Meditations
φύσει ζῆν). 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 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, æther, 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 (φαντασίαι), and by experience of a number of these the
soul unconsciously conceives general notions (κοιναὶ ἔννοιαι) or
anticipations (προλήψεις). When the impression was such as to be
irresistible it was called (καταληπτικὴ φαντασία) one that holds fast,
or as they explained it, one proceeding from truth. Ideas and
inferences artificially produced by deduction 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
happiness, 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 virtue, and nothing but vice is bad.
Those outside things which are commonly called good or bad, such as
health and sickness, wealth and poverty, pleasure and pain, are to him
indifferent (ἀδιάφορα). All these things are merely the sphere in which
virtue may act. The ideal Wise Man is sufficient unto himself in all
things (αὐταρκής); 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 (προηγμένα) and what is undesirable
(ἀποπροηγμένα). They also held that for him who had not attained to the
perfect wisdom, certain actions were proper. (καθήκοντα) 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, (σωφροσύνη)
and has also its parallel in Christian ethics. The second point is a
strong insistence on the unity of the 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
again instructive to note that Christian sages insisted on the same
thing. Christians are taught that they are members of a worldwide
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 innermost 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_ with 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 _Imitation_, 'to overcome
himself, and every day to be stronger than himself.' 'In withstanding of
the passions standeth very peace of heart.' 'Let us set the axe to the
root, that we being purged of our passions may have a peaceable mind.'
To this end there must be 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 magnanimity. '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 it 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,' 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?' 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 together, 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 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 affection, 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, thou must be good;' 'doth any man offend? It is against
himself that he doth offend: 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. Perhaps 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 imperial
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 counteracting virtue; 'as, for example, against the
unthankful, it hath given goodness and meekness, as an antidote.'
One so gentle towards a foe was sure to be a good 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. Apollonius
taught him simplicity, reasonableness, gratitude, a love of true