Antoninus Pius. Remember his resolute constancy in 
 things that were done by him according to reason, his 
 equability in all things, his sanctity ; the cheerfiilness of his 
 countenance, his sweetness, and how free he was from all 
 vainglory ; how careful to come to the true and exact 
 knowledge of matters in hand, and how he would by no 
 means give over till he did fully, and plainly understand the 
 whole state of the business ; and how patiently, and without 
 any contestation he would bear with them, that did unjustly 
 condemn him : how he would never be over-hasty in any- 
 thing, nor give ear to slanders and false accusations, but 
 examine and observe with best diligence the several actions 
 and dispositions of men. Again, how he was no backbiter, 
 nor easily frightened, nor suspicious, and in his language 
 free from all affectation and curiosity : and how easily he 
 
 74 
 
His Meditations 
 
 would content himself with few things, as lodging, bedding, 
 clothing, and ordinary nourishment, and attendance. How 
 able to endure labour, how patient ; able through his spare 
 diet to continue from morning to evening without any 
 necessity of withdrawing before his accustomed hours to 
 the necessities of nature : his uniformity and constancy in 
 matter of friendship. How he would bear with them that 
 with all boldness and liberty opposed his opinions ; and even 
 rejoice if any man could better advise him : and lastly, how 
 religious he was without superstition. All these things of 
 him remember, that whensoever thy last hour shall come 
 upon thee, it may find thee, as it did him, ready for it in 
 the possession of a good conscience. 
 
 XXIX. Stir up thy mind, and recall thy wits again 
 from thy natural dreams, and visions, and when thou art 
 perfectly awoken, and canst perceive that they were but 
 dreams that troubled thee, as one newly awakened out of 
 another kind of sleep look upon these worldly things with 
 the same mind as thou didst upon those, that thou sawest in 
 thy sleep. 
 
 XXX. I consist of body and soul. Unto my body all 
 things are indifferent, for of itself it cannot affect one thing 
 more than another with apprehension of any difference ; as 
 for my mind, all things which are not within the verge of 
 her own operation, are indifferent unto her, and for her own 
 operations, those altogether depend of her ; neither does she 
 busy herself about any, but those that are present ; for as 
 for fixture and past operations, those also are now at this 
 present indifferent unto her. 
 
 XXXI. As long as the foot doth that which belongeth 
 unto it to do, and the hand that which belongs unto it, their 
 labour, whatsoever it be, is not unnatural. So a man as 
 long as he doth that which is proper unto a man, his labour 
 
 75 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 cannot be against nature ; and if it be not against nature, 
 then neither is it hurtful unto him. But if it were so that 
 happiness did consist in pleasure : how came notorious 
 robbers, impure abominable livers, parricides, and tyrants, 
 in so large a measure to have their part of pleasures ? 
 
 XXXII. Dost thou not see, how even those that profess 
 mechanic arts, though in some respect they be no better 
 than mere idiots, yet they stick close to the course of their 
 trade, neither can they find in their heart to decline from 
 it : and is it not a grievous thing that an architect, or a 
 physician shall respect the course and mysteries of their 
 profession, more than a man the proper course and condi- 
 tion of his own nature, reason, which is common to him 
 and to the Gods ? 
 
 XXXIII. Asia, Europe ; what are they, but as corners 
 of the whole world ; of which the whole sea, is but as one 
 drop ; and the great Mount Athos, but as a clod, as all 
 present time is biit as one point of eternity. All, petty 
 things ; all things that are soon altered, soon perished. And 
 all things come from one beginning ; either all severally and 
 particularly deliberated and resolved upon, by the general 
 ruler and governor of all ; or all by necessary consequence. 
 So that the dreadful hiatus of a gaping lion, and all poison, 
 and all hurtful things, are but (as the thorn and the mire) 
 the necessary consequences of goodly fair things. Think 
 not of these therefore, as things contrary to those which 
 thou dost much honour, and respect ; but consider in thy 
 mind the true fountain of all. 
 
 XXXIV. He that seeth the things that are now, hath 
 seen all that either was ever, or ever shall be, for all things 
 are of one kind ; and all like one unto another. Meditate 
 often upon the connection of all things in the world ; and 
 upon the mutual relation that they have one unto another. 
 
 76 
 
His Meditations 
 
 For all things are after a sort folded and involved one within 
 another, and by these means all agree well together. For 
 one thing is consequent unto another, by local motion, 
 by natural conspiration and agreement, and by substantial 
 union, or, reduction of all substances into one. 
 
 XXXV. Fit and accommodate thyself to that estate 
 and to those occurrences, which by the destinies have been 
 annexed unto thee ; and love those men whom thy fate it 
 is to live with ; but love them truly. An instrument, a 
 tool, an utensil, whatsoever it be, if it be fit for the pur- 
 pose it was made for, it is as it should be, though he 
 perchance that made and fitted it, be out of sight and gone. 
 But in things natural, that power which hath framed and 
 fitted them, is and abideth within them still : for which 
 reason she ought also the more to be respected, and we are 
 the more obliged (if we may live and pass our time according 
 to her purpose and intention) to think that all is well with us, 
 and according to our own minds. After this manner also, 
 and in this respect it is, that he that is all in all doth enjoy 
 his happiness. 
 
 XXXVI. What things soever are not within the proper 
 power and jurisdiction of thine own will either to compass 
 or avoid, if thou shalt propose unto thyself any of those 
 things as either good, or evil ; it must needs be that accord- 
 ing as thou shalt either fall into that which thou dost think 
 evil, or miss of that which thou dost think good, so wilt 
 thou be ready both to complain of the Gods, and to hate 
 those men, who either shall be so indeed, or shall by thee 
 be suspected as the cause either of thy missing of the one, 
 or falling into the other. And indeed we must needs 
 commit many evils, if we incline to any of these things, 
 more or less, with an opinion of any diflFerence. But if we 
 mind and fancy those things only, as good and bad, which 
 
 77 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 wholly depend of our own wills, there is no more occasion 
 why we should either murmur against the Gods, or be at 
 enmity with any man. 
 
 XXXVII. We all work to one eflFect, some willingly, 
 and with a rational apprehension of what we do : others 
 without any such knowledge. As I think Heraclitus in a 
 place speaketh of them that sleep, that even they do work 
 in their kind, and do confer to the general operations of the 
 world. One man therefore doth co-operate after one sort, 
 and another after another sort ; but even he that doth 
 murmur, and to his power doth resist and hinder ; even he 
 as much as any doth co-operate. For of such also did the 
 world stand in need. Now do thou consider among which 
 of these thou wilt rank thyself. For as for him who is the 
 Administrator of all, he will make good use of thee whether 
 thou wilt or no, and make thee (as a part and member of 
 the whole) so to co-operate with him, that whatsoever thou 
 doest, shall turn to the furtherance of his own counsels, and 
 resolutions. But be not thou for shame such a part of the 
 whole, as that vile and ridiculous verse (which Chrysippus 
 in a place doth mention) is a part of the comedy. 
 
 XXXVIII. Doth either the sun take upon him to do 
 that which belongs to the rain ? or his son ^sculapius that, 
 which unto the earth doth properly belong ? How is it 
 with every one of the stars in particular ? Though they 
 all differ one from another, and have their several charges 
 and functions by themselves, do they not all nevertheless 
 concur and co-operate to one end ? 
 
 XXXIX. If so be that the Gods have deliberated in par- 
 ticular of those things that should happen unto me, I must 
 stand to their deliberation, as discrete and wise. For that a 
 God should be an imprudent God, is a thing hard even to 
 conceive : and why should they resolve to do me hurt ? for 
 
 78 
 
His Meditations 
 
 what profit either unto them or the universe (which they 
 specially take care for) could arise from it ? But if so be 
 that they have not deliberated of me in particular, certainly 
 they have of the whole in general, and those things which 
 in consequence and coherence of this general deliberation 
 happen unto me in particular, I am bound to embrace and 
 accept of. But if so be that they have not deliberated at all 
 (which indeed is very irreligious for any man to believe : for 
 then let us neither sacrifice, nor pray, nor respect our oaths, 
 neither let us any more use any of those things, which we 
 persuaded of the presence and secret conversation of the Gods 
 among us, daily use and practise :) but, I say, if so be that 
 they have not indeed either in general, or particular delibe- 
 rated of any of those things, that happen unto us in this 
 world ; yet God be thanked, that of those things that concern 
 myself, it is lawful for me to deliberate myself, and all my 
 deliberation is but concerning that which may be to me 
 most profitable. Now that unto every one is most profit- 
 able, which is according to his own constitution and nature. 
 And my nature is, to be rational in all my actions and as a 
 good, and natural member of a city and commonwealth, 
 towards my fellow members ever to be sociably and kindly 
 disposed and afiFected. My city and country as I am Anto- 
 ninus, is Rome ; as a man, the whole world. Those things 
 therefore that are expedient and profitable to those cities, 
 are the only things that are good and expedient for me. 
 
 XL. Whatsoever in any kind doth happen to any one, 
 is expedient to the whole. And thus much to content us 
 might suffice, that it is expedient for the whole in general. 
 But yet this also shalt thou generally perceive, if thou dost 
 diligently take heed, that whatsoever doth happen to any 
 one man or men. . . . And now I am content that the 
 word expedient, should more generally be understood of 
 
 79 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 those things which we otherwise call middle things, or 
 things indifferent ; as health, wealth, and the like. 
 
 XLI. As the ordinary shows of the theatre and of other 
 such places, when thou art presented with them, affect thee ; 
 as the same things still seen, and in the same fashion, make 
 the sight ingrateful and tedious ; so must all the things that 
 we see all our life long affect us. For all things, above and 
 below, are still the same, and from the same causes. When 
 then will there be an end ? 
 
 XLII. Let the several deaths of men of all sorts, and of 
 all sorts of professions, and of all sort of nations, be a per- 
 petual object of thy thoughts, ... so that thou mayst even 
 come down to Philistio, Phoebus, and Origanion. Pass 
 now to other generations. Thither shall we after many 
 changes, where so many brave orators are ; where so many 
 grave philosophers ; Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Socrates. Where 
 so many heroes of the old times ; and then so many brave 
 captains of the latter times ; and so many kings. After all 
 these, where Eudoxus, Hipparchus, Archimedes ; where so 
 many other sharp, generous, industrious, subtile, peremptory 
 dispositions ; and among others, even they, that have been 
 the greatest scoffers and deriders of the frailty and brevity 
 of this our human life ; as Menippus, and others, as many 
 as there have been such as he. Of all these consider, that 
 they long since are all dead, and gone. And what do they 
 suffer by it ! Nay they that have not so much as a name 
 remaining, what are they the worse for it ? One thing 
 there is, and that only, which is worth our while in this 
 world, and ought by us much to be esteemed ; and that is, 
 according to truth and righteousness, meekly and lovingly 
 to converse with false, and unrighteous men. 
 
 XLIII. When thou wilt comfort and cheer thyself, call 
 to mind the several gifts and virtues of them, whom thou 
 
 80 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 dost daily converse with ; as for example, the industry of 
 the one ; the modesty of another ; the liberality of a third ; 
 of another some other thing. For nothing can so much 
 rejoice thee, as the resemblances and parallels of several 
 virtues, visible and eminent in the dispositions of those who 
 live with thee ; especially when, all at once, as near as may 
 be, they represent themselves unto thee. And therefore 
 thou must have them always in a readiness. 
 
 XLIV. Dost thou grieve that thou dost weigh but so 
 many pounds, and not three hundred rather ? Just as much 
 reason hast thou to grieve that thou must live but so many 
 years, and not longer. For as for bulk and substance thou 
 dost content thyself with that proportion of it that is 
 allotted unto thee, so shouldst thou for time. 
 
 XLV. Let us do our best endeavours to persuade them ; 
 but however, if reason and justice lead thee to it, do it, 
 though they be never so much against it. But if any shall 
 by force withstand thee, and hinder thee in it, convert thy 
 virtuous inclination from one object unto another, from 
 justice to contented equanimity, and cheerful patience : so 
 that what in the one is thy hindrance, thou mayst make 
 use of it for the exercise of another virtue : and remember 
 that it was with due exception, and reservation, that thou 
 didst at first incline and desire. For thou didst not set thy 
 mind upon things impossible. Upon what then ? that all 
 thy desires might ever be moderated with this due kind of 
 reservation. And this thou hast, and mayst always obtain, 
 whether the thing desired be in thy power or no. And 
 what do I care for more, if that for which I was born and 
 brought forth into the world (to rule all my desires with 
 reason and discretion) may be ? 
 
 XLVI. The ambitious supposeth another man's act, 
 praise and applause, to be his own happiness ; the voluptuous 
 
 8i F 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 his own sense and feeling ; but he that is wise, his own 
 action. 
 
 XL VII. It is in thy power absolutely to exclude all 
 manner of conceit and opinion, as concerning this matter j 
 and by the same means, to exclude all grief and sorrow 
 from thy soul. For as for the things and objects them- 
 selves, they of themselves have no such power, whereby to 
 beget and force upon us any opinion at all. 
 
 XLVIII. Use thyself when any man speaks unto thee, 
 so to hearken unto him, as that in the interim thou give 
 not way to any other thoughts ; that so thou mayst (as fer 
 as is possible) seem fixed and fastened to his very soul,, 
 whosoever he be that speaks unto thee. 
 
 XLIX. That which is not good for the bee-hive, 
 cannot be good for the bee. 
 
 L. Will either passengers, or patients, find fault and 
 complain, either the one if they be well carried, or the 
 others if well cured ? Do they take care for any more 
 than this ; the one, that their shipmaster may bring them 
 safe to land, and the other, that their physician may effect 
 their recovery ? 
 
 LI. How many of them who came into the world 
 at the same time when I did, are already gone out 
 of it? 
 
 LII. To them that are sick of the jaundice, honey 
 seems bitter ; and to them that are bitten by a mad dog^ 
 the water terrible ; and to children, a little ball seems a fine: 
 thing. And why then should I be angry ? or do I think 
 that error and felse opinion is less powerful to make men 
 transgress, than either choler, being immoderate and 
 excessive, to cause the jaundice ; or poison, to cause 
 rage ? 
 
 LIII. No man can hinder thee to live as thy nature: 
 82 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 doth require. Nothing can happen unto thee, but what 
 the common good of nature doth require. 
 
 LIV. What manner of men they be whom they seek 
 
 to please, and what to get, and by what actions : 
 
 how soon time will cover and bury all things, 
 
 and how many it hath already buried ! 
 
 83 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Seventh Book 
 
 HAT is wickedness ? It is that which 
 many times and often thou hast 
 already seen and known in the 
 world. And so oft as anything doth 
 happen that might otherwise trouble 
 thee, let this memento presently 
 come to thy mind, that it is that 
 which thou hast already often seen and known. Gene- 
 rally, above and below, thou shalt find but the same 
 things. The very same things whereof ancient stories, 
 middle age stories, and fresh stories are ftill : whereof 
 towns are fiill, and houses fiill. There is nothing that is 
 new. All things that are, are both usual and of little 
 continuance. 
 
 II. What fear is there that thy dogmata, or philosophical 
 resolutions and conclusions, should become dead in thee, 
 and lose their proper power and efEcacy to make thee live 
 happy, as long as those proper and correlative fancies, and 
 representations of things on which they mutually depend 
 (which continually to stir up and revive is in thy power,) 
 are still kept fresh and alive ? It is in my power concerning 
 this thing that is happened, whatsoever it be, to conceit 
 that which is right and true. If it be, why then am I 
 troubled ? Those things that are without my understand- 
 ing, are nothing to it at all : and that is it only, which 
 doth properly concern me. Be always in this mind, and 
 thou wilt be right. 
 
 III. That which most men would think themselves 
 
 84 
 
His Meditations 
 
 » 
 
 most happy for, and would prefer before all things, if the 
 Gods would grant it unto them after their deaths, thou 
 mayst whilst thou livest grant unto thyself ; to live again. 
 See the things of the world again, as thou hast already seen 
 them. For what is it else to live again ? Public shows and 
 solemnities with much pomp and vanity, stage plays, flocks 
 and herds ; conflicts and contentions : a bone thrown to a 
 company of hungry curs ; a bait for greedy fishes ; the pain- 
 fulness, and continual burden-bearing of wretched ants, the 
 running to and fro of terrified mice : little puppets drawn 
 up and down with wires and nerves : these be the objects 
 of the world. Among all these thou must stand steadfast, 
 meekly affected, and free from all manner of indignation j 
 with this right ratiocination and apprehension ; that as the 
 worth is of those things which a man doth a£Eect, so is in 
 very deed every man's worth more or less, 
 
 IV. Word after word, every one by itself, must the 
 things that are spoken be conceived and understood ; and 
 so the things that are done, purpose after purpose, every one 
 by itself likewise. And as in matter of purposes and actions, 
 we must presently see what is the proper use and relation of 
 every one ; so of words must we be as ready, to consider of 
 every one what is the true meaning, and signification of it 
 according to truth and nature, however it be taken in 
 common use. 
 
 V. Is my reason, and understanding sufficient for this, 
 or no ? If it be sufficient, without any private applause, or 
 public ostentation as of an instrument, which by nature I 
 am provided of, I will make use of it for the work in hand, 
 as of an instrument, which by nature I am provided of. If 
 it be not, and that otherwise it belong not unto me particu- 
 larly as a private duty, I will either give it over, and leave it 
 to some other that can better effect it : or I will endeavour 
 
 85 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 it ; but with the help of some other, who with the joint 
 help of my reason, is able to bring somewhat to pass, that 
 will now be seasonable and useful for the common good. 
 For whatsoever I do either by myself, or with some other, 
 the only thing that I must intend, is, that it be good and 
 expedient for the public. For as for praise, consider how 
 many who once were much commended, are now already 
 quite forgotten, yea they that commended them, how even 
 they themselves are long since dead and gone. Be not 
 therefore ashamed, whensoever thou must use the help 
 of others. For whatsoever it be that lieth upon thee to 
 effect, thou must propose it unto thyself, as the scaling of 
 walls is unto a soldier. And what if thou through either 
 lameness or some other impediment art not able to reach 
 unto the top of the battlements alone, which with the help 
 of another thou mayst ; wilt thou therefore give it over, or 
 go about it with less courage and alacrity, because thou 
 canst not effect it all alone ? 
 
 VI. Let not things future trouble thee. For if neces- 
 sity so require that they come to pass, thou shalt (whenso- 
 ever that is) be provided for them with the same reason, 
 by which whatsoever is now present, is made both tolerable 
 and acceptable unto thee. All things are linked and knitted 
 together, and the knot is sacred, neither is there anything 
 in the world, that is not kind and natural in regard of any 
 other thing, or, that hath not some kind of reference and 
 natural correspondence with whatsoever is in the world 
 besides. For all things are ranked together, and by that 
 decency of its due place and order that each particular doth 
 observe, they all concur together to the making of one and 
 the same K6a-/jLo<; or world : as if you said, a comely piece, 
 or an orderly composition. For all things throughout, there 
 is but one and the same order ; and through all things, one 
 
 86 
 
His Meditations 
 
 and the same God, the same suDstance and the same law. 
 There is one common reason, and one common truth, that 
 belongs unto all reasonable creatures, for neither is there 
 save one perfection of all creatures that are of the same 
 kind, and partakers of the same reason. 
 
 VII. Whatsoever is material, doth soon vanish away 
 into the common substance of the whole ; and whatsoever 
 is formal, or, whatsoever doth animate that which is 
 material, is soon resumed into the common reason of the 
 whole ; and the fame and memory of anything, is soon 
 swallowed up by the general age and duration of the whole. 
 
 VIII. To a reasonable creature, the same action is both 
 according to nature, and according to reason. 
 
 IX. Straight of itself, not made straight. 
 
 X. As several members in one body united, so are 
 reasonable creatures in a body divided and dispersed, all 
 made and prepared for one common operation. And this 
 thou shalt apprehend the better, if thou shalt use thyself 
 often to say to thyself, I am /jLeXoi, or a member of the 
 mass and body of reasonable substances. But if thou shalt 
 say I am fiepoi;, or a part, thou dost not yet love men from 
 thy heart. The joy that thou takest in the exercise of 
 bounty, is not yet grounded upon a due ratiocination and 
 right apprehension of the nature of things. Thou dost 
 exercise it as yet upon this ground barely, as a thing con- 
 venient and fitting ; not, as doing good to thyself, when 
 thou dost good unto others. 
 
 XI. Of things that are external, happen what will to 
 that which can suffer by external accidents. Those things 
 that suffer let them complain themselves, if they will ; as 
 for me, as long as I conceive no such thing, that that which 
 is happened is evil, I have no hurt ; and it is in my power 
 not to conceive any such thing. 
 
 87 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 XII. Whatsoever any man either doth or saith, thou 
 must be good ; not for any man's sake, but for thine own 
 nature's sake ; as if either gold, or the emerald, or purple, 
 should ever be saying to themselves, Whatsoever any man 
 either doth or saith, I must still be an emerald, and I must 
 keep my colour. 
 
 XIII. This may ever be my comfort and security : my 
 understanding, that ruleth over all, will not of itself bring 
 trouble and vexation upon itself. This I say ; it will not 
 put itself in any fear, it will not lead itself into any con- 
 cupiscence. If it be in the power of any other to compel 
 it to fear, or to grieve, it is free for him to use his power. 
 But sure if itself do not of itself, through some false opinion 
 or supposition incline itself to any such disposition ; there 
 is no fear. For as for the body, why should I make the 
 grief of my body, to be the grief of my mind ? If that 
 itself can either fear or complain, let it. But as for the 
 soul, which indeed, can only be truly sensible of either fear 
 or grief; to which only it belongs according to its diiFerent 
 imaginations and opinions, to admit of either of these, or 
 of their contraries ; thou mayst look to that thyself, that 
 it suiFer nothing. Induce her not to ^ny such opinion or 
 persuasion. The understanding is of itself sufficient unto 
 itself, and needs not (if itself doth not bring itself to need) 
 any other thing besides itself, and by consequent as it needs 
 nothing, so neither can it be troubled or hindered by any- 
 thing, if itself doth not trouble and hinder itself. 
 
 XIV. What is eiiSai/iovia, or happiness : but 070^0? 
 Saifimv, or, a good daemon, or spirit? What then dost 
 thou do here, O opinion ? By the Gods I adjure thee, that 
 thou get thee gone, as thou camest : for I need thee not. 
 Thou camest indeed unto me according to thy ancient 
 wonted manner. It is that, that all men have ever been 
 
 88 
 
His Meditations 
 
 subject unto. That thou earnest therefore I am not angry 
 with thee, only begone, now that I have found thee what 
 thou art. 
 
 XV. Is any man so foolish as to fear change, to which 
 all things that once were not owe their being ? And what 
 is it, that is more pleasing and more familiar to the nature 
 of the universe ? How couldst thou thyself use thy 
 ordinary hot baths, should not the wood that heateth them 
 first be changed ? How couldst thou receive any nourish- 
 ment from those things that thou hast eaten, if they should 
 not be changed ? Can anything else almost (that is useful 
 and profitable) be brought to pass without change ? How 
 then dost not thou perceive, that for thee also, by death, to 
 come to change, is a thing of the very same nature, and as 
 necessary for the nature of the universe ? 
 
 XVI. Through the substance of the universe, as 
 through a torrent pass all particular bodies, being all of the 
 same nature, and all joint workers with the universe itself, 
 as in one of our bodies so many members among themselves. 
 How many such as Chrysippus, how many such as Socrates, 
 how many such as Epictetus, hath the age of the world 
 long since swallowed up and devoured ? Let this, be it 
 either men or businesses, that thou hast occasion to think 
 of, to the end that thy thoughts be not distracted and thy 
 mind too earnestly set upon anything, upon every such 
 occasion presently come to thy mind. Of all my thoughts 
 and cares, one only thing shall be the object, that I myself 
 do nothing which to the proper constitution of man, (either 
 in regard of the thing itself, or in regard of the manner, or 
 of the time of doing,) is contrary. The time when thou 
 shalt have forgotten all things, is at hand. And that time 
 also is at hand, when thou thyself shalt be forgotten by all. 
 Whilst thou art, apply thyself to that especially which unto 
 
 89 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 man as he is a man, is most proper and agreeable, and that 
 is, for a man even to love them that transgress against him. 
 This shall be, if at the same time that any such thing doth 
 happen, thou call to mind, that they are thy kinsmen ; that 
 it is through ignorance and against their wills that they 
 sin ; and that within a very short while after, both thou 
 and he shall be no more. But above all things, that he 
 hath not done thee any hurt ; for that by him thy mind 
 and understanding is not made worse or more vile than it 
 was before. 
 
 XVII. The nature of the universe, of the common 
 substance of all things as it were of so much wax hath now 
 perchance formed a horse ; and then, destroying that figure, 
 hath new tempered and fashioned the matter of it into the 
 form and substance of a tree : then that again into the form 
 and substance of a man : and then that again into some 
 other. Now every one of these doth subsist but for a very 
 little while. As for dissolution, if it be no grievous thing to 
 the chest or trunk, to be joined together ; why should it be 
 more grievous to be put asunder ? 
 
 XVIII. An angry countenance is much against nature, 
 and it is oftentimes the proper countenance of them that are 
 at the point of death. But were it so, that all anger and 
 passion were so throughly quenched in thee, that it were 
 altogether impossible to kindle it any more, yet herein must 
 not thou rest satisfied, but further endeavour by good con- 
 sequence of true ratiocination, perfectly to conceive and 
 understand, that all anger and passion is against reason. For 
 if thou shalt not be sensible of thine innocence ; if that also 
 shall be gone from thee, the comfort of a good conscience, 
 that thou doest all things according to reason : what shouldest 
 thou live any longer for i All things that now thou seest, 
 are but for a moment. That nature, by which all things in 
 
 90 
 
His Meditations 
 
 the world are administered, will soon bring change and altera- 
 tion upon them, and then of their substances make other 
 things like unto them : and then soon after others again of 
 the matter and substance of these : that so by these means, 
 the world may still appear fresh and new. 
 
 XIX. Whensoever any man doth trespass against thee, 
 presently consider with thyself what it was that he did 
 suppose to be good, what to be evil, when he did trespass. 
 For this when thou knowest, thou wilt pity him ; thou 
 wilt have no occasion either to wonder, or to be angry. 
 For either thou thyself dost yet live in that error and 
 ignorance, as that thou dost suppose either that very thing 
 that he doth, or some other like worldly thing, to be good ; 
 and so thou art bound to pardon him if he have done that 
 which thou in the like case wouldst have done thyself. Or 
 if so be that thou dost not any more suppose the same 
 things to be good or evil, that he doth ; how canst thou but 
 be gentle unto him that is in an error ? 
 
 XX. Fancy not to thyself things future, as though they 
 were present : but of those that are present, take some aside, 
 that thou takest most benefit of, and consider of them par- 
 ticularly, how wonderfully thou wouldst want them, if they 
 were not present. But take heed withal, lest that whilst 
 thou dost settle thy contentment in things present, thou 
 grow in time so to overprize them, as that the want of them 
 (whensoever it shall so fall out) should be a trouble and a 
 vexation unto thee. Wind up thyself into thyself. Such 
 is the nature of thy reasonable commanding part, as that if 
 it exercise justice, and have by that means tranquillity within 
 itself, it doth rest fully satisfied with itself without any other 
 thing. 
 
 XXI. Wipe ofiF all opinion : stay the force and violence 
 of unreasonable lusts and affections : circumscribe the present 
 
 91 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 time : examine whatsoever it be that is happened, either to 
 thyself or to another : divide all present objects, either in 
 that which is formal or material : think of the last hour. 
 That which thy neighbour hath committed, where the guilt 
 of it lieth, there let it rest. Examine in order whatsoever is 
 spoken. Let thy mind penetrate, both into the effects, and 
 into the causes. Rejoice thyself with true simplicity, and 
 modesty ; and that all middle things between virtue and 
 vice are indifferent unto thee. Finally, love mankind ; obey 
 God. 
 
 XXII. All things (saith he) are by certain order and 
 appointment. And what if the elements only. ... It will 
 suffice to remember, that all things in general are by certain 
 order and appointment : or if it be but few. . . . And as con- 
 cerning death, that either dispersion, or the atoms, or anni- 
 hilation, or extinction, or translation will ensue. And as 
 concerning pain, that that which is intolerable is soon ended 
 by death ; and that which holds long must needs be tolerable ; 
 and that the mind in the meantime (which is all in all) may by 
 way of interclusion, or interception, by stopping all manner of 
 commerce and sympathy with the body, still retain its own 
 tranquillity. Thy understanding is not made worse by it. 
 As for those parts that suffer, let them, if they can, declare 
 their grief themselves. As for praise and commendation, 
 view their mind and understanding, what estate they are in ; 
 what kind of things they fly, and what things they seek 
 after : and that as in the seaside, whatsoever was before to 
 be seen, is by the continual succession of new heaps of sand 
 cast up one upon another, soon hid and covered ; so in this 
 life, all former things by those which immediately succeed. 
 
 XXIII. Out of Plato. * He then whose mind is 
 endowed with true magnanimity, who hath accustomed 
 himself to the contemplation both of all times, and of all 
 
 92 
 
His Meditations 
 
 things in general; can this mortal life (thinkest thou) seem 
 any great matter unto him ? It is not possible, answered 
 he. Then neither will such a one account death a grievous 
 thing ? By no means.' 
 
 XXIV. Out of Antisthenes. 'It is a princely thing 
 to do well, and to be ill-spoken of. It is a shameful thing 
 that the face should be subject unto the mind, to be put 
 into what shape it will, and to be dressed by it as it will ; 
 and that the mind should not bestow so much care upon 
 herself, as to fashion herself, and to dress herself as best 
 becometh her.' 
 
 XXV. Out of several poets and comics. ' It will but 
 little avail thee, to turn thine anger and indignation upon 
 the things themselves that have fallen across unto thee. 
 For as for them, they are not sensible of it, &c. Thou 
 shalt but make thyself a laughing-stock ; both unto the 
 Gods and men, &c. Our life is reaped like a ripe ear of 
 corn ; one is yet standing and another is down, &c. But 
 if so be that I and my children be neglected by the gods, 
 there is some reason even for that, &c. As long as right 
 and equity is of my side, &c. Not to lament with them, 
 not to tremble, &c.' 
 
 XXVI. Out of Plato. 'My answer, full of justice 
 and equity, should be this : Thy speech is not right, O 
 man ! if thou supposest, that he that is of any worth at all, 
 should apprehend eithef life or death, as a matter of great 
 hazard and danger ; and should not make this rather his 
 only care, to examine his own actions, whether just or 
 unjust : whether actions of a good, or of a wicked man, 
 &c. For thus in very truth stands the case, O ye men of 
 Athens. What place or station soever a man either hath 
 chosen to himself, judging it best for himself; or is by 
 lawful authority put and settled in, therein do I think 
 
 93 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 (all appearance of danger notwithstanding) that he should 
 continue, as one who feareth neither death, nor anything 
 else, so much as he feareth to commit anything that is 
 vicious and shameful, &c. But, O noble sir, consider I 
 pray, whether true generosity and true happiness, do not 
 consist in somewhat else rather, than in the preservation 
 either of our, or other men's lives. For it is not the part 
 of a man that is a man indeed, to desire to live long or to 
 make much of his life whilst he liveth : but rather (he that 
 is such) will in these things wholly refer himself unto the 
 Gods, and believing that which every woman can tell him, 
 that no man can escape death ; the only thing that he 
 takes thought and care for is this, that what time he liveth, 
 he may live as well and as virtuously as he can possibly, &c. 
 To look about, and with the eyes to follow the course of 
 the stars and planets, as though thou wouldst run with 
 them ; and to mind perpetually the several changes of the 
 elements one into another. For such fancies and imagina- 
 tions, help much to purge away the dross and filth of this 
 our earthly life,' &c. That also is a fine passage of Plato's, 
 where he speaketh of worldly things in these words : * Thou 
 must also as from some higher place look down, as it were, 
 upon the things of this world, as flocks, armies, husband- 
 men's labours, marriages, divorces, generations, deaths : the 
 tumults of courts and places of judicatures ; desert places ; 
 the several nations of barbarians, public festivals, mourn- 
 ings, feirs, markets.' How all things upon earth are pell- 
 mell ; and how miraculously things contrary one to another, 
 concur to the beauty and perfection of this universe. 
 
 XXVII. To look back upon things of former ages, 
 as upon the manifold changes and conversions of several 
 monarchies and commonwealths. We may also foresee 
 things future, for they shall all be of the same kind ; neither 
 
 94 
 
His Meditations 
 
 is it possible that they should leave the tune, or break the 
 concert that is now begun, as it were, by these things that 
 are now done and brought to pass in the world. It comes 
 all to one therefore, whether a man be a spectator of the 
 things of this life but forty years, or whether he see them 
 ten thousand years together : for what shall he see more ? 
 'And as for those parts that came from the earth, they 
 shall return unto the earth again ; and those that came 
 from heaven, they also shall return unto those heavenly 
 places.' Whether it be a mere dissolution and unbinding 
 of the manifold intricacies and entanglements of the con- 
 fiised atoms ; or some such dispersion of the simple and 
 incorruptible elements. . . . 'With meats and drinks and 
 divers charms, they seek to divert the channel, that they 
 might not die. Yet must we needs endure that blast of 
 wind that cometh from above, though we toil and labour 
 never so much.' 
 
 XXVIII. He hath a stronger body, and is a better 
 wrestler than I. — What then ? Is he more bountiful ? is he 
 more modest ? Doth he bear all adverse chances with more 
 equanimity : or with his neighbour's o&ences with more 
 meekness and gentleness than I ? 
 
 XXIX. Where the matter may be effected agreeably to 
 that reason, which both unto the Gods and men is common, 
 there can be no just cause of grief or sorrow. For where 
 the fruit and benefit of an action well begun and prosecuted 
 according to the proper constitution of man may be reaped 
 and obtained, or is sure and certain, it is against reason that 
 any damage should there be suspected. In all places, and 
 at all times, it is in thy power religiously to embrace what- 
 soever by God's appointment is happened unto thee, and 
 justly to converse with those men, whom thou hast to do 
 with ; and accurately to examine every fancy that presents 
 
 95 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 itself, that nothing may slip and steal in, before thou hast 
 rightly apprehended the true nature of it. 
 
 XXX. Look not about upon other men's minds and 
 understandings ; but look right on forwards whither nature, 
 both that of the universe, in those things that happen unto 
 thee ; and thine in particular, in those things that are done 
 by thee : doth lead, and direct thee. Now every one is 
 bound to do that, which is consequent and agreeable to that 
 end which by his true natural constitution he was ordained 
 unto. As for all other things, they are ordained for the 
 use of reasonable creatures : as in all things we see that that 
 which is worse and inferior, is made for that which is better. 
 Reasonable creatures, they are ordained one for another. 
 That therefore which is chief in every man's constitution, 
 is, that he intend the common good. The second is, that 
 he yield not to any lusts and motions of the flesh. For it 
 is the part and privilege of the reasonable and intellective 
 faculty, that she can so bound herself, as that neither the 
 sensitive, nor the appetitive faculties, may not anyways 
 prevail upon her. For both these are brutish. And there- 
 fore over both she challengeth mastery, and cannot anyways 
 endure, if in her right temper, to be subject unto either. 
 And this indeed most justly. For by nature she was 
 ordained to command all in the body. The third thing 
 proper to man by his constitution, is, to avoid all rashness 
 and precipitancy ; and not to be subject to error. To these 
 things then, let the mind apply herself and go straight on, 
 without any distraction about other things, and she hath 
 her end, and by consequent her happiness. 
 
 XXXI. As one who had lived, and were now to die 
 by right, whatsoever is yet remaining, bestow that wholly 
 as a gracious overplus upon a virtuous life. Love and 
 affect that only, whatsoever it be that happeneth, and is by 
 
 96 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 the fates appointed unto thee. For what can be more reason- 
 able ? And as anything doth happen unto thee by way of 
 cross, or calamity, call to mind presently and set before 
 thine eyes, the examples of some other men, to whom the 
 self-same thing did once happen likewise. Well, what did 
 they ? They grieved ; they wondered ; they complained. 
 And where are they now ? All dead and gone. Wilt thou 
 also be like one of them ? Or rather leaving to men of 
 the world (whose life both in regard of themselves, and 
 them that they converse with, is nothing but mere muta- 
 bility ; or men of as fickle minds, as fickle bodies ; ever 
 changing and soon changed themselves : let it be thine 
 only care and study, how to make a right use of all such 
 accidents. For there is good use to be made of them, 
 and they will prove fit matter for thee to work upon, if it 
 shall be both thy care and thy desire, that whatsoever thou 
 doest, thou thyself mayst like and approve thyself for it. 
 And both these, see, that thou remember well, according 
 as the diversity of the matter of the action that thou art 
 about shall require. Look within ; within is the fountain 
 of all good. Such a fountain, where springing waters can 
 never fail, so thou dig still deeper and deeper. 
 
 XXXII. Thou must use thyself also to keep thy body 
 fixed and steady ; free from all loose fluctuant either 
 motion, or posture. And as upon thy face and looks, thy 
 mind hath easily power over them to keep them to that 
 which is grave and decent ; so let it challenge the same 
 power over the whole body also. But so observe all 
 things in this kind, as that it be without any manner of 
 afiectation. 
 
 XXXIII. The art of true living in this world is more 
 like a wrestler's, than a dancer's practice. For in this they 
 both agree, to teach a man whatsoever falls upon him, that 
 
 97 G 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 he may be ready for it, and that nothing may cast him 
 down, 
 
 XXXIV. Thou must continually ponder and consider 
 with thyself, what manner of men they be, and for their 
 minds and understandings what is their present estate, 
 whose good word and testimony thou dost desire. For 
 then neither wilt thou see cause to complain of them 
 that offend against their wills ; or find any want of their 
 applause, if once thou dost but penetrate into the true force 
 and ground both of their opinions, and of their desires. 
 ' No soul (saith he) is willingly bereft of the truth,' and by 
 consequent, neither of justice, or temperance, or kindness, 
 and mildness ; nor of anything that is of the same kind. 
 It is most needful that thou shouldst always remember this. 
 For so shalt thou be far more gentle and moderate towards 
 all men. 
 
 XXXV. What pain soever thou art in, let this pre- 
 sently come to thy mind, that it is not a thing whereof 
 thou needest to be ashamed, neither is it a thing whereby 
 thy understanding, that hath the government of all, can be 
 made worse. For neither in regard of the substance of it, 
 nor in regard of the end of it (which is, to intend the 
 common good) can it alter and corrupt it. This also of 
 Epicurus mayst thou in most pains find some help of, that it 
 is ' neither intolerable, nor eternal ; ' so thou keep thy- 
 self to the true bounds and limits of reason and give not 
 way to opinion. This also thou must consider, that many 
 things there be, which oftentimes unsensibly trouble and 
 vex thee, as not armed against them with patience, because 
 they go not ordinarily under the name of pains, which in 
 very deed are of the same nature as pain ; as to slumber 
 unquietly, to suffer heat, to want appetite : when therefore 
 any of these things make thee discontented, check thyself 
 
 98 
 
His Meditations 
 
 with these words : Now hath pain given thee the foil ; 
 thy courage hath failed thee. 
 
 XXXVI. Take heed lest at any time thou stand so 
 affected, though towards unnatural evil men, as ordinary 
 men are commonly one towards another. 
 
 XXXVII. How know we whether Socrates were 
 so eminent indeed, and of so extraordinary a disposition ? 
 For that he died more gloriously, that he disputed with the 
 Sophists more subtilly ; that he watched in the frost more 
 assiduously ; that being commanded to fetch innocent Sala- 
 minius, he refused to do it more generously ; all this will 
 not serve. Nor that he walked in the streets, with much 
 gravity and majesty, as was objected unto him by his 
 adversaries : which nevertheless a man may well doubt 
 of, whether it were so or no, or, which above all the rest, 
 if so be that it were true, a man would well consider of, 
 whether commendable, or discommendable. The thing 
 therefore that we must inquire into, is this ; what manner 
 of soul Socrates had : whether his disposition was such ; as 
 that all that he stood upon, and sought after in this world, 
 was barely this, that he might ever carry himself justly 
 towards men, and holily towards the Gods. Neither vexing 
 himself to no purpose at the wickedness of others, nor yet 
 ever condescending to any man's evil fact, or evil intentions, 
 through either fear, or engagement of friendship. Whether 
 of those things that happened unto him by God's appoint- 
 ment, he neither did wonder at any when it did happen, 
 or thought it intolerable in the trial of it. And lastly, 
 whether he never did suffer his mind to sympathise with 
 the senses, and affections of the body. For we must not 
 think that Nature hath so mixed and tempered it with the 
 body, as that she hath not power to circumscribe herself, 
 and by herself to intend her own ends and occasions. 
 
 99 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 XXXVIII, For it is a thing very possible, that a man 
 should be a very divine man, and yet be altogether un- 
 known. This thou must ever be mindful of, as of this 
 also, that a man's true happiness doth consist in very few 
 things. And that although thou dost despair, that thou 
 shalt ever be a good either logician, or naturalist, yet thou 
 art never the further off by it from being either liberal, or 
 modest, or charitable, or obedient unto God. 
 
 XXXIX. Free from all compulsion in all cheerfulness 
 and alacrity thou mayst run out thy time, though men 
 should exclaim against thee never so much, and the wild 
 beasts should pull in sunder the poor members of thy 
 pampered mass of flesh. For what in either of these or 
 the like cases should hinder the mind to retain her own 
 rest and tranquillity, consisting both in the right judgment 
 of those things that happen unto her, and in the ready use 
 of all present matters and occasions ? So that her judgment 
 may say, to that which is befallen her by way of cross : 
 this thou art in very deed, and according to thy true nature : 
 notwithstanding that in the judgment of opinion thou dost 
 appear otherwise : and her discretion to the present object ^ 
 thou art that, which I sought for. For whatsoever it be^ 
 that is now present, shall ever be embraced by me as a fit 
 and seasonable object, both for my reasonable faculty, and 
 for my sociable, or charitable inclination to work upon. 
 And that which is principal in this matter, is that it may 
 be referred either unto the praise of God, or to the good 
 of men. For either unto God or man, whatsoever it is 
 that doth happen in the world hath in the ordinary course 
 of nature its proper reference ; neither is there anything, 
 that in regard of nature is either new, or reluctant and 
 intractable, but all things both usual and easy. 
 
 XL. Then hath a man attained to the estate of per- 
 
 100 
 
His Meditations 
 
 # 
 
 fection in his life and convAsation, when he so spends 
 every day, as if it were his last day : never hot and vehe- 
 ment in his afiFections, nor yet so cold and stupid as one that 
 had no sense ; and free from all manner of dissimulation. 
 
 XLI. Can the Gods, who are immortal, for the con- 
 tinuance of so many ages bear without indignation with 
 such and so many sinners, as have ever been, yea not 
 only so, but also take such care for them, that they want 
 nothing ; and dost thou so grievously take on, as one that 
 could bear with them no longer ; thou that art but for a 
 moment of time ? yea thou that art one of those sinners 
 thyself? A very ridiculous thing it is, that any man should 
 dispense with vice and wickedness in himself, which is in 
 his power to restrain ; and should go about to suppress it 
 in others, which is altogether impossible. 
 
 XLII. What object soever, our reasonable and sociable 
 faculty doth meet with, that alFords nothing either for the 
 satisfaction of reason, or for the practice of charity, she 
 worthily doth think unworthy of herself. 
 
 XLIII. When thou hast done well, and another is 
 benefited by thy action, must thou like a very fool look for 
 a third thing besides, as that it may appear unto others also 
 that thou hast done well, or that thou mayest in time, 
 receive one good turn for another ? No man useth to be 
 weary of that which is beneficial unto him. But every 
 action according to nature, is beneficial. Be not weary 
 then of doing that which is beneficial unto thee, whilst it is 
 so unto others. 
 
 XLIV. The nature of the universe did once certainly 
 before it was created, whatsoever it hath done since, 
 deliberate and so resolve upon the creation of the world. 
 Now since that time, whatsoever it is, that is and happens 
 in the world, is either but a consequent of that one and 
 
 lOI 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 first deliberation : or if so be fhat this ruling rational part of 
 
 the world, takes any thought and care of things particular, 
 
 they are surely his reasonable and principal creatures, 
 
 that are the proper object of his particular care 
 
 and providence. This often thought upon, 
 
 will much conduce to thy tranquillity. 
 
 102 
 
His Meditations 
 
 The Eighth Book 
 
 >HIS also, among other things, may 
 serve to keep thee from vainglory ; 
 if thou shalt consider, that thou art 
 novif altogether incapable of the com- 
 mendation of one, w^ho all his life 
 long, or from his youth at least, 
 hath lived a philosopher's life. For 
 both unto others, and to thyself especially, it is v^ell 
 known, that thou hast done many things contrary to 
 that perfection of life. Thou hast therefore been con- 
 founded in thy course, and henceforth it will be hard for 
 thee to recover the title and credit of a philosopher. And 
 to it also is thy calling and profession repugnant. If there- 
 fore thou dost truly understand, what it is that is of moment 
 indeed ; as for thy fame and credit, take no thought or care 
 for that : let it suffice thee if all the rest of thy life, be it 
 more or less, thou shalt live as thy nature requireth, or 
 according to the true and natural end of thy making. 
 Take pains therefore to know what it is that thy nature 
 requireth, and let nothing else distract thee. Thou hast 
 already had sufficient experience, that of those many things 
 that hitherto thou hast erred and wandered about, thou 
 couldst not find happiness in any of them. Not in 
 syllogisms, and logical subtilties, not in wealth, not in 
 honour and reputation, not in pleasure. In none of all 
 these. Wherein then is it to be found ? In the practice 
 of those things, which the nature of man, as he is a man, 
 doth require. How then shall he do those things ? If his 
 
 103 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 dogmata, or moral tenets and opinions (from which all 
 motions and actions do proceed), be right and true. Which 
 be those dogmata ? Those that concern that which is good 
 or evil, as that there is nothing truly good and beneficial 
 unto man, but that which makes him just, temperate, cou- 
 rageous, liberal ; and that there is nothing truly evil and hurt- 
 ful unto man, but that which causeth the contrary eflFects. 
 
 II. Upon every action that thou art about, put this 
 question to thyself; How will this when it is done agree 
 with me ? Shall I have no occasion to repent of it ? Yet 
 a very little while and I am dead and gone ; and all things 
 are at end. What then do I care for more than this, that 
 my present action whatsoever it be, may be the proper 
 action of one that is reasonable ; whose end is, the common 
 good ; who in all things is ruled and governed by the same 
 law of right and reason, by which God Himself is. 
 
 III. Alexander, Caius, Pompeius; what are these to 
 Diogenes, Heraclitus, and Socrates ? These penetrated into 
 the true nature of things ; into all causes, and all subjects : 
 and upon these did they exercise their power and authority. 
 But as for those, as the extent of their error was, so far did 
 their slavery extend. 
 
 IV. What they have done, they will still do, although 
 thou shouldst hang thyself. First ; let it not trouble thee. 
 For all things both good and evil : come to pass according 
 to the nature and general condition of the universe, and 
 within a very little while, all things will be at an end ; no 
 man will be remembered : as now of Africanus (for example) 
 and Augustus it is already come to pass. Then secondly ; 
 fix thy mind upon the thing itself; look into it, and 
 remembering thyself, that thou art bound nevertheless to be 
 a good man, and what it is that thy nature requireth of thee 
 as thou art a man, be not diverted from whal; thou art about, 
 
 104 
 
His Meditations 
 
 and speak that which seemeth unto thee most just : only 
 speak it kindly, modestly, and without hypocrisy. 
 
 V. That which the nature of the universe doth busy 
 herself about, is ; that which is here, to transfer it thither, 
 to change it, and thence again to take it away, and to carry it 
 to another place. So that thou needest not fear any new 
 thing. For all things are usual and ordinary ; and all things 
 are disposed by equality. 
 
 VI. Every particular nature hath content, when in its 
 own proper course it speeds. A reasonable nature doth 
 then speed, when first in matter of fancies and imagina- 
 tions, it gives no consent to that which is either false or 
 uncertain. Secondly, when in all its motions and resolu- 
 tions it takes its level at the common good only, and that it 
 desireth nothing, and flieth from nothing, but what is in 
 its own power to compass or avoid. And lastly, when it 
 willingly and gladly embraceth, whatsoever is dealt and 
 appointed unto it by the common nature. For it is part 
 of it ; even as the nature of any one leaf, is part of the 
 common nature of all plants and trees. But that the nature 
 of a leaf, is part of a nature both unreasonable and un- 
 sensible, and which in its proper end may be hindered ; or, 
 which is servile and slavish : whereas the nature of man is 
 part of a common nature which cannot be hindered, and 
 which is both reasonable and just. From whence also it 
 is, that according to the worth of everything, she doth 
 make such equal distribution of all things, as of duration, 
 substance, form, operation, and of events and accidents. 
 But herein consider not whether thou shalt find this equality 
 in everything absolutely and by itself; but whether in all 
 the particulars of some one thing taken together, and com- 
 pared with all the particulars of some other thing, and 
 them together likewise. 
 
 105 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 VII. Thou hast no time nor opportunity to read. What 
 then ? Hast thou not time and opportunity to exercise 
 thyself, not to wrong thyself; to strive against all carnal 
 pleasures and pains, and to get the upper hand of them ; to 
 contemn honour and vainglory ; and not only, not to be 
 angry with them, whom towards thee thou doest find un- 
 sensible and unthankful ; but also to have a care of them 
 still, and of their welfare ? 
 
 VIII. Forbear henceforth to complain of the troubles of 
 a courtly life, either in public before others, or in private 
 by thyself. 
 
 IX. Repentance is an inward and self-reprehension for 
 the neglect or omission of somewhat that was profitable. 
 Now whatsoever is good, is also profitable, and it is the part 
 of an honest virtuous man to set by it, and to make reckon- 
 ing of it accordingly. But never did any honest virtuous 
 man repent of the neglect or omission of any carnal pleasure : 
 no carnal pleasure then is either good or profitable. 
 
 X. This, what is it in itself, and by itself, according 
 to its proper constitution ? What is the substance of it ? 
 What is the matter, or proper use ? What is the form or 
 efficient cause ? What is it for in this world, and how long 
 will it abide ? Thus must thou examine all things, that 
 present themselves unto thee. 
 
 XI. When thou art hard to be stirred up and awaked 
 out of thy sleep, admonish thyself and call to mind, that, to 
 perform actions tending to the common good is that which 
 thine own proper constitution, and that which the nature 
 of man do require. But to sleep, is common to unreason- 
 able creatures also. And what more proper and natural, yea 
 what more kind and pleasing, than that which is according 
 to nature ? 
 
 XII. As every fancy and imagination presents itself 
 
 1 06 
 
 .vJS'^SW«;v,,;:^ 
 
His Meditations 
 
 unto thee, consider (if it be possible) the true nature, 
 and the proper qualities of it, and reason with thyself 
 about it. 
 
 XIII. At thy first encounter with any one, say presently 
 to thyself: This man, what are his opinions concerning 
 that which is good or evil ? as concerning pain, pleasure, 
 and the causes of both ; concerning honour, and dishonour, 
 concerning life and death ? thus and thus. Now if it be 
 no wonder that a man should have such and such opinions, 
 how can it be a wonder that he should do such and such 
 things ? I will remember then, that he cannot but do as 
 he doth, holding those opinions that he doth. Remember, 
 that as it is a shame for any man to wonder that a fig tree 
 should bear figs, so also to wonder that the world should 
 bear anything, whatsoever it is which in the ordinary course 
 of nature it may bear. To a physician also and to a pilot 
 it is a shame either for the one to wonder, that such and 
 such a one should have an ague ; or for the other, that the 
 winds should prove contrary. 
 
 XIV. Remember, that to change thy mind upon occa- 
 sion, and to follow him that is able to rectify thee, is equally 
 ingenuous, as to find out at the first, what is right and 
 just, without help. For of thee nothing is required, that is 
 beyond the extent of thine own deliberation and judgment, 
 and of thine own understanding. 
 
 XV. If it were thine act and in thine own power, why 
 wouldest thou do it? If it were not, whom dost thou 
 accuse ? the atoms, or the Gods ? For to do either, is the 
 part of a mad man. Thou must therefore blame nobody, 
 but if it be in thy power, redress what is amiss ; if it be not, 
 to what end is it to complain ? For nothing should be done 
 but to some certain end. 
 
 XVI. Whatsoever dieth and falleth, however and where- 
 
 107 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 soever it die and fall, it cannot fall out of the world. If 
 here it have its abode and change, here also shall it have 
 its dissolution into its proper elements. The same are the 
 world's elements, and the elements of which thou dost 
 consist. And they when they are changed, they murmur 
 not ; why shouldest thou ? 
 
 XVII. Whatsoever is, was made for something : as a 
 horse, a vine. Why wonderest thou ? The sun itself will 
 say of itself, I was made for something ; and so hath every 
 god its proper function. What then were thou made for ? 
 to disport and delight thyself? See how even common 
 sense and reason cannot brook it. 
 
 XVIII. Nature hath its end as well in the end and final 
 consummation of anything that is, as in the beginning and 
 continuation of it. 
 
 XIX. As one that tosseth up a ball. And what is a 
 ball the better, if the motion of it be upwards ; or the worse 
 if it be downwards ; or if it chance to fall upon the ground ? 
 So for the bubble ; if it continue, what is it the better ? and 
 if it dissolve, what is it the worse ? And so is it of a candle 
 too. And so must thou reason with thyself, both in matter 
 of fame, and in matter of death. For as for the body itself, 
 (the subject of death) wouldest thou know the vileness of 
 it? Turn it about, that thou mayest behold it the worst 
 sides upwards as well, as in its more ordinary pleasant shape ; 
 how doth it look, when it is old and withered ? when sick 
 and pained ? when in the act of lust, and fornication ? And 
 as for fame. This life is short. Both he that praiseth, and 
 he that is praised ; he that remembers, and he that is 
 remembered, will soon be dust and ashes. Besides, it is but 
 in one corner of this part of the world that thou art praised ; 
 and yet in this corner, thou hast not the joint praises of all 
 men ; no nor scarce of any one constantly. And yet the 
 
 io8 
 
His Meditations 
 
 whole earth itself, what is it but as one point, in regard of 
 the whole world ? 
 
 XX. That which must be the subject of thy considera- 
 tion, is either the matter itself, or the dogma, or the opera- 
 tion, or the true sense and signification. 
 
 XXI. Most justly have these things happened unto 
 thee : why dost not thou amend ? O but thou hadst 
 rather become good to-morrow, than to be so to-day. 
 
 XXII. Shall I do it ? I will ; so the end of my action 
 be to do good unto men. Doth anything by way of cross 
 or adversity happen unto me ? I accept it, with reference 
 unto the Gods, and their providence ; the fountain of all 
 things, from which whatsoever comes to pass, doth hang 
 and depend. 
 
 XXIII. By one action judge of the rest : this bathing 
 which usually takes up so much of our time, what is it ? 
 Oil, sweat, filth ; or the sordes of the body : an excre- 
 mentitious viscosity, the excrements of oil and other 
 ointments used about the body, and mixed with the sordes 
 of the body : all base and loathsome. And such almost is 
 every part of our life ; and every worldly object. 
 
 XXIV. Lucilla buried Verus ; then was Lucilla her- 
 self buried by others. So Secunda Maximus, then Secunda 
 herself. So Epitynchanus, Diotimus ; then Epitynchanus 
 himself. So Antoninus Pius, Faustina his wife ; then 
 Antoninus himself. This is the course of the world. 
 First Celer, Adrianus ; then Adrianus himself. And those 
 austere ones ; those that foretold other men's deaths ; those 
 that were so proud and stately, where are they now ? 
 Those austere ones I mean, such as were Charax, and 
 Demetrius the Platonic, and Eudaemon, and others like unto 
 those. They were all but for one day ; all dead and gone 
 long since. Some of them no sooner dead, than forgotten. 
 
 109 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 Others soon turned into fables. Of others, even that 
 which was fabulous, is now long since forgotten. This 
 therefore thou must remember, that whatsoever thou art 
 compounded of, shall soon be dispersed, and that thy life and 
 breath, or thy soul, shall either be no more, or shall be 
 translated, and appointed to some certain place and station. 
 
 XXV. The true joy of a man, is to do that which 
 properly belongs unto a man. That which is most proper 
 unto a man, is, first, to be kindly affected towards them, that 
 are of the same kind and nature as he is himself ; to contemn 
 all sensual motions and appetites ; to discern rightly all 
 plausible fancies and imaginations, to contemplate the nature 
 of the universe ; both it, and all things that are done in it. 
 In which kind of contemplation three several relations are to 
 be observed. The first, to the apparent secondary cause. 
 The second, to the first original cause, God, from whom 
 originally proceeds whatsoever doth happen in the world. 
 The third and last, to them that we live and converse with : 
 what use may be made of it, to their use and benefit. 
 
 XXVI. If pain be an evil, either it is in regard of the 
 body ; (and that cannot be, because the body of itself is alto- 
 gether insensible :) or in regard of the soul. But it is in the 
 power of the soul, to preserve her own peace and tranquillity, 
 and not to suppose that pain is evil. For all judgment and 
 deliberation ; all prosecution, or aversation is from within, 
 whither the sense of evil (except it be let in by opinion) 
 cannot penetrate. 
 
 XXVII. Wipe ofiF all idle fancies, and say unto thyself 
 incessantly ; Now if I will, it is in my power to keep out of 
 this my soul all wickedness, all lust, and concupiscences, all 
 trouble and confusion. But on the contrary, to behold and 
 consider all things according to their true nature, and to 
 carry myself towards everything according to its true worth. 
 
 no 
 
His Meditations 
 
 Remember then this thy power, that nature hath given 
 thee. 
 
 XXVIII. Whether thou speak in the Senate, or whether 
 thou speak to any particular, let thy speech be always grave 
 and modest. But thou must not openly and vulgarly 
 observe that sound and exact form of speaking, concerning 
 that which is truly good and truly evil ; the vanity of the 
 world, and of worldly men : which otherwise truth and 
 reason doth prescribe. 
 
 XXIX. Augustus his court ; his wife, his daughter, 
 his nephews, his sons-in-law ; his sister, Agrippa, his 
 kinsmen, his domestics, his friends ; Areus, Maecenas, 
 his slayers of beasts for sacrifice and divination : there 
 thou hast the death of a whole court together. Pro- 
 ceed now on to the rest that have been since that of 
 Augustus. Hath death dwelt with them otherwise, though 
 so many and so stately whilst they lived, than it doth use 
 to deal with any one particular man ? Consider now the 
 death of a whole kindred and family, as of that of the 
 Pompeys, as that also that useth to be written upon some 
 monuments, he was the last of his own kindred. 
 O what care did his predecessors take, that they might 
 leave a successor, yet behold ! at last one or other must of 
 necessity be THE last. Here again therefore consider the 
 death of a whole kindred. 
 
 XXX. Contract thy whole life to the measure and pro- 
 portion of one single action. And if in every particular 
 action thou dost perform what is fitting to the utmost 
 of thy power, let it suffice thee. And who can hinder 
 thee, but that thou mayest perform what is fitting ? But 
 there may be some outward let and impediment. Not any, 
 that can hinder thee, but that whatsoever thou dost, thou 
 may do it, justly, temperately, and with the praise of God. 
 
 Ill 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 Yea, but there may be somewhat, whereby some operation 
 or other of thine may be hindered. And then, with that 
 very thing that doth hinder, thou mayest be well pleased, 
 and so by this gentle and equanimous conversion of thy 
 mind unto that which may be, instead of that which at 
 first thou didst intend, in the room of that former action 
 there succeedeth another, which agrees as well with this 
 contraction of thy life, that we now speak of. 
 
 XXXI. Receive temporal blessings without ostentation, 
 when they are sent ; and thou shalt be able to part with 
 them with all readiness and facility when they are taken 
 from thee again. 
 
 XXXII. If ever thou sawest either a hand, or a foot, 
 or a head lying by itself, in some place or other, as cut 
 off from the rest of the body, such must thou conceive him 
 to make himself, as much as in him lieth, that either is 
 offended with anything that is happened, (whatsoever it 
 be) and as it were divides himself from it : or that commits 
 anything against the natural law of mutual correspondence, 
 and society among men : or, he that commits any act of 
 uncharitableness. Whosoever thou art, thou art such, thou 
 art cast forth I know not whither out of the general unity, 
 which is according to nature. Thou wert born indeed 
 a part, but now thou ha^t cut thyself off. However, herein 
 is matter of joy and exultation, that thou mayst be united 
 again. God hath not granted it unto any other part, that 
 once separated and cut off, it might be reunited, and come 
 together again. But, behold, that goodness how great 
 and immense it is ! which hath so much esteemed man. 
 As at first he was so made, that he needed not, except 
 he would himself, have divided himself from the whole ; so 
 once divided and cut off, it hath so provided and ordered 
 it, that if he would himself, he might return, and grow 
 
 112 
 
His Meditations 
 
 together again, and be admitted iflto its former rank and 
 place of a part, as he was before. 
 
 XXXIII. As almost all her other faculties and pro- 
 perties the nature of the universe hath imparted unto every 
 reasonable creature, so this in particular we have received 
 from her, that as whatsoever doth oppose itself unto her, 
 and doth withstand her in her purposes and intentions, she 
 doth, though against its will and intention, bring it about 
 to herself, to serve herself of it in the execution of her 
 own destinated ends ; and so by this though not intended co- 
 operation of it with herself makes it part of herself whether 
 it will or no. So may every reasonable creature, what 
 crosses and impediments soever it meets with in the course 
 of this mortal life, it may use them as fit and proper objects, 
 to the furtherance of whatsoever it intended and absolutely 
 proposed unto itself as its natural end and happiness. 
 
 XXXIV. Let not the general representation unto thy- 
 self of the wretchedness of this our mortal life, trouble thee. 
 Let not thy mind wander up and down, and heap together 
 in her thoughts the many troubles and grievous calamities 
 •which thou art as subject unto as any other. But as every- 
 thing in particular doth happen, put this question unto 
 thyself, and say : What is it that in this present matter, 
 •seems unto thee so intolerable ? For thou wilt be ashamed 
 to confess it. Then upon this presently call to mind, that 
 neither that which is future, nor that which is past can 
 hurt thee ; but that only which is present. (And that also 
 is much lessened, if thou dost rightly circumscribe it :) and 
 then check thy mind if for so little a while, (a mere instant), 
 it cannot hold out with patience. 
 
 XXXV. What ? are either Panthea or Pergamus abid- 
 ing to this day by their masters' tombs ? or either Chabrias 
 or Diotimus by that of Adrianus ? O foolery 1 For what 
 
 113 H 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 if they did, would their masters be sensible of it? or if 
 sensible, would they be glad of it ? or if glad, were these 
 immortal ? Was not it appointed unto them also (both 
 men and women,) to become old in time, and then to die ? 
 And these once dead, what would become of these former ? 
 And when all is done, what is all this for, but for a mere 
 bag of blood and corruption ? 
 
 XXXVI. If thou beest quick-sighted, be so in matter 
 of judgment, and best discretion, saith he. 
 
 XXXVII. In the whole constitution of man, I see not 
 any virtue contrary to justice, whereby it may be resisted 
 and opposed. But one whereby pleasure and voluptuous- 
 ness may be resisted and opposed, I see : continence. 
 
 XXXVIII. If thou canst but withdraw conceit and 
 opinion concerning that which may seem hurtful and 
 offensive, thou thyself art as safe, as safe may be. Thou 
 thyself? and who is that? Thy reason. 'Yea, but I am 
 not reason.' Well, be it so. However, let not thy reason 
 or understanding admit of grief, and if there be anything in 
 thee that is grieved, let that, (whatsoever it be,) conceive its 
 own grief, if it can. 
 
 XXXIX. That which is a hindrance of the senses, is 
 an evil to the sensitive nature. That which is a hindrance 
 of the appetitive and prosecutive faculty, is an evil to the 
 sensitive nature. As of the sensitive, so of the vegetative 
 constitution, whatsoever is a hindrance unto it, is also in 
 that respect an evil unto the same. And so likewise, 
 whatsoever is a hindrance unto the mind and understand- 
 ing, must needs be the proper evil of the reasonable nature. 
 Now apply all those things unto thyself. Do either pain 
 or pleasure seize on thee ? Let the senses look to that. 
 Hast thou met with some obstacle or other in thy purpose 
 and intention ? If thou didst propose without due reserva- 
 
 114 
 
His Meditations 
 
 * 
 
 tion and exception, now hath thy reasonable part received 
 a blow indeed. But if in general thou didst propose unto 
 thjrself whatsoever might be, thou art not thereby either hurt, 
 nor properly hindered. For in those things that properly 
 belong unto the mind, she cannot be hindered by any man. 
 It is not fire, nor iron ; nor the power of a tyrant, nor the 
 power of a slandering tongue ; nor anything else, that can 
 penetrate into her. 
 
 XL. If once round and solid, there is no fear that ever 
 it will change. 
 
 XLI. Why should I grieve myself; who never did 
 willingly grieve any other ! One thing rejoices one, and 
 another thing another. As for me, this is my joy ; if my 
 understanding be right and sound, as neither averse from any 
 man, nor refusing any of those things, which as a man I am 
 subject unto ; if I can look upon all things in the world 
 meekly and kindly ; accept all things, and carry myself 
 towards everything according to the true worth of the thing 
 itself. 
 
 XLII. This time that is now present, bestow thou upon 
 thyself. They that rather hunt for fame after death, do not 
 consider, that those men that shall be hereafter, will be even 
 such, as these whom now they can so hardly bear with. 
 And besides they also will be mortal men. But to consider 
 the thing in itself, if so many with so many voices, shall 
 make such and such a sound, or shall have such and such an 
 opinion concerning thee, what is it to thee ? 
 
 XLIII. Take me and throw me where thou wilt : I am 
 indilFerent. For there also I shall have that spirit which is 
 within me propitious ; that is well pleased and fully con- 
 tented both in that constant disposition, and with those 
 particular actions, which to its own proper constitution are 
 suitable and agreeable. 
 
 "5 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 XLIV. Is this then a thing of that worth, that for it my 
 soul should suffer, and become worse than it was ? as either 
 basely dejected, or disordinately affected, or confounded within 
 itself, or terrified ? What can there be, that thou shouldest 
 so much esteem ? 
 
 XLV. Nothing can happen unto thee, which is not 
 incidental unto thee, as thou art a man. As nothing can 
 happen either to an ox, a vine, or to a stone, which is not 
 incidental unto them ; unto every one in his own kind. If 
 therefore nothing can happen unto anything, which is not 
 both usual and natural ; why art thou displeased ? Sure the 
 common nature of all would not bring anything upon any, 
 that were intolerable. If therefore it be a thing external 
 that causes thy grief, know, that it is not that properly that 
 doth cause it, but thine own conceit and opinion concerning 
 the thing : which thou mayest rid thyself of, when thou 
 wilt. But if it be somewhat that is amiss in thine own 
 disposition, that doth grieve thee, mayest thou not rectify 
 thy moral tenets and opinions. But if it grieve thee, that 
 thou doest not perform that which seemeth unto thee right 
 and just, why doest not thou choose rather to perform it 
 than to grieve ? But somewhat that is stronger than thyself 
 doth hinder thee. Let it not grieve thee then, if it be not 
 thy fault that the thing is not performed. * Yea but it is a 
 thing of that nature, as that thy life is not worth the while, 
 except it may be performed.' If it be so, upon condition 
 that thou be kindly and lovingly disposed towards all men, 
 thou mayest be gone. For even then, as much as at any 
 time, art thou in a very good estate of performance, when 
 thou doest die in charity with those, that are an obstacle 
 unto thy performance. 
 
 XLVI. Remember that thy mind is of that nature as 
 that it becometh altogether unconquerable, when once 
 
 ii6 
 
His Meditations 
 
 recollected in herself, she seeks no other content than this, 
 that she cannot be forced : yea though it so fall out, that it 
 be even against reason itself, that it doth bandy. How 
 much less when by the help of reason she is able to judge 
 of things with discretion ? And therefore let thy chief 
 fort and place of defence be, a mind free from passions. A 
 stronger place, (whereunto to make his refuge, and so to 
 become impregnable) and better fortified than this, hath no 
 man. He that seeth not this is unlearned. He that seeth 
 it, and betaketh not himself to this place of refuge, is 
 unhappy. 
 
 XL VII. Keep thyself to the first bare and naked appre- 
 hensions of things, as they present themselves unto thee, 
 and add not unto them. It is reported unto thee, that such 
 a one speaketh ill of thee. Well ; that he speaketh ill of 
 thee, so much is reported. But that thou art hurt thereby, 
 is not reported : that is the addition of opinion, which 
 thou must exclude. I see that my child is sick. That he 
 is sick, I see, but that he is in danger of his life also, I see 
 it not. Thus thou must use to keep thyself to the first 
 motions and apprehensions of things, as they present them- 
 selves outwardly ; and add not unto them from within thy- 
 self through mere conceit and opinion. Or rather add 
 unto them ; but as one that understandeth the true nature 
 of all things that happen in the world. 
 
 XLVIII. Is the cucumber bitter ? set it away. Brambles 
 are in the way ? avoid them. Let this suifice. Add not 
 presently speaking unto thyself. What serve these things for 
 in the world ? For, this, one that is acquainted with the 
 mysteries of nature, will laugh at thee for it ; as a carpenter 
 would or a shoemaker, if meeting in either of their shops 
 with some shavings, or small remnants of their work, thou 
 shouldest blame them for it. And yet those men, it is not 
 
 117 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 for want of a place where to throw them that they keep 
 them in their shops for a while : but the nature of the 
 universe hath no such out-place ; but herein doth consist 
 the wonder of her art and skill, that she having once cir- 
 cumscribed herself within some certain bounds and limits, 
 whatsoever is within her that seems either corrupted, or 
 old, or unprofitable, she can change it into herself, and of 
 these very things can make new things ; so that she needeth 
 not to seek elsewhere out of herself either for a new supply 
 of matter and substance, or for a place where to throw out 
 whatsoever is irrecoverably putrid and corrupt. Thus she, 
 as for place, so for matter and art, is herself sufficient unto 
 herself. 
 
 XLIX. Not to be slack and negligent ; or loose, and 
 wanton in thy actions ; nor contentious, and troublesome in 
 thy conversation ; nor to rove and wander in thy fancies 
 and imaginations. Not basely to contract thy soul ; nor 
 boisterously to sally out with it, or furiously to launch out 
 as it were, nor ever to want employment. 
 
 L. ' They kill me, they cut my flesh : they persecute 
 my person with curses.' What then ? May not thy mind 
 for all this continue pure, prudent, temperate, just ? As a 
 fountain of sweet and clear water, though she be cursed by 
 some stander by, yet do her springs nevertheless still run as 
 sweet and clear as before ; yea though either dirt or dung 
 be thrown in, yet is it no sooner thrown, than dispersed, 
 and she cleared. She cannot be dyed or infected by it. 
 What then must I do, that I may have within myself an 
 overflowing fountain, and not a well ? Beget thyself by 
 continual pains and endeavours to true liberty with charity, 
 and true simplicity and modesty. 
 
 LI. He that knoweth not what the world is, knoweth 
 not where he himself is. And he that knoweth not what 
 
 ii8 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 the world was made for, cannot possibly know either what 
 are the qualities, or what is the nature of the world. Now 
 he that in either of these is to seek, for what he himself 
 was made is ignorant also. What then dost thou think of 
 that man, who proposeth unto himself, as a matter of great 
 moment, the noise and applause of men, who both where 
 they are, and what they are themselves, are altogether 
 ignorant ? Dost thou desire to be commended of that 
 man, who thrice in one hour perchance, doth himself curse 
 himself? Dost thou desire to please him, who pleaseth not 
 himself? or dost thou think that he pleaseth himself, who 
 doth use to repent himself almost of everything that he 
 doth ? 
 
 LII. Not only now henceforth to have a common 
 breath, or to hold correspondency of breath, with that air, 
 that compasseth us about ; but to have a common mind, or 
 to hold correspondency of mind also with that rational 
 substance, which compasseth all things. For, that also is 
 of itself, and of its own nature (if a man can but draw it in 
 as he should) everywhere diffused ; and passeth through all 
 things, no less than the air doth, if a man can but suck 
 it in. 
 
 LIII. Wickedness in general doth not hurt the world. 
 Particular wickedness doth not hurt any other : only unto 
 him it is hurtful, whosoever he be that offends, unto whom 
 in great favour and mercy it is granted, that whensoever he 
 himself shall but first desire it, he may be presently delivered 
 of it. Unto my free-will my neighbour's free-will, who- 
 ever he be, (as his life, or his body), is altogether indiflFer- 
 ent. For though we are all made one for another, yet 
 have our minds and understandings, each of them their own 
 proper and limited jurisdiction. For else another man's 
 wickedness might be my evil ; which God would not have, 
 
 119 
 
 J'^ 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 that it might not be in another man's power to make me 
 unhappy : which nothing now can do but mine own 
 wickedness. 
 
 LIV. The sun seemeth to be shed abroad. And indeed 
 it is diffused but not effused. For that diffusion of it is a 
 Tao-t? or an extension. For therefore are the beams of it 
 called aicTive<s from the word iiereiveaOai., to be stretched 
 out and extended. Now what a sunbeam is, thou mayest 
 know if thou observe the light of the sun, when through 
 some narrow hole it pierceth into some room that is dark. 
 For it is always in a direct line. And as by any solid body, 
 that it meets with in the way that is not penetrable by 
 air, it is divided and abrupted, and yet neither slides off", or 
 falls down, but stayeth there nevertheless : such must the 
 diffusion of the mind be ; not an effusion, but an extension. 
 What obstacles and impediments soever she meeteth within 
 her way, she must not violently, and by way of an im- 
 petuous onset light upon them ; neither must she fall down ; 
 but she must stand, and give light unto that which doth 
 admit of it. For as for that which doth not, it is its own 
 fault and loss, if it bereave itself of her light. 
 
 LV. He that feareth death, either feareth that he shall 
 have no sense at all, or that his senses will not be the same. 
 Whereas, he should rather comfort himself, that either no 
 sense at all, and so no sense of evil ; or if any sense, then 
 another life, and so no death properly. 
 
 LVI. All men are made one for another : either then 
 teach them better, or bear with them. 
 
 LVII. The motion of the mind is not as the motion 
 of a dart. For the mind when it is wary and cautelous, 
 and by way of diligent circumspection turneth herself many 
 ways, may then as well be said to go straight on to the 
 object, as when it useth no such circumspection. 
 
 120 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 LVIII. To pierce and penetrate into the estate of 
 
 every one's understanding that thou hast to do 
 
 with : as also to make the estate of thine 
 
 own open, and penetrable to any other. 
 
 121 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Ninth Book 
 
 sE that is unjust, is also impious. For 
 the nature of the universe, having 
 made all reasonable creatures one for 
 another, to the end that they should 
 . do one another good ; more or less 
 according to the several persons and 
 occasions ; but in nowise hurt one 
 another : it is manifest that he that doth transgress against 
 this her will, is guilty of impiety towards the most ancient 
 and venerable of all the deities. For the nature of 
 the universe, is the nature the common parent of all, and 
 therefore piously to be observed of all things that are, and 
 that which now is, to whatsoever first was, and gave it its 
 being, hath relation of blood and kindred. She is also called 
 truth ; and is the first cause of all truths. He therefore 
 that willingly and wittingly doth lie, is impious in that he 
 doth receive, and so commit injustice : but he that against 
 his will, in that he disagreeth from the nature of the 
 universe, and in that striving with the nature of the world 
 he doth in his particular, violate the. general order of the 
 world. For he doth no better than strive and war against 
 it, who contrary to his own nature applieth himself to that 
 which is contrary to truth. For nature had before furnished 
 him with instincts and opportunities sufficient for the attain- 
 ment of it ; which he having hitherto neglected, is not now 
 able to discern that which is false from that which is true. 
 He also that pursues after pleasures, as that which is truly 
 good ; and flies from pains, as that which is truly evil : is 
 impious. For such a one must of necessity oftentimes 
 
 122 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 accuse that common nature, as distributing many things 
 both unto the evil, and unto the good, not according to the 
 deserts of either : as unto the bad oftentimes pleasures, and 
 the causes of pleasures ; so unto the good, pains, and the 
 occasions of pains. Again, he that feareth pains and crosses 
 in this world, feareth some of those things which some time 
 or other must needs happen in the world. And that we 
 have already showed to be impious. And he that pursueth 
 after pleasures, will not spare, to compass his desires, to do 
 that which is unjust, and that is manifestly impious. Now 
 those things which unto nature are equally indifferent (for 
 she had not created both, both pain and pleasure, if both 
 had not been unto her equally indifferent) : they that will 
 live according to nature, must in those things (as being of 
 the same mind and disposition that she is) be as equally 
 indifferent. Whosoever therefore in either matter of pleasure 
 and pain ; death and life ; honour and dishonour, (which 
 things nature in the administration of the world, indiffer- 
 ently doth make use of), is not as indifferent, it is apparent 
 that he is impious. When I say that common nature doth 
 indifferently make use of them, my meaning is, that they 
 happen indifferently in the ordinary course of things, which 
 by a necessary consequence, whether as principal or acces- 
 sory, come to pass in the world, according to that first and 
 ancient deliberation of Providence, by which she from some 
 certain beginning, did resolve upon the creation of such a 
 world, conceiving then in her womb as it were some cer- 
 tain rational generative seeds and faculties of things future, 
 whether subjects, changes, successions ; both such and such, 
 and just so many. 
 
 II. It were indeed more happy and comfortable, for a 
 man to depart out of this world, having lived all his life 
 long clear from all falsehood, dissimulation, voluptuousness, 
 
 123 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 and pride. But if this cannot be, yet it is some comfort for 
 a man joyfully to depart as weary, and out of love with 
 those ; rather than to desire to live, and to continue long 
 in those wicked courses. Hath not yet experience taught 
 thee to fly from the plague ? For a far greater plague is 
 the corruption of the mind, than any certain change and 
 distemper of the common air can be. This is a plague of 
 creatures, as they are living creatures ; but that of men as 
 they are men or reasonable. 
 
 III. Thou must not in matter of death carry thyself 
 scornfully, but as one that is well pleased with it, as being 
 one of those things that nature hath appointed. For what 
 thou dost conceive of these, of a boy to become a young 
 man, to wax old, to grow, to ripen, to get teeth, or a beard, 
 or grey hairs ; to beget, to bear, or to be delivered ; or 
 what other action soever it be, that is natural unto man 
 according to the several seasons of his life ; such a thing is 
 it also to be dissolved. It is therefore the part of a wise 
 man, in matter of death, not in any wise to carry himself 
 either violently, or proudly ; but patiently to wait for it, as 
 one of nature's operations : that with the same mind as 
 now thou dost expect when that which yet is but an 
 embryo in thy wife's belly shall come forth, thou mayst 
 expect also when thy soul shall fall off from that outward 
 coat or skin : wherein as a child in the belly it lieth in- 
 volved and shut up. But if thou desirest a more popular, 
 and though not so direct and philosophical, yet a very 
 powerful and penetrative recipe against the fear of death, 
 nothing can make thee more willing to part with thy life, 
 than if thou shalt consider, both what the subjects them- 
 selves are that thou shalt part with, and what manner of 
 dispositions thou shalt no more have to do with. True it 
 is, that offended with them thou must not be by no means, 
 
 124 
 
His Meditations 
 
 * 
 
 but take care of them, and meekly bear with them. How- 
 ever, this thou mayst remember, that whensoever it happens 
 that thou depart, it shall not be from men that held the 
 same opinions that thou dost. For that indeed, (if it were 
 so) is the only thing that might make thee averse from 
 death, and willing to continue here, if it were thy hap to 
 live with men that had obtained the same belief that thou 
 hast. But now, what a toil it is for thee to live with men 
 of different opinions, thou seest : so that thou hast rather 
 occasion to say. Hasten, I thee pray, O Death ; lest I also 
 in time forget myself. 
 
 IV. He that sinneth, sinneth unto himself. He that is 
 unjust, hurts himself, in that he makes himself worse than 
 he was before. Not he only that committeth, but he also 
 that omitteth something, is oftentimes unjust. 
 
 V. If my present apprehension of the object be right, 
 and my present action charitable, and this, towards what- 
 soever doth proceed from God, be my present disposition, 
 to be well pleased with it, it sufficeth. 
 
 VI. To wipe away fancy, to use deliberation, to quench 
 concupiscence, to keep the mind free to herself. 
 
 VII. Of all unreasonable creatures, there is but one 
 unreasonable soul ; and of all that are reasonable, but 
 one reasonable soul, divided betwixt them all. As of all 
 earthly things there is but one earth, and but one light that 
 we see by ; and but one air that we breathe in, as many as 
 either breathe or see. Now whatsoever partakes of some 
 common thing, naturally affects and inclines unto that 
 whereof it is part, being of one kind and nature with it. 
 Whatsoever is earthly, presseth downwards to the common 
 earth. Whatsoever is liquid, would flow together. And 
 whatsoever is airy, would be together likewise. So that 
 without some obstacle, and some kind of violence, they 
 
 125 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 cannot well be kept asunder. Whatsoever is fiery, doth 
 not only by reason of the elementary fire tend upwards ; 
 but here also is so ready to join, and to burn together, that 
 whatsoever doth want sufficient moisture to make resistance, 
 is easily set on fire. Whatsoever therefore is partaker of 
 that reasonable common nature, naturally doth as much 
 and more long after his own kind. For by how much in 
 its own nature it excels all other things, by so much more 
 is it desirous to be joined and united unto that, which is of 
 its own nature. As for unreasonable creatures then, they 
 had not long been, but presently begun among them 
 swarms, and flocks, and broods of young ones, and a kind 
 of mutual love and affection. For though but unreasonable, 
 yet a kind of soul these had, and therefore was that natural 
 desire of union more strong and intense in them, as in 
 creatures of a more excellent nature, than either in plants, 
 or stones, or trees. But among reasonable creatures, begun 
 commonwealths, friendships, families, public meetings, and 
 even in their wars, conventions, and truces. Now among 
 them that were yet of a more excellent nature, as the stars 
 and planets, though by their nature fer distant one from 
 another, yet even among them began some mutual corre- 
 spondency and unity. So proper is it to excellency in a 
 high degree to affect unity, as that even in things so far 
 distant, it could operate unto a mutual sympathy. But 
 now behold, what is now come to pass. Those creatures 
 that are reasonable, are now the only creatures that have 
 forgotten their natural affection and inclination of one 
 towards another. Among them alone of all other things 
 that are of one kind, there is not to be found a general 
 disposition to flow together. But though they fly from 
 nature, yet are they stopt in their course, and appre- 
 hended. Do they what they can, nature doth prevail. 
 
 120 
 
His Meditations 
 
 And so shalt thou confess, if thSu dost observe it. For 
 sooner mayst thou find a thing earthly, where no earthly 
 thing is, than find a man that naturally can live by himself 
 alone. 
 
 VIII. Man, God, the world, every one in their kind, 
 bear some fruits. All things have their proper time to 
 bear. Though by custom, the word itself is in a manner 
 become proper unto the vine, and the like, yet is it so 
 nevertheless, as we have said. As for reason, that beareth 
 both common fruit for the use of others ; and peculiar, 
 which itself doth enjoy. Reason is of a diflFiisive nature, 
 what itself is in itself, it begets in others, and so doth 
 multiply. 
 
 IX. Either teach them better if it be in thy power ; or 
 if it be not, remember that for this use, to bear with them 
 patiently, was mildness and goodness granted unto thee. 
 The Gods themselves are good unto such ; yea and in some 
 things, (as in matter of health, of wealth, of honour,) are 
 content often to further their endeavours : so good and 
 gracious are they. And mightest thou not be so too ? or, 
 tell me, what doth hinder thee ? 
 
 X. Labour not as one to whom it is appointed to be 
 wretched, nor as one that either would be pitied, or 
 admired ; but let this be thine only care and desire ; so 
 always and in all things to prosecute or to forbear, as the 
 law of charity, or mutual society doth require. 
 
 XL This day I did come out of all my trouble. Nay I 
 have cast out all my trouble ; it should rather be. For that 
 which troubled thee, whatsoever it was, was not without 
 anywhere that thou shouldest come out of it, but within in 
 thine own opinions, from whence it must be cast out, before 
 thou canst truly and constantly be at ease. 
 
 XII. All those things, for matter of experience are usual 
 127 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 and ordinary ; for their continuance but for a day ; and for 
 their matter, most base and filthy. As they were in the 
 days of those whom we have buried, so are they now also, 
 and no otherwise. 
 
 XIII. The things themselves that affect us, they stand 
 without doors, neither knowing anything themselves nor 
 able to utter anything unto others concerning themselves. 
 What then is it, that passeth verdict on them? The 
 understanding. 
 
 XIV. As virtue and wickedness consist not in passion, 
 but in action ; so neither doth the true good or evil of a 
 reasonable charitable man consist in passion, but in operation 
 and action. 
 
 XV. To the stone that is cast up, when it comes down 
 it is no hurt unto it ; as neither benefit, when it doth 
 ascend. 
 
 XVI. Sift their minds and understandings, and behold 
 what men they be, whom thou dost stand in fear of what 
 they shall judge of thee, what they themselves judge of 
 themselves. 
 
 XVII. All things that are in the world, are always in 
 the estate of alteration. Thou also art in a perpetual change, 
 yea and under corruption too, in some part : and so is the 
 whole world. 
 
 XVIII. It is not thine, but another man's sin. Why 
 should it trouble thee ? Let him look to it, whose sin it is. 
 
 XIX. Of an operation and of a purpose there is an 
 ending, or of an action and of a purpose we say commonly, 
 that it is at an end : from opinion also there is an absolute 
 cessation, which is as it were the death of it. In all this 
 there is no hurt. Apply this now to a man's age, as first, a 
 child ; then a youth, then a young man, then an old man ; 
 every change from one age to another is a kind of death. 
 
 128 
 
His Meditations 
 
 And all this while here is no matter of grief yet. Pass now 
 unto that life first, that which thou livedst under thy grand- 
 father, then under thy mother, then under thy father. And 
 thus when through the whole course of thy life hitherto 
 thou hast found and observed many alterations, many 
 changes, many kinds of endings and cessations, put this 
 question to thyself. What matter of grief or sorrow dost 
 thou find in any of these ? Or what doest thou suffer 
 through any of these ? If in none of these, then neither in 
 the ending and consummation of thy whole life, which is 
 also but a cessation and change. 
 
 XX. As occasion shall require, either to thine own 
 understanding, or to that of the universe, or to his, whom 
 thou hast now to do with, let thy refuge be with all speed. 
 To thine own, that it resolve upon nothing against justice. 
 To that of the universe, that thou mayest remember, part of 
 whom thou art. Of his, that thou mayest consider, whether 
 in the estate of ignorance, or of knowledge. And then also 
 must thou call to mind, that he is thy kinsman. 
 
 XXI. As thou thyself, whoever thou art, wert made for 
 the perfection and consummation, being a member of it, of 
 a common society ; so must every action of thine tend to 
 the perfection and consummation of a life that is truly 
 sociable. What action soever of thine therefore that either 
 immediately or afar off, hath not reference to the common 
 good, that is an exorbitant and disorderly action ; yea it is 
 seditious ; as one among the people who from such and such 
 a consent and unity, should factiously divide and separate 
 himself. 
 
 XXII. Children's anger, mere babels ; wretched souls 
 bearing up dead bodies, that they may not have their fall so 
 soon : even as it is in that common dirge song. 
 
 XXIII. Go to the quality of the cause from which the 
 
 129 I 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 eftect doth proceed. Behold it by itself bare and naked, 
 separated from all that is material. Then consider the 
 utmost bounds of time that that cause, thus and thus 
 qualified, can subsist and abide. 
 
 XXIV. Infinite are the troubles and miseries, that thou 
 hast already been put to, by reason of this only, because 
 that for all happiness it did not suffice thee, or, that thou 
 didst not account it sufficient happiness, that thy under- 
 standing did operate according to its natural constitution. 
 
 XXV. When any shall either impeach thee with false 
 accusations, or hatefully reproach thee, or shall use any such 
 carriage towards thee, get thee presently to their minds and 
 understandings, and look in them, and behold what manner 
 of men they be. Thou shalt see, that there is no such 
 occasion why it should trouble thee, what such as they are 
 think of thee. Yet must thou love them still, for by nature 
 they are thy friends. And the Gods themselves, in those 
 things that they seek from them as matters of great moment, 
 are well content, all manner of ways, as by dreams and 
 oracles, to help them as well as others. 
 
 XXVI. Up and down, from one age to another, go the 
 ordinary things of the world ; being still the same. And 
 either of everything in particular before it come to pass, the 
 mind of the universe doth consider with itself and deliberate : 
 and if so, then submit for shame unto the determination 
 of such an excellent understanding : or once for all it did 
 resolve upon all things in general ; and since that what- 
 soever happens, happens by a necessary consequence, and 
 all things indivisibly in a manner and inseparably hold one 
 of another. In sum, either there is a God, and then all is 
 well ; or if all things go by chance and fortune, yet mayest 
 thou use thine own providence in those things that concern 
 thee properly ; and then art thou well. 
 
 130 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 XXVII. Within a while the earth shall cover us all, 
 and then she herself shall have her change. And then the 
 course will be, from one period of eternity unto another, 
 and so a perpetual eternity. Now can any man that shall 
 consider with himself in his mind the several rollings or 
 successions of so many changes and alterations, and the 
 swiftness of all these rollings ; can he otherwise but con- 
 temn in his heart and despise all worldly things ? The 
 cause of the universe is as it were a strong torrent, it 
 carrieth all away. 
 
 XXVIII. And these your professed politicians, the only 
 true practical philosophers of the world, (as they think of 
 themselves) so full of affected gravity, or such professed 
 lovers of virtue and honesty, what wretches be they in very 
 deed ; how vile and contemptible in themselves ? O man ! 
 what ado doest thou keep ? Do what thy nature doth now 
 require. Resolve upon it, if thou mayest : and take no 
 thought, whether anybody shall know it or no. Yea, but 
 sayest thou, I must not expect a Plato's commonwealth. 
 If they profit though never so little, I must be content ; 
 and think much even of that little progress. Doth then 
 any of them forsake their former false opinions that I should 
 think they profit ? For without a change of opinions, alas ! 
 what is all that ostentation, but mere wretchedness of slavish 
 minds, that groan privately, and yet would make a show 
 of obedience to reason, and truth ? Go too now and tell 
 me of Alexander and Philippus, and Demetrius Phalereus. 
 Whether they understood what the common nature requireth, 
 and could rule themselves or no, they know best themselves. 
 But if they kept a life, and swaggered ; I (God be thanked) 
 am not bound to imitate them. The effect of true philo- 
 sophy is, unaffected simplicity and modesty. Persuade me 
 not to ostentation and vainglory. 
 
 131 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 XXIX. From some high place as it were to look down, 
 and to behold here flocks, and there sacrifices, without 
 number ; and all kind of navigation ; some in a rough and 
 stormy sea, and some in a calm : the general differences, 
 or different estates of things, some, that are now first upon 
 being ; the several and mutual relations of those things that 
 are together ; and some other things that are at their last. 
 Their lives also, who were long ago, and theirs who shall 
 be hereafter, and the present estate and life of those many 
 nations of barbarians that are now in the world, thou must 
 likewise consider in thy mind. And how many there be, 
 who never so much as heard of thy name, how many that 
 will soon forget it ; how many who but even now did com- 
 mend thee, within a very little while perchance will speak 
 ill of thee. So that neither fame, nor honour, nor anything 
 else that this world doth afford, is worth the while. The 
 sum then of all ; whatsoever doth happen unto thee, whereof 
 God is the cause, to accept it contentedly : whatsoever thou 
 doest, whereof thou thyself art the cause, to do it justly : 
 which will be, if both in thy resolution and in thy action 
 thou have no further end, than to do good unto others, as 
 being that, which by thy natural constitution, as a man, 
 thou art bound unto. 
 
 XXX. Many of those things that trouble and straiten 
 thee, it is in thy power to cut off, as wholly depending 
 from mere conceit and opinion ; and then thou shalt have 
 room enough. 
 
 XXXI. To comprehend the whole world together in 
 thy mind, and the whole course of this present age to 
 represent it unto thyself, and to fix thy thoughts upon the 
 sudden change of every particular object. How short the 
 time is from the generation of anything, unto the dissolu- 
 tion of the same ; but how immense and infinite both that 
 
 132 
 
His Meditations 
 
 which was before the generation, and that which after the 
 generation of it shall be. All things that thou seest, will 
 soon be perished, and they that see their corruptions, will 
 soon vanish away themselves. He that dieth a hundred 
 years old, and he that dieth young, shall come all to one. 
 
 XXXII. What are their minds and understandings ; 
 and what the things that they apply themselves unto : what 
 do they love, and what do they hate for ? Fancy to thyself 
 the estate of their souls openly to be seen. When they 
 think they hurt them shrewdly, whom they speak ill of ; 
 and when they think they do them a very good turn, whom 
 they commend and extol : O how full are they then of 
 conceit, and opinion ! 
 
 XXXIII. Loss and corruption, is in very deed nothing 
 else but change and alteration ; and that is it, which the 
 nature of the imiverse doth most delight in, by which, and 
 according to which, whatsoever is done, is well done. For 
 that was the estate of worldly things from the beginning, 
 and so shall it ever be. Or wouldest thou rather say, that 
 all things in the world have gone ill from the beginning for 
 so many ages, and shall ever go ill ? And then among so 
 many deities, could no divine power be found all this while, 
 that could rectify the things of the world ? Or is the world, 
 to incessant woes and miseries, for ever condemned ? 
 
 XXXIV. How base and putrid, every common matter 
 is ! Water, dust, and from the mixture of these bones, and 
 all that loathsome stuff that our bodies do consist of; so 
 subject to be infected, and corrupted. And again those other 
 things that are so much prized and admired, as marble 
 stones, what are they, but as it were the kernels of the 
 earth ? gold and silver, what are they, but as the more gross 
 faeces of the earth ? Thy most royal apparel, for matter, it 
 is but as it were the hair of a silly sheep, and for colour, the 
 
 133 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 very blood of a shell-fish ; of this nature are all other things. 
 Thy life itself, is some such thing too ; a mere exhalation 
 of blood : and it also, apt to be changed into some other 
 common thing. 
 
 XXXV. Will this querulousness, this murmuring, this 
 complaining and dissembling never be at an end ? What 
 then is it, that troubleth thee ? Doth any new thing happen 
 unto thee ? What doest thou so wonder at ? At the cause, 
 or the matter ? Behold either by itself, is either of that 
 weight and moment indeed ? And besides these, there is 
 not anything. But thy duty towards the Gods also, it is 
 time thou shouldst acquit thyself of it with more goodness 
 and simplicity. 
 
 XXXVI. It is all one to see these things for a hundred 
 of years together, or but for three years. 
 
 XXXVII. If he have sinned, his is the harm, not mine. 
 But perchance he hath not. 
 
 XXXVIII. Either all things by the providence of reason 
 happen unto every particular, as a part of one general body ; 
 and then it is against reason that a part should complain of 
 anything that happens for the good of the whole ; or if, 
 according to Epicurus, atoms be the cause of all things and 
 that life be nothing else but an accidentary confusion of 
 things, and death nothing else, but a mere dispersion and so 
 of all other things : what doest thou trouble thyself for ? 
 
 XXXIX. Sayest thou unto that rational part. Thou art 
 dead ; corruption hath taken hold on thee ? Doth it then 
 also void excrements ? Doth it like either oxen, or sheep, 
 graze or feed ; that it also should be mortal, as well as the 
 body ? 
 
 XL. Either the Gods can do nothing for us at all, or 
 they can still and allay all the distractions and distempers of 
 thy mind. If they can do nothing, why doest thou pray ? 
 
 134 
 
His Meditations 
 
 « 
 
 If they can, why wouldst not thou rather pray, that they 
 will grant unto thee, that thou mayst neither fear, nor lust 
 after any of those worldly things which cause these distrac- 
 tions and distempers of it ? Why not rather, that thou 
 mayst not at either their absence or presence, be grieved 
 and discontented : than either that thou mayst obtain them, 
 or that thou mayst avoid them ? For certainly it must 
 needs be, that if the Gods can help us in anything, they 
 may in this kind also. But thou wilt say perchance, 'In 
 those things the Gods have given me my liberty : and it is 
 in mine own power to do what I will.' But if thou mayst 
 use this liberty, rather to set thy mind at true liberty, than 
 wilfully with baseness and servility of mind to affect those 
 things, which either to compass or to avoid is not in thy 
 power, wert not thou better ? And as for the Gods, who 
 hath told thee, that they may not help us up even in those 
 things that they have put in our own power ? Whether it 
 be so or no, thou shalt soon perceive, if thou wilt but try 
 thyself and pray. One prayeth that he may compass his 
 desire, to lie with such or such a one, pray thou that thou 
 mayst not lust to lie with her. Another how he may be 
 rid of such a one ; pray thou that thou mayst so patiently 
 bear with him, as that thou have no such need to be rid of 
 him. Another, that he may not lose his child. Pray thou 
 that thou mayst not fear to lose him. To this end and 
 purpose, let all thy prayer be, and see what will be the event. 
 XLI. 'In my sickness' (saith Epicurus of himself:) 
 'my discourses were not concerning the nature of my 
 disease, neither was that, to them that came to visit me, 
 the subject of my talk ; but in the consideration and con- 
 templation of that, which was of especial weight and 
 moment, was all my time bestowed and spent, and among 
 others in this very thing, how my mind, by a natural and 
 
 135 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 unavoidable sympathy partaking in some sort with the pre- 
 sent indisposition of my body, might nevertheless keep 
 herself free from trouble, and in present possession of her 
 own proper happiness. Neither did I leave the ordering or 
 my body to the physicians altogether to do with me what 
 they would, as though I expected any great matter from 
 them, or as though I thought it a matter of such great 
 consequence, by their means to recover my health : for 
 my present estate, methought, liked me very well, and 
 gave me good content.' Whether therefore in sickness 
 (if thou chance to sicken) or in what other kind of ex- 
 tremity soever, endeavour thou also to be in thy mind so 
 aiFected, as he doth report of himself : not to depart from 
 thy philosophy for anything that can befall thee, nor to give 
 ear to the discourses of silly people, and mere naturalists. 
 
 XLII. It is common to all trades and professions to 
 mind and intend that only, which now they are about, and 
 the instrument whereby they work. 
 
 XLIII. When at any time thou art offended with any 
 one's impudency, put presently this question to thyself: 
 ' What ? Is it then possible, that there should not be any 
 impudent men in the world ! Certainly it is not possible.' 
 Desire not then that which is impossible. For this one, 
 (thou must think) whosoever he be, is one of those impu- 
 dent ones, that the world cannot be without. So of the 
 subtile and crafty, so of the perfidious, so of every one that 
 offendeth, must thou ever be ready to reason with thyself. 
 For whilst in general thou dost thus reason with thyself, 
 that the kind of them must needs be in the world, thou wilt 
 be the better able to use meekness towards every particular. 
 This also thou shalt find of very good use, upon every such 
 occasion, presently to consider with thyself, what proper 
 virtue nature hath furnished man with, against such a vice, 
 
 136 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 or to encounter with a disposition vicious in this kind. As 
 for example, against the unthankful, it hath given goodness 
 and meekness, as an antidote, and so against another vicious 
 in another kind some other peculiar faculty. And gene- 
 rally, is it not in thy power to instruct him better, that is 
 in an error ? For whosoever sinneth, doth in that decline 
 from his purposed end,' and is certainly deceived. And again, 
 what art thou the worse for his sin ? For thou shalt not 
 find that any one of these, against whom thou art incensed, 
 hath in very deed done anything whereby thy mind (the 
 only true subject of thy hurt and evil) can be made worse 
 than it was. And what a matter of either grief or wonder 
 is this, if he that is unlearned, do the deeds of one that 
 is unlearned ? Should not thou rather blame thyself, who, 
 when upon very good grounds of reason, thou mightst 
 have thought it very probable, that such a thing would 
 by such a one be committed, didst not only not foresee it, 
 but moreover dost wonder at it, that such a thing should 
 be. But then especially, when thou dost find fault with 
 cither an unthankful, or a false man, must thou reflect 
 upon thyself. For without all question, thou thyself art 
 much in fault, if either of one that were of such a disposi- 
 tion, thou didst expect that he should be true unto thee : 
 or when unto any thou didst a good turn, thou didst not 
 fhere bound thy thoughts, as one that had obtained his 
 end ; nor didst not think that from the action itself thou 
 hadst received a full reward of the good that thou hadst 
 done. For what wouldst thou have more ? Unto him that 
 is a man, thou hast done a good turn : doth not that suffice 
 thee ? What thy nature required, that hast thou done. 
 Must thou be rewarded for it ? As if either the eye for 
 that it seeth, or the feet that they go, should require satis- 
 faction. For as these being by nature appointed for such 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 an use, can challenge no more, than that they may work 
 according to their natural constitution : so man being born 
 to do good unto others whensoever he doth a real good 
 unto any by helping them out of error ; or though but 
 in middle things, as in matter of wealth, life, pre- 
 ferment, and the like, doth help to further their 
 desires ; he doth that for which he was made, 
 and therefore can require no more. 
 
 138 
 
His Meditations 
 
 The Tenth Book 
 
 MY soul, the time I trust will be, 
 when thou shalt be good, simple, 
 single, more open and visible, than 
 that body by which it is enclosed. 
 Thou wilt one day be sensible of 
 their happiness, whose end is love, 
 and their affections dead to all worldly 
 things. Thou shalt one day be full, and in want of 
 no external thing : not seeking pleasure from anything, 
 either living or insensible, that this world can afford ; 
 neither wanting time for the continuation of thy pleasure, 
 nor place and opportunity, nor the favour either of the 
 weather or of men. When thou shalt have content in 
 thy present estate, and all things present shall add to thy 
 content : when thou shalt persuade thyself, that thou hast 
 all things ; all for thy good, and all by the providence of 
 the Gods : and of things future also shalt be as confident, 
 that all will do well, as tending to the maintenance and 
 preservation in some sort, of his perfect welfare and happi- 
 ness, who is perfection of life, of goodness, and beauty ; 
 who begets all things, and containeth all things in himself, 
 and in himself doth recollect all things from all places that 
 are dissolved, that of them he may beget others again like 
 unto them. Such one day shall be thy disposition, that thou 
 shalt be able, both in regard of the Gods, and in regard of men, 
 so to fit and order thy conversation, as neither to complain of 
 them at any time, for anything that they do ; nor to do any- 
 thing thyself, for which thou mayest justly be condemned. 
 
 139 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 II. As one who is altogether governed by nature, let it 
 be thy care to observe what it is that thy nature in general 
 doth require. That done, if thou find not that thy nature, 
 as thou art a living sensible creature, will be the worse for 
 it, thou mayest proceed. Next then thou must examine, 
 what thy nature as thou art a living sensible creature, doth 
 require. And that, whatsoever it be, thou mayest admit of 
 and do it, if thy nature as thou art a reasonable living 
 creature, will not be the worse for it. Now whatsoever is 
 reasonable, is also sociable. Keep thyself to these rules, and 
 trouble not thyself about idle things. 
 
 III. Whatsoever doth happen unto thee, thou art 
 naturally by thy natural constitution either able, or not 
 able to bear. If thou beest able, be not oflFended, but bear 
 it according to thy natural constitution, or as nature hath 
 enabled thee. If thou beest not able, be not offended. 
 For it will soon make an end of thee, and itself, (whatso- 
 ever it be) at the same time end with thee. But remember, 
 that whatsoever by the strength of opinion, grounded upon 
 a certain apprehension of both true profit and duty, thou 
 canst conceive tolerable ; that thou art able to bear that by 
 thy natural constitution. 
 
 IV. Him that offends, to teach with love and meek- 
 ness, and to show him his error. But if thou canst not, 
 then to blame thyself, or rather not thyself neither, if thy 
 will and endeavours have not been wanting. 
 
 V. Whatsoever it be that happens unto thee, it is that 
 which from all time was appointed unto thee. For by the 
 same coherence of .causes, by which thy substance from all 
 eternity was appointed to be, was also whatsoever should 
 happen unto it, destinated and appointed. 
 
 VI. Either with Epicurus, we must fondly imagine the 
 atoms to be the cause of all things, or we must needs grant 
 
 140 
 
His Meditations 
 
 a nature. Let this then be thy first ground, that thou art 
 part of that universe, which is governed by nature. Then 
 secondly, that to those parts that are of the same kind and 
 nature as thou art, thou hast relation of kindred. For of 
 these, if I shall always be mindful, first as I am a part, I 
 shall never be displeased with anything, that falls to my 
 particular share of the common chances of the world. For 
 nothing that is behoveful unto the whole, can be truly 
 hurtfiil to that which is part of it. For this being the 
 common privilege of all natures, that they contain nothing 
 in themselves that is hurtful unto them ; it cannot be that 
 the nature of the universe (whose privilege beyond other 
 particular natures, is, that she cannot against her will by 
 any higher external cause . be constrained,) should beget 
 anything and cherish it in her bosom that should tend to 
 her own hurt and prejudice. As then I bear in mind that 
 I am a part of such an universe, I shall not be displeased 
 with anything that happens. And as I have relation of 
 kindred to those parts that are of the same kind and nature 
 that I am, so I shall be careful to do nothing that is pre- 
 judicial to the community, but in all my deliberations shall 
 they that are of my kind ever be ; and the common good, 
 that, which all my intentions and resolutions shall drive 
 unto, as that which is contrary unto it, I shall by all means 
 endeavour to prevent and avoid. These things once so 
 fixed and concluded, as thou wouldst think him a happy 
 citizen, whose constant study and practice were for the 
 good and benefit of his fellow citizens, and the carriage of 
 the city such towards him, that he were well pleased with 
 it ; so must it needs be with thee, that thou shalt live a 
 happy life. 
 
 VII. All parts of the world, (all things I mean that are 
 contained within the whole world,) must of necessity at 
 
 141 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 some time or other come to corruption. Alteration I should 
 say, to speak truly and properly ; but that I may be the 
 better understood, I am content at this time to use that 
 more common word. Now say I, if so be that this be both 
 hurtful unto them, and yet unavoidable, would not, thinkest 
 thou, the whole itself be in a sweet case, all the parts of it 
 being subject to alteration, yea and by their making itself 
 fitted for corruption, as consisting of things different and 
 contrary ? And did nature then either of herself thus pro- 
 ject and purpose the affliction and misery of her parts, and 
 therefore of purpose so made them, not only that haply 
 they might, but of necessity that they should fall into evil ; 
 or did not she know what she did, when she made them ? 
 For either of these two to say, is equally absurd. But to 
 let pass nature in general, and to reason of things particular 
 according to their own particular natures ; how absurd and 
 ridiculous is it, first to say that all parts of the whole are, 
 by their proper natural constitution, subject to alteration ; 
 and then when any such thing doth happen, as when one 
 doth fall sick and dieth, to take on and wonder as though 
 some strange thing had happened ? Though this besides 
 might move not so grievously to take on when any such 
 thing doth happen, that whatsoever is dissolved, it is dis- 
 solved into those things, whereof it was compounded. For 
 every dissolution is either a mere dispersion, of the elements 
 into those elements again whereof everything did consist, 
 or a change, of that which is more solid into earth ; and of 
 that which is pure and subtile or spiritual, into air. So that 
 by this means nothing is lost, but all resumed again into 
 those rational generative seeds of the universe ; and this 
 universe, either after a certain period of time to be con- 
 sumed by fire, or by continual changes to be renewed, and 
 so for ever to endure. Now that solid and spiritual that 
 
 142 
 
His Meditations 
 
 we speak of, thou must not conceive it to be that very 
 same, which at first was, when thou wert born. For alas ! 
 all this that now thou art in either kind, either for matter 
 of substance, or of life, hath but two or three days ago 
 partly from meats eaten, and partly from air breathed in, 
 received all its influx, being the same then in no other 
 respect, than a running river, maintained by the perpetual 
 influx and new supply of waters, is the same. That there- 
 fore which thou hast since received, not that which came 
 from thy mother, is that which comes to change and cor- 
 ruption. But suppose that that for the general substance, 
 and more solid part of it, should still cleave unto thee never 
 so close, yet what is that to the proper qualities and affec- 
 tions of it, by which persons are distinguished, which cer- 
 tainly are quite different ? 
 
 VIII. Now that thou hast taken these names upon thee 
 of good, modest, true ; of efifftpav, a-vfi^ptov, inrep<j)pa>v ; 
 take heed lest at any times by doing anything that is 
 contrary, thou be but improperly so called, and lose thy 
 right to these appellations. Or if thou do, return unto 
 them again with all possible speed. And remember, that 
 the word %p,^p<ov notes unto thee an intent and intelligent 
 consideration of every object that presents itself unto thee, 
 without distraction. And the word av/x^ptov, a ready and 
 contented acceptation of whatsoever by the appointment 
 of the common nature, happens unto thee. And the word 
 vTrep^peov, a super-extension, or a transcendent, and out- 
 reaching disposition of thy mind, whereby it passeth by all 
 bodily pains and pleasures, honour and credit, death and 
 whatsoever is of the same nature, as matters of absolute 
 indifiFerency, and in no wise to be stood upon by a wise 
 man. These then if inviolably thou shalt observe, and 
 shalt not be ambitious to be so called by others, both thou 
 
 H3 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 thyself shalt become a new man, and thou shalt begin a 
 new life. For to continue such as hitherto thou hast been, 
 to undergo those distractions and distempers as thou must 
 needs for such a life as hitherto thou hast lived, is the part 
 of one that is very foolish, and is overfond of his life. 
 Whom a man might compare to one of those half-eaten 
 wretches, matched in the amphitheatre with wild beasts ; 
 who as full as they are all the body over with wounds and 
 blood, desire for a great favour, that they may be reserved 
 till the next day, then also, and in the same estate to be 
 exposed to the same nails and teeth as before. Away 
 therefore, ship thyself, and from the troubles and distrac- 
 tions of thy former life convey thyself as it were unto these 
 few names ; and if thou canst abide in them, or be constant 
 in the practice and possession of them, continue there as 
 glad and joyfiil as one that were translated unto some such 
 place of bliss and happiness as that which by Hesiod and 
 Plato is called the Islands of the Blessed, by others called 
 the Elysian Fields. And whensoever thou findest thyself, 
 that thou art in danger of a relapse, and that thou art not 
 able to master and overcome those difficulties and tempta- 
 tions that present themselves in thy present station : get 
 thee into any private corner, where thou mayst be better 
 able. Or if that will not serve, forsake even thy life 
 rather. But so that it be not in passion, but in a plain 
 voluntary modest way : this being the only commendable 
 action of thy whole life, that thus thou art departed, or 
 this having been the main work and business of thy whole 
 life, that thou mightest thus depart. Now for the better 
 remembrance of those names that we have spoken of, thou 
 shalt find it a very good help, to remember the Gods as 
 often as may be ; and that, the thing which they require 
 at our hands, of as many of us, as are by nature reasonable 
 
 144 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 creatures ; is not that with fair words, and outward show 
 of piety and devotion we should flatter them, but that we 
 should beconfie like unto them : and that as all other natural 
 creatures, the fig tree for example ; the dog, the bee ; both 
 do, all of them, and apply themselves unto that, which by 
 their natural constitution, is proper unto them ; so man 
 likewise should do that, which by his nature, as he is a 
 man, belongs unto him. 
 
 IX. Toys and fooleries at home ; wars abroad : some- 
 times terror, sometimes torpor, or stupid sloth : this is thy 
 daily slavery. By little and little, if thou doest not better look 
 to it, those sacred dogmata will be blotted out of thy mind. 
 How many things be there, which when as a mere naturalist, 
 thou hast barely considered of according to their nature, thou 
 doest let pass without any further use ? Whereas thou 
 shouldst in all things so join action and contemplation, that 
 thou mightest both at the same time attend all present 
 occasions, to perform everything duly and carefully ; and 
 yet so intend the contemplative part too, that no part of 
 that delight and pleasure, which the contemplative know- 
 ledge of everything according to its true nature doth of 
 itself afford, might be lost. Or, that the true and contem- 
 plative knowledge of everything according to its own nature, 
 might of itself, (action being subject to many lets and impedi- 
 ments) afford unto thee sufficient pleasure and happiness. Not 
 apparent indeed, but not concealed. And when shalt thou 
 attain to the happiness of true simplicity, and unaffected 
 gravity ? When shalt thou rejoice in the certain knowledge 
 of every particular object according to its true nature : as 
 what the matter and substance of it is ; what use it is for in 
 the world : how long it can subsist : what things it doth 
 consist of: who they be that are capable of it, and who 
 ihey that can give it, and take it away ? 
 
 145 K 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 X. As the spider, when it hath caught the fly that it 
 hunted after, is not little proud, nor meanly conceited of 
 herself: as he likewise that hath caught an hare, or hath 
 taken a fish with his net : as another for the taking of a 
 boar, and another of a bear : so may they be proud, and 
 applaud themselves for their valiant acts against the Sarmatae, 
 or northern nations lately defeated. For these also, these 
 famous soldiers and warlike men, if thou dost look into their 
 minds and opinions, what do they for the most part but 
 hunt after prey ? 
 
 XI. To find out, and set to thyself some certain way 
 and method of contemplation, whereby thou mayest clearly 
 discern and represent unto thyself, the mutual change of all 
 things, the one into the other. Bear it in thy mind ever- 
 more, and see that thou be throughly well exercised in this 
 particular. For there is not anything more efiFectual to 
 beget true magnanimity. 
 
 XII. He hath got loose from the bonds of his body, 
 and perceiving that within a very little while he must 
 of necessity bid the world farewell, and leave all these 
 things behind him, he wholly applied himself, as to 
 righteousness in all his actions, so to the common nature in 
 all things that should happen unto him. And contenting 
 himself with these two things, to do all things justly, and 
 whatsoever God doth send to like well of it : what others 
 shall either say or think of him, or shall do against him, he 
 doth not so much as trouble his thoughts with it. To go 
 on straight, whither right and reason directed him, and by 
 so doing to follow God, was the only thing that he did mind, 
 that, his only business and occupation, 
 
 XIII. What use is there of suspicion at all ? or, why 
 should thoughts of mistrust, and suspicion concerning that 
 which is future, trouble thy mind at all ? What now is to 
 
 146 
 
His Meditations 
 
 be done, if thou mayest search and inquire into that, what 
 needs thou care for more ? And if thou art well able to 
 perceive it alone, let no man divert thee from it. But if 
 alone thou doest not so well perceive it, suspend thine 
 action, and take advice from the best. And if there be any- 
 thing else that doth hinder thee, go on with prudence and 
 discretion, according to the present occasion and opportunity, 
 still proposing that unto thyself, which thou doest conceive 
 most right and just. For to hit that aright, and to speed in 
 the prosecution of it, must needs be happiness, since it is 
 that only which we can truly and properly be said to miss of, 
 or miscarry in. 
 
 XIV. What is that that is slow, and yet quick ? merry, 
 and yet grave ? He that in all things doth follow reason 
 for his guide. 
 
 XV. In the morning as soon as thou art awaked, when 
 thy judgment, before either thy affections, or external 
 objects have wrought upon it, is yet most free and impartial : 
 put this question to thyself, whether if that which is right 
 and just be done, the doing of it by thyself, or by others 
 when thou art not able thyself, be a thing material or no. 
 For sure it is not. And as for these that keep such a life, 
 and stand so much upon the praises, or dispraises of other 
 men, hast thou forgotten : what manner of men they be ? 
 that such and such upon their beds, and such at their board : 
 what their ordinary actions are : what they pursue after, 
 and what they fly from : what thefts and rapines they commit, 
 if not with their hands and feet, yet with that more precious 
 part of theirs, their minds : which (would it but admit of 
 them) might enjoy faith, modesty, truth, justice, a good spirit. 
 
 XVI. Give what thou wilt, and take away what thou 
 wilt, saith he that is well taught and truly modest, to Him 
 that gives, and takes away. And it is not out of a stout 
 
 H7 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 and peremptory resolution, that he saith it, but in mere 
 love, and humble submission. 
 
 XVII. So live as indifferent to the world and all 
 worldly objects, as one who liveth by himself alone upon 
 some desert hill. For whether here, or there, if the 
 whole world be but as one town, it matters not much 
 for the place. Let them behold and see a man, that is 
 a man indeed, living according to the true nature of man. 
 If they cannot bear with me, let them kill me. For better 
 were it to die, than so to live as they would have thee. 
 
 XVIII. Make it not any longer a matter of dispute or 
 discourse, what are the signs and proprieties of a good man, 
 but really and actually to be such. 
 
 XIX. Ever to represent unto thyself, and to set before 
 thee, both the general age and time of the world, and the 
 whole substance of it. And how all things particular in 
 respect of these are for their substance, as one of the least 
 seeds that is : and for their duration, as the turning of 
 the pestle in the mortar once about. Then to fix 
 thy mind upon every particular object of the world, 
 and to conceive it, (as it is indeed,) as already being in 
 the state of dissolution, and of change ; tending to some kind 
 of either putrefaction or dispersion ; or whatsoever else it is, 
 that is the death as it were of everything in his own kind. 
 
 XX. Consider them through all actions and occupations, 
 of their lives : as when they eat, and when they sleep : 
 when they are in the act of necessary exoneration, and 
 when in the act of lust. Again, when they either are in 
 their greatest exultation ; and in the middle of all their 
 pomp and glory ; or being angry and displeased, in great 
 state and majesty, as from an higher place, they chide and 
 rebuke. How base and slavish, but a little while ago, they 
 were fain to be, that they might come to this ; and within 
 
 148 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 a very little while what will be their estate, when deatn 
 hath once seized upon them. 
 
 XXI. That is best for every one, that the common 
 nature of all doth send unto every one, and then is it best, 
 when she doth send it. 
 
 XXII. The earth, saith the poet, doth often long after 
 the rain. So is the glorious sky often as desirous to fall 
 upon the earth, which argues a mutual kind of love between 
 them. And so (say I) doth the world bear a certain affection 
 of love to whatsoever shall come to pass. With thine 
 affections shall mine concur, O world. The same (and no 
 other,) shall the object of my longing be, which is of thine. 
 Now that the world doth love, as it is true indeed, so is 
 it as commonly said, and acknowledged, when, according 
 to the Greek phrase, imitated by the Latins, of things that 
 use to be, we say commonly, that they love to be. 
 
 XXIII. Either thou doest continue in this kind of life, 
 and that is it, which so long thou hast been used unto and 
 therefore tolerable : or thou doest retire, or leave the world, 
 and that of thine own accord, and then thou hast thy mind : 
 or thy life is cut off, and then mayest thou rejoice that thou 
 hast ended thy charge. One of these must needs be. Be 
 therefore of good comfort. 
 
 XXIV. Let it always appear and be manifest unto 
 thee, that solitariness, and desert places, by many philo- 
 sophers so much esteemed of and affected, are of themselves 
 but thus and thus ; and that all things are here to them that 
 live in towns, and converse with others : as they are the 
 same nature everywhere to be seen and observed : to them 
 that have retired themselves to the top of mountains, and 
 to desert havens, or what other desert and inhabited places 
 soever. For anywhere if thou wilt mayest thou quickly find 
 and apply that to thyself, which Plato saith of his philosopher, 
 
 149 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 in a place ; as private and retired, saith he, as if he were shut 
 up and enclosed about in some shepherd's lodge, on the top 
 of a hill. There by thyself to put these questions to thyself, 
 or to enter in these considerations : What is my chief and 
 principal part, which hath power over the rest ? What is 
 now the present estate of it, as I use it ; and what is it, that 
 I employ it about ? Is it now void of reason or no ? Is it 
 free, and separated ; or so affixed, so congealed and grown 
 together as it were with the flesh, that it is swayed by the 
 motions and inclinations of it ? 
 
 XXV. He that runs away from his master, is a fugitive. 
 But the law is every man's master. He therefore that for- 
 sakes the law, is a fugitive. So is he, whosoever he be, 
 that is either sorry, angry, or afraid, or for anything that 
 either hath been, is, or shall be by his appointment, who is 
 the Lord and Governor of the universe. For he truly and 
 properly is Nofio^, or the law, as the only vifiav, or 
 distributor and dispenser of all things that happen unto any 
 one in his lifetime. Whatsoever then is either sorry, angry, 
 or afraid, is a fugitive. 
 
 XXVI. From man is the seed, that once cast into the 
 womb, man hath no more to do with it. Another cause 
 succeedeth, and undertakes the work, and in time brings a 
 child (that wonderful eflect from such a beginning !) to 
 perfection. Again, man lets food down through his throat ; 
 and that once down, he hath no more to do with it. 
 Another cause succeedeth and distributeth this food into 
 the senses, and the afiFections : into life, and into strength ; 
 and doth with it those other many and marvellous things, 
 that belong unto man. These things therefore that are so 
 secretly and invisibly wrought and brought to pass, thou 
 must use to behold and contemplate ; and not the things 
 themselves only, but the power also by which they are 
 
 150 
 
His Meditations 
 
 effected ; that thou mayst behold it, though not with the 
 eyes of the body, yet as plainly and visibly as thou canst 
 see and discern the outward efficient cause of the depression 
 and elevation of anything. 
 
 XXVII. Ever to mind and consider with thyself, how 
 all things that now are, have been heretofore much after 
 the same sort, and after the same fashion that now they are: 
 and so to think of those things which shall be hereafter 
 also. Moreover, whole dramata, and uniform scenes, or 
 scenes that comprehend the lives and actions of men of one 
 calling and profession, as many as either in thine own 
 experience thou hast known, or by reading of ancient 
 histories ; (as the whole court of Adrianus, the whole 
 court of Antoninus Pius, the whole court of Philippus, 
 that of Alexander, that of Crcesus) : to set them all 
 before thine eyes. For thou shalt find that they are all 
 but after one sort and fashion : only that the actors were 
 others. 
 
 XXVIII. As a pig that cries and flings when his throat 
 is cut, fancy to thyself every one to be, that grieves for any 
 worldly thing and takes on. Such a one is he also, who 
 upon his bed alone, doth bewail the miseries of this our 
 mortal life. And remember this, that unto reasonable 
 creatures only it is granted that they may willingly and 
 freely submit unto Providence : but absolutely to submit, is 
 a necessity imposed upon all creatures equally. 
 
 XXIX. Whatsoever it is that thou goest about, con- 
 sider of it by thyself, and ask thyself. What ? because I 
 shall do this no more when I am dead, should therefore 
 death seem grievous unto me ? 
 
 XXX. When thou art offended with any man's trans- 
 gression, presently reflect upon thyself, and consider what 
 thou thyself art guilty of in the same kind. As that thou 
 
 151 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 also perchance dost think it a happiness either to be rich, or 
 to live in pleasure, or to be praised and commended, and so 
 of the rest in particular. For this if thou shalt call to mind, 
 thou shalt soon forget thine anger ; especially when at the 
 same time this also shall concur in thy thoughts, that he 
 was constrained by his error and ignorance so to do : for 
 how can he choose as long as he is of that opinion i Do 
 thou therefore if thou canst, take away that from him, that 
 forceth him to do as he doth. 
 
 XXXI. When thou seest Satyro, think of Socraticus, 
 and Eutyches, or Hymen, and when Euphrates, think of 
 Eutychio, and Sylvanus, when Alciphron, of Tropaeo- 
 phorus, when Xenophon, of Crito, or Severus. And when 
 thou doest look upon thyself, fancy unto thyself some one or 
 other of the Caesars ; and so for every one, some one or 
 other that hath been for estate and profession answerable unto 
 him. Then let this come to thy mind at the same time ; 
 and where now are they all ? Nowhere or anywhere ? 
 For so shalt thou at all times be able to perceive how 
 all worldly things are but as the smoke, that vanisheth 
 away : or, indeed, mere nothing. Especially when thou 
 shalt call to mind this also, that whatsoever is once changed, 
 shall never be again as long as the world endureth. And 
 thou then, how long shalt thou endure ? And why doth it 
 not suffice thee, if virtuously, and as becometh thee, thou 
 mayest pass that portion of time, how little soever it be, that 
 is allotted unto thee ? 
 
 XXXII. What a subject, and what a course of life is it, 
 that thou doest so much desire to be rid of. For all these 
 things, what are they, but fit objects for an understanding, 
 that beholdeth everything according to its true nature, to 
 exercise itself upon ? Be patient therefore, until that 
 (as a strong stomach that turns all things into his own 
 
 152 
 
His Meditations 
 
 nature ; and as a great fire that turneth in flame and 
 light, whatsoever thou doest cast into it) thou have made 
 these things also ^miliar, and as it were natural unto 
 thee. 
 
 XXXIII. Let it not be in any man's power, to say truly 
 of thee, that thou art not truly simple, or sincere and open, 
 or not good. Let him be deceived whosoever he be that 
 shall have any such opinion of thee. For all this doth 
 depend of thee. For who is it that should hinder thee 
 from being either truly simple or good? Do thou only 
 resolve rather not to live, than not to be such. For indeed 
 neither doth it stand with reason that he should live that 
 is not such. What then is it that may upon this present 
 occasion according to best reason and discretion, either be 
 said or done? For whatsoever it be, it is in thy power 
 either to do it, or to say it, and therefore seek not any 
 pretences, as though thou wert hindered. Thou wilt never 
 cease groaning and complaining, until such time as that, 
 what pleasure is unto the voluptuous, be unto thee, to do 
 in everything that presents itself, whatsoever may be done 
 conformably and agreeably to the proper constitution of 
 man, or, to man as he is a man. For thou must account 
 that pleasure, whatsoever it be, that thou mayest do accord- 
 ing to thine own nature. And to do this, every place will 
 fit thee. Unto the cylindrus^ or roller, it is not granted to 
 move everywhere according to its own proper motion, as 
 neither unto the water, nor unto the fire, nor unto any 
 other thing, that either is merely natural, or natural and 
 sensitive ; but not rational. For many things there be 
 that can hinder their operations. But of the mind and 
 understanding this is the proper privilege, that according to 
 its own nature, and as it will itself, it can pass through 
 every obstacle that it finds, and keep straight on forwards. 
 
 153 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 Setting therefore before thine eyes this happiness and 
 felicity of thy mind, whereby it is able to pass through all 
 things, and is capable of all motions, whether as the fire, 
 upwards ; or as the stone downwards, or as the cylindrus 
 through that which is sloping : content thyself with it, and 
 seek not after any other thing. For all other kind of 
 hindrances that are not hindrances of thy mind either they 
 are proper to the body, or merely proceed from the opinion, 
 reason not making that resistance that it should, but basely, 
 and cowardly suffering itself to be foiled ; and of themselves 
 can neither wound, nor do any hurt at all. Else must he 
 of necessity, whosoever he be that meets with any of them, 
 become worse than he was before. For so is it in all other 
 subjects, that that is thought hurtful unto them, whereby 
 they are made worse. But here contrariwise, man (if he 
 make that good use of them that he should) is rather the 
 better and the more praiseworthy for any of those kind of 
 hindrances, than otherwise. But generally remember that 
 nothing can hurt a natural citizen, that is not hurtful unto 
 the city itself, nor anything hurt the city, that is not hurt- 
 ful unto the law itself. But none of these casualties, or 
 external hindrances, do hurt the law itself; or, are contrary 
 to that course of justice and equity, by which public 
 societies are maintained : neither therefore do they hurt 
 either city or citizen, 
 
 XXXIV. As he that is bitten by a mad dog, is afraid 
 of everything almost that he seeth : so unto him, whom 
 the dogmata have once bitten, or in whom true knowledge 
 hath made an impression, everything almost that he sees 
 or reads be it never so short or ordinary, doth afford a good 
 memento ; to put him out of all grief and fear, as that of 
 the poet, * The winds blow upon the trees, and their leaves 
 fall upon the ground. Then do the trees begin to bud 
 
 154 
 
His Meditations 
 
 again, and by the spring-time they put forth new branches. 
 So is the generation of men ; some come into the world, 
 and others go out of it.' Of these leaves then thy children 
 are. And they also that applaud thee so gravely, or, that 
 applaud thy speeches, with that their usual acclamation, 
 a^i,oiriaTca<;, O wisely spoken ! and speak well of thee, as 
 on the other side, they that stick not to curse thee, they 
 that privately and secretly dispraise and deride thee, they 
 also are but leaves. And they also that shall follow, in 
 whose memories the names of men famous after death, is 
 preserved, they are but leaves neither. For even so is it 
 of all these worldly things. Their spring comes, and they 
 are put forth. Then blows the wind, and they go down. 
 And then in lieu of them grow others out of the wood or 
 common matter of all things, like unto them. But, to 
 endure but for a while, is common unto all. Why then 
 shouldest thou so earnestly either seek after these things, or 
 fly from them, as though they should endure for ever ? 
 Yet a little while, and thine eyes will be closed up, and for 
 him that carries thee to thy grave shall another mourn 
 within a while after. 
 
 XXXV. A good eye must be good to see whatsoever 
 is to be seen, and not green things only. For that is proper 
 to sore eyes. So must a good ear, and a good smell be 
 ready for whatsoever is either to be heard, or smelt : and a 
 good stomach as indi£Ferent to all kinds of food, as a mill- 
 stone is, to whatsoever she was made for, to grind. As 
 ready therefore must a sound understanding be for whatso- 
 ever shall happen. But he that saith, O that my children 
 might live ! and, O that all men might commend me for 
 whatsoever I do ! is an eye that seeks after green things ; 
 or as teeth, after that which is tender. 
 
 XXXVI. There is not any man that is so happy in 
 
 155 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 his death, but that some of those that are by him when he 
 dies, will be ready to rejoice at his supposed calamity. Is it 
 one that was virtuous and wise indeed ? Will there not 
 some one or other be found, who thus will say to himself, 
 ' Well now at last shall I be at rest from this pedagogue. 
 He did not indeed otherwise trouble us much : but I know 
 well enough that in his heart, he did much condemn us.' 
 Thus will they speak of the virtuous. But as for us, alas ! 
 how many things be there, for which there be many that 
 glad would be to be rid of us. This therefore if thou shalt 
 think of whensoever thou diest, thou shalt die the more 
 willingly, when thou shalt think with thyself, I am now to 
 depart from that world, wherein those that have been my 
 nearest friends and acquaintances, they whom I have so 
 much suffered for, so often prayed for, and for whom I 
 have taken such care, even they would have me die, hoping 
 that after my death they shall live happier, than they did 
 before. What then should any man desire to continue 
 here any longer? Nevertheless, whensoever thou diest, 
 thou must not be less kind and loving unto them for it ; 
 but as before, see them, continue to be their friend, to wish 
 them well, and meekly, and gently to carry thyself towards 
 them, but yet so that on the other side, it make thee not 
 the more unwilling to die. But as it fareth with them that 
 die an easy quick death, whose soul is soon separated from 
 their bodies, so must thy separation from them be. To 
 these had nature joined and annexed me : now she parts 
 us ; I am ready to depart, as from friends and kinsmen, but 
 yet without either reluctancy or compulsion. For this also 
 is according to Nature. 
 
 XXXVII. Use thyself, as often, as thou seest any man 
 do anything, presently (if it be possible) to say unto thyself, 
 What is this man's end in this his action ? But begin this 
 
 156 
 
His Meditations 
 
 course with thyself first of all, arfd diligently examine thy- 
 self concerning whatsoever thou doest. 
 
 XXXVIII. Remember, that that which sets a man at 
 
 work, and hath power over the afifections to draw them 
 
 either one way, or the other way, is not any external thing 
 
 properly, but that which is hidden within every man's 
 
 dogmata, and opinions : That, that is rhetoric ; that is life ; 
 
 that (to speak true) is man himself. As for thy body, which 
 
 as a vessel, or a case, compasseth thee about, and the many 
 
 and curious instruments that it hath annexed unto it, 
 
 let them not trouble thy thoughts. For of themselves 
 
 they are but as a carpenter's axe, but that they are born 
 
 with us, and naturally sticking unto us. But otherwise, 
 
 without the inward cause that hath power to move them, 
 
 and to restrain them, those parts are of themselves of 
 
 no more use unto us, than the shuttle is of itself 
 
 to the weaver, or the pen to the writer, 
 
 or the whip to the coachman. 
 
 157 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Eleventh Book 
 
 )HE natural properties, and privileges 
 of a reasonable soul are : That she 
 seeth herself; that she can order, and 
 compose herself: that she makes her- 
 self as she will herself : that she reaps 
 her own fruits whatsoever, whereas 
 plants, trees, unreasonable creatures, 
 what fruit soever (be it either fruit properly, or analogically 
 only) they bear, they bear them unto others, and not to 
 themselves. Again ; whensoever, and wheresoever, sooner or 
 later, her life doth end, she hath her own end nevertheless. 
 For it is not with her, as with dancers and players, who if 
 they be interrupted in any part of their action, the whole 
 action must needs be imperfect : but she in what part of 
 time or action soever she be surprised, can make that 
 which she hath in her hand whatsoevpr it be, complete and 
 full, so that she may depart with that comfort, 'I have 
 lived ; neither want I anything of that which properly did 
 belong unto me.' Again, she compasseth the whole world, 
 and penetrateth into the vanity, and mere outside (wanting 
 substance and solidity) of it, and stretcheth herself unto the 
 infiniteness of eternity ; and the revolution or restoration of 
 all things after a certain period of time, to the same state 
 and place as before, she fetcheth about, and doth comprehend 
 in herself; and considers withal, and sees clearly this, that 
 neither they that shall follow us, shall see any new thing, 
 that we have not seen, nor they that went before, anything 
 more than we : but that he that is once come to forty (if 
 
 158 
 
His Meditations 
 
 he have any wit at all) can in a ftianner (for that they are 
 all of one kind) see all things, both past, and future. As 
 proper is it, and natural to the soul of man to love her 
 neighbour, to be true and modest ; and to regard nothing 
 so much as herself : which is also the property of the law : 
 whereby by the way it appears, that sound reason and justice 
 comes all to one, and therefore that justice is the chief thing, 
 that reasonable creatures ought to propose unto themselves 
 as their end. 
 
 II. A pleasant song or dance ; the Pancratiast's exercise, 
 sports that thou art wont to be much taken with, thou shalt 
 easily contemn ; if the harmonious voice thou shalt divide 
 into so many particular sounds whereof it doth consist, and 
 of every one in particular shall ask thyself, whether this or 
 that sound is it, that doth so conquer thee. For thou wilt 
 be ashamed of it. And so for shame, if accordingly thou 
 shalt consider it, every particular motion and posture by 
 itself: and so for the wrestler's exercise too. Generally 
 then, whatsoever it be, besides virtue, and those things that 
 proceed from virtue that thou art subject to be much aiFected 
 with, remember presently thus to divide it, and by this kind 
 of division, in each particular to attain unto the contempt 
 of the whole. This thou must transfer and apply to thy 
 whole life also. 
 
 III. That soul which is ever ready, even now presently 
 (if need be) from the body, whether by way of extinction, 
 or dispersion, or continuation in another place and estate to 
 be separated, how blessed and happy is it ! But this readi- 
 ness of it, it must proceed, not from an obstinate and per- 
 emptory resolution of the mind, violently and passionately 
 set upon opposition, as Christians are wont ; but from a 
 peculiar judgment ; with discretion and gravity, so that 
 others may be persuaded also and drawn to the like 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 example, but without any noise and passionate exclama- 
 tions. 
 
 IV. Have I done anything charitably? then am I 
 benefited by it. See that this upon all occasions may pre- 
 sent itself unto thy mind, and never cease to think of it. 
 What is thy profession ? to be good. And how should this 
 be well brought to pass, but by certain theorems and doc- 
 trines ; some concerning the nature of the universe, and 
 some concerning the proper and particular constitution of 
 man ? 
 
 V. Tragedies were at first brought in and instituted, to 
 put men in mind of worldly chances and casualties : that 
 these things in the ordinary course of nature did so happen : 
 that men that were much pleased and delighted by such 
 accidents upon this stage, would not by the same things in 
 a greater stage be grieved and afflicted : for here you see 
 what is the end of all such things ; and that even they that 
 cry out so mournfully to Cithaeron, must bear them for all 
 their cries and exclamations, as well as others. And in very 
 truth many good things are spoken by these poets ; as that 
 (for example) is an excellent passage : ' But if so be that I 
 and my two children be neglected by the Gods, they have 
 some reason even for that,' &c. And again, ' It will but 
 little avail thee to storm and rage against the things them- 
 selves,' &c. Again, 'To reap one's life, as a ripe ear of 
 corn ; ' and whatsoever else is to be found in them, that 
 is of the same kind. After the tragedy, the ancient 
 comedy was brought in, which had the liberty to in- 
 veigh against personal vices ; being therefore through this 
 her freedom and liberty of speech of very good use and 
 effect, to restrain men from pride and arrogancy. To which 
 end it was, that Diogenes took also the same liberty. After 
 these, what were either the Middle, or New Comedy 
 
 1 60 
 
His Meditations 
 
 ,• 
 
 admitted for, but merely, (or for the most part at least) for 
 the delight and pleasure of curious and excellent imitation ? 
 ' It will steal away ; look to it,' &c. Why, no man denies, 
 but that these also have some good things whereof that may 
 be one : but the whole drift and foundation of that kind of 
 dramatical poetry, what is it else, but as we have said ? 
 
 VI. How clearly doth it appear unto thee, that no other 
 course of thy life could fit a true philosopher's practice better, 
 than this very course, that thou art now already in ? 
 
 VII. A branch cut oiF from the continuity of that which 
 was next unto it, must needs be cut off from the whole 
 tree : so a man that is divided from another man, is divided 
 from the whole society. A branch is cut off by another, 
 but he that hates and is averse, cuts himself off from his 
 neighbour, and knows not that at the same time he divides 
 himself from the whole body, or corporation. But herein 
 is the gift and mercy of God, the Author of this society, in 
 that, once cut off we may grow together and become part 
 of the whole again. But if this happen often the misery is 
 that the further a man is run in this division, the harder 
 he is to be reunited and restored again : and however the 
 branch which, once cut off, afterwards was graffed in, 
 gardeners can tell you is not like that which sprouted toge- 
 ther at first, and still continued in the unity of the body. 
 
 VIII. To grow together like fellow branches in matter 
 of good correspondence and affection ; but not in matter of 
 opinions. They that shall oppose thee in thy right courses, 
 as it is not in their power to divert thee from thy good action, 
 so neither let it be to divert thee from thy good affection 
 towards them. But be it thy care to keep thyself constant 
 in both ; both in a right judgment and action, and in true 
 meekness towards them, that either shall do their endeavour 
 to hinder thee, or at least will be displeased with thee for 
 
 i6i L 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 what thou hast done. For to fail in either (either in the one 
 to give over for fear, or in the other to forsake thy natural 
 affection towards him, who by nature is both thy friend and 
 thy kinsman) is equally base, and much savouring of the 
 disposition of a cowardly fugitive soldier. 
 
 IX. It is not possible that any nature should be inferior 
 unto art, since that all arts imitate nature. If this be so ; 
 that the most perfect and general nature of all natures should 
 in her operation come short of the skill of arts, is most im- 
 probable. Now common is it to all arts, to make that which 
 is worse for the better's sake. Much more then doth the 
 common nature do the same. Hence is the first ground of 
 justice. From justice all other virtues have their existence. 
 For justice cannot be preserved, if either we settle our 
 minds and affections upon worldly things ; or be apt to be 
 deceived, or rash, and inconstant. 
 
 X. The things themselves (which either to get or to 
 avoid thou art put to so much trouble) come not unto thee 
 themselves ; but thou in a manner goest unto them. Let 
 then thine own judgment and opinion concerning those 
 things be at rest ; and as for the things themselves, they 
 stand still and quiet, without any noise or stir at all ; and so 
 shall all pursuing and flying cease. 
 
 XI. Then is the soul as Empedocles doth liken it, like 
 unto a sphere or globe, when she is all of one form and 
 figure : when she neither greedily stretcheth out herself 
 unto anything, nor basely contracts herself, or lies flat and 
 dejected ; but shineth all with light, whereby she does see 
 and behold the true nature, both that of the universe, and 
 her own in particular. 
 
 XII. Will any contemn me ? let him look to that, upon 
 what grounds he does it : my care shall be that I may never 
 be found either doing or speaking anything that doth truly 
 
 162 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 deserve contempt. Will any hate me ? let him look to that. 
 I for my part will be kind and loving unto all, and even 
 unto him that hates me, whomsoever he be, will I be ready 
 to show his error, not by way of exprobation or ostentation 
 of my patience, but ingenuously and meekly : such as was 
 that famous Phocion, if so be that he did not dissemble. 
 For it is inwardly that these things must be : that the Gods 
 who look inwardly, and not upon the outward appearance, 
 may behold a man truly free from all indignation and grief. 
 For what hurt can it be unto thee whatsoever any man else 
 doth, as long as thou mayest do that which is proper and 
 suitable to thine own nature ? Wilt not thou (a man wholly 
 appointed to be both what, and as the common good shall 
 require) accept of that which is now seasonable to the nature 
 of the universe ? 
 
 XIII. They contemn one another, and yet they seek to 
 please 'one another : and whilest they seek to surpass one 
 another in worldly pomp and greatness, they most debase and 
 prostitute themselves in their better part one to another. 
 
 XIV. How rotten and insincere is he, that saith, I am 
 resolved to carry myself hereafter towards you with all 
 ingenuity and simplicity. O man, what doest thou mean ! 
 what needs this profession of thine ? the thing itself will 
 show it. It ought to be written upon thy forehead. No 
 sooner thy voice is heard, than thy countenance must be 
 able to show what is in thy mind : even as he that is loved 
 knows presently by the looks of his sweetheart what is in 
 her mind. Such must he be for all the world, that is truly 
 simple and good, as he whose arm-holes are offensive, that 
 whosoever stands by, as soon as ever he comes near him, 
 may as it were smell him whether he will or no. But the 
 affectation of simplicity is nowise laudable. There is nothing 
 more shameful than perfidious friendship. Above all things, 
 
 163 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 that must be avoided. However true goodness, simplicity, 
 and kindness cannot so be hidden, but that as vi^e have 
 already said in the very eyes and countenance they vsrill 
 show themselves. 
 
 XV. To live happily is an inward power of the soul, 
 when she is affected with indifferency, towards those things 
 that are by their nature indifferent. To be thus affected 
 she must consider all worldly objects both divided and 
 whole : remembering withal that no object can of itself 
 beget any opinion in us, neither can come to us, but stands 
 without still and quiet ; but that we ourselves beget, and as 
 it were print in ourselves opinions concerning them. Now 
 it is in our power, not to print them ; and if they creep in 
 and lurk in some corner, it is in our power to wipe them 
 off. Remembering moreover, that this care and circum- 
 spection of thine, is to continue but for a while, and then 
 thy life will be at an end. And what should hinder, but 
 that thou mayest do well with all these things ? For if they 
 be according to nature, rejoice in them, and let them be 
 pleasing and acceptable unto thee. But if they be against 
 nature, seek thou that which is according to thine own 
 nature, and whether it be for thy credit or no, use all 
 possible speed for the attainment of it : for no man ought 
 to be blamed, for seeking his own good and happiness. 
 
 XVI. Of everything thou must consider from whence 
 it came, of what things it doth consist, and into what it 
 will be changed : what will be the nature of it, or what it 
 will be like unto when it is changed ; and that it can suffer 
 no hurt by this change. And as for other men's either 
 foolishness or wickedness, that it may not trouble and grieve 
 thee ; first generally thus ; What reference have I unto these ? 
 and that we are all born for one another's good : then more 
 particularly after another consideration ; as a ram is first in 
 
 164 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 a flock of sheep, and a bull in a herd of cattle, so am I born 
 to rule over them. Begin yet higher, even from this : if 
 atoms be not the beginning of all things, than v^hich to 
 believe nothing can be more absurd, then must we needs 
 grant that there is a nature, that doth govern the universe. 
 If such a nature, then are all worse things made for the 
 better's sake ; and all better for one another's sake. Secondly, 
 virhat manner of men they be, at board, and upon their beds, 
 and so forth. But above all things, hov7 they are forced by 
 their opinions that they hold, to do what they do ; and 
 even those things that they do, with what pride and self- 
 conceit they do them. Thirdly, that if they do these things 
 rightly, thou hast no reason to be grieved. But if not 
 rightly, it must needs be that they do them against their 
 wills, and through mere ignorance. For as, according to 
 Plato's opinion, no soul doth willingly err, so by consequent 
 neither doth it anything otherwise than it ought, but against 
 her will. Therefore are they grieved, whensoever they 
 hear themselves charged, either of injustice, or unconscion- 
 ableness, or covetousness, or in general, of any injurious 
 kind of dealing towards their neighbours. Fourthly, that 
 thou thyself doest transgress in many things, and art even 
 such another as they are. And though perchance thou 
 doest forbear the very act of some sins, yet hast thou in 
 thyself an habitual disposition to them, but that either 
 through fear, or vainglory, or some such other ambitious 
 foolish respect, thou art restrained. Fifthly, that whether 
 they have sinned or no, thou doest not understand perfectly. 
 For many things are done by way of discreet policy ; and 
 generally a man must know many things first, before he be 
 able truly and judiciously to judge of another man's action. 
 Sixthly, that whensoever thou doest take on grievously, or 
 makest great woe, little doest thou remember then that a 
 
 165 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 man's life is but for a moment of time, and that within a 
 while we shall all be in our graves. Seventhly, that it is 
 not the sins and transgressions themselves that trouble us 
 properly ; for they have their existence in their minds and 
 understandings only, that commit them ; but our own 
 opinions concerning those sins. Remove then, and be 
 content to part with that conceit of thine, that it is a 
 grievous thing, and thou hast removed thine anger. But 
 how should I remove it ? How ? reasoning with thyself 
 that it is not shameful. For if that which is shameful, be 
 not the only true evil that is, thou also wilt be driven whilest 
 thou doest follow the common instinct of nature, to avoid 
 that which is evil, to commit many unjust things, and to 
 become a thief, and anything, that will make to the attain- 
 ment of thy intended worldly ends. Eighthly, how many 
 things may and do oftentimes follow upon such fits of anger 
 and grief; far more grievous in themselves, than those very 
 things which we are so grieved or angry for. Ninthly, that 
 meekness is a thing unconquerable, if it be true and natural, 
 and not affected or hypocritical. For how shall even the 
 most fierce and malicious that thou shalt conceive, be able 
 to hold on against thee, if thou shalt still continue meek 
 and loving unto him ; and that even at that time, when he 
 is about to do thee wrong, thou shalt be well disposed, and 
 in good temper, with all meekness to teach him, and to 
 instruct him better ? As for example ; My son, we were 
 not born for this, to hurt and annoy one another ; it will 
 be thy hurt not mine, my son : and so to show him forcibly 
 and fully, that it is so in very deed : and that neither bees 
 do it one to another, nor any other creatures that are 
 naturally sociable. But this thou must do, not scoffingly, 
 not by way of exprobation, but tenderly without any harsh- 
 ness of words. Neither must thou do it by way of exercise, 
 
 i66 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 or ostentation, that they that are by and hear thee, may admire 
 thee : but so always that nobody be privy to it, but himself 
 alone : yea, though there be more present at the same 
 time. These nine particular heads, as so many gifts from 
 the Muses, see that thou remember well : and begin one 
 day, whilest thou art yet alive, to be a man indeed. But on 
 the other side thou must take heed, as much to flatter them, 
 as to be angry with them : for both are equally uncharitable, 
 and equally hurtful. And in thy passions, take it presently 
 to thy consideration, that to be angry is not the part of 
 a man, but that to be meek and gentle, as it savours of more 
 humanity, so of more manhood. That in this, there is 
 strength and nerves, or vigour and fortitude : whereof anger 
 and indignation is altogether void. For the nearer every- 
 thing is unto unpassionateness, the nearer it is unto power. 
 And as grief doth proceed from weakness, so doth anger. 
 For both, both he that is angry and that grieveth, have 
 received a wound, and cowardly have as it were yielded 
 themselves unto their affections. If thou wilt have a tenth 
 also, receive this tenth gift from Hercules the guide and 
 leader of the Muses : that is a mad man's part, to look that 
 there should be no wicked men in the world, because it is 
 impossible. Now for a man to brook well enough, that 
 there should be wicked men in the world, but not to endure 
 that any should transgress against himself, is against all 
 equity, and indeed tyrannical. 
 
 XVII. Four several dispositions or inclinations there 
 be of the mind and understanding, which to be aware of, 
 thou must carefully observe : and whensoever thou doest 
 discover them, thou must rectify them, saying to thyself 
 concerning every one of them, This imagination is not 
 necessary ; this is uncharitable : this thou shalt speak as 
 another man's slave, or instrument ; than which nothing 
 
 167 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 can be more senseless and absurd : for the fourth, thou 
 shalt sharply check and upbraid thyself, for that thou doest 
 suffer that more divine part in thee, to become subject and 
 obnoxious to that more ignoble part of thy body, and the 
 gross lusts and concupiscences thereof. 
 
 XVIII. What portion soever, either of air or fire there 
 be in thee, although by nature it tend upwards, submitting 
 nevertheless to the ordinance of the universe, it abides here 
 below in this mixed body. So whatsoever is in thee, either 
 earthy, or humid, although by nature it tend downwards, 
 yet is it against its nature both raised upwards, and stand- 
 ing, or consistent. So obedient are even the elements 
 themselves to the universe, abiding patiently wheresoever 
 (though against their nature) they are placed, until the 
 sound as it were of their retreat, and separation. Is it not 
 a grievous thing then, that thy reasonable part only should 
 be disobedient, and should not endure to keep its place : 
 yea though it be nothing enjoined that is contrary unto it, 
 but that only which is according to its nature ? For we 
 cannot say of it when it is disobedient, as we say of the 
 fire, or air, that it tends upwards towards its proper element, 
 for then goes it the quite contrary way. For the motion 
 of the mind to any injustice, or incontinency, or to sorrow, 
 or to fear, is nothing else but a separation from nature. 
 Also when the mind is grieved for anything that is happened 
 by the divine providence, then doth it likewise forsake its 
 own place. For it was ordained unto holiness and godli- 
 ness, which specially consist in an humble submission to 
 God and His providence in all things ; as well as unto 
 justice : these also being part of those duties, which as 
 naturally sociable, we are bound unto ; and without which 
 we cannot happily converse one with another : yea and the 
 very ground and fountain indeed of all just actions. 
 
His Meditations 
 
 XIX. He that hath not one and the self-same general 
 end always as long as he liveth, cannot possibly be one and 
 the self-same man always. But this will not suffice except 
 thou add also what ought to be this general end. For as 
 the general conceit and apprehension of all those things 
 which upon no certain ground are by the greater part of 
 men deemed good, cannot be uniform and agreeable, but 
 that only which is limited and restrained by some certain 
 proprieties and conditions, as of community : that nothing 
 be conceived good, which is not commonly and publicly 
 good : so must the end also that we propose unto ourselves, 
 be common and sociable. For he that doth direct all his 
 own private motions and purposes to that end, all his 
 actions will be agreeable and uniform ; and by that means 
 will be still the same man. 
 
 XX. Remember the fable of the country mouse and the 
 city mouse, and the great fright and terror that this was 
 put into. 
 
 XXI. Socrates was wont to call the common conceits 
 and opinions of men, the common bugbears of the world : 
 the proper terror of silly children. 
 
 XXII. The Lacedaemonians at their public spectacles 
 were wont to appoint seats and forms for their strangers in 
 the shadow, they themselves were content to sit anywhere. 
 
 XXIII. What Socrates answered unto Perdiccas, why 
 he did not come unto him. Lest of all deaths I should die 
 the worst kind of death, said he : that is, not able to re- 
 quite the good that hath been done unto me. 
 
 XXIV. In the ancient mystical letters of the Ephesians, 
 there was an item, that a man should always have in his 
 mind some one or other of the ancient worthies. 
 
 XXV. The Pythagoreans were wont betimes in the 
 morning the first thing they did, to look up unto the 
 
 169 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 heavens, to put themselves in mind of them v^ho constantly « 
 and invariably did perform their task : as also to put them- 
 selves in mind of orderliness, or good order, and of purity, 
 and of naked simplicity. For no star or planet hath any 
 cover before it. 
 
 XXVI. Howr Socrates looked, when he w^as fain to 
 gird himself writh a skin, Xanthippe his wife having taken 
 away his clothes, and carried them abroad with her, and 
 what he said to his fellows and friends, who were ashamed ; 
 and out of respect to him, did retire themselves when they 
 saw him thus decked. 
 
 XXVII. In matter of writing or reading thou must 
 needs be taught before thou can do either : much more in 
 matter of life. ' For thou art born a mere slave, to thy 
 senses and brutish affections ; ' destitute without teaching 
 of all true knowledge and sound reason. 
 
 XXVIII. 'My heart smiled within me.' 'They will 
 accuse even virtue herself, with heinous and opprobrious 
 words.' 
 
 XXIX. As they that long after figs in winter when 
 they cannot be had ; so are they that long after children, 
 before they be granted them. 
 
 XXX. ' As often as a father kisseth his child, he should 
 say secretly with himself (said Epictetus,) 'to-morrow 
 perchance shall he die.' But these words be ominous. 
 No words ominous (said he) that signify anything that is 
 natural : in very truth and deed not more ominous than 
 this, 'to cut down grapes when they are ripe.' Green 
 grapes, ripe grapes, dried grapes, or raisins : so many changes 
 and mutations of one thing, not into that which was not 
 absolutely, but rather so many several changes and muta- 
 tions, not into that which hath no being at all, but into that 
 which is not yet in being. 
 
 170 
 
His Meditations 
 
 XXXI. ' Of the free will theref is no thief or robber : ' 
 out of Epictetus ; Whose is this also : that we should find 
 a certain art and method of assenting ; and that we should 
 always observe with great care and heed the inclinations of 
 our minds, that they may always be with their due restraint 
 and reservation, always charitable, and according to the true 
 worth of every present object. And as for earnest longing, 
 that we should altogether avoid it : and to use averseness in 
 those things only, that wholly depend of our own wills. It 
 is not about ordinary petty matters, believe it, that all our 
 strife and contention is, but whether, with the vulgar, we 
 should be mad, or by the help of philosophy wise and sober, 
 said he. 
 
 XXXII. Socrates said, ' What will you have ? the souls 
 of reasonable, or unreasonable creatures ? Of reasonable. 
 But what ? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect ? 
 
 or of those whose reason is vitiated and corrupted ? Of 
 
 those whose reason is sound and perfect. Why 
 
 then labour ye not for such ? Because we 
 
 have them already. What then do ye so 
 
 strive and contend between you?' 
 
 171 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 The Twelfth Book 
 
 HATSOEVER thou doest hereafter 
 aspire unto, thou mayest even now 
 enjoy and possess, if thou doest not 
 envy thyself thine own happiness. 
 And that will be, if thou shalt forget 
 all that is past, and for the future, 
 refer thyself wholly to the Divine 
 Providence, and shalt bend and apply all thy present 
 thoughts and intentions to holiness and righteousness. To 
 holiness, in accepting willingly whatsoever is sent by the 
 Divine Providence, as being that which the nature of 
 the universe hath appointed unto thee, which also hath 
 appointed thee for that, whatsoever it be. To righteous- 
 ness, in speaking the truth freely, and without ambiguity ; 
 and in doing all things justly and discreetly. Now in 
 this good course, let not other men's either wickedness, or 
 opinion, or voice hinder thee : no, nor the sense of this thy 
 pampered mass of flesh : for let that which suffers, look to 
 itself. If therefore whensoever the time of thy departing 
 shall come, thou shalt readily leave all things, and shalt 
 respect thy mind only, and that divine part of thine, and 
 this shall be thine only fear, not that some time or other 
 thou shalt cease to live, but thou shalt never begin to live 
 according to nature : then shalt thou be a man indeed, 
 worthy of that world, from which thou hadst thy beginning ; 
 then shalt thou cease to be a stranger in thy country, and 
 to wonder at those things that happen daily, as things strange 
 and unexpected, and anxiously to depend of divers things 
 that are not in thy power. 
 
 172 
 
His Meditations 
 
 II. God beholds our minds and understandings, bare 
 and naked from these material vessels, and outsides, and all 
 earthly dross. For with His simple and pure understanding, 
 He pierceth into our inmost and purest parts, which from 
 His, as it were by a water pipe and channel, first flowed 
 and issued. This if thou also shalt use to do, thou shalt 
 rid thyself of that manifold luggage, wherewith thou art 
 round about encumbered. For he that does regard neither 
 his body, nor his clothing, nor his dwelling, nor any such 
 external furniture, must needs gain unto himself great rest 
 and ease. Three things there be in all, which thou doest 
 consist of ; thy body, thy life, and thy mind. Of these the 
 two former, are so far forth thine, as that thou art bound to 
 take care for them. But the third alone is that which is 
 properly thine. If then thou shalt separate from thyself, that 
 is from thy mind, whatsoever other men either do or say, 
 or whatsoever thou thyself hast heretofore either done or 
 said ; and all troublesome thoughts concerning the fiiture, 
 and whatsoever, (as either belonging to thy body or life :) is 
 without the jurisdiction of thine own will, and whatsoever 
 in the ordinary course of human chances and accidents doth 
 happen unto thee ; so that thy mind (keeping herself loose 
 and free from all outward coincidental entanglements ; 
 always in a readiness to depart :) shall live by herself, and 
 to herself, doing that which is just, accepting whatsoever 
 doth happen, and speaking the truth always ; if, I say, thou 
 shalt separate from thy mind, whatsoever by sympathy 
 might adhere unto it, and all time both past and future, 
 and shalt make thyself in all points and respects, like unto 
 Empedocles his allegorical sphere, ' all round and circular,' 
 &c., and shalt think of no longer life than that which is 
 now present : then shalt thou be truly able to pass the 
 remainder of thy days without troubles and distractions ; 
 
 173 
 
I 
 
 Marcus Aurelius 
 
 nobly and generously disposed, and in good favour and 
 correspondency, with that spirit which is within thee. 
 
 III. I have often wondered how it should come to pass, 
 that every man loving himself best, should more regard other 
 men's opinions concerning himself, than his own. For if 
 any God or grave master standing by, should command any 
 of us to think nothing by himself, but what he should 
 presently speak out ; no man were able to endure it, though 
 but for one day. Thus do we fear more what our neigh- 
 f hours will think of us, than what we ourselves. 
 
 ,j IV. How comes it to pass that the Gods having ordered 
 
 ' all other things so well and so lovingly, should be overseen 
 
 '{ in this one only thing, that whereas there hath been some 
 
 I very good men, that have made many covenants as it were 
 
 j with God, and by many holy actions, and outward services 
 
 i contracted a kind of familiarity with Him ; that these men 
 
 » when once they are dead, should never be restored to life, 
 
 I but be extinct for ever. But this thou mayest be sure of, 
 
 that this (if it be so indeed) would never have been so 
 ordered by the Gods, had it been fit otherwise. For 
 certainly it was possible, had it been more just so ; and had 
 it been according to nature, the nature of the universe 
 would easily have borne it. But now because it is not so, 
 (if so be that it be not so indeed) be therefore confident that 
 it was not fit it should be so. For thou seest thyself, that 
 now seeking after this matter, how freely thou doest argue 
 and contest with God. But were not the Gods both just 
 f and good in the highest degree, thou durst not thus reason 
 
 i with them. Now if just and good, it could not be that in 
 
 f the creation of the world, they should either unjustly or 
 
 unreasonably oversee anything. 
 
 V. Use thyself even unto those things that thou doest 
 at first despair of. For the left hand we see, which for the 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
His Meditations 
 
 most part lieth idle because not used ; yet doth it hold the 
 bridle with more strength than the right, because it hath 
 been used unto it. 
 
 VI. Let these be the objects of thy ordinary meditation : 
 to consider, what manner of men both for soul and body we 
 ought to be, whensoever death shall surprise us : the short- 
 ness of this our mortal life : the immense vastness of the 
 time that hath been before, and will be after us : the frailty 
 of every worldly material object : all these things to con- 
 sider, and behold clearly in themselves, all disguisement 
 of external outside being removed and taken away. Again, 
 to consider the efficient causes of all things : the proper ends 
 and references of all actions : what pain is in itself, what 
 pleasure, what death : what fame or honour, how every 
 man is the true and proper ground of his own rest and tran- 
 quillity, and that no man can truly be hindered by any other : 
 that all is but conceit and opinion. As for the use of thy 
 dogmata, thou must carry thyself in the practice of them, 
 rather like unto a pancratiastes, or one that at the same 
 time both fights and wrestles with hands and feet, than a 
 gladiator. For this, if he lose his sword that he fights with, 
 he is gone : whereas the other hath still his hand free, which 
 he may easily turn and manage at his will. 
 
 VII. All worldly things thou must behold and consider, 
 dividing them into matter, form, and reference, or their 
 proper end. 
 
 VIII. How happy is man in this his power that hath 
 been granted unto him : that he needs not do anything but 
 what God shall approve, and that he may embrace con- 
 tentedly, whatsoever God doth send unto him ? 
 
 IX. Whatsoever doth happen in the ordinary course and 
 consequence of natural events, neither the Gods, (for it is not 
 possible, that they either wittingly or unwittingly should do 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 anything amiss) nor men, (for it is through ignorance, and 
 therefore against their wills that they do anything amiss) 
 must be accused. None then must be accused. 
 
 X. How ridiculous and strange is he, that wonders at 
 anything that happens in this life in the ordinary course of 
 nature 1 
 
 XI. Either fate, (and that either an absolute necessity, 
 and unavoidable decree ; or a placable and flexible Provi- 
 dence) or all is a mere casual confusion, void of all order 
 and government. If an absolute and unavoidable necessity, 
 why doest thou resist ? If a placable and exorable Provi- 
 dence, make thyself worthy of the divine help and assistance. 
 If all be a mere confusion without any moderator, or 
 governor, then hast thou reason to congratulate thyself, 
 that in such a general flood of confusion thou thyself hast 
 obtained a reasonable faculty, whereby thou mayest govern 
 thine own life and actions. But if thou beest carried away 
 with the flood, it must be thy body perchance, or thy life, or 
 some other thing that belongs unto them that is carried 
 away : thy mind and understanding cannot. Or should it 
 be so, that the light of a candle indeed is still bright and 
 lightsome until it be put out : and should truth, and 
 righteousness, and temperance cease to shine in thee 
 whilest thou thyself hast any being ? 
 
 XII. At the conceit and apprehension that such and 
 such a one hath sinned, thus reason with thyself, What do 
 I know whether this be a sin indeed, as it seems to be ? 
 But if it be, what do I know but that he himself hath already 
 condemned himself for it ? And that is all one as if a man 
 should scratch and tear his own face, an object of compassion 
 rather than of anger. Again, that he that would not have a 
 vicious man to sin, is like unto him that would not have 
 moisture in the fig, nor children to weep, nor a horse to neigh, 
 
 176 
 
His Meditations 
 
 nor anything else that in the course of nature is necessary. 
 For what shall he do that hath such an habit ? If thou 
 therefore beest powerful and eloquent, remedy it if thou 
 canst. 
 
 XIII. If it be not fitting, do it not. If it be not true, 
 speak it not. Ever maintain thine own purpose and re- 
 solution free from all compulsion and necessity. 
 
 XIV. Of everything that presents itself unto thee, to 
 consider what the true nature of it is, and to unfold it, as it 
 were, by dividing it into that which is formal : that which 
 is material : the true use or end of it, and the just time that 
 it is appointed to last. 
 
 XV. It is high time for thee, to understand that there is 
 somewhat in thee, better and more divine than either thy 
 passions, or thy sensual appetites and affections. What is 
 now the object of my mind, is it fear, or suspicion, or lust, 
 or any such thing ? To do nothing rashly without some 
 certain end ; let that be thy first care. The next, to have 
 no other end than the common good. For, alas ! yet a little 
 while, and thou art no more : no more will any, either of 
 those things that now thou seest, or of those men that now 
 are living, be any more. For all things are by nature 
 appointed soon to be changed, turned, and corrupted, that 
 other things might succeed in their room. 
 
 XVI. Remember that all is but opinion, and all opinion 
 depends of the mind. Take thine opinion away, and then 
 as a ship that hath stricken in within the arms and mouth of 
 the harbour, a present calm ; all things safe and steady : a 
 bay, not capable of any storms and tempests : as the poet 
 hath it. 
 
 XVII. No operation whatsoever it be, ceasing for a while, 
 can be truly said to suffer any evil, because it is at an end. 
 Neither can he that is the author of that operation ; for this 
 
 177 M 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 very respect, because his operation is at an end, be said to 
 suffer any evil. Likewise then, neither can the whole body 
 of all our actions (which is our life) if in time it cease, be 
 said to sufiFer any evil for this very reason, because it is at an 
 end ; nor he truly be said to have been ill affected, that did 
 put a period to this series of actions. Now this time or 
 certain period, depends of the determination of nature : 
 sometimes of particular nature, as when a man dieth old ; 
 but of nature in general, however ; the parts whereof thus 
 changing one after another, the whole world still continues 
 fresh and new. Now that is ever best and most seasonable, 
 which is for the good of the whole. Thus it appears that 
 death of itself can neither be hurtful to any in particular, 
 because it is not a shameful thing (for neither is it a thing 
 that depends of our own will, nor of itself contrary to the 
 common good) and generally, as it is both expedient and 
 seasonable to the whole, that in that respect it must needs 
 be good. It is that also, which is brought unto us by the 
 order and appointment of the Divine Providence ; so that he 
 whose will and mind in these things runs along with the 
 Divine ordinance, and by this concurrence of his will and 
 mind with the Divine Providence, is led and driven along, as 
 it were by God Himself, may truly be termed and esteemed 
 the deo(j)6pi]To<!, or divinely led and inspired. 
 
 XVIII. These three things thou must have always in a 
 readiness : first concerning thine own actions, whether thou 
 doest nothing either idly, or otherwise, than justice and 
 equity do require : and concerning those things that happen 
 unto thee externally, that either they happen unto thee by 
 chance, or by providence ; of which two to accuse either, is 
 equally against reason. Secondly, what like vuito our bodies 
 are whilest yet rude and imperfect, until they be animated : 
 and from their animation, until their expiration : of what 
 
 178 
 
His Meditations 
 
 • 
 
 things they are compounded, and into what things they shall 
 be dissolved. Thirdly, how vain all things will appear unto 
 thee when, from on high as it were, looking down, thou 
 shalt contemplate all things upon earth, and the wonderful 
 mutability, that they are subject unto : considering withal, 
 the infinite both greatness and variety of things aerial and 
 things celestial that are round about it. And that as often 
 as thou shalt behold them, thou shalt still see the same : as 
 the same things, so the same shortness of continuance of all 
 those things. And, behold, these be the things that we are 
 so proud and pufied up for. 
 
 XIX. Cast away from thee opinion, and thou art safe. 
 And what is it that hinders thee from casting of it away ? 
 When thou art grieved at anything, hast thou forgotten that 
 all things happen according to the nature of the universe ; 
 and that him only it concerns, who is in fault ; and more- 
 over, that what is now done, is that which from ever hath 
 been done in the world, and will ever be done, and is now 
 done everywhere : how nearly all men are allied one to 
 another by a kindred not of blood, nor of seed, but of the 
 same mind. Thou hast also forgotten that every man's 
 mind partakes of the Deity, and issueth from thence ; and 
 that no man can properly call anything his own, no not his 
 son, nor his body, nor his life ; for that they all proceed from 
 that One who is the giver of all things : that all things 
 are but opinion ; that no man lives properly, but that very 
 instant of time which is now present. And therefore that 
 no man whensoever he dieth can properly be said to lose any 
 more, than an instant of time. 
 
 XX. Let thy thoughts ever run upon them, who once 
 for some one thing or other, were moved with extraordinary 
 indignation ; who were once in the highest pitch of either 
 honour, or calamity ; or mutual hatred and enmity ; or of 
 
 179 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 any other fortune or condition whatsoever. Then consider 
 what's now become of all those things. All is turned to 
 smoke ; all to ashes, and a mere fable ; and perchance not 
 so much as a fable. As also whatsoever is of this nature, as 
 Fabius Catulinus in the field ; Lucius Lupus, and Stertinius, 
 at Baiae ; Tiberius at Capreae : and Velius Rufus, and all 
 such examples of vehement prosecution in worldly matters ; 
 let these also run in thy mind at the same time ; and how 
 vile every object of such earnest and vehement prosecution 
 is ; and how much more agreeable to true philosophy it is, 
 for a man to carry himself in every matter that offers itself, 
 justly, and moderately, as one that foUoweth the Gods with 
 all simplicity. For, for a man to be proud and high con- 
 ceited, that he is not proud and high conceited, is of all kind 
 of pride and presumption, the most intolerable. 
 
 XXI. To them that ask thee. Where hast thou seen the 
 Gods, or how knowest thou certainly that there be Gods, 
 that thou art so devout in their worship ? I answer first of 
 all, that even to the very eye, they are in some manner 
 visible and apparent. Secondly, neither have I ever seen 
 mine own soul, and yet I respect and honour it. So then 
 for the Gods, by the daily experience that I have of their 
 power and providence towards myself and others, I know 
 certainly that they are, and therefore worship them. 
 
 XXn. Herein doth consist happiness of life, for a man 
 to know thoroughly the true nature of everything ; what is 
 the matter, and what is the form of it : with all his heart 
 and soul, ever to do that which is just, and to speak the truth. 
 What then remaineth but to enjoy thy life in a course and 
 coherence of good actions, one upon another immediately 
 succeeding, and never interrupted, though for never so little 
 a while ? 
 
 XXin. There is but one light of the sun, though it be 
 180 
 
His Meditations 
 
 intercepted by walls and mountains, and other thousand 
 objects. There is but one common substance of the whole 
 world, though it be concluded and restrained into several 
 different bodies, in number infinite. There is but one 
 common soul, though divided into innumerable particular 
 essences and natures. So is there but one common intellec- 
 tual soul, though it seem to be divided. And as for all 
 other parts of those generals which we have mentioned, 
 as either sensitive souls or subjects, these of themselves (as 
 naturally irrational) have no common mutual reference 
 one unto another, though many of them contain a mind, 
 or reasonable faculty in them, whereby they are ruled and 
 governed. But of every reasonable mind, this the particular 
 nature, that it hath reference to whatsoever is of her own 
 kind, and desireth to be united : neither can this common 
 afifection, or mutual unity and correspondency, be here 
 intercepted or divided, or confined to particulars as those 
 other common things are. 
 
 XXIV. What doest thou desire ? To live long. What ? 
 To enjoy the operations of a sensitive soul ; or of the 
 appetitive faculty ? or wouldst thou grow, and then decrease 
 again ? Wouldst thou long be able to talk, to think and 
 reason with thyself? Which of all these seems unto thee 
 a worthy object of thy desire ? Now if of all these thou 
 doest find that they be but little worth in themselves, proceed 
 on unto the last, which is, in all things to follow God and 
 reason. But for a man to grieve that by death he shall be 
 deprived of any of these things, is both against God and 
 reason. 
 
 XXV. What a small portion of vast and infinite eternity 
 it is, that is allowed unto every one of us, and how soon 
 it vanisheth into the general age of the world : of the 
 common substance, and of the common soul also what a 
 
 i8i 
 
Marcus Aurelius 
 
 small portion is allotted unto us : and in what a little clod 
 of the whole earth (as it were) it is that thou doest crawl. 
 After thou shalt rightly have considered these things with 
 thyself, fancy not anything else in the world any more to 
 be of any weight and moment but this, to do that only 
 which thine own nature doth require ; and to conform thy- 
 self to that which the common nature doth afford. 
 
 XXVI. What is the present estate of my understanding ? 
 For herein lieth all indeed. As for all other things, they 
 are without the compass of mine own will : and if without 
 the compass of my will, then are they as dead things unto 
 me, and as it were mere smoke. 
 
 XXVII. To stir up a man to the contempt of death 
 this among other things, is of good power and efficacy, 
 that even they who esteemed pleasure to be happiness, 
 and pain misery, did nevertheless many of them contemn 
 death as much as any. And can death be terrible to 
 him, to whom that only seems good, which in the ordi- 
 nary course of nature is seasonable ? to him, to whom, 
 whether his actions be many or few, so they be all good, is 
 all one ; and who whether he behold the things of the world 
 being always the same either for many years, or for few 
 years only, is altogether indifferent ? O man ! as a citizen 
 thou hast lived, and conversed in this great city the world. 
 Whether just for so many years, or no, what is it unto 
 thee ? Thou hast lived (thou mayest be sure) as long as the 
 laws and orders of the city required ; which may be the 
 common comfort of all. Why then should it be grievous 
 unto thee, if (not a tyrant, nor an unjust judge, but) the 
 same nature that brought thee in, doth now send thee out 
 of the world ? As if the praetor should fairly dismiss him 
 from the stage, whom he had taken in to act a while. Oh, 
 but the play is not yet at an end, there are but three acts 
 
 182 
 
His Meditations 
 
 yet acted of it ? Thou hast ^ell said : for in matter of 
 
 life, three acts is the whole play. Now to set a certain 
 
 time to every man's acting, belongs unto him only, 
 
 who as first he was of thy composition, so is now 
 
 the cause of thy dissolution. As for thyself, 
 
 thou hast to do with neither. Go thy 
 
 ways then well pleased and contented : 
 
 for so is He that dismisseth thee. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE OF M. AURELIUS 
 ANTONINUS AND M. CORNELIUS 
 PRONTO "■ 
 
 CORNELIUS FRONTO was a 
 Roman by descent, but of provincial 
 birth, being native to Cirta,in Numidia. 
 Thence he migrated to Rome in the 
 reign of Hadrian, and became the most 
 famous rhetorician of his day. As a 
 pleader and orator he was counted by 
 his contemporaries hardly inferior to TuUy himself, and 
 as a teacher his aid was sought for the noblest youths 
 of Rome. To him was entrusted the education of M. 
 Aurelius and of his colleague L. Verus in their boyhood ; 
 and he was rewarded for his efforts by a seat in the 
 Senate and the consular rank (a.d. 143). By the exercise 
 of his profession he became wealthy ; and if he speaks of 
 his means as not great,^ he must be comparing his wealth 
 with the grandees of Rome, not with the ordinary citizen. 
 
 Before the present century nothing was known of the 
 works of Fronto, except a grammatical treatise ; but in 181 5 
 
 ^ References are made to the edition of Naber, Leipzig (Triibner), 1S67. 
 
 ^ jid Verum Imp. Aur, Cai, , ii. j, 
 
 185 
 
Appendix 
 
 Cardinal Mai published a number of letters and some short 
 essays of Fronto, which he had discovered in a palimpsest at 
 Milan. Other parts of the same MS. he found later in the 
 Vatican, the whole being collected and edited in the year 
 1823. We now possess parts of his correspondence with 
 Antoninus Pius, with M. Aurelius, with L. Verus, and 
 with certain of his friends, and also several rhetorical and 
 historical fragments. 
 
 Though none of the more ambitious works of Fronto 
 have survived, there are enough to give proof of his powers. 
 Never was a great literary reputation less deserved. It 
 would be hard to conceive of anything more vapid than the 
 style and conception of these letters ; clearly the man was 
 a pedant without imagination or taste. Such indeed was 
 the age he lived in, and it is no marvel that he was like to 
 his age. But there must have been more in him than mere 
 pedantry ; there was indeed a heart in the man, which 
 Marcus found, and he found also a tongue which could 
 speak the truth. Fronto's letters are by no means free from 
 exaggeration and laudation, but they do not show that loath- 
 some flattery which filled the Roman court. He really 
 admires what he praises, and his way of saying so is not unlike 
 what often passes for criticism at the present day. He is 
 not afraid to reprove what he thinks amiss ; and the astonish- 
 ment of Marcus at this will prove, if proof were needed, that 
 he was not used to plain dealing. ' How happy I am,' he 
 writes, ' that my friend Marcus Cornelius, so distinguished 
 as an orator and so noble as a man, thinks me worth praising 
 and blaming 1 ' ^ In another place he deems himself blest 
 because Fronto had taught him to speak the truth ; ^ although 
 the context shows him to be speaking of expression, it is 
 still a point in favour of Fronto. A sincere heart is better 
 
 ' Ad M. Cas., in. 17. " iii. 12. 
 
 186 
 
Appendix 
 
 than literary taste ; and if Fronto had not done his duty by 
 the young prince, it is not easy to understand the friendship 
 which remained between them up to the last. 
 
 An example of the frankness which was between them 
 is given by a diflFerence they had over the case of Herodes 
 Atticus. Herodes was a Greek rhetorician who had a 
 school at Rome, and Marcus Aurelius was among his 
 pupils. Both Marcus and the Emperor Antoninus had a 
 high opinion of Herodes ; and all we know goes to prove 
 he was a man of high character and princely generosity. 
 When quite young he was made administrator of the free 
 cities in Asia, nor is it surprising to find that he made 
 bitter enemies there ; indeed, a just ruler was sure to make 
 enemies. The end of it was that an Athenian deputation, 
 headed by the orators Theodotus and Demostratus, made 
 serious accusations against his honour. There is no need 
 to discuss the merits of the case here; suffice it to say, 
 Herodes succeeded in defending himself to the satisfaction 
 of the emperor. Fronto appears to have taken the delegates' 
 part, and to have accepted a brief for the prosecution, urged 
 to some extent by personal considerations ; and in this cause 
 Marcus Aurelius writes to Fronto as follows : — 
 
 'Aurelius C«sar to his friend 'Pko^to, greeting J- 
 
 ' I know you have often told me you were anxious to find how 
 you might best please me. Now is the time ; now you can in- 
 crease my love towards you, if it can be increased. A trial is at 
 hand, in which people seem likely not only to hear your speech 
 with pleasure, but to see your indignation with impatience. I see 
 no one who dares give you a hint in the matter ; for those who are 
 less friendly, prefer to see you act with some inconsistency ; and 
 those who are more friendly, fear to seem too fi-iendly to your 
 opponent if they should dissuade you from your accusation ; then 
 
 1 AJM. Cas., iii. 2. 
 187 
 
Appendix 
 
 again, in case you have prepared something neat for the occasion, 
 they cannot endure to rob you of your harangue by silencing you. 
 Therefore, whether you think me a rash counsellor, or a bold boy, 
 or too kind to your opponent, not because I think it better, I will 
 offer my counsel with some caution. But why have I said, offer 
 my counsel ? No, I demand it from you ; I demand it boldly, and 
 if I succeed, I promise to remain under your obligation. What ? 
 you will say : if I am attackt, shall I not pay tit for tat ? Ah, 
 but you will get greater glory, if even when attackt you answer 
 nothing. Indeed, if he begins it, answer as you will and you will 
 have fair excuse ; but I have demanded of him that he shall not 
 begin, and I think I have succeeded. I love each of you according 
 to your merits ; and I know that he was educated in the house of 
 P. Calvisius, my grandfather, and that I was educated by you ; 
 therefore I am fiill of anxiety that this most disagreeable business 
 shall be managed as honourably as possible. I trust you may 
 approve my advice, for my intention you will approve. At least I 
 prefer to write unwisely, rather than to be silent unkindly.' 
 
 Fronto replied, thanking the prince for his advice, and 
 promising that he will confine himself to the facts of the 
 case. But he points out that the charges brought against 
 him were such, that they can hardly be made agreeable ; 
 amongst them being spoliation, violence, and murder. How- 
 ever, he is willing even to let some of these drop if it be the 
 prince's pleasure. To this Marcus returned the following 
 answer : ^ — 
 
 ' This one thing, my dearest Fronto, is enough to make me truly 
 grateful to you, that so far from rejecting my counsel, you have 
 even approved it. As to the questions you raise in your kind 
 letter, my opinion is this : all that concerns the case which you are 
 supporting must be clearly brought forward ; what concerns your 
 own feelings, though you may have had just provocation, should be 
 
 left unsaid.' 
 
 1 AdM. Cat., iii. 5. 
 188 
 
Appendix 
 
 The story does credit to both, Fronto shows no loss 
 of temper at the interference, nor shrinks from stating his 
 case with frankness ; and Marcus, with forbearance remark- 
 able in a prince, does not command that his friend be left 
 unmolested, but merely stipulates for a fair trial on the 
 merits of the case. 
 
 Another example may be given from a letter of 
 Fronto's : * — 
 
 ' Here is something else quarrelsome and querulous. I have 
 sometimes found fault with you in your absence somewhat seriously 
 in the company of a few of my most intimate friends: at times, 
 for example, when you mixt in society with a more solemn look 
 than was fitting, or would read books in the theatre or in a banquet ; 
 nor did I absent myself from theatre or banquet when you did.^ 
 Then I used to call you a hard man, no good company, even dis- 
 agreeable, sometimes, when anger got the better of me. But did any 
 one else in the same banquet speak against you, I could not endure to 
 hear it with equanimity. Thus it was easier for me to say some- 
 thing to your disadvantage myself, than to hear others do it ; just 
 as I could more easily bear to chastise my daughter Gratia, than to 
 see her chastised by another.' 
 
 The affection between them is clear from every page of 
 the correspondence. A few instances are now given, which 
 were written at different periods : — 
 
 'To MY Master.8 
 'This is how I have past the last few days. My sister was 
 suddenly seized with an internal pain, so violent that I was horrified 
 at her looks ; my mother in her trepidation on that account acci- 
 dentally bruised her side on a corner of the wall ; she and we were 
 greatly troubled about that blow. For myself, on going to rest I 
 found a scorpion in my bed ; but I did not lie down upon him, I 
 
 ^ Ad M. Cat.,iv. 12. ^ The text is obscure. 
 
 3 MM. Cm., v. 8. 
 189 
 
Appendix 
 
 killed him first. If you are getting on better, that is a consola- 
 tion. My mother is easier now, thanks be to God. Good-bye, 
 best and sweetest master. My lady sends you greeting.' 
 
 1 « What words can I find to fit my bad luck, or how shall I 
 upbraid as it deserves the hard constraint which is laid upon me ? 
 It ties me fast here, troubled my heart is, and beset by such 
 anxiety ; nor does it allow me to make haste to my Fronto, my 
 life and delight, to be near him at such a moment of ill-health 
 in particular, to hold his hands, to chafe gently that identical foot, 
 so far as may be done without discomfort, to attend him in the bath, 
 to support his steps with my arm.' 
 
 2 ' This morning I did not write to you, because I heard you were 
 better, and because I was myself engaged in other business, and I 
 cannot ever endure to write anything to you unless with mind at 
 ease and untroubled and free. So if we are all right, let me 
 know : what I desire, you know, and how properly I desire it, I 
 know. Farewell, my master, always in every chance first in my 
 mind, as you deserve to be. My master, see I am not asleep, 
 and I compel myself to sleep, that you may not be angry with me. 
 You gather I am writing this late at night.' 
 
 ' ' What spirit do you suppose is in me, when I remember how 
 long it is since I have seen you, and why I have not seen you ! 
 and it may be I shall not see you for a few days yet, while you are 
 strengthening yourself, as you must. So while you lie on the sick- 
 bed, my spirit also will lie low ; and, whenas,* by God's mercy 
 you shall stand upright, my spirit too will stand firm, which is now 
 burning with the strongest desire for you. Farewell, soul of your 
 prince, your friend, your pupil.' 
 
 ^'O my dear Fronto, most distinguished Consul! I yield, you 
 have conquered : all who have ever loved before, you have con- 
 
 * Ad M. Cxi., i. i. * Hi. 21. ' iii. 19. 
 
 * The writer sometimes uses archaisms such as quan, which I render 
 ■ whenas.' ° Ad M. Cta. , ii. z. 
 
 190 
 
Appendix 
 
 quered out and out in love's contest, deceive the victor's wreath ; 
 and the herald shall proclaim your victory aloud before your own 
 tribunal : " M. Cornelius Fronto, Consul, wins, and is crowned 
 victor in the Open International Love-race." ^ But beaten though 
 I may be, I shall neither slacken nor relax my own zeal. Well, 
 you shall love me more than any man loves any other man ; but I, 
 who possess a faculty of loving less strong, shall love you more than 
 any one else loves you ; more indeed than you love yourself. Gratia 
 and I will have to fight for it ; I doubt I shall not get the better of 
 her. For, as Flautus says, her love is like rain, whose big drops 
 not only penetrate the dress, but drench to the very marrow.' 
 
 Marcus Aurelius seems to have been about eighteen 
 years of age when the correspondence begins, Fronto being 
 some thirty years older.^ The systematic education of the 
 young prince seems to have been finisht, and Fronto nowr 
 acts more as his adviser than his tutor. He recommends 
 the prince to use simplicity in his public speeches, and to 
 avoid affectation.* Marcus devotes his attention to the old 
 authors who then had a great vogue at Rome : Ennius, 
 Plautus, Naevius, and such orators as Cato and Gracchus.* 
 Fronto urges on him the study of Cicero, whose letters, he 
 says, are all worth reading. When he wishes to compliment 
 Marcus he declares one or other of his letters has the true 
 TuUian ring. Marcus gives his nights to reading when he 
 ought to be sleeping. He exercises himself in verse com- 
 position and on rhetorical themes. 
 
 ' It is very nice of you,' he writes to Fronto,^ ' to ask for my 
 hexameters ; I would have sent them at once if I had them by me. 
 The fact is my secretary, Anicetus — you know who I mean — did 
 
 ' The writer parodies the proclamation at the Greek games ; the words 
 also are Greek. 
 
 ' From internal evidence: the letters are not arranged in order of 
 time. See Naber's PnUgomena, p. xx. foil. 
 
 » Ad M. Cm., iii. i. * ii. lo, iii. i8, ii. 4, 6 j;, ,o_ 
 
 191 
 
Appendix 
 
 not pack up any of my compositions for me to take away with me. 
 He knows my weakness ; he was afraid that if I got hold of them 
 I might, as usual, make smoke of them. However, there was no 
 fear for the hexameters. I must confess the truth to my master : I 
 love them. I study at night, since the day is taken up with the 
 theatre. I am weary of an evening, and sleepy in the daylight, 
 and so I don't do much. Yet I have made extracts from sixty 
 books, five volumes of them, in these latter days. But when you 
 read remember that the " sixty " includes plays of Novius, and farces, 
 and some little speeches of Scipio ; don't be too much startled at 
 the number. You remember your Polemon ; but I pray you do not 
 remember Horace, who has died with Pollio as far as I am concerned.^ 
 Farewell, my dearest and most affectionate friend, most distinguished 
 consul and my beloved master, whom I have not seen these two 
 years. Those who say two months, count the days. Shall I ever 
 see you again ? ' 
 
 Sometimes Fronto sends him a theme to work up, as 
 thus : ' M. Lucilius tribune of the people violently throws 
 into prison a free Roman citizen, against the opinion of his 
 colleagues who demand his release. For this act he is 
 branded by the censor. Analyse the case, and then take 
 both sides in turn, attacking and defending.' * Or again : 
 * A Roman consul, doffing his state robe, dons the gauntlet 
 and kills a lion amongst the young men at the Quinquatrus 
 in full view of the people of Rome. Denunciation before the 
 censors.' * The prince has a fair knowledge of Greek, and 
 quotes from Homer, Plato, Euripides, but for some reason 
 Fronto dissuaded him from this study.* His Meditations 
 are written in Greek. He continued his literary studies 
 throughout his life, and after he became emperor we still 
 find him asking his adviser for copies of Cicero's Letters, by 
 
 ' He implies, as in i. 6, that he has ceased to study Horace. Pollio 
 was a grammarian, who taught Marcus, 
 
 2 jld. M. Ccu., V. zy. ' V. 22. * £f. Gr^a, 6. 
 
 192 
 
Appendix 
 
 • 
 
 which he hopes to improve his vocabulary.' Fronto helps 
 him with a supply of similes, which, it seems, he did not 
 think of readily. It is to be feared that the fount of 
 Marcus's eloquence was pumped up by artificial means. 
 
 Some idea of his literary style may be gathered from the 
 letter which follows : ^ — 
 
 ' I heard Polemo declaim the other day, to say something of 
 things sublunary. If you ask what I thought of him, listen. He 
 seems to me an industrious farmer, endowed with the greatest skill, 
 who has cultivated a large estate for corn and vines only, and indeed 
 with a rich return of fine crops. But yet in that land of his there is 
 no Pompeian fig or Arician vegetable, no Tarentine rose, or pleasing 
 coppice, or thick grove, or shady plane tree ; all is for use rather 
 than for pleasure, such as one ought rather to commend, but cares 
 not to love. 
 
 ' A pretty bold idea, is it not, and rash judgment, to pass 
 censure on a man of such reputation ? But whenas I remember 
 that I am writing to you, I think I am less bold than you would 
 have me. 
 
 ' In that point I am wholly undecided. 
 
 'There's an unpremeditated hendecasyllable for you. So 
 before I begin to poetize, I'll take an easy with you. Farewell, 
 my heart's desire, your Verus's best beloved, most distinguisht 
 consul, master most sweet. Farewell I ever pray, sweetest soul. 
 
 « What a letter do you think you have written me ! I could 
 make bold to say, that never did she who bore me and nurst me, 
 write anything so delightftil, so honey-sweet. And this does not 
 come of your fine style and eloquence : otherwise not my mother 
 only, but all who breathe.' 
 
 To the pupil, never was anything on earth so fine as his 
 master's eloquence ; on this theme Marcus fairly bubbles 
 over with enthusiasm. 
 
 1 Ad Anton. Imp., ii. 4. "^ Ad M. C<ts. , ii. 5. 
 
 193 N 
 
Appendix 
 
 1 ' Well, if the ancient Greeks ever wrote anything like this, let 
 those who know decide it : for me, if I dare say so, I never read 
 any invective of Cato's so fine as your encomium. O if my Lord ^ 
 could be sufficiently praised, sufficiently praised he would have been 
 undoubtedly by you ! This kind of thing is not done nowadays.' 
 It were easier to match Pheidias, easier to match Apelles, easier in 
 a word to match Demosthenes himself, or Cato himself, than to 
 match this finisht and perfect work. Never have I read any- 
 thing more refined, anything more after the ancient type, anything 
 more delicious, anything more Latin. O happy you, to be en- 
 dowed with eloquence so great ! O happy I, to be under the 
 charge of such a master ! O arguments,* O arrangement, O ele- 
 gance, O wit, O beauty, O words, O brilliancy, O subtilty, O 
 grace, O treatment, O everything ! Mischief take me, if you 
 ought not to have a rod put in your hand one day, a diadem on 
 your brow, a tribunal raised for you ; then the herald would 
 summon us all — why do I say " us " ? Would summon all, those 
 scholars and orators : one by one you would beckon them forward 
 with your rod and admonish them. Hitherto I have had no fear 
 of this admonition ; many things help me to enter within your 
 school. I write this in the utmost haste ; for whenas I am 
 sending you so kindly a letter from my Lord, what needs a longer 
 letter of mine ? Farewell then, glory of Roman eloquence, boast 
 of your friends, magnifico, most delightfiil man, most distinguished 
 consul, master most sweet. 
 
 ' After this you will take care not to tell so many fibs of me, 
 especially in the Senate. A monstrous fine speech this is ! O if 
 I could kiss your head at every heading of it ! You have looked 
 down on all with a vengeance. This oration once read, in vain 
 shall we study, in vain shall we toil, in vain strain every nerve. 
 Farewell always, most sweet master.' 
 
 1 Ad M. Cm., ii. 3. 
 
 ' The Emperor Antoninus Pius is spoken of as dominus mtm. 
 
 ' Tliis sentence is written in Greele, 
 
 * Several of these words are Greek, and the meaning is not quite clear. 
 
Appendix 
 
 Sometimes Fronto descends froA the heights of eloquence 
 to offer practical advice ; as when he suggests how Marcus 
 should deal with his suite. It is more difficult, he admits, 
 to keep courtiers in harmony than to tame lions with a lute ; 
 but if it is to be done, it must be by eradicating jealousy. 
 * Do not let your friends,' says Fronto,^ ' envy each other, 
 or think that what you give to another is filched from them. 
 . . . Keep away envy from your suite, and you will find 
 your friends kindly and harmonious.' 
 
 Here and there we meet with allusions to his daily life, 
 which we could wish to be more frequent. He goes to the 
 theatre or the law-courts,^ or takes part in court ceremony, 
 but his heart is always with his books. The vintage season, 
 with its religious rites, was always spent by Antoninus Pius 
 in the country. The following letters give some notion of 
 a day's occupation at that time : ' — 
 
 • My dearest Master, — I am well. To-day I studied from the 
 ninth hour of the night to the second hour of day, after taking food. 
 I then put on my slippers, and from the second to the third hour had 
 a most enjoyable walk up and down before my chamber. Then 
 booted and cloaked — for so we were commanded to appear — I went 
 to wait upon my lord the emperor. We went a-hunting, did 
 doughty deeds, heard a rumour that boars had been caught, but there 
 was nothing to see. However, we climbed a pretty steep hill, and 
 in the afternoon returned home. I went straight to my books. Off 
 with the boots, down with the cloak ; I spent a couple of hours in 
 bed. I read Cato's speech on the Property of Pulchra, and another 
 in which he impeaches a tribune. Ho, ho ! I hear you cry to your 
 man, Off with you as fast as you can, and bring me these speeches 
 from the library of Apollo. No use to send : I have those books 
 with me too. You must get round the Tiberian librarian ; you will 
 have to spend something on the matter ; and when I return to town, 
 
 1 AJM. Cai., iv. I. » ii. 14. 3 iT_ j^ 5. 
 
Appendix 
 
 I shall expect to go shares with him. Well, after reading these 
 speeches I wrote a wretched trifle, destined for drowning or burn- 
 ing. No, indeed my attempt at writing did not come off at all 
 to-day ; the composition of a hunter or a vintager, whose shouts 
 are echoing through my chamber, hateful and wearisome as the 
 law-courts. What have I said ? Yes, it was rightly said, for my 
 master is an orator. I think I have caught cold, whether from 
 walking in slippers or from writing badly, I do not know. I am 
 always annoyed with phlegm, but to-day I seem to snivel more than 
 usual. Well, I will pour oil on my head and go off to sleep. I 
 don't mean to put one drop in my lamp to-day, so weary am I from 
 riding and sneezing. Farewell, dearest and most beloved master, 
 whom I miss, I may say, more than Rome itself.' 
 
 ' My beloved Master, — I am well. I slept a little more than 
 usual for my slight cold, which seems to be well again. So I 
 spent the time from the eleventh hour of the night to the third of 
 the day partly in reading in Cato's Agriculture, partly in writ- 
 ing, not quite so badly as yesterday indeed. Then, after waiting 
 upon my father, I soothed my throat with honey-water, ejecting it 
 without swallowing : I might say gargle, but I won't, though I 
 think the word is found in Novius and elsewhere. After attend- 
 ing to my throat I went to my father, and stood by his side as he 
 sacrificed. Then to luncheon. What do you think I had to eat ? 
 A bit of bread so big, while I watched others gobbling boiled 
 beans, onions, and fish full of roe. Then we set to work at 
 gathering the grapes, with plenty of sweat and shouting, and, as 
 the quotation runs, "A few high-hanging clusters did we leave 
 survivors of the vintage." After the sixth hour we returned home. 
 I did a little work, and poor work at that. Then I had a long 
 gossip with my dear mother sitting on the bed. My conversation 
 was : What do you think my friend Fronto is doing just now ? 
 She said: And what do you think of my friend Gratia ?i My 
 turn now : And what of our little Gratia,^ the sparrowkin ? After 
 
 1 Fronto's wife. ° Fronto's daughter. 
 
 196 
 
Appendix 
 
 this kind of talk, and an argument as to which of you loved the 
 other most, the gong sounded, the signal that my father had gone 
 to the bath. We supped, after ablutions in the oil-cellar — I mean 
 we supped after ablutions, not after ablutions in the oil-cellar ; and 
 listened with enjoyment to the rustics gibing. After returning, 
 before turning on my side to snore, I do my task and give an 
 account of the day to my delightful master, whom if I could long 
 for a little more, I should not mind growing a trifle thinner. Fare- 
 well, Fronto, wherever you are, honey-sweet, my darling, my 
 delight. Why do I want you ? I can love you while far away.' 
 
 One anecdote puts Marcus before us in a new light : ^ — 
 
 'When my father returned home from the vineyards, I mounted 
 my horse as usual, and rode on ahead some little way. Well, 
 there on the road was a herd of sheep, standing all crowded 
 together as though the place were a desert, with four dogs and 
 two shepherds, but nothing else. Then one shepherd said to 
 another shepherd, on seeing a number of horsemen : I say, says he, 
 look you at those horsemen ; they do a deal of robbery. When I 
 heard this, I clap spurs to my horse, and ride straight for the 
 sheep. In consternation the sheep scatter ; hither and thither 
 they are fleeting and bleating. A shepherd throws his fork, and 
 the fork falls on the horseman who came next to me. We make 
 our escape.' 
 
 We like Marcus none the worse for this spice of mis- 
 chief. 
 
 Another letter ^ describes a visit to a country town, and 
 shows the antiquarian spirit of the writer : — 
 
 ' M. C;esar to bis Master M. Fronto, greeting. 
 
 ' After I entered the carriage, after I took leave of you, we 
 made a journey comfortable enough, but we had a few drops of rain 
 to wet us. But before coming to the country-house, we broke our 
 1 AJ M. Cits., ii. 12. » iv. 4. 
 
 197 
 
Appendix 
 
 journey at Anagnia, a mile or so from the highroad. Then we 
 inspected that ancient town, a miniature it is, but has in it many- 
 antiquities, temples, and religious ceremonies quite out of the way. 
 There is not a corner without its shrine, or fane, or temple ; besides, 
 many books written on linen, which belongs to things sacred. Then 
 on the gate as we came out was written twice, as follows : " Priest 
 don the fell." i I asked one of the inhabitants what that word was. 
 He said it was the word in the Hernican dialect for the victim's 
 skin, which the priest puts over his conical cap when he enters the 
 city. I found out many other things which I desired to know, but 
 the only thing I do not desire is that you should be absent from me ; 
 that is my chief anxiety. Now for yourself, when you left that 
 place, did you go to Aurelia or to Campania ? Be sure to write to 
 me, and say whether you have opened the vintage, or carried a host 
 of books to the country-house ; this also, whether you miss me ; I 
 am foolish to ask it, whenas you tell it me of yourself. Now if you 
 miss me and if you love me, send me your letters often, which is a 
 comfort and consolation to me. Indeed I should prefer ten times 
 to read your letters than all the vines of Gaurus or the Marsians ; 
 for these Signian vines have grapes too rank and fruit too sharp in 
 the taste, but I prefer wine to must for drinking. Besides, those 
 grapes are nicer to eat dried than fresh-ripe ; I vow I would rather 
 tread them under foot than put my teeth in them. But I pray they 
 may be gracious and forgiving, and grant me free pardon for these 
 jests of mine. Farewell, best friend, dearest, most learned, sweetest 
 master. When you see the must ferment in the vat, remember that 
 just so in my heart the longing for you is gushing and flowing and 
 bubbling. Good-bye.' 
 
 Making all allowances for conventional exaggerations, it 
 is clear from the correspondence that there was deep love 
 between Marcus and his preceptor. The letters cover 
 several years in succession, but soon after the birth of 
 Marcus's daughter, Faustina, there is a large gap. It does 
 
 ^ Samentum, 
 198 
 
Appendix 
 
 not follow that the letters ceased entirely, because we know 
 part of the collection is lost ; but there was probably less 
 intercourse between Marcus and Fronto after Marcus took 
 to the study of philosophy under the guidance of Rusticus. 
 
 When Marcus succeeded to the throne in i6i, the letters 
 begin again, with slightly increased formality on Fronto's 
 part, and they go on for some four years, when Fronto, who 
 has been continually complaining of ill-health, appears to 
 have died. One letter of the later period gives some 
 interesting particulars of the emperor's public life, which 
 are worth quoting. Fronto speaks of Marcus's victories 
 and eloquence in the usual strain of high praise, and then 
 continues : ^ — 
 
 ' The army when you took it in hand was sunk in luxury and 
 revelry, and corrupted with long inactivity. At Antiochia the 
 soldiers had been wont to applaud at the stage plays, knew more 
 of the gardens at the nearest restaurant than of the battlefield. 
 Horses were hairy from lack of grooming, horsemen smooth 
 because their hairs had been pulled out by the roots ; ^ a rare thing 
 it was to see a soldier with hair on arm or leg. Moreover, 
 they were better drest than armed ; so much so, that Laelianus 
 Pontius, a strict man of the old discipline, broke the cuirasses of 
 some of them with his finger-tips, and observed cushions on the 
 horses' backs. At his direction the tufts were cut through, and 
 out of the horsemen's saddles came what appeared to be feathers 
 pluckt from geese. Few of the men could vaidt on horseback, 
 the rest clambered up with difficulty by aid of heel and knee and 
 leg ; not many could throw a lance hurtling, most did it without 
 force or power, as though they were things of wool. Dicing was 
 common in the camp, sleep lasted all night, or if they kept watch 
 it was over the winecup. By what regulations to restrain such 
 soldiers as these, and to turn them to honesty and industry, did you 
 
 ' AJ fcrum. Imp., ii. I, s. fin. 
 ^ A common mark of the effeminate at Rome. 
 199 
 
Appendix 
 
 not learn from Hannibal's sternness, the discipline of Africanus, 
 the acts of Metellus recorded in history ? ' 
 
 After the preceptorial letters cease the others are con- 
 cerned with domestic events, health and sickness, visits or 
 introductions, birth or death. Thus the emperor writes 
 to his old friend, who had shown some diffidence in seeking 
 an interview : ^ — 
 
 * To MY Master. 
 
 ' I have a serious grievance against you, my dear master, yet 
 indeed my grief is more than my grievance, because after so long 
 a time I neither embraced you nor spoke to you, though you 
 visited the palace, and the moment after I had left the prince 
 my brother. I reproached my brother severely for not recalling 
 me ; nor durst he deny the fault.' 
 
 Fronto again writes on one occasion : ' I have seen your 
 daughter. It was like seeing you and Faustina in infancy, 
 so much that is charming her face has taken from each of 
 yours.' Or again, at a later date : ^ — 
 
 ' I have seen your chicks, most delightful sight that ever I 
 saw in my life, so like you that nothing is more like than the like- 
 ness. ... By the mercy of Heaven they have a healthy colour 
 and strong lungs. One held a piece of white bread, like a little 
 prince, the other a common piece, like a true philosopher's son.' 
 
 Marcus, we know, was devoted to his children. They 
 were delicate in health, in spite of Fronto's assurance, and 
 only one son survived the father. We find echoes of this 
 affection now and again in the letters. ' We have summer 
 heat here still,' writes Marcus, 'but since my little girls 
 are pretty well, if I may say so, it is like the bracing climate 
 of spring to us.'^ When little Faustina came back from 
 
 1 Ad. Vcrum. Imp. Aur. Cxs,, i. 3. 
 "^ Ad Ant. Imp., i. 3. » Ad M. Cm., y. 19. 
 
 200 
 
Appendix 
 
 • 
 
 the valley of the shadow of death, her father at once writes 
 to inform Fronto.^ The sympathy he asks he also gives, 
 and as old age brings more and more infirmity, Marcus 
 becomes even more solicitous for his beloved teacher. The 
 poor old man suffered a heavy blow in the death of his 
 grandson, on which Marcus writes : ^ ' I have just heard 
 of your misfortune. Feeling grieved as I do when one of 
 your joints gives you pain, what do you think I feel, dear 
 master, when you have pain of mind ? ' The old man's 
 reply, in spite of a certain self-consciousness, is full of 
 pathos. He recounts with pride the events of a long and 
 upright life, in which he has wronged no man, and lived in 
 harmony with his friends and family. His affectations fall 
 away from him, as the cry of pain is forced from his heart : — 
 
 * « Many such sorrows has fortune visited me with all my life 
 long. To pass by ray other afflictions, I have lost five children 
 under the most pitifiil conditions possible : for the five I lost one 
 by one when each was my only child, suffering these blows of 
 bereavement in such a manner that each child was born to one 
 already bereaved. Thus I ever lost my children without solace, 
 and got them amidst fresh grief. . . .' 
 
 The letter continues with reflections on the nature of 
 death, ' more to be rejoiced at than bewailed, the younger 
 one dies,' and an arrangement of Providence not without 
 dignity, wrung from him as it were by this last culminating 
 misfortune. It concludes with a summing-up of his life 
 in protest against the blow which has fellen on his grey 
 head : — 
 
 * Through my long life I have committed nothing which might 
 bring dishonour, or disgrace, or shame : no deed of avarice or 
 
 1 Ad M. Cat., IT. II. " De Nepott Am'uso. 
 
 3 De NepoU Amino, a. 
 
 201 
 
Appendix 
 
 treachery have I done in all my days : nay, but much generosity, 
 much kindness, much truth and faithfulness have I shown, often at 
 the risk of my own life. I have lived in amity with my good 
 brother, whom I rejoice to see in possession of the highest office 
 by your father's goodness, and by your friendship at peace and 
 perfect rest. The offices which I have myself obtained I never 
 strove for by any underhand means. I have cultivated my mind 
 more than my body ; the pursuit of learning I have preferred to 
 increasing my wealth. I preferred to be poor rather than bound 
 by any man's obligation, even to want rather than to beg. I have 
 never been extravagant in spending money, I have earned it some- 
 times because I must. I have scrupulously spoken the truth, and 
 have been glad to hear it spoken to me. I have thought it better 
 to be neglected than to fawn, to be dumb than to feign, to be 
 seldom a friend than to be often a flatterer. I have sought little, 
 deserved not little. So far as I could, I have assisted each 
 according to my means. I have given help readily to the de- 
 serving, fearlessly to the undeserving. No one by proving to be 
 ungrateful has made me more slow to bestow promptly all benefits 
 I could give, nor have I even been harsh to ingratitude. (A 
 fragmentary passage follows, in which he appears to speak of his 
 desire for a peaceful end, and the desolation of his house.) I have 
 suffered long and painful sickness, my beloved Marcus. Then I 
 was visited by pitiful misfortunes : my wife I have lost, my grand- 
 son I have lost in Germany : ^ woe is me ! I have lost my 
 Decimanus. If I were made of iron, at this time I could write 
 no more.' 
 
 It is noteworthy that in his Meditations Marcus Aurelius 
 mentions Fronto only once.^ All his literary studies, 
 his oratory and criticism (such as it was) is forgotten ; 
 and, says he, 'Fronto taught me not to expect natural 
 affection from the highly-born.' Fronto really said more 
 
 ' In the war against the Catti, 
 
 ^ Page 4 above. 
 
 202 
 
Appendix 
 
 than this : that ' affection ' is not a Roman quality, nor 
 has it a Latin name.^ Roman or not Roman, Marcus 
 foimd affection in Fronto ; and if he outgrew his 
 master's intellectual training, he never lost touch with 
 the true heart of the man ; it is that which 
 Fronto's name brings up to his remem- 
 brance, not dissertations on compound 
 verbs or fatuous criticisms of style. 
 
 ' Ad Vtrum, ii. 7. 
 
 203 
 
NOTES 
 
 This being neither a critical edition of the text nor an emended 
 edition of Casaubon's translation, it has not been thought necessary 
 to add fiill notes. Casaubon's own notes have been omitted, 
 because for the most part they are discursive, and not necessary to 
 an understanding of what is written. In those which here follow, 
 certain emendations of his are mentioned, which he proposes in his 
 notes, and follows in the translation. In addition, one or two 
 corrections are made where he has mistaken the Greek, and the 
 translation might be misleading. Those which do not come under 
 these two heads will explain themselves. 
 
 The text itself has been prepared by a comparison of the 
 editions of 1634 and 1635. It should be borne in mind that 
 Casaubon's is often rather a paraphrase than a close translation ; 
 and it did not seem worth while to notice every variation or 
 amplification of the original. In the original editions all that 
 Casaubon conceives as understood, but not expressed, is enclosed 
 in square brackets. These brackets are here omitted, as they 
 interfere with the comfort of the reader ; and so have some of 
 the alternative renderings suggested by the translator. In a few 
 cases, Latin words in the text have been replaced by English. 
 
 Numbers in brackets refer to the Teubner text of Stich, 
 but the divisions of the text are left unaltered. For some of 
 the references identified I am indebted to Mr. G. H. Rendall's 
 Marcus Aurelius. 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 p. 2. " Both to frequent" (4). Gr. rb /aij, C. conjectures rb /le. 
 The text is probably right : " I did not fi-equent public 
 lectures, and I was taught at home." 
 205 
 
Notes 
 
 pk 4. Idiots. . . . philosophers (9}. The reading is doubtfiil, 
 but the meaning seems to be : *' simple and unlearned 
 men." 
 
 p. 5. "Claudius Maximus" (1$)- The reading of the Palatine 
 MS. (now lost) was wapdKXrjvis Ma^C/iov, which C. 
 supposes to conceal the letters k\ as an abbreviation of 
 Claudius. 
 
 p. 7. "Patient hearing. . . . He would not" (16). C. translates 
 his conjectural reading eirljiovov aAA.ov. ov wpoairecmj 
 . . . Stich suggests a reading with much the same sense : 
 . . . arifuivov. aXK ovroi . . . 
 "Strict and rigid dealing" (16). C. translates tovmv 
 ^PaL MS.) as though from tovos, in the sense of 
 " strain," " rigour." The reading of other MSS. tivHv 
 is preferable. 
 
 p. 8. "Congiaries" (13). Stavo/iars, "doles." 
 
 p. II. "Cajeta" {17). The passage is certainly corrupt. C. 
 
 spies a reference to Chryses praying by the sea-shore in 
 
 the Iliad, and supposes M. Aurelius to have done the 
 
 like. None of the emendations suggested is satisfactory. 
 
 At § XV. Book II. is usually reckoned to begin. 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 p. 14. "Do, soul" (6). If the received reading be right, it 
 must be sarcastic ; but there are several variants which 
 show how unsatisfactory it is. C. translates " c3 yap 
 )8tds eKoa-Tifsc. trap eavTcp," which I do not understand. 
 The sense required is : " Do not violence to thyself, for 
 thou hast not long to use self-respect. Life is not 
 (v. 1. ov) <long> for each, and this life for thee is all 
 but done." 
 
 p. 17. "Honour and credit do proceed" (12). The verb has 
 dropt out of the text, but C. has supplied one of the 
 required meaning. 
 
 206 
 
Notes 
 
 p. 17. "Consider," etc. (12). Thfs verb is not in the Greek, 
 which means : " (And reason also shows) how man, etc." 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 p. 37. "Agathos" (18) : This is probably nota proper name, but 
 the text seems to be unsound. The meaning may be 
 "the good man ought . . ." 
 olKovofilav (16) is a "practical benefit," a secondary end. 
 
 p. 46. " For herein lieth all " (43). C. translates his conjecture 
 oAov for SAa. 
 
 BOOK V 
 
 p. 57. KaTopduxreis (15): Acts of " Tightness " or " straightness." 
 
 p. 62. "Roarer" (28): Gr. "tragedian." Ed. i has "whore- 
 monger," ed. 2 corrects to "harlot," but omits to alter 
 the word at its second occurrence. 
 
 p. 63. "Thou hast . . . them" (33): A quotation from Homer, 
 Odyssey iv. 690. 
 « One of the poets" (33) : Hesiod, Op. et Dies, 197. 
 
 pp. 64-65. §§ xxix. and xxx. (36). The Greek appears to con- 
 tain quotations from sources not known, and the transla- 
 tion is a paraphrase. (One or two alterations are here 
 made on the authority of the second edition. ) 
 
 BOOK VI 
 
 p. 69. " Affected and qualified " (14) : e^is, the power of cohesion 
 shown in things inanimate ; <^mri9, power of growth seen 
 in plants and the like. 
 
 p. 71. "Wonder at them " (18) : i.e. mankind. 
 
 p. 78. "Chrysippus" (42): C. refers to a passage of Plutarch 
 De Communibus Notitiis [c. xiv.), where Chrysippus is 
 represented as saying that a coarse phrase may be vile in 
 itself, yet have due place in a comedy as contributing tO' 
 a certain effect. 
 
 207 
 
Notes 
 
 p. 79. "Man or men ..." (45). There is no hiatus in the 
 Greek, which means : " Whatever (is beneficial) for a 
 man is so for other men also." 
 
 p. 80. § xlii. There is no hiatus in the Greek. 
 
 BOOK VII 
 
 p. 87. § ix. (11). C. translates his conjecture /iij for ^. The 
 Greek means " straight, or rectified," with a play on 
 the literal and metaphorical meaning of opdos. 
 p. 88. evSainovLa contains the word Sa/juuv in composition, 
 p. 92. "Plato" (35) : Republic, vi. p. 486 A. 
 
 § xxii. (31). The text is corrupt, but the words "or if 
 it be but few " should be " that is little enough." 
 p. 93 "It will," etc. (38): Euripides, Bellerophon, frag. 287 
 (Nauck). 
 "Lives," etc. (40): Euripides, Hyps'tpyle, frag. 757 
 
 (Nauck). 
 "As long," etc. (42) : Aristophanes, Acharna, 661. 
 "Plato" (44) : apology, p. 28 B. 
 " For thus" (45) : Apology, p. 28 E. 
 p. 94, "But, O noble sir," etc. (46) : Plato, Gorgias, 512 D. 
 p. 95. "And as for those parts," etc. (50). A quotation from 
 Euripides, Chrysippus, frag. 839 (Nauck). 
 " With meats," etc. ( J i ) s From Euripides, Sfipplices, 
 II 10. 
 p. 97. § xxxiii. (63) : "They both," i.e, life and wrestling. 
 
 "Says he" (63): Plato, quoted by Epictetus, Arr. i. 
 
 28, 2 and 22. 
 
 p. 99. " How know we," etc. (65). The Greek means : "How 
 
 know we whether Telauges were not nobler in character 
 
 than Sophocles ? " The allusion is unknown. 
 
 " Frost " (66) : The word is written by Casaubon as 
 
 a proper name, "Pagus." 
 " The hardihood of Socrates was famous " ; see Plato, 
 Symposium, p. Z20. 
 
 208 
 
Notes 
 
 BOOK X 
 
 p. 149. § xxii. (24) : The Greek means, '•paltry breath bearing 
 
 up corpses, so that the tale of Dead Man's Land is 
 
 clearer." 
 p. 149. "The poet" (21): Euripides, frag. 898 (Nauck) ; 
 
 compare Aeschylus, Danaides, frag. 44. 
 "Plato" (23): Theaetetus, p. 174 D. 
 p. 154. "The poet" (34) : Homer, Iliad, vi. 147. 
 p. 155. "Wood": A translation of vA.»j, " matter." 
 p. 157. "Rhetoric" (38): Rather "the gift of speech"; or 
 
 perhaps the " decree " of the reasoning faculty. 
 
 BOOK XI 
 
 p. 160. "Cithaeron" (6): Oedipus utters this cry after discover- 
 ing that he has fiiliilled his awftil doom. He was 
 exposed on Cithaeron as an infant to die, and the cry 
 implies that he wishes he had died there. Sophocles, 
 Oedipus Tyr annul, 1391. 
 "New Comedy . . .," etc. C. has here strayed from 
 the Greek rather widely. Translate : " and understand 
 to what end the New Comedy was adopted, which by 
 small degrees degenerated into a mere show of skill in 
 mimicry." C. writes Comadia Vetut, Media, Nova. 
 
 p. 163. "Phocion" (13): When about to be put to death he 
 charged his son to bear no malice against the Athe- 
 nians. 
 
 p. 170. "My heart," etc. (31): From Homer, Odyssey ix. 
 
 413- 
 "They will" (32) : From Hesiod, Opera et Dies, 184. 
 "Epictetus" (34): Arr. i. 11, 37. 
 " Cut down grapes " (3S) • Correct "ears of corn." 
 p. 171. "Epictetus" (36) : Arr. 3, 22, 105. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 This Glossary includes all proper names {excepting afevj 'which are insignijicant 
 or uninoivn), and all obsolete or obscure -words. 
 
 Adxiantjs, or Hadrian (76-13S a.d.), 
 14th Roman Emperor. 
 
 Agrippa, M. Vipsanius (63-11 B.C.), 
 a distinguished soldier under 
 Augustus. 
 
 Alexander the Great, King of 
 Macedonia, and Conqueror of 
 the East, 356-323 b.c. 
 
 Antisthenes of Athens, founder of the 
 sect of Cynic philosophers, and an 
 opponent of Plato, 5th century b. c. 
 
 Antoninus Pius, ijth Roman Em- 
 peror, 138-161 A.D., "one of the 
 best princes that ever mounted a 
 throne." 
 
 Apathia: the Stoic ideal was calm- 
 ness in all circumstances, an in- 
 sensibility to pain, and absence 
 of all exultation at pleasure or 
 good fortune. 
 
 Apelles, a famous painter of anti- 
 quity. 
 
 Apollonius of Alexandria, called 
 Dyseolus, or the "Ill-tempered," 
 a great grammarian. 
 
 Aposteme, tumour, excrescence. 
 
 Archimedes of Syracuse, ziy-zii 
 B.C., the most famous mathe- 
 matician of antiquity. 
 
 Athos, a mountain promontory at 
 the N. of the .^gean Sea. 
 
 Augustus, first Roman Emperor 
 (ruled 31 B.C.-14 A.D.). 
 
 Avoid, void. 
 
 Bacchius : there were several persons 
 of this name, and the one meant 
 is perhaps the musician. 
 
 Srutus (i) the liberator of the Ro- 
 man people from their Icings, and 
 (z) the murderer of Cxsar. Both 
 names were household words. 
 
 CiESAR, C. Julius, the Dictator and 
 Conqueror. 
 
 Caieta, a town in Latium. 
 
 Camillus, a famous dictator in the 
 early days of the Roman Re- 
 public. 
 
 Carnuntum, a town on the Danube 
 in Upper Pannonia. 
 
 Cato, called of Utica, a Stoic who 
 died by his own hand after the 
 battle of Thapsus, 46 b.c. His 
 name was proverbial for virtue 
 and courage. 
 
 Cautelous, cautious. 
 
 Cecrops, first legendary King of 
 Athens. 
 
 Charax, perhaps the priestly his- 
 torian of that name, whose date 
 is unknown, except that it must 
 be later than Nero. 
 
 Chirurgeon, surgeon. 
 
 Chryslppus, 280-207 *-'^-> * Stoic 
 philosoplier, and the founder of 
 Stoicism as a systematic philo- 
 sophy. 
 
 Circus, the Circus Maximus at 
 Rome, where games were held. 
 There were four companies who 
 contracted to provide horses, 
 drivers, etc. These were called 
 Faetiones, and each had its distin- 
 guishing colour: russata (red), 
 albata (white), veneta (blue), ^rajinir 
 (green). There was high rivalry 
 between them, and riots and 
 bloodshed not infrequently. 
 
 Cithaeron, a mountain range N. of 
 Attica. 
 
 Comedy, ancient ; a term applied to 
 the Attic comedy of Aristophanes 
 and his time, which criticised 
 persons and politics, like a modern 
 
 211 
 
Glossary 
 
 comic journal, such as Punch. 
 See New Comedy. 
 
 Compendious, short. 
 
 Conceit, opinion. 
 
 Contentation, contentment. 
 
 Crates, a Cynic philosopher of the 
 4th century B.C. 
 
 Croesus, King of Lydia, proverbial 
 for wealth ; he reigned 560-546 b.c. 
 
 Cynics, a school of philosophers, 
 founded by Antisthenes. Their 
 texts were a kind of caricature of 
 Socraticism. Nothing was good 
 but virtue, nothing bad but vice. 
 The Cynics repudiated all civil 
 and social claims, and attempted 
 to return to what they called a 
 state of nature. Many of them 
 were very disgusting in their 
 manners. 
 
 Demxtkius of Phalerum, an Athenian 
 orator, statesman, philosopher, 
 and poet. Born 345 b.c. 
 
 Democri tus of Abdera (460-36 IB. c), 
 celebrated as the "laughing 
 philosopher," whose constant 
 thought was " What fools these 
 mortals be." He invented the 
 Atomic Theory. 
 
 Dio of Syracuse, a disciple of Plato, 
 and afterwards tyrant of Syracuse. 
 Murdered 353 b.c. 
 
 Diogenes, the Cynic, born about 
 41 z B.C., renowned for his rude- 
 ness and hardihood. 
 
 Diognetus, a painter. 
 
 Dispense with, put up with. 
 
 Dogmata, pithy sayings, or philo- 
 sophical rules of life, 
 
 Emfedocles of Agrigentum, fl. 5th 
 century b.c., a philosopher, who 
 first laid down that there were 
 " four elements." He believed in 
 the transmigration of souls, and 
 the indestructibility of matter. 
 
 Epictetus, a famous Stoic philo- 
 sopher. He was of Phrygia, at 
 
 first a slave, then freeilman, lame, 
 poor, and contented. The work 
 called EttcheirUinn was compiled 
 by a pupil from his discourses. 
 
 Epicureans, a sect of philosophers 
 founded by Epicurus, who " com- 
 bined the physics of Democritus," 
 i,e. the atomic theory, " with the 
 ethics of Aristippus." They pro- 
 posed to live for happiness, but 
 the word did not bear that coarse 
 and vulgar sense originally which 
 it soon took. 
 
 Epicurus of Samos, 342-270 b,c 
 Lived at Athens in his " gardens," 
 an urbane and kindly, if some- 
 what useless, life. His character 
 was simple and temperate, and 
 had none of the vice or indulgence 
 which was afterwards associated 
 with the name of Epicurean. 
 
 Eudoxus of Cnidus, a famous astro- 
 nomer and physician of the 4th 
 century b.c. 
 
 Fatal, fated. 
 
 Fortuit, chance (adj.). 
 
 Fronto, M. Cornelius, a rhetorician 
 and pleader, made consul in 143 
 A.D. A number of his letters to 
 M. Aur. and others are extant. 
 
 Gkanua, a tributary of the Danube, 
 
 Hkuce, ancient capital city of 
 Achaia, swallowed up by an 
 earthquake, 373 B.c. 
 
 Helvidius Priscus, son-in-law of 
 Thrasea Pastus, a noble man and 
 a lover of liberty. He was ban- 
 ished by Nero, and put to death 
 by Vespasian. 
 
 Heraclitus of Ephesus, who lived in 
 the 6th century b. c. He wrote on 
 philosophy and natural science. 
 
 Herculaneum, near Mount Vesuvius, 
 buried by the eruption of 79 a.d. 
 
 Hercules, p. 167, should be Apollo. 
 See Muses. 
 
 Hiatus, gap. 
 
 212 
 
Glossary 
 
 Hipparchus of Bithynia, an astro- 
 nomer of the ind century b.c. , 
 "The true father of astronomy." 
 
 Hippocrates of Cos, about 460-3 J7 
 B-c. One of the most famous 
 physicians of antiquity. 
 
 Idiot, means merely the non-pro- 
 ficientin anything, the "layman," 
 hewho was not technically trained 
 in any art, craft, or calling, 
 
 Leonhatds, a distinguished general 
 under Alexander the Great. 
 
 Lucilla, daughter of M. Aurelius, 
 and wife of Verus, whom she 
 survived, 
 
 Maecenas, a trusted adviser of 
 Augustus, and amunificent patron 
 of wits and literary men. 
 
 Maximus, Claudius, a Stoic philo- 
 sopher. 
 
 Menippus, a Cynic philosopher. 
 
 Meteores, ri nereapoKoyiKd, " high 
 philosophy," used specially of 
 astronomy and natural philo- 
 sophy, which were bound up 
 with other speculations. 
 
 Middle Comedy, something "mid- 
 wray" between the Old and New 
 Comedy. Sa Comedy, Ancient, 
 and New Comedy. 
 
 Middle things, p. 80. The Stoics 
 divided all things into virtue, vice, 
 and indilferent things ; but as 
 "indifferent" they regarded most 
 of those things which the world 
 regards as good or bad, such as 
 wealth or poverty. Of these, 
 some were " to be desired," some 
 " to be rejected. " 
 
 Muses, the nine deities who pre- 
 sided over various kinds of poesy, 
 music, etc. Their leader was 
 Apollo, one of whose titles is 
 Musegetes, the Leader of the 
 Muses. 
 
 Nekves, strings. 
 
 New Comedy, the Attic Comedy 
 of Menander and his school, 
 which criticised not persons but 
 manners, like a modern comic 
 opera. See Comedy, Ancient. 
 
 Palestra, wrestling school. 
 
 Pancratiast, competitor in the pan- 
 cratium,a combined contest which 
 comprised boxing and wrestling, 
 
 Parmularii, gladiators armed with a 
 small round shield (parma), 
 
 Pheidias, the most famous sculptor 
 of antiquity. 
 
 Philippus, founder of the Mace- 
 donian supremacy, and father of 
 Alexander the Great, 
 
 Phocion, an Athenian general and 
 statesman, a noble and high- 
 minded man, 4th century b,c. 
 He was called by Demosthenes, 
 " the pruner of my periods. " He 
 was put to death by the State 
 in 317, on a false suspicion, 
 and left a message for his son 
 "to bear no grudge against the 
 Athenians." 
 
 Pine, torment. 
 
 Plato of Athens, 429-347 b.c. He 
 used the dialectic method in- 
 vented by his master Socrates. 
 He was, perhaps, as much poet 
 as philosopher. He is generally 
 identified with the Theoi-y of 
 Ideas, that things are what they 
 are by participation with our 
 eternal Idea. His "Common- 
 wealth " was a kind of Utopia. 
 
 Platonics, followers of Plato. 
 
 Pompeii, near Mount Vesuvius, 
 buried in the eruption of 79 a.d. 
 
 Pompeius, Cn. Pompeius Magnus, 
 a very successful general at the 
 end of the Roman Republic (106- 
 
 48 B.C,). 
 
 Prestidigitator, juggler. 
 
 Pythagoras of Samos, a philo- 
 sopher, scientist, and moralist of 
 the 6th century b.c. 
 
 213 
 
Glossary 
 
 QuADi, a tribe of S. Germany. M. 
 Aurelius carried on war against 
 them, and part of this book was 
 written in the field. 
 
 Rictus, gape, jaws, 
 
 Rusticus, Q. Junius, or Stoic philo- 
 sopher, twice made consul by M. 
 Aurelius. 
 
 Sacrakt, shrine. 
 
 Salaminius, p. 99, Leon of Salamis. 
 Socrates was ordered by the 
 Thirty Tyrants to fetch him be- 
 fore them, and Socrates, at his 
 own peril, refused. 
 
 Sarmatae, a tribe dwelling in 
 Poland. 
 
 Sceletum, skeleton. 
 
 Sceptics, a school of philosophy 
 founded by Pyrrho (4th cen- 
 tury B.C.). He advocated "sus- 
 pension of judgment," and taught 
 the relativity of knowledge and 
 impossibility of proof. The 
 school is not unlike the Agnostic 
 school. 
 
 Scipio, the name of two great sol- 
 diers, P. Corn. Scipio Africanus, 
 conqueror of Hannibal, and P. 
 Corn. Sc. Afr. Minor, who 
 came into the family by adop- 
 tion, who destroyed Carthage. 
 
 Secutoriani (a word coined by C. ), 
 the stcutores, light-armed gladi- 
 ators, who were pitted against 
 others with net and trident. 
 
 Sextus of Chaeronea, a Stoic philo- 
 sopher, nephew of Plutarch. 
 
 Silly, simple, common. 
 
 Sinuessa, a town in Latium. 
 
 Socrates, an Athenian philosopher 
 (469—399 B.C.), founder of the 
 dialectic method. Put to death 
 on a trumped-up charge by his 
 countrymen. 
 
 Stint, limit (without implying nig- 
 gardliness). 
 
 Stoics, a philosophic system founded 
 by Zeno (4th century B.C.), and 
 systematised by Chrysippus (3rd 
 century B.C.), Their physical 
 theory was a pantheistic materi- 
 alism, their summum honum *' to 
 live according to nature." Their 
 " wise man " needs nothing, he 
 is sufficient to himself; virtue is 
 good, vice bad, external things 
 indifferent. 
 
 Theophrastus, a philosopher, pupil 
 of Aristotle, and his successor as 
 president of the Lyceum. He 
 wrote a large number of works 
 on philosophy and natural his- 
 tory. Died 287 B.C. 
 
 Thrasea, P. Thrasea Pxtus, a 
 senator and Stoic philosopher, 
 a noble and courageous man. 
 He was condemned to death by 
 Nero. 
 
 Tiberius, 2nd Roman Emperor (14— 
 31 A.D.). He spent the latter 
 part of his life at Capreae (Capri), 
 off Naples, in luxury or de- 
 bauchery, neglecting his im- 
 perial duties. 
 
 To-torn, torn to pieces. 
 
 Trajan, 13th Roman Emperor, 52- 
 117 A.D. 
 
 Vekus, Lucius Aurelius, colleague 
 of M. Aurelius in the Empire. 
 He married Lucilla, daughter of 
 M. A., and died 169 a.d. 
 
 Vespasian, 9th Roman Emperor 
 (9-79 A.D.). 
 
 Xenocrates of Chalcedon, 396-314 
 B.C,, a philosopher, and president 
 of the Academy. 
 
 214 
 
INDEX 
 
 Action and purpose, 156, 
 
 Action and sloth, 49. 
 
 Africanus, 104. 
 
 After death, 38, S4, 120, 
 
 Agrippa, iii. 
 
 Alciphron, 152. 
 
 Alexander the Grammarian, 4. 
 
 Alexander the Great, 23, 73, 104, 
 
 I3'> 'S'- 
 Alexander the Platonic, 5. 
 Amphitheatre, wild beasts in, 144. 
 Anger, 15, 82, 90. 
 Antidotes of nature against faults, 
 
 '37- 
 Antisthenes, 93. 
 
 Antoninus Pius, 42, 74, 109, 151. 
 Apathia, 4. 
 ApoUonius, 3, 10. 
 Archimedes, 80. 
 Areus, in. 
 Art and nature, 162. 
 Astrologers, 22, 46. 
 Athenodotus, 5. 
 Athens, 39. 
 Athos, 76. 
 
 Atomic theory, 33, 107. 
 Augustus, 42, 104, III. 
 
 Bacouus, 2. 
 
 Bais, 180. 
 
 Baths, 8. 
 
 Beauty and naturalness, 22. 
 
 Behaviour, ideal, 41. 
 
 Best things in the world, 25, 
 
 Birth and death, 35. 
 
 Body and soul, 44. 
 
 Brutus, 5. 
 
 Caoicunus, 48. 
 Cxso, 42. 
 
 Caius Czsar, 23, 104. 
 Camillus, 42. 
 Caprex, 180. 
 Carnal pleasure, 106, 
 Cato, 5, 42. 
 Catulus, 5. 
 
 Cause and effect, 35, 150. 
 Cecrops, city of, 39. 
 Celer, 109. 
 Chabrias, 113. 
 Chaldeans, 22. 
 Change and decay, 44, 
 Charax, 109, 
 
 Children of the Emperor, 10, 
 Christians, 159. 
 Chrysippus, 89. 
 Circumstance and will, 32, 
 Circus, factions in, z. 
 Cithaeron, 160. 
 Claudius Maximus, j, 9, 10. 
 Comedy, 160. 
 
 Common good the end of man, 9S. 
 Consistency, 169. 
 Contentment, 81, 138, 
 Correction, how to be adminis- 
 tered, 4. 
 Cosmopolitanism, 35, 79. 
 Crates, £9, 
 Crito, 152. 
 Croesus, 151. 
 
 Death, the thought of it ever pre- 
 sent, 13, IS, 31, 37, 56. 
 Death a natural change, i£, 89. 
 Death and birth, 35. 
 Death the leveller, 73. 
 Death welcome, 74. 
 Demetrius Phalereus, 131. 
 Demetrius the Platonic, 109. 
 Democritus, 23, 33. 
 
 215 
 
Index 
 
 Dio, s. 
 
 Diogenes, 104, 190. 
 
 Diognetus, 2. 
 
 Diotimus, 109, 113. 
 
 Disciplined mind, 27, 
 
 Disloyaljty to nature, 41. 
 
 Dogmata, 4, 29, 30, 37, 47, 54, 59, 
 
 84, 104, 145, 154, 157. 
 Domitius, 5, 
 
 Earth, insignificance of, 34. 
 
 Education, 2, 3. 
 
 Effect and cause, 35. 
 
 Elysian Fields, 144. 
 
 Empedocles, 162, 173. 
 
 End of man, 19, 96. 
 
 Endurable, life is, 149. 
 
 Ephesian Letters, 169. 
 
 Epictetus, 3, 44, 89, 170, 171. 
 
 Epicurus, 98, 135, 140. 
 
 Epitynchanus, 109. 
 
 Eudzmon, 109. 
 
 Eudoxus, So. 
 
 Euphrates, 152. 
 
 Eutyches, 152. 
 
 Eutychio, 152. 
 
 Evil and good, 104. 
 
 Expediency, private and public, 
 
 39. 79- 
 External things, 87, 116. 
 
 Fabius, 48. 
 
 Fabius Catalinus, 180. 
 
 Factions in the circus, z. 
 
 Fame, 25, 34, 37, 63, 70, 86, 119, 
 
 132. 
 Fate, 43, 176, 178. 
 Fates, 24, 53. 
 Father of the Emperor, 6. 
 Faustina, 109. 
 Fellow-workers one with another, 
 
 II. 
 Fiery element in man, 168. 
 Flux of things, 69. 
 Fortune, 12. 
 
 Foster-father of the Emperor, 2. 
 Fountain of good within, 97, 118. 
 Freedom, true, 71, 
 Free-will, 119. 
 
 Fronto, 4; Letters, 184. 
 Future life, 23. 
 
 Gods, the, 12, 15, 29, 45, 61, 6i, 
 64, 67, 69, 72, 74, 76, 78, loi, 107, 
 127, 130, 134, 173, i74> 175' »*°- 
 
 Good, meaning of the word, 56, 
 
 Good and evil, 104, 
 
 Good life, 64. 
 
 Government, ideal of, 5. 
 
 Gladiators, 2. 
 
 Granua, 11. 
 
 Great-grandfatherof the Emperor, i. 
 
 Hadrian, 41, 109, 113, 151. 
 Happiness, 14, 65, 7$, 88, 180. 
 Heal thyself, 10 1. 
 Helice, 46. 
 Helvidius, 5. 
 Heraclitus, 23, 45, 78. 
 Herculaneum, 46. 
 Herodes Atticus, 186. 
 Hesiod, 144. 
 Hipparchus, 80. 
 Hippocrates, 22, 68. 
 Hymen, 152, 
 Hypomnemata of Epictetus, 3. 
 
 IMFIET7, 122, 
 
 Indifferent things, 16, 27, 44, 66, 75, 
 
 '43. 
 Insignificance of man, 61. 
 
 Jove, 53, 6i. 
 Joy, true, no. 
 Julianus, 48. 
 
 Kindness done, 1 37. 
 Kindness, how to do, 5 1, 
 
 Law, 150. 
 
 Law and reason, 34, 
 
 Learning, true, 117, 
 
 Leonnatus, 42. 
 
 Lepidus, 48. 
 
 Life, brief space of, 17, 
 
 Life a dream, 75. 
 
 Life a military service, 25. 
 
 Life a voyage, 23. 
 
 216 
 
Index 
 
 Life a wrestling, a warfare, and 
 
 pilgrimage, 97. 
 Lucilla, 109. 
 Lucius Lupus, 180, 
 Lust, 15. 
 
 MXCENAS, III. 
 
 Magic, z. 
 
 Marcianus, 2. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius, what he learned 
 
 from his friends and teachers, 
 
 I foil. ; education, 2, 3 ; piety, 8 ; 
 
 temperance in youth, 8 ; Letters, 
 
 184. 
 Maximus, 109. 
 Meditation, 43. 
 Meekness and anger, 166, 
 Members of a whole, 87. 
 Menippus, 80. 
 Mind unconquerable, 116. 
 Misfortune meant for good, 52. 
 Monimus the Cynic, 18. 
 Morning thoughts, 11, 49, 147, 
 Mother, the Emperor's, i, 10. 
 Mother earth, 50. 
 
 Nature's workshop, 118. 
 Necessary and unnecessary actions, 
 
 39. 4°- 
 Nero, 30. 
 
 Nine useful heads, 16 J, 
 Nothing from nothing, 35, 57. 
 Nothing in vain, zo8. 
 
 Offences, 40, 134. 
 Opinion, 27, 35, 45, 179. 
 Opinions, 153, 
 Opportunity, 106. 
 Order of the world, 40, 67, 86. 
 Ostentation, 131. 
 
 Other men's wickedness, how we 
 should regard it, 33. 
 
 Pain, 98, no. 
 
 Panthea, 113. 
 
 Patience with other men, iz. 
 
 Perdiccas, 169. 
 
 Pergamus, 113. 
 
 Phalaris, 30. 
 
 Phiflppus, 131, 151. 
 
 Philosophy and nature, 5 5. 
 
 Phocion, 163. 
 
 Plato, 92, 93, 144, 149. 
 
 Pleasure and happiness, 76, 
 
 Pompeii, 46. 
 
 Pompeius, 23, 104, in. 
 
 Prayer, 52, 135, 136. 
 
 Prayer for rain, 52. 
 
 Present time and no other can be 
 
 lost or enjoyed, 18, 28, 115. 
 Pride, 180. 
 
 Profession and action, 163. 
 Providence, 24, 176, 178. 
 Providence of God, 12, 15. 
 Public and private interest, 60. 
 Public spirit, 86. 
 Purged mind, 27. 
 Pythagoras, 80, 169. 
 
 QuADi, the, II. 
 Quails as pets, 2. 
 
 REABSORPnON, 36. 
 
 Reason, the, iz, zo, 26, 27, 36, 45, 
 57, 61, 66, 87,96, 114, 129, 158, 
 179. 
 
 Reason and nature, 113. 
 
 Repentance, 106. 
 
 Rest and idleness, 49. 
 
 Retirement, 3Z. 
 
 Retiring into oneself, 32, 34. 
 
 Revenge, the best, 67. 
 
 Ruling principle in the universe, 13, 
 
 Rusticus, z, 10. 
 
 Sarmatx, 146. 
 
 Satyro, 152. 
 
 Scipio, 4. 
 
 Secunda, 109. 
 
 Seeds of the future, 43. 
 
 Seeming and being, 148. 
 
 Self-control, 97. 
 
 Senate, in. 
 
 Severus, the Emperor's brother, 5, 
 
 152. 
 Sextus, 4. 
 Shows, public, 8. 
 Shows in Sparta, 169. 
 
 217 
 
Index 
 
 shrine of the soul, 24. 
 
 Simile, 11, 22, 24, 25, 27, 29, 32, 35, 
 
 45. 47. 51. S». 54. «o. 107. 'o^. 
 
 117, 14s, 146, 152, 153, 154, 161. 
 
 164, 176. 
 Sinuessa, 3. 
 
 Society, human, 125, 129, 161. 
 Socrates, 26, 80, 89, 99, 104, 169, 
 
 170, 171. 
 Socraticus, 1J2. 
 Sophists, 2, 99. 
 Soul, the, 56. 
 Soul of the world, 44. 
 Soul's birth, 124. 
 Soul's perfection, 139. 
 Stertinius, 180. 
 Stoicism, 3, 55 ; the Dogmata, 4, 29, 
 
 30. 37. 47. 54, S9. ^4. 104. '45. 
 1J4, 157; Apathia, 4; equality 
 of vice, 14; indifferent things, 
 16, 27, 49, 66, 75, 143; middle 
 things, 138; reason, 12, 20,26, 
 
 »7. 36, 45. 57. 61. 66, *7. 96, "4. 
 
 128, 157, 178 ; right actions, 
 
 56. 
 Stream of time, 60. 
 Suicide, 20. 
 Summum bonum, 58, 
 Sylvanus, 152. 
 
 Talents to be used, 51. 
 
 Tandasis, z. 
 
 Teachable, one should be, 36, 107. 
 
 Theophrastus, 14. 
 
 Thoughts and character, j8 
 
 Thrasea, 5. 
 
 Tiberius, 180. 
 
 Time, how to spend, 23. 
 
 Tradition, 45. 
 
 Tragedies, 160. 
 
 Trajan, 42. 
 
 Trespasses against us, 91. 
 
 Tropalophorus, 152. 
 
 Unity of society, 112. 
 Universe, the, 14, 15, 29, 67. 
 Unspotted by pleasure, undaunted 
 by pain, 24. 
 
 VANiTy Fair, 42. 
 
 Velius Rufus, 180. 
 
 Verus, 109. 
 
 Verus,the Emperor's grandfather, i. 
 
 Vespasian, 42. 
 
 Vices, whether all equal or not, 
 
 14. 
 Volesius, 42. 
 
 Whatever is, is right, 36. 
 Wickedness, what is, 84, 119. 
 Will and circumstance, 32. 
 World-soul, 181. 
 
 Xanthippe, 170. 
 Xenocrates, 69. 
 Xenophon, 152. 
 
 Printed by Bahanttne, Hanson S- Co. 
 Edinburgh & London