Meditation 01
From my grandfather Verus I learned good morals and the government of my temper.
Marcus Aurelius · George Long · public domain
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From my grandfather Verus I learned good morals and the government of my temper.
From the reputation and remembrance of my father, modesty and a manly character.
From my mother, piety and beneficence, and abstinence, not only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts; and further, simplicity in my way of living, far removed from the habits of the rich.
From my great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools, and to have had good teachers at home, and to know that on such things a man should spend liberally.
From my governor, to be neither of the green nor of the blue party at the games in the Circus, nor a partisan either of the Parmularius or the Scutarius at the gladiators’ fights; from him too I learned endurance of labour, and to want little, and to work with my own hands, and not to meddle with other people’s affairs, and not to be ready to listen to slander.
From Diognetus, not to busy myself about trifling things, and not to give credit to what was said by miracle-workers and jugglers about incantations and the driving away of daemons and such things; and not to breed quails for fighting, nor to give myself up passionately to such things; and to endure freedom of speech; and to have become intimate with philosophy; and to have been a hearer, first of Bacchius, then of Tandasis and Marcianus; and to have written dialogues in my youth; and to have desired a plank bed and skin, and whatever else of the kind belongs to the Grecian discipline.
From Rusticus I received the impression that my character required improvement and discipline; and from him I learned not to be led astray to sophistic emulation, nor to writing on speculative matters, nor to delivering little hortatory orations, nor to showing myself off as a man who practises much discipline, or does benevolent acts in order to make a display; and to abstain from rhetoric, and poetry, and fine writing; and not to walk about in the house in my outdoor dress, nor to do other things of the kind; and to write my letters with simplicity, like the letter which Rusticus wrote from Sinuessa to my mother; and with respect to those who have offended me by words, or done me wrong, to be easily disposed to be pacified and reconciled, as soon as they have shown a readiness to be reconciled; and to read carefully, and not to be satisfied with a superficial understanding of a book; nor hastily to give my assent to those who talk overmuch; and I am indebted to him for being acquainted with the discourses of Epictetus, which he communicated to me out of his own collection.
From Apollonius I learned freedom of will and undeviating steadiness of purpose; and to look to nothing else, not even for a moment, except to reason; and to be always the same, in sharp pains, on the occasion of the loss of a child, and in long illness; and to see clearly in a living example that the same man can be both most resolute and yielding, and not peevish in giving his instruction; and to have had before my eyes a man who clearly considered his experience and his skill in expounding philosophical principles as the smallest of his merits; and from him I learned how to receive from friends what are esteemed favours, without being either humbled by them or letting them pass unnoticed.
From Sextus, a benevolent disposition, and the example of a family governed in a fatherly manner, and the idea of living conformably to nature; and gravity without affectation, and to look carefully after the interests of friends, and to tolerate ignorant persons, and those who form opinions without consideration: he had the power of readily accommodating himself to all, so that intercourse with him was more agreeable than any flattery; and at the same time he was most highly venerated by those who associated with him: and he had the faculty both of discovering and ordering, in an intelligent and methodical way, the principles necessary for life; and he never showed anger or any other passion, but was entirely free from passion, and also most affectionate; and he could express approbation without noisy display, and he possessed much knowledge without ostentation.
From Alexander the grammarian, to refrain from faultfinding, and not in a reproachful way to chide those who uttered any barbarous or solecistic or strange-sounding expression; but dexterously to introduce the very expression which ought to have been used, and in the way of answer or giving confirmation, or joining in an inquiry about the thing itself, not about the word, or by some other fit suggestion.
From Fronto I learned to observe what envy, and duplicity, and hypocrisy are in a tyrant, and that generally those among us who are called Patricians are rather deficient in paternal affection.
From Alexander the Platonic, not frequently nor without necessity to say to anyone, or to write in a letter, that I have no leisure; nor continually to excuse the neglect of duties required by our relation to those with whom we live, by alleging urgent occupations.
From Catulus, not to be indifferent when a friend finds fault, even if he should find fault without reason, but to try to restore him to his usual disposition; and to be ready to speak well of teachers, as it is reported of Domitius and Athenodotus; and to love my children truly.
From my brother Severus, to love my kin, and to love truth, and to love justice; and through him I learned to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, Brutus; and from him I received the idea of a polity in which there is the same law for all, a polity administered with regard to equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and the idea of a kingly government which respects most of all the freedom of the governed; I learned from him also consistency and undeviating steadiness in my regard for philosophy; and a disposition to do good, and to give to others readily, and to cherish good hopes, and to believe that I am loved by my friends; and in him I observed no concealment of his opinions with respect to those whom he condemned, and that his friends had no need to conjecture what he wished or did not wish, but it was quite plain.
From Maximus I learned self-government, and not to be led aside by anything; and cheerfulness in all circumstances, as well as in illness; and a just admixture in the moral character of sweetness and dignity, and to do what was set before me without complaining. I observed that everybody believed that he thought as he spoke, and that in all that he did he never had any bad intention; and he never showed amazement and surprise, and was never in a hurry, and never put off doing a thing, nor was perplexed nor dejected, nor did he ever laugh to disguise his vexation, nor, on the other hand, was he ever passionate or suspicious. He was accustomed to do acts of beneficence, and was ready to forgive, and was free from all falsehood; and he presented the appearance of a man who could not be diverted from right rather than of a man who had been improved. I observed, too, that no man could ever think that he was despised by Maximus, or ever venture to think himself a better man. He had also the art of being humorous in an agreeable way.
In my father I observed mildness of temper, and unchangeable resolution in the things which he had determined after due deliberation; and no vainglory in those things which men call honours; and a love of labour and perseverance; and a readiness to listen to those who had anything to propose for the common weal; and undeviating firmness in giving to every man according to his deserts; and a knowledge derived from experience of the occasions for vigorous action and for remission. And I observed that he had overcome all passion for boys; and he considered himself no more than any other citizen; and he released his friends from all obligation to sup with him or to attend him of necessity when he went abroad, and those who had failed to accompany him, by reason of any urgent circumstances, always found him the same. I observed too his habit of careful inquiry in all matters of deliberation, and his persistency, and that he never stopped his investigation through being satisfied with appearances which first present themselves; and that his disposition was to keep his friends, and not to be soon tired of them, nor yet to be extravagant in his affection; and to be satisfied on all occasions, and cheerful; and to foresee things a long way off, and to provide for the smallest without display; and to check immediately popular applause and all flattery; and to be ever watchful over the things which were necessary for the administration of the empire, and to be a good manager of the expenditure, and patiently to endure the blame which he got for such conduct; and he was neither superstitious with respect to the gods, nor did he court men by gifts or by trying to please them, or by flattering the populace; but he showed sobriety in all things and firmness, and never any mean thoughts or action, nor love of novelty. And the things which conduce in any way to the commodity of life, and of which fortune gives an abundant supply, he used without arrogance and without excusing himself; so that when he had them, he enjoyed them without affectation, and when he had them not, he did not want them. No one could ever say of him that he was either a sophist or a homebred flippant slave or a pedant; but everyone acknowledged him to be a man ripe, perfect, above flattery, able to manage his own and other men's affairs. Besides this, he honoured those who were true philosophers, and he did not reproach those who pretended to be philosophers, nor yet was he easily led by them. He was also easy in conversation, and he made himself agreeable without any offensive affectation. He took a reasonable care of his body's health, not as one who was greatly attached to life, nor out of regard to personal appearance, nor yet in a careless way, but so that, through his own attention, he very seldom stood in need of the physician's art or of medicine or external applications. He was most ready to give way without envy to those who possessed any particular faculty, such as that of eloquence or knowledge of the law or of morals, or of anything else; and he gave them his help, that each might enjoy reputation according to his deserts; and he always acted conformably to the institutions of his country, without showing any affectation of doing so. Further, he was not fond of change nor unsteady, but he loved to stay in the same places, and to employ himself about the same things; and after his paroxysms of headache he came immediately fresh and vigorous to his usual occupations. His secrets were not but very few and very rare, and these only about public matters; and he showed prudence and economy in the exhibition of the public spectacles and the construction of public buildings, his donations to the people, and in such things, for he was a man who looked to what ought to be done, not to the reputation which is got by a man's acts. He did not take the bath at unseasonable hours; he was not fond of building houses, nor curious about what he ate, nor about the texture and colour of his clothes, nor about the beauty of his slaves. His dress came from Lorium, his villa on the coast, and from Lanuvium generally. We know how he behaved to the toll-collector at Tusculum who asked his pardon; and such was all his behaviour. There was in him nothing harsh, nor implacable, nor violent, nor, as one may say, anything carried to the sweating point; but he examined all things severally, as if he had abundance of time, and without confusion, in an orderly way, vigorously and consistently. And that might be applied to him which is recorded of Socrates, that he was able both to abstain from, and to enjoy, those things which many are too weak to abstain from, and cannot enjoy without excess. But to be strong enough both to bear the one and to be sober in the other is the mark of a man who has a perfect and invincible soul, such as he showed in the illness of Maximus.
To the gods I am indebted for having good grandfathers, good parents, a good sister, good teachers, good associates, good kinsmen and friends, nearly everything good. Further, I owe it to the gods that I was not hurried into any offence against any of them, though I had a disposition which, if opportunity had offered, might have led me to do something of this kind; but, through their favour, there never was such a concurrence of circumstances as put me to the trial. Further, I am thankful to the gods that I was not longer brought up with my grandfather’s concubine, and that I preserved the flower of my youth, and that I did not make proof of my virility before the proper season, but even deferred the time; that I was subjected to a ruler and a father who was able to take away all pride from me, and to bring me to the knowledge that it is possible for a man to live in a palace without wanting either guards or embroidered dresses, or torches and statues, and suchlike show; but that it is in such a man’s power to bring himself very near to the fashion of a private person, without being for this reason either meaner in thought, or more remiss in action, with respect to the things which must be done for the public interest in a manner that befits a ruler. I thank the gods for giving me such a brother, who was able by his moral character to rouse me to vigilance over myself, and who, at the same time, pleased me by his respect and affection; that my children have not been stupid nor deformed in body; that I did not make more proficiency in rhetoric, poetry, and the other studies, in which I should perhaps have been completely engaged, if I had seen that I was making progress in them; that I made haste to place those who brought me up in the station of honour, which they seemed to desire, without putting them off with hope of my doing it some time after, because they were then still young; that I knew Apollonius, Rusticus, Maximus; that I received clear and frequent impressions about living according to nature, and what kind of a life that is, so that, so far as depended on the gods, and their gifts, and help, and inspirations, nothing hindered me from forthwith living according to nature, though I still fall short of it through my own fault, and through not observing the admonitions of the gods, and, I may almost say, their direct instructions; that my body has held out so long in such a kind of life; that I never touched either Benedicta or Theodotus, and that, after having fallen into amatory passions, I was cured; and, though I was often out of humour with Rusticus, I never did anything of which I had occasion to repent; that, though it was my mother’s fate to die young, she spent the last years of her life with me; that, whenever I wished to help any man in his need, or on any other occasion, I was never told that I had not the means of doing it; and that to myself the same necessity never happened, to receive anything from another; that I have such a wife, so obedient, and so affectionate, and so simple; that I had abundance of good masters for my children; and that remedies have been shown to me by dreams, both others, and against bloodspitting and giddiness …; and that, when I had an inclination to philosophy, I did not fall into the hands of any sophist, and that I did not waste my time on writers of histories, or in the resolution of syllogisms, or occupy myself about the investigation of appearances in the heavens; for all these things require the help of the gods and fortune.
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From my grandfather Verus I learned decency and how to govern my temper.
From the memory and good name of my father I learned modesty and strength of character.
From my mother I learned reverence and generosity, and restraint—not only from doing wrong, but even from entertaining wrong thoughts; and further, simplicity in my way of living, far from the habits of the rich.
From my great-grandfather I learned to avoid public schools, to have good teachers at home, and to understand that one should spend freely on such things.
From my tutor I learned not to join the Green or Blue faction at the Circus, nor to take sides between one class of gladiator and another. From him too I learned endurance of hard work, to need little, to work with my own hands, not to meddle in other people’s business, and not to give slander a ready hearing.
From Diognetus I learned not to busy myself with trifles, and not to believe the claims of miracle-workers and jugglers about spells, exorcisms, and the like; not to breed quails for fighting or become feverish about such things; to endure frank speech; to become intimate with philosophy; to study first under Bacchius, then Tandasis and Marcianus; to write dialogues in my youth; and to want a plank bed, an animal skin, and the rest of what belongs to Greek philosophical discipline.
From Rusticus I got the first clear impression that my character needed correction and discipline. From him I learned not to be lured into the competitive vanity of the sophists; not to write speculative treatises; not to deliver miniature sermons; not to put discipline or public kindness on display; to leave rhetoric, poetry, and ornamental writing aside; not to parade about the house in formal dress; to write letters plainly, like the letter Rusticus wrote from Sinuessa to my mother; and, with regard to those who have hurt or wronged me, to be easy to pacify and reconcile as soon as they show the same readiness. I learned too to read carefully and not settle for a surface understanding of a book, not to rush into agreement with people who talk too much, and I owe to him my acquaintance with the discourses of Epictetus, which he shared with me from his own collection.
From Apollonius I learned freedom of will and unwavering steadiness of purpose; to look to nothing else, not even for a moment, except reason; to remain the same in sharp pain, in the loss of a child, and in long illness; and to see clearly in one living man that the same person can be both utterly resolute and yet yielding, and not peevish in teaching. Before my eyes I had a man who plainly counted his experience and his skill in explaining philosophical principles as the smallest of his merits. From him I also learned how to receive what are counted favours from friends without being diminished by them or letting them pass as nothing.
From Sextus I learned a benevolent disposition, the example of a household governed in a fatherly way, and the idea of living in accord with nature; seriousness without affectation; careful regard for the interests of friends; and patience with ignorant people and with those who form opinions without thinking. He knew how to adapt himself readily to anyone, so that living with him was more agreeable than any flattery, and at the same time he was deeply revered by those who were with him. He had the gift of discovering and arranging, intelligently and methodically, the principles necessary for life. He never showed anger or any other passion, yet was at the same time deeply affectionate. He could express approval without noise, and he possessed much knowledge without display.
From Alexander the grammarian I learned to refrain from fault-finding, and not to rebuke people harshly when they used a barbarism, a solecism, or some awkward expression; instead, to bring in the right expression deftly—by way of answer, confirmation, further inquiry into the thing itself rather than the word, or some other fitting hint.
From Fronto I learned to notice what envy, duplicity, and hypocrisy live inside a tyrant, and that those we call high-born are often lacking in natural affection.
From Alexander the Platonic I learned not often, nor without necessity, to say to anyone—or write in a letter—that I have no time; and not to keep excusing the neglect of duties owed to the people around me by pleading urgent business.
From Catulus I learned not to be indifferent when a friend complains, even if he complains without reason, but to try to restore him to his usual temper; to be ready to speak well of teachers, as was said of Domitius and Athenodotus; and to love my children truly.
From my brother Severus I learned love of my own people, love of truth, and love of justice. Through him I came to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, and Brutus. From him too I received the idea of a commonwealth in which one law holds for all, administered with equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and the idea of kingship that respects above all the freedom of the governed. I learned from him as well consistency and unwavering steadiness in my regard for philosophy; a readiness to do good and give freely; the habit of hopeful expectation; and confidence that I am loved by my friends. In him I also saw no concealment of what he thought about those he condemned, so that his friends never had to guess what he wanted or did not want: it was plain.
From Maximus I learned self-government and not being turned aside by anything; cheerfulness in every circumstance, including illness; a right mixture of sweetness and dignity in character; and the habit of doing what lies before me without complaint. I observed that everyone believed he meant what he said, and that in all he did he never had a bad intention. He was never astonished or theatrical in surprise; never hurried, never postponing; never perplexed or dejected; never laughing to hide annoyance, and never, on the other hand, angry or suspicious. He was accustomed to beneficence, ready to forgive, and free from falsehood. He gave the impression not of a man corrected into goodness, but of a man who could not be bent away from what is right. I observed too that no one could feel despised by Maximus or think himself better than he was. He also knew how to be humorous without losing grace.
In my father I observed gentleness of temper and firmness without wavering in what he had decided after due thought; no vanity in the things people call honours; love of work and perseverance; readiness to hear anyone who had something to propose for the common good; and unwavering justice in giving each person what he deserved. I observed too that he knew from experience when severity was needed and when lenience; that he had overcome sexual desire for boys; that he thought of himself as no more than another citizen; and that he freed his friends from any obligation to dine with him or attend him whenever he travelled, so that if urgent business kept them away, they still found him unchanged. I also observed his habit of careful inquiry in every deliberation, his persistence, and his refusal to stop the investigation merely because first appearances had satisfied him. His disposition was to keep his friends, not to tire of them quickly, and not to be excessive in affection either; to be content and cheerful on every occasion; to foresee things far ahead and provide even for small matters without display; to check popular applause and every kind of flattery at once; to keep watch over the necessities of government; to manage expenditure well; and to endure criticism for such conduct patiently. He was neither superstitious toward the gods nor eager to win men by gifts, charm, or flattery of the crowd, but sober and steady in everything, with nothing mean in him and no love of novelty.
He used the things that make life easier, when fortune supplied them, without arrogance and without apology: when he had them, he used them naturally; when he did not, he did not miss them. No one could call him a sophist, a clever house-slave, or a pedant; everyone recognized in him a mature and finished man, beyond flattery, able to govern both himself and others. He honoured true philosophers without insulting pretenders or being easily led by them. He was easy in conversation and agreeable without affectation. He took reasonable care of his body’s health—not as someone clinging to life, not out of vanity, and not carelessly either—so that by his own discipline he rarely needed medicine or treatment. He was always ready, without envy, to yield to those who excelled in eloquence, law, morals, or anything else, and he helped each person gain the credit he deserved. He followed the customs of his country without making a show of doing so. He was not restless or fickle, but loved the same places and the same habits; and after severe headaches he returned fresh to his usual work.
He kept few secrets, and only rarely, and only in public matters. In spectacles, buildings, gifts to the people, and the rest, he showed prudence and economy, because he cared for what ought to be done, not for the reputation attached to doing it. He did not bathe at odd hours, obsess over building, fuss over food, clothes, or the beauty of his servants. In all his conduct there was nothing harsh, implacable, violent, or strained. He examined each thing distinctly, as if he had plenty of time: without confusion, in an orderly way, vigorously and consistently. What was said of Socrates could be said of him too: he knew both how to abstain from things and how to enjoy them, whereas most people are either too weak to go without them or unable to enjoy them without excess. To endure one condition and remain sober in the other is the mark of a soul complete and unconquerable; such was the soul he showed in Maximus’ illness.
To the gods I owe good grandfathers, good parents, a good sister, good teachers, good companions, good kinsmen, and good friends—almost every good thing. I owe it to the gods too that I was not hurried into offending any of them, though I had a temperament that, given the chance, might have led me there; but through their favour the circumstances never came together that would have put me to that test. I am grateful that I was not raised longer by my grandfather’s concubine; that I preserved the innocence of youth; that I did not prove my manhood too early, but delayed it even beyond the proper time; that I was placed under a ruler and father who could strip pride out of me and show me that a man may live in a palace without guards, embroidered robes, torches, statues, and all the rest of imperial display, and yet not become smaller in mind or slacker in the public business that belongs to a ruler. I thank the gods for giving me such a brother, whose character could rouse me to vigilance over myself and whose respect and affection could delight me; that my children were neither stupid nor deformed; that I did not advance farther in rhetoric, poetry, and the other studies in which I might perhaps have been wholly absorbed had I seen myself succeeding there; that I made haste to place the men who raised me in the honours they seemed to desire, instead of putting them off with the excuse that they were still young; that I knew Apollonius, Rusticus, and Maximus; that I received clear and repeated impressions of what it means to live according to nature, and what such a life is, so that, as far as the gods and their gifts and help and inspirations were concerned, nothing stood in the way of my beginning at once, and that if I still fall short, the fault is mine, because I did not attend to the gods’ warnings—almost their direct instructions; that my body has held out so long under such a life; that I never touched Benedicta or Theodotus, and that after falling into sexual passions I recovered; that though I was often out of humour with Rusticus, I never did anything I had reason to regret; that though my mother was fated to die young, she still spent her last years with me; that whenever I wished to help someone in need, I was never told I lacked the means; and that I myself was never driven to ask the same from anyone else; that I have such a wife—obedient, affectionate, and simple; that I had many good teachers for my children; that remedies were shown to me in dreams, both in other matters and against blood-spitting and dizziness; and that, when I turned toward philosophy, I did not fall into the hands of a sophist, nor waste my time on historians, syllogistic puzzles, or speculations about the heavens. For all these things require the help of the gods and fortune.
Companion apparatus
A single editorial apparatus for the whole book: what recurs, what hardens into pattern, and what kind of attention the book asks for.
Book I is not yet a book of arguments. It is a ledger of formation: family, tutors, friends, exemplars, habits, and restraints. Marcus begins by showing that character is inherited, borrowed, corrected, and received long before it is systematized.
The figures he honours share a family likeness: plain speech, patience, steadiness, freedom from display, and a refusal to make rank into theatre. The long portrait of Antoninus Pius is therefore more than filial praise. It is an imperial ethic: power justified by sobriety, attention, fairness, and self-command.
The closing thanksgiving matters because it includes not only gifts but prevented failures, avoided corruptions, and fortunate circumstances that Marcus did not engineer for himself. Book I should be read as dependence made explicit. Stoic self-rule begins here not in self-creation, but in gratitude for what formed the will capable of ruling itself.