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Books: Meditations

M >> Marcus Aurelius >> Meditations




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 contentedly, 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 anything amiss) nor men, (for it is through ignorance,
and therefore against their wills that they do anything amiss)
must he 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!

XI. Either fate, (and that either an absolute necessity,
and unavoidable decree; or a placable and flexible Providence)
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 Providence, 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 whiTest
thou thyself bast 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 welp nor a horse to neigh,
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 resolution 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 succced 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 he, 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 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 suffer 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 *OEo~p7poc*, 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 unto our bodies are whilest yet rude
and imperfect, until they be animated: and from their animation,
until their expiration: of what 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 puffed 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 moreover,
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 proceod 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 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 Caprem:
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 followeth the Gods with all simplicity. For, for a man
to be proud and high conceited, 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.

XXII. 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?

XXIII. There is but one light of the sun, though it be
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 intellectual 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 affection,
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 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 thyself 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 ordinary 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 yet acted of it? Thou hast well 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 FRONTO'

M. CORNELIUS FRONTO(1) 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 Tully 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,(2) 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 1815 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 (1) References are made to the edition
of Naber, Leipzig (Trübner), 1867.

(2) Ad Verum imp. Aur. Caes., ii, 7.

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 bard 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,
arid 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 loathsome 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 astonishment 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 Pronto had taught him to speak
the truth(2) although the context shows him to be speaking
of expression, it is still a point in favour of Pronto.
A sincere heart is better 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 difference 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 (1) Ad M. Caes iii. 17 (2) Ad M. Caes iii.
12 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. Pronto 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 CAESAR to his
friend FRONTO, greeting.(1) '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 increase 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 friendly to
your opponent if they should dissuade you from your accusation;
then 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 lie was
educated in the house of P. Calvisius, my gran(l-father, and that I
was educated by you; therefore I am full 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.'

(1) Ad M. Caes ii., 2.

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 Herodes
were such, that they can hardly be made agreeable; amongst them
being spoliation, violence, and murder. However, he is willing
even to let some of these drop if it be the prince's pleasure.
To this Marcus returned the following answer:-(1) '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 question 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.'
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 remarkable 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 he given from a letter of Fronto's (2) 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(3). Then I used to call you a hard man, no good company,
even disagreeable, 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
something 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.'

1. Ad. M. Caes., iii. 5. 2. iv. 12.

3 The text is obscure

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.(1)
'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 accidentally 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 killed him first.
If you are getting on better, that is a consolation.
My mother is easier now, thanks be to God. Good-bye, best and
sweetest master. My lady sends you greeting.'

(2)'What words can I find to fit my had 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.'

(3)'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.'

(1) Ad M. Caes., v. 8. (2) i. 2. (3) iii. 21.

(1)'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 1
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 anti, whenas,(2) 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 (3)0 my dear Fronto,
most distinguished Consul! I yield, you have conquered:
all who have ever loved before, you have conquered out and out
in love's contest. Receive 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."(4) 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 Plautus says,
her love is like rain, whose big drops not only penetrate
the dress, but drench to the very marrow.'