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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78320 ***
+
+
+                         TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
+
+In the plain text version text in italics is enclosed by underscores
+(_italics_) and small capitals are represented in upper case as in SMALL
+CAPS.
+
+A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and non-hyphenated
+variants. For the words with both variants present the one more used
+has been kept.
+
+Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected.
+
+The original cover art has been modified by the transcriber and is
+granted to the public domain.
+
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+  [Illustration: “He spoke to them of the vanity of life.”] _Page 98._
+
+
+
+
+                      The Emperor Marcus Aurelius
+                           A STUDY IN IDEALS
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                           JOHN C. JOY, S.J.
+
+
+                               B. HERDER
+                   17 SOUTH BROADWAY, ST. LOUIS, MO.
+                   CATHOLIC TRUTH SOCIETY OF IRELAND
+                   24 UPPER O’CONNELL STREET, DUBLIN
+                                  1913
+
+
+                                 μητρι
+                            ὑπομνήσεως χάριν
+                                ἀπαρχαί
+
+
+   _Printed by_ BROWNE AND NOLAN, LTD., _Dublin_.
+
+
+
+
+                                CONTENTS
+
+                                                         PAGE
+                               CHAPTER I
+
+       PRELUDE                                            1
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+
+      THE BOY STOIC                                      11
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+
+      A PHILOSOPHER ON THE THRONE                        30
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+
+      LIFE IN THE PALACE                                 44
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+
+      ON THE DANUBE                                      55
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+
+      THE BOOK OF MEDITATIONS                            68
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+
+      LAST DAYS IN ROME                                  81
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+
+      “THE END OF THE OLD WORLD”                         95
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+
+      THE MARTYRS OF CHRIST                             106
+
+                               CHAPTER X
+
+      THE PAGAN À KEMPIS                                128
+
+      _Even in a palace, life may be led well!
+      So spake the imperial sage, purest of men,
+      Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den
+      Of common life, where, crowded up pell-mell._
+
+      _Our freedom for a little bread we sell,
+      And drudge under some foolish master’s ken
+      Who rates us if we peer outside our pen--
+      Matched with a palace, is not this a hell?_
+
+      _Even in a palace! On his truth sincere
+      Who spake these words, no shadow ever came
+      And when my ill-schooled spirit is aflame._
+
+      _Some nobler, ampler stage of life to win,
+      I’ll stop and say, “There were no succour here,
+      The aids to noble life are all within.”_
+
+                                  MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+
+                      The Emperor Marcus Aurelius
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I
+                                PRELUDE
+
+
+“Marcus Aurelius is perhaps the most beautiful figure in history. He
+is one of those consoling and hope-inspiring marks which stand for
+ever to remind our weak and easily discouraged race how high human
+goodness and perseverance have once been carried and may be carried
+again. The interest of mankind is peculiarly attracted by examples of
+signal goodness in high places; for that testimony to the worth of
+goodness is the most striking which is borne by those to whom all the
+means of pleasure and self-indulgence lay open, by those who had at
+their command the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them. Marcus
+Aurelius was the ruler of the grandest of Empires and he was one of the
+best of men. Besides him history presents one or two other sovereigns
+eminent for their goodness, such as Saint Louis and Alfred. But Marcus
+Aurelius has for us Moderns this great superiority of interest over
+Saint Louis or Alfred, that he lived and acted in a state of society
+modern by its essential characteristics, in an epoch akin to our own,
+in a brilliant centre of civilisation. Trajan talks of ‘our enlightened
+age’ just as glibly as The _Times_ talks of it. Marcus Aurelius thus
+becomes for us a man like ourselves, a man in all things tempted as we
+are. Saint Louis inhabits an atmosphere of medieval Catholicism which
+the man of the nineteenth century may admire, indeed, and passionately
+wish to inhabit, but which, strive as he will, he cannot really
+inhabit. Alfred belongs to a state of society half barbarous. Neither
+Alfred nor Saint Louis can be morally and intellectually as near to us
+as Marcus Aurelius.”
+
+These are the words of a writer in the highest degree representative
+of modern thought--Matthew Arnold. As such they will serve as a text
+for this study, and, I hope, as a justification for including it
+amongst the publications of the Catholic Truth Society. They will be a
+text since they touch on the points of greatest interest in the life
+of Marcus Aurelius; his high natural ideals; his fidelity in great
+part to those ideals; the contrast thus presented between him and his
+surroundings. This quotation from such a writer will also perhaps
+justify the appearance of this study in the good company of the C.T.S.
+catalogue, since it proves the interest which this pagan Emperor of
+Rome has for the men of our own time, whatever their opinions. For
+Christians there is the additional interest afforded by the contrast
+between his ideals and those of the martyrs--the ideals of nature and
+those of grace. Incidentally, a study of his life and age shows, as Mr.
+F. H. Myers well points out, how futile are the neo-pagan theories, so
+much in fashion in our own times, of the self-sufficiency of nature;
+and also, as Mr. Myers does not point out, how essential for heroic
+virtue is the indwelling of the Spirit of God, the supernatural aid of
+grace.
+
+The life of Marcus Aurelius has had a fascination for those in all
+ages who are interested in the strivings of human nature after the
+ideal--and these are, I suppose, most men of culture (_humani_ the
+Romans rightly called them). The early Christians took the same
+interest in him which they took in all the nobler pagans, in Plato and
+in Socrates, in Vergil, Seneca, and Epictetus; they praised his virtue
+and found in it a spur to higher things. If unregenerate nature could
+do so much, how ought not the regenerate blush for their tepidity?
+This was the sentiment also of that Cardinal Barberini who translated
+the Meditations which Marcus has left us. He dedicated the translation
+to his own soul “in order to make it redder than his purple at the
+sight of the virtues of this gentile.” Marcus’ contemporaries of all
+shades of opinion--Christians no less than pagans--bore testimony to
+the integrity of his life and, on the whole, the wisdom and justice
+of his rule. Long after his death his bust might be found amongst
+the household gods all over the Empire. In our own age when men are
+losing hold of the supernatural and trying to live without it, the high
+attainments of a mere pagan are held up for admiration. Dilettanti are
+in love with a moral code which brings with it no shocking sanctions; a
+generation sick unto death with scepticism seeks peace in an undogmatic
+philosophy of life: but it is all oil and no wine; therefore it heals
+not.
+
+Yet honour where honour is due; we have no wish to detract from the
+greatness of the good Emperor--a greatness which is only realised by
+contrast with the surroundings in which he lived.
+
+Rome, when Marcus came to rule over it, was the centre of a vast
+Empire and no capital has ever surpassed it in immorality. It had all
+the viciousness of Paris without its grace, the gross materialism of
+London enhanced by a system of slavery which brutalised master as well
+as slave, and all this joined to the superstition of Pekin. It had
+not improved, but rather the reverse, since St. Paul saw it delivered
+over to a reprobate sense. It was the spoiled child of its Empire. All
+Europe except Germany and Russia owned its sway and ministered to its
+desires; so did Asia Minor and Syria as far East as the Euphrates; so
+too did Egypt and the whole northern part of Africa. The wealth of
+all these provinces was borne by fleets of merchantmen to its port of
+Ostia; and not of these alone but the wealth also of India and China.
+But besides wealth they gave her something which she needed more: they
+gave her life. She must long ago have perished of corruption, did not
+the fresh pure blood of Britain, Gaul and Spain come throbbing through
+the Empire to give health to its diseased heart. Only when the heart
+itself became surcharged with corruption and poured its foulness back
+into the system did the Empire decay. But this was not yet. More than
+two centuries had to pass after the reign of Marcus Aurelius (A.D.
+160-181) before the final rot set in: such was the strange vitality of
+that Empire, the greatest the world has ever seen.
+
+From time to time the Emperors made desperate efforts to stem the
+rising tide of immorality. As practical men they recognised what
+Napoleon and even Voltaire recognised, that there could be no morality
+for the masses without religion; but they did not realise so clearly
+that there could be religion, especially pagan religion, without
+morality. This was indeed what came about in the second century,
+especially during the reigns of Marcus Aurelius and his predecessor.
+There was a great revival in religion but no corresponding improvement
+in morals. Nor was this strange. The gods themselves were represented
+as grossly immoral beings; religion was merely a business transaction
+with them--a _quid pro quo_--and under the code of honour which too
+often marks such transactions. Hence, if you safely could, it was quite
+the thing to cheat the gods; you took your chance, but the probability
+was that you would get the worst of it, since the gods were the more
+dexterous sharpers.
+
+Such were the old Græco-Roman gods; but just at this time there was new
+and better blood introduced into the Pantheon. The gods of Egypt and
+the East--Mithra and Isis--strange mystic deities, began to be in high
+honour all over the Empire. In these new cults there was much that was
+higher and nobler than the old Roman religion--in every religion, as
+St. Augustine says, there is something good and true--but mixed with
+this good there was gross immorality officially sanctioned.
+
+It is strange to think of Marcus as a devotee of all these
+superstitions; yet such he was. The intellectual and the cultured
+usually were sceptical about the tales of the gods; but few of them
+forbore paying them the customary homage. They looked on religion as
+a political and social duty and went through its functions as such.
+Marcus took the ceremonies more seriously than did the usual Roman of
+high rank; but even his faith in the old myths wavered. He was content,
+however, not to pry into high matters, and adopted the Stoic attitude
+towards them. These philosophers interpreted the legends, often by
+Procrustean methods, to suit their own doctrine, but in reality thought
+their truth or falsehood of little practical importance. For them
+the chief thing was to live a life of virtue, relying on one’s own
+strength. He who lived such a life they held to be better than the
+gods; and in fact many of them did lead admirable lives, as far as we
+can judge. Their virtue, if mingled most frequently with an unlovely
+and repellant pride, was at all events a relief amidst the universal
+corruption of pagan Rome.
+
+When we consider his pagan surroundings we marvel at the virtue of
+Marcus Aurelius; but, great as this was, Rome had now something greater
+far. There were at this time many silent figures who passed with
+downcast eyes and modest mien through her polluted streets; they met
+in strange places and celebrated strange rites; they did good to all;
+and all about them breathed a purer air, a fragrance of Heaven unknown
+before. These were they beside whose God-given strength of soul the
+strugglings of the Stoic Emperor were but the feeble gropings of an
+infant. Christianity was fast spreading over the Empire. Already the
+Catacombs were extending in a maze of net-work beside Rome. All was
+ready for the greatest persecution the Church had yet endured; this
+time it was to come from the hands of the well-meaning but narrow and
+unfortunate Marcus. In Rome itself the Christians were multiplying
+fast; converts were made amongst the nobility; long before they had
+penetrated even into “Cæsar’s household.” It was about this time that
+Tertullian wrote his well-known words: “We are but of yesterday and yet
+we fill every place--your cities, your houses, your fortresses, your
+_municipia_, councils, camps, tribes, decurias, palace, senate, forum;
+we leave you your temples.” And he adds, in words in which we must
+allow for rhetorical exaggeration: “Were we to detach ourselves from
+you, you would be scared by your solitude and by the silence, which
+would be like that of a dead world.”
+
+Though Marcus must have known from the police authorities the great
+numbers of the Christians, he understood little of their ideals. It is
+the tragedy of his noble life. To quote Arnold again: “What an affinity
+for Christianity had this persecutor of the Christians! The effusion
+of Christianity, its relieving tears, its happy self-sacrifice, were
+the very element one feels for which his spirit longed; they were near
+him, he touched them, he passed them by.... What would he have said
+to the Sermon on the Mount? ... What would have become of his notions
+of the _exitiabilis superstitio_ (the deadly superstition), of ‘the
+obstinacy of the Christians’? Vain question! Yet the greatest charm
+of Marcus Aurelius is that he makes us ask it. We see him wise, just,
+self-governed, tender, thankful, blameless; yet with all this agitated,
+stretching out his arms for something beyond, _tendentemque manus ripae
+ulterioris amore_.”
+
+Of the details of the external life of Marcus Aurelius we know very
+little. It is his internal life which interests us most, and that is
+recorded for us by his own hand in his book of Meditations. They are
+notes, meant probably for no eyes but his own, of his efforts after
+virtue--the record of his soul. That the ruler of the Roman Empire
+should have thought such thoughts and, in great part, lived up to them;
+that at the same time he, who represented the best that paganism could
+produce, should have fallen far short of the heroism shown by Christian
+slave-girls; that his life and meditations prove in the concrete how
+vast is the gulf between the natural and the supernatural: in these
+facts lie the various fascinations which the Emperor Marcus Aurelius
+has had for Pagan and Christian, for Atheist and Theist, for the
+Positivist, who would fain be rid of the supernatural, and the Mystic
+for whom the supernatural is everything.
+
+  _The author desires once for all to acknowledge his debt to numerous
+  writers dealing with the life and period of Marcus Aurelius. It is
+  hardly necessary to mention the names of Dill, Pater, and Renan._
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+                             THE BOY STOIC
+
+
+Annius Verus, known to the world by his adopted name as the Emperor
+Marcus Aurelius, was born at Rome in A.D. 121. His father, also Annius
+Verus, was descended from a Spanish family which a few generations
+before had settled in Rome. Of him we know little; but what we do
+know is favourable. Marcus tells us that “from his reputation and
+remembrance” he learned “modesty and a manly character.” His mother’s
+memory he always recalled with veneration and love. She it was that
+taught him “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.”
+
+When Marcus was born the reigning Emperor was Hadrian. Hadrian was
+himself a Spaniard and inclined to favour those of Spanish descent.
+Thus the family of Annius Verus came into prominence; and before Marcus
+was yet more than eight years of age the Emperor took a special
+interest in him.
+
+The boy even at this early age was not quite as the other children
+who passed to and fro in the Imperial palace. All through life his
+health was imperfect; yet even as a child he had begun to practise
+the Stoic austerities. He slept on a plank bed and was abstemious at
+table, and only at his mother’s request did he relax these practices.
+His biographer tells us that “he was grave from his first infancy.” In
+later years he himself thanked the gods “that he had never been hurried
+into any offence against them,” though, with his wonted candour, he
+adds, that he “had the disposition, which, if opportunity had offered,
+might have led him to do something of the kind; but, through their
+favour, there never was such a concurrence of circumstances as put me
+to the trial.” The candour of the child was so transparent that Hadrian
+used to call him not _Verus_ (true) but _Verissimus_ (exceedingly true).
+
+It was not strange that Hadrian should have been interested in this
+grave, pensive, unworldly child. He was a keen observer of human
+nature, and regarded with curiosity and a certain reverence a character
+so superior to its surroundings and withal the very antithesis of his
+own. He himself was a strange mixture of the Greek and the Roman.
+Roman in his legislative and administrative ability, he was Greek and
+modern in his love of novelty, his eager curiosity, his frivolous
+attitude towards life’s greatest problems--the problems of God and the
+soul. This last aspect of his character is enshrined for ever in his
+dying address to his soul:--
+
+          Animula, vagula, blandula,
+          Hospes comesque corporis,
+          Quae nunc abibis in loca;
+          Pallidula, rigida, nudula--
+          Nec, ut soles, dabis iocos?
+
+which Merivale thus translates,
+
+          “Soul of mine, pretty one, flitting one,
+          Guest and partner of my clay,
+          Whither wilt thou hie away;
+          Pallid one, rigid one, naked one--
+          Never to play again, never to play.”
+
+Candour, simplicity, purity, gravity: these were the old Roman virtues
+of the days of Cato; but they were little in fashion in the heyday
+of the Empire. However, they were interesting as antiquities; and
+Hadrian loved everything old because he was so modern himself: they had
+the charm of the _rus in urbe_, of innocence in high life, and were
+grateful to one who loved freshness; and so, while he was in Rome,
+Hadrian always had the boy near him. Hadrian and Marcus; the agnostic
+and the devotee; the lover of life and the boy Stoic; Greek frivolity
+and Roman _gravitas_: it is an interesting contrast.
+
+Already Marcus had the ritual instinct which marked him in later life
+and at the age of eight Hadrian appointed him chief of the College of
+Salii; a boy bishop of boy priests devoted to Mars, the god of War. In
+this office, in the early days of March, he led the patrician youth
+in their religious dances through the streets and presided at the
+Saliarian banquets. He was scrupulously exact in the fulfilment of
+these duties. He already knew by heart the antiquated formulas, couched
+in barbarous Latin, whose meaning most men had forgotten. In the
+complex ceremonies he never needed a prompter; such was his knowledge
+of their rubrics. In one of these rites the boys threw chaplets at
+the head of a reclining statue of Mars; but Marcus alone succeeded in
+crowning the god. It was an omen of the wars which later were to break
+in upon his peace.
+
+At the age of eleven Marcus adopted the _pallium_ or cloak of the
+Stoics--thus consecrating his life to divine philosophy. Hadrian
+knew Greek and loved Greek thoughts and Greek ways; he knew Plato
+and Plato’s ideal--the Philosopher-King. Here was an opportunity
+of realising the ideal; why not make Marcus Emperor? His fanciful
+mind would have a keen delight in speculating on the future of the
+Empire under such a rule. After me the deluge; and he resolved to let
+posterity have the benefit of the experiment, and lay the blame or
+merit of the result not on him but on Plato.
+
+He at first had adopted as his successor Lucius Verus, the handsome and
+dissolute father of the equally handsome and dissolute Lucius Verus,
+who was afterwards Marcus’ colleague as Emperor. But Lucius died before
+Hadrian, and he then chose a worthier successor. This was the best of
+Senators--a Roman of Cato’s school but free from the absurdities of
+that school--Antoninus Pius.
+
+In making this second choice Hadrian provided for the succession of the
+boy Marcus in due time. He ordered Antoninus to adopt as his sons and
+successors Marcus and the younger Lucius Verus. Thus began the lifelong
+attachment between Antoninus and Marcus--the rulers of the Golden
+Age--the most admirably virtuous, though far from being the ablest of
+the Roman Emperors.
+
+Beyond these few facts about his early boyhood scarcely anything has
+been handed down to us of his doings till his seventeenth year. What
+little we do know we owe to the famous first book of his Meditations.
+This he wrote one evening in his tent “among the Quadi, at the Granua,”
+a tributary of the Danube, during a lull in the war against the
+barbarians of the North. The troubles of his reign had made his later
+years a martyrdom that sorely tried his Stoic spirit, and on that
+evening his mind sought rest in thinking of his childhood and early
+youth. The book was written by an invalid amidst strife and hate and
+hardship; yet its ever-recurring note is the note of gratitude struck
+on the chords of love. He recalls with affection all who had been good
+to him--good in the truest sense; for they had moulded his soul to
+virtue.
+
+“To the gods,” he says, “I am indebted for having good grandfathers,
+good parents, a good sister, good teachers, good associates, good
+kinsmen, and friends, nearly everything good.” From the example or
+precept of each he learned some special virtue: from his grandfather
+Verus “good morals and the government of my temper”; from his director
+“to be neither of the green nor of the blue party at the games in the
+circus, not a partisan either of the Palmularius or the Scutarius at
+the gladiators’ fights; to endure labour and to want little; to work
+with my own hands, and not to meddle with other people’s affairs, and
+not to be ready to listen to slander.” Luxury, divorce, and slavery by
+this time had brought Roman family life to its lowest ebb of morality,
+and it is pleasing to find the harder and purer ideals of older times
+still honoured in at least some of the nobler households.
+
+Marcus was educated altogether by private teachers in his own home;
+he did not attend the public schools--a fact which he recalls with
+gratitude; and he had reason to be grateful. These schools had
+multiplied under the generous patronage of the Emperors; no expense
+was spared in securing for them the best possible teachers; but in
+them the theory of virtue was acquired, if acquired at all, at the
+cost of its practice. The _pædagogus_ or slave who accompanied each
+boy to and from school usually taught him a more insinuating and
+acceptable code of morality than the Stoic asceticism taught at times
+in the schools; though some even of the teachers seem to have vied
+with the slaves in the inculcation of immorality; hence these schools
+were hot-beds of vice and in ill-repute amongst parents who had a care
+for their children’s virtue. It is scarcely possible that the keen
+edge of Marcus’ moral nature should not have been blunted in such
+surroundings; even his passion for perfection could scarcely have
+kept him unscathed. As it was, he had the best teachers that could be
+procured, mostly belonging to the Stoic School, and in the first book
+of the Meditations he traces his development under their direction:--
+
+“From Diognetus I learned 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 demons and such
+things”--perhaps an allusion to the Christians--“and to have desired
+a plank bed and whatever else of this kind belongs to the Grecian
+discipline.” Rusticus, a famous Stoic philosopher--the same who
+afterwards as Prefect of Rome condemned St. Justin to death,--taught
+him to avoid sophistry, rhetoric, poetry, and fine-writing, then much
+in fashion; “not to walk about the house in my outdoor dress, nor to
+do other things of that kind”; to shun vindictiveness; to read deeply,
+not superficially; and, greatest benefit of all, he made him acquainted
+with the discourses of Epictetus. These discourses henceforth became
+his à Kempis and suggested the writing of his own Meditations.
+Apollonius--the most rigid of Stoics--impressed on him the great Stoic
+virtue “to look at 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.” This last sentence is full
+of suppressed pathos in view of his long life of ill-health and the
+early death of most of his children. He seems to struggle against the
+sense of the tears of things and the mortal woes that touch even the
+Stoic heart; but he is conscious that here at least he is too much a
+man to be a sage; for in his letters to Fronto we see the most tender
+solicitude for his delicate children, a mother’s anxiety as to every
+sign of their declining or returning health.
+
+As Diognetus had taught him austerity; Rusticus, sincerity; Apollonius,
+self-suppression; so it was a grandson of Plutarch’s, Sextus of
+Chaeronea, who taught him affection. From Alexander the grammarian,
+Fronto his tutor and intimate friend, and Alexander the Platonic he
+learned other graces of thought and manner out of which was woven that
+inexplicable thing, the character of the perfect gentleman, Nature’s
+saint. Catulus, though a Stoic, urged him “to love his children truly”;
+Severus, “to love my kin, to love truth and to love justice”; to know
+and honour the Stoic heroes and martyrs, Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato,
+Dion, Brutus; to have as his ideal “a polity administered with equal
+rights and equal freedom of speech, and a kingly government, which
+respects most of all the freedom of the governed.” But of all his
+teachers none can have had so beneficial an effect on his too rigid
+nature as Maximus. His character is that of the natural man at his best.
+
+With Maximus he closes the list of his teachers. His minute observation
+of their characteristics, remembered through a troubled life,
+paralleled only by the minuteness of his self-analysis, testifies to
+his intense desire for virtue. So intense indeed was this desire that
+it became a moral disease which to some extent paralysed his power for
+action. But, despite its excess, we must pay homage to this thirst of
+the soul, this torture of the spirit, those
+
+  “High instincts, before which our mortal nature
+  Did tremble, like a guilty thing surprised.”
+
+Fully to slake that thirst, to alleviate that torture, Marcus should
+have shared the love-feasts of the Christians, the morning sacrifices,
+the homilies and the ceremonies of the Catacombs. But he knew not the
+sublime secrets, the treasure, hidden beneath the earth he daily trod.
+
+Hadrian died in A.D. 138, when Marcus was seventeen years of age.
+Antoninus Verus, better known as Antoninus Pius, succeeded as Emperor,
+betrothed Marcus to his beautiful daughter Faustina, and had them both
+to live with him during the rest of his life in the Imperial household.
+Henceforth Marcus and Antoninus were bound by the closest ties of
+friendship. Marcus revered Antoninus with an almost superstitious
+reverence. Antoninus’ word was law for him, and afterwards in the
+rule of the Empire he sought to avoid the least deviation from his
+predecessor’s rule of action. In this he was wise, if we are to judge
+by the picture he himself has left us of Antoninus. He says:--“In him
+I observed mildness of temper, constancy and contempt of honours;
+a love of labour and readiness to listen to the advice of others;
+strict justice; a knowledge of the time for vigorous action and
+for remissness. He considered himself no more than a citizen. His
+disposition was to keep his friends, and not to be soon tired of them,
+nor yet to be extravagant in his affection; to be contented, cheerful
+and provident; to shun flattery and display; to be watchful over the
+affairs of the Empire and to be economic in expenditure. In regard
+to the gods, he avoided superstition; as to philosophy, he was not
+a sophist or a pedant, but honoured true philosophers; not however
+reproaching pretended philosophers nor yet being their dupe. In society
+he was easy and agreeable and free from all petty jealousy. After his
+paroxysms of headaches he came immediately fresh and vigorous to his
+usual occupations. His secrets were not many but very few and very
+rare, and these only about public matters. He was a man who looked
+to what ought to be done, not to the reputation which is got by a
+man’s acts. That saying 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. To be strong 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.”
+
+In many respects the character of Antoninus was more admirable than
+that of his successor, whose glory has eclipsed his. He was an abler
+ruler because he was not so good a Stoic. He had more of human sympathy
+and a more varied interest in life because he was not so much engrossed
+in the study of his own soul. He was simple, kind, and genial, whereas
+Marcus was cold, reserved, self-conscious. As Renan says: “Antoninus
+was a philosopher without boasting of it, almost without knowing
+it. Marcus Aurelius was a philosopher of admirable temperament and
+sincerity, but he was a philosopher by reflection.” Of the two, the
+more attractive is the philosopher by nature, who knows not that he is
+so. The philosopher by reflection is always a difficult person and on
+occasion may be terrible. Had Antoninus written a book of Meditations
+they would probably have shown a less thorough analysis of the human
+soul in all its varying moods, a less gnawing desire for perfection,
+but they would present a character more pleasing to and imitable by
+those whose ways are the ways of men and not of the abstraction of a
+man--which is what the Stoic “wise man” would be.
+
+Antoninus loved all the innocent pleasures of life. But most of all
+he loved the joys of rural life--the joys of sea and air and wood and
+blue Italian sky, the ardour of the chase and the mirth of the harvest
+home. He lived most of his life in this simple way at his villa at
+Lorium with his own household and Marcus Aurelius. The letters of
+Marcus to his tutor Fronto give us a vivid picture of this life. When
+the correspondence begins, Marcus was about eighteen years of age. He
+writes during the vintage season:--
+
+“MY DEAREST MASTER,--I am well. To-day I studied from three till
+eight in the morning after taking food. I then put on my slippers,
+and from eight till nine 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 be seen. However, we climbed a pretty steep hill
+and in the afternoon returned home. I went straight to my books. Off
+with my boots, down with my 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 those speeches from the library of
+Apollo. No use to send; I have these 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 I shall expect to go shares with him.
+Well, after reading those speeches, I wrote a wretched trifle destined
+for drowning or burning. 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 a cold, whether from walking in
+slippers or from writing badly, I do not know. I am always annoyed with
+phlegm, but to-day 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.”
+
+I shall have so much to say of the virtue of Marcus Aurelius, and it is
+such a rare thing to get a saint or an emperor off his guard, putting
+on his slippers, grumbling at the noise outside his windows or catching
+a cold and sneezing--though I am sure they do those things--that I
+cannot refrain from quoting another letter; it tells us more about this
+cold, and is the only place in literature, as far as I know, where it
+is recorded that a philosopher, a saint, or an emperor took a bath and
+snored. He writes to Fronto:--
+
+“MY BELOVED MASTER,--I am well. I slept a little more than usual on
+account of my slight cold, which seems to be well again. So I spent
+my time from five till nine in the morning partly in reading Cato’s
+agriculture, partly in writing, not quite so badly as yesterday
+indeed. Then after waiting upon my father I soothed my throat with
+honey-water, ejecting it without swallowing. Then I attended my father
+as he offered sacrifice. Then to breakfast. What do you think I ate?
+Only a little bread, though I saw others devouring beans, onions, and
+sardines! Then we went out to the vintage and got hot and merry, but
+left a few grapes still hanging, as the old poet says, ‘atop on the
+topmost bough.’ At noon we got home again; I worked a little but it
+was not much good. Then I chatted a long time with my mother as she
+sat on her bed. My conversation consisted of, ‘What do you suppose my
+Fronto is doing at this moment?’ to which she answered, ‘and my Gratia,
+what is she doing?’ and then I, ‘and our little darling, the younger
+Gratia?’ And while we were talking and quarrelling as to which of us
+loved all of you best, the gong sounded, which meant that father had
+gone across to the bath. So we bathed, and dined in the oilpress room.
+I don’t mean that we bathed in the press room; but we bathed and then
+dined and amused ourselves with listening to the peasants’ banter. And
+now that I am in my own room again, before I roll over and snore, I am
+fulfilling my promise and giving an account of my day to my dear tutor;
+and if I could love him better than I do, I would consent to miss
+him even more than I miss him now. Take care of yourself, my best and
+dearest Fronto, wherever you are. The fact is that I love you, and you
+are far away.”
+
+So far we have seen only the edifying--almost priggish--side of Marcus’
+character. The monotony of his perfection is relieved by the following
+incident, which shows that at this time he had just enough mischief in
+him--though it be but little--to make him amiable. He writes:--“When my
+father returned home from the vineyards, I mounted my horse as usual,
+and rode on ahead some little way. On the road was a herd of sheep,
+standing crowded together as though the place were a desert, with four
+dogs and two shepherds but nothing else. Then one shepherd said to
+another on seeing the horsemen: ‘I say, look at these horsemen; they
+do a deal of robbery.’ On hearing this, I clap spurs to my horse and
+ride straight for the sheep. They scatter in consternation--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.”
+
+Thus the days went happily at Lorium in the companionship of Pius,
+itself “a school of all the virtues.” For twenty-three years
+Marcus studied in this school, but like all good things this sweet
+discipleship too had an end. In A.D. 161 Antoninus died a death as
+peaceful as his life had been. Feeling the end nigh he put his affairs
+in order and commanded that the golden statue of Fortune, the symbol
+of Empire, which had ever to stand in the Emperor’s state apartments,
+should be borne to Marcus’ chamber. To the tribune on duty he gave
+the password _Æquanimitas_ (peace of soul) as the watchword of the
+night,--the night of his own soul; then turning about, he seemed to
+fall asleep: his own peaceful spirit had passed away; “κατ’ἰσὸν ὑπνῷ
+μαλακωτάτῳ as if in gentlest sleep.”
+
+The sceptre passed into the hands of Marcus, then forty years of age.
+For him it was the beginning of sorrows. Æschylus would have said that
+the gods were jealous of his too great prosperity. In his private
+life they were good to him on account of his virtues, but it were
+unmeet that with such virtues mortal man should join the sovereignty
+of the world; for such a one might justly claim more homage than
+the questionable individuals who inhabited Olympus with the title
+of “gods.” The lot of men also had been too happy in the Golden
+Age of the Antonines: it would exceed all measure were Marcus, the
+ideal philosopher-king, to rule with such favour from above as his
+predecessors had enjoyed. So might Æschylus have prophesied truly after
+the event, as is the way with moralists. Thenceforth the glory of that
+age waned. To the philosopher by nature had succeeded the philosopher
+by reflection. We shall see the result of the change.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+                      A PHILOSOPHER ON THE THRONE
+
+
+Plato had said that the world would never enjoy happiness until
+a philosopher should become king or until a king should become
+a philosopher. With the accession of Marcus the rule of the
+philosopher-king was an accomplished fact; according, to Gibbon, “the
+happiness of the subject was the one object of government,” and all
+the good effects anticipated by Plato were brought about. “If a man
+were called on,” says he, “to fix the period in the history of the
+world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and
+prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which elapsed from
+the death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus” (thus including
+the reigns of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus and Marcus Aurelius).
+But later historians have reversed this verdict on the Golden Age.
+They have shown that the reign of Marcus Aurelius was one of singular
+disasters to the State. And indeed Marcus himself had no such faith
+in the magical power of philosophy on the throne; he did not believe
+in the possibility of realising the Ideal State. “Do not,” he says,
+“expect Plato’s Republic: but be content if the smallest thing goes
+on well, and consider such an event to be no small matter. For who
+can change men’s principles? and without a change of principles what
+else is there than the slavery of men who groan while they pretend to
+obey? Simple and modest is the work of philosophy. Draw me not aside to
+insolence and pride.”
+
+But if Marcus despaired of establishing the reign of Philosophy as the
+Queen of Men, he, at any rate, secured the rule of the Philosophers.
+Already under Antoninus they had been in high honour; but under Marcus
+they filled all the great offices of State. Sophists and rhetoricians
+were elevated to the senate, and became consuls and proconsuls merely
+because they preached renunciation and had been Marcus’ tutors. He
+placed their images amongst his household gods and their statues in
+the forum and the senate-house. They were rulers in the provinces,
+judges in the law-courts, leaders in the senate. And on the whole they
+acquitted themselves well; though amongst their number there were not
+a few impostors, long beards, asceticism and rough cloaks became the
+fashion and profitable. “His beard is worth ten thousand sesterces to
+him,” was the remark passed on one of them; “come, we shall have to pay
+goats a salary next!” Marcus distinguished between “true philosophers”
+and “pretended philosophers,” and learnt from Antoninus to esteem the
+former and to show indulgence to the latter, yet “without permitting
+himself to be their dupe.”
+
+When it got to court, Stoicism put away its primitive roughness. “Plain
+living and high thinking” became the accepted creed among the brilliant
+society of which Faustina was the centre and the exemplar; just as
+now in England ritualism and “the Rome-ward movement” become from
+time to time the tone amongst elegant blue-stockings of both sexes.
+But of course in Rome, as in London, it would have been bad taste to
+take seriously what was, with them, at least, merely an interesting
+sentiment. Society now turns out to hear the newest preacher on the
+newest theology, or the fashionable and good-looking preacher on any
+or no theology. So, too, then; Faustina and the Roman ladies came in
+all the glory of flowered silk and rare jewels to the Temple of Peace,
+there to hear Rusticus or Fronto, or the Emperor Aurelius himself,
+lecturing on the vanity of vanities, the shortness of life, the
+blessedness of renunciation. Great families had each its philosopher--a
+kind of family chaplain; and the great ladies came in their sedan
+chairs to consult their philosophical director on the latest freaks of
+their fancy.
+
+This interest in philosophy was partly the cause, partly the effect, of
+a general movement towards more humane views. The hard pagan world was
+beginning to soften; and this humanity was the greatest glory of the
+Golden Age. The Stoics preached the brotherhood of man, and sympathy
+with men, as men. Hence charity too became part of the Time-Spirit and
+showed itself in milder legislation and in beneficent institutions.
+The great ones of the world at last took notice of the weak and the
+outcast; the stern rule of might and the pitiless destruction of the
+“unfit” at last yielded to altruistic sentiments. The slave, the
+orphan, and woman were no longer to be the prey of society.
+
+In his legislation in favour of the oppressed Marcus Aurelius did but
+carry on the work begun by Antoninus and his excellent council of
+jurists. Their first care was to make easier the lot of the slave.
+Seneca had said: “All men, if you only go back to their beginnings,
+have the gods for their fathers”; and Epictetus: “The slave like you
+is the son of Zeus”; and it was in this spirit of reverence for his
+fellow-man as his brother and his equal that Marcus sought to confer
+on him, in addition to a theoretical fraternity and equality, the third
+of the trinity--freedom. The master was no longer allowed absolute
+power of life and death over his slaves; the slave was recognised as
+having rights; and enfranchisement was encouraged. As the condition of
+the slave, so too that of women and orphans was improved. The inhuman
+position of woman under old Roman law, by which she was practically
+excluded from recognition as a member of the family, was altered by
+laws conferring on her rights of property; while orphans were provided
+for by numerous charitable institutions.
+
+The first of these institutions endowed by public funds had been
+founded by the Emperors Nerva and Trajan. They were multiplied and
+developed by Antoninus and still further by Marcus. On the death of
+the elder Faustina, Antoninus had founded an institution for orphan
+girls--called the _puellae Faustinianæ_ (the little maidens of
+Faustina); and on the death of the younger Faustina, Marcus, faithful
+in this as in all else to the example of Antoninus, founded a similar
+orphanage. These charitable works and many others he was enabled to
+carry out by the large fortune, amounting to twenty-two million pounds,
+which Antoninus had bequeathed to him.
+
+Yet all his financial policy was not so wise. His good nature and
+easy-going attitude towards money matters may have been good Stoicism,
+but it was bad statesmanship. On his accession he gave each of the
+soldiers of the Praetorian guard a largess of £160 and to the other
+soldiers a proportional sum. He frequently distributed free corn to the
+mob, and, towards the end of his reign, remitted large debts due to
+the Treasury; and ordered that in all cases of prosecution on behalf
+of the treasury, the benefit of the doubt was to be given in favour of
+the defendant. This was all very well while Antoninus’ legacy lasted;
+but the season of leanness soon came, and war and the plague left the
+public finances in so desperate a condition that he had to sell his own
+personal property and debase the coinage.
+
+The result of this generosity had been to make him the idol of the
+unthinking mob, though we have every reason to believe that this
+popularity was not sought for. Of the wise man he says: “As to what
+any man shall say or think about him or do against him, he never even
+thinks of it, being himself contented with these two things: with
+acting justly in what he now does, and being satisfied with what is now
+assigned to him; and he lays aside all distracting and busy pursuits,
+and desires nothing else than the straight course through the law,
+and, by accomplishing the straight course, to follow God.” He showed
+his indifference to the praise of the groundlings in a practical way
+in his legislation as regards the games. He put restrictions on the
+gladiatorial contests, and limited the rates of allowance to the stage
+performers.
+
+In the eyes of the Roman people the magnificence of the games and
+public shows was the one test of munificence. Hence it was something
+to have checked those degrading spectacles, but here, as afterwards in
+his persecution of the martyrs, he yielded complaisance to conventional
+views. He lacked the strength of will to enforce his own ideals; and
+perhaps it was as well that he recognised his deficiency and did not
+attempt what was, for one of his calibre, the impossible. On great
+occasions, to please his colleague Lucius or his wife Faustina, or
+in deference to the popular wishes, he used to attend these shows in
+state. But when he was present there was to be no shedding of human
+blood, at any rate by a fellow-man, though he seems to have allowed the
+fights with the beasts. Dion Cassius records this fact: “The Emperor
+Marcus was so far from taking delight in spectacles of bloodshed,
+that even the gladiators in Rome could not obtain his inspection of
+their contests, unless, like the wrestlers, they contended without
+imminent risk; for he never allowed the use of sharpened weapons, but
+universally they fought before him with weapons blunted.”
+
+He himself, even when presiding, took little interest in the contests.
+He spent his time in reading or writing or transacting official
+business, giving audiences or signing State papers, much to the disgust
+of the populace. They hated such superior refinement and would have
+preferred a sportsman to a philosopher as their ruler. They looked on
+the Emperor as a milksop, not altogether without reason, though the
+right reason was not their reason. He showed his contempt for their
+opinions on one occasion in a most emphatic manner. A lion, trained by
+a slave to devour human beings, acquitted himself so well in one of
+these spectacles in the Emperor’s presence that the whole amphitheatre
+rang with applause, and on every side a shout was raised that a slave
+who had served the people’s pleasures so well, deserved freedom. The
+Emperor, angered at the brutality which he could not prevent, had
+averted his eyes, and now replied, “The man has done nothing worthy of
+liberty.” Another anecdote shows his care for even the most outcast
+of his subjects--those whom the ordinary Roman valued and heeded less
+than the beasts of burden. He was present one day at an exhibition
+of rope-dancing, when suddenly one of the performers--a boy--missed
+his footing, fell into the arena and was hurt. Thereupon the Emperor
+ordered that nets and mattresses should always be spread beneath the
+rope-walkers.
+
+Despite these attempts--feeble they seem and few--at amelioration and
+at instilling a higher view of human nature, the amphitheatre still
+remained “the great slaughter-house.” When we look at Marcus’ statue
+high in the Pantheon of the Positivists, we must remember another
+figure, cold and abstracted indeed, but thus all the more convicted
+of feebleness, under the awning and the perfume sprays and flowers
+of the Roman amphitheatre looking on with impassive tolerance at the
+spectacle of human and animal suffering, the daily bread of the most
+brutal of all populaces. True, he could soothe his soul by a Stoic
+aphorism on the nothingness of pain, or some other such mockery of
+human misery--the necessary refuge of those who had no certainty of a
+larger hope. For mockery truly must any solution of the problem of evil
+be, and vain comfort, which was not written on Calvary. That Marcus
+could look on such suffering unmoved; that he could order it for his
+fellow-man when the turn of the Christians came; this removes him from
+what Christians look for in their leaders to the land of Promise. It
+mattered little that he did not take the delight and interest which
+Faustina, seated by strange irony among the Vestal Virgins, robed in
+all the magnificence which the Via Nova could produce, took in her
+favourite gladiators; or which Commodus, the centre of the fastest
+group of young Roman nobles, manifested at every thrust, eager for the
+day when he himself could enter the arena as Emperor and fight with the
+beasts. The mere fact that he could countenance such brutality condemns
+him to the level of conventional mediocrity.
+
+As Pater says: “Those cruel amusements were, certainly, the sin of
+blindness, of deadness and stupidity.... Yes! what was needed was the
+heart that would make it impossible to witness all this; and the future
+would be with the forces that could beget a heart like that.... Surely
+evil was a real thing, and the wise man wanting in the sense of it,
+where not to have been, by instinctive election, on the right side was
+to have failed in life.”
+
+The humanity of the age, though unable to effect any appreciable
+reform of the amphitheatre, did much for the relief of the sick. The
+great plague brought back from the East by Lucius Verus and his troops
+was ravaging the Empire. It has been compared to the great plague of
+Athens, which will live for ever in Thucydides’ vivid phrases, and
+to the Black Death of the 14th century. Niebuhr says that it was a
+disaster from which the old world never recovered. Asia Minor, Greece,
+Italy, and Gaul were darkened by its passing; and in Rome itself, so
+Dio, a Roman senator, tells us, two thousand men were buried every
+day. A Golden Age! An age of peace and happiness indeed! Rather an age
+whose glory is that it was an age of hospitals, of funeral clubs and
+orphanages; of relief of suffering rather than freedom therefrom.
+
+The temples of Æsculapius, the god of healing, had long been used as
+a kind of hospital for the sick, but never before to such an extent
+as in the Antonine age. The priests of this god were initiated into
+a secret medical lore. His temples could vie with the great medieval
+monasteries in the scenic beauty and salubrity of their surroundings.
+The excellence of the climate, the traditional lore, the healthy diet
+and more healthy abstinence, the careful nursing and the freshness
+and brightness of the surroundings, were really efficacious remedies.
+Thus, those who laboured under any illness came far and near to the
+most famous shrines, such as that of Epidaurus, whose ruins still
+remain as a silent witness of its whilom greatness. Their hope was
+that they would be favoured with a dream or vision from the kindly
+god as to the remedy for their disease. The career of Aristeides,
+wandering for thirteen years with fanatical enthusiasm from shrine to
+shrine till finally he was cured, shows to what extremes superstition
+carried some of those devotees. On one occasion while suffering from a
+fever, he thought he had a vision of the god bidding him bathe in the
+ice-cold water, and then run a mile, and he carried out this and many
+other such assuredly unearthly remedies despite the dissuasions of the
+priests. These priests, the _neocoroi_, used to interpret the dream,
+and the prescriptions were carried out by medical men and attendants.
+The belief in the efficacy of these dream-sent prescriptions was not
+confined to the vulgar. Marcus Aurelius believed that he himself had
+been cured thus; and his wise physician, Galen, trusted them. Readers
+of _Marius, the Epicurean_, will not easily forget Pater’s description
+of Marius’ stay in the Temple, nor the words of thanksgiving addressed
+to the heaven-sent dreams which he puts on his lips at parting; they
+are from the Asclepiadæ of Aristeides: “O ye children of Apollo!
+who in time past have stilled the waves of sorrow from many people,
+lighting up a lamp of safety before those who travel by sea and land,
+be pleased, in your great condescension, though ye be equal in glory
+with your elder brethren, the Dioscuri, and your lot in immortal youth
+be as theirs, to accept the prayer, which in sleep and vision ye
+have inspired. Order it aright, I pray you, according to your loving
+kindness to men. Preserve me from sickness, and endue my body with such
+a measure of health as may suffice it for the obeying of the spirit,
+that I may pass my days unhindered and in quietness.”
+
+Thus charity and culture progressed under the Antonines. So, too,
+did industry and trade, which brought with them prosperity and its
+attendant luxury until the advent of plague and famine. We are told
+that each year the treasures of the East were brought by a fleet of
+one hundred and twenty vessels to the ports of the Red Sea, to be
+transferred thence through Alexandria to Rome. The silks of China, the
+spices and perfumes of India and Arabia, pearls and diamonds, which
+were to glitter on the togas of young nobles or round the necks of fair
+ladies in the Vicus Tuscus, formed the precious cargo. In return for
+these Rome sent annually three-quarters of a million pounds--worth
+several times that amount now. “The coast of Malabar and the island of
+Ceylon grew rich as trade emporia for the luxuries of Rome and Roman
+merchants penetrated the East as consuls of sensuality for the senators
+and the ‘friends’ of Cæsar.”
+
+All this led to softening and decadence in the army and in the nation.
+With the blessings of peace there came also its vices; the advances in
+prosperity and humanity, such as it was, was not accompanied by any
+improvement in morals, but perhaps the reverse. The results of Marcus’
+reign did not justify Plato’s expectation from the philosopher-king.
+What Marcus might have accomplished under less unfavourable
+circumstances we cannot surmise; he certainly had not the strength of
+mind or body necessary for carrying out far-reaching reforms in such an
+Empire. As it was, he was singularly unfortunate in his public life:
+war, plague and famine--a trinity which no State could resist--rendered
+him powerless. His reign left little outward impress on the Roman
+State; his greatest legacy to Rome and to the world was the development
+of humane legislation, the reverence for mind above matter, and the
+example of a disinterested and noble ruler.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+                           LIFE IN THE PALACE
+
+
+There is much truth in the saying, “No man is a hero to his valet”--be
+his reputed heroism either of the physical or the moral type. Humanity,
+even at its best, is an imperfect thing, much in need of the kindly
+haze which mostly veils its withered ruggedness; and many an angel of
+sweetness and light reveals the serpent’s tail on too close inspection;
+but I have no such revelation to offer in this chapter. Indeed, it is
+in his intimate domestic life that Marcus appears to best advantage.
+His presence in the palace brought with it a sense of restfulness, of
+serenity and calm, of mutual forbearance and love. It was as if some
+pale glimmer of the Christian love-light played about him and diffused
+itself over all that came within the charmed round. His household
+was known as the _Sacra Domus_--“the sacred house.” Thus the _Pax
+Romana_--the peace that was the gift of the Antonines--though lost to
+the Empire, was never interrupted in the Emperor’s home; and to Marcus
+is due the credit.
+
+All through life it was his lot to consort with persons having sadly
+different views from his own on the meaning of existence, the value
+of virtue; yet he was kind and sociable with all. In this he did but
+follow the example of the gods: “They are not vexed because, during so
+long a time, they must tolerate men, such as they are, and so many of
+them bad; and besides this they also take care of them in all ways. But
+thou, who art destined to end so soon, art thou wearied of enduring
+the bad, and this, too, when thou art one of them?” This tolerance
+towards the failings of others had its source in his peculiar gospel of
+resignation:--or should we say, fatalism? “That is good for each thing
+which the universal nature brings to each. And it is for its good at
+the time when nature brings it. ‘The earth loves the shower,’ and ‘the
+solemn æther loves,’ and the Universe loves to make whatever is about
+to be. I say then to the Universe: ‘I love as thou lovest.’” In this
+spirit he bore the trials of his domestic, as of his public, life; keen
+griefs coming from without and from within; and the keenest of all for
+one of his affectionate nature were those of his own household.
+
+Apollonius had taught him “to be always the same in sharp pains, and on
+the occasion of the loss of a child and in long illness.” He learnt
+the theory of indifference to natural affection; but, fortunately,
+never the practice. The severe light of Stoicism was softened and
+suffused in passing through the medium of his gentle nature; he trusted
+the reasons of the heart, more than those of the pure intellect. If
+Stoic cosmopolitanism would have him care for men in inverse proportion
+to their nearness to him, he must depart from type in this. To his
+wife Faustina, to his children, to his tutor Fronto and to Fronto’s
+children, especially “little Gratia,” he was genuinely devoted.
+
+The correspondence with Fronto, if too effusive for our taste, yet
+shows both in their best light. It is full of tender references to
+the “little ones,” their joys and their ailments. Fronto writes to
+the Emperor: “I have seen the little ones--the pleasantest sight of
+my life; for they are as like yourself as could possibly be. It has
+well repaid me for my journey over that slippery road and up those
+steep rocks: for I behold you, not simply face to face before me,
+but, more generously, whichever way I turned, to my right and to my
+left. For the rest, I found them, Heaven be thanked, with healthy
+cheeks and lusty voices. One was holding a slice of white bread,
+like a king’s son; the other a crust of brown bread, as becomes the
+offspring of a philosopher. I pray the gods to have both the sower and
+the seed in their keeping, to watch over this field wherein the ears
+of corn are so kindly alike. Ah! I heard, too, their pretty voices,
+so sweet that in the childish prattle of one and the other I seemed
+to be listening--yes! in that chirping of your pretty chickens--to
+the limpid and harmonious notes of your own oratory. Take care! You
+will find me growing independent having those I could love in your
+place;--love, on the surety of my eyes and ears.” The Emperor replies
+with equal affection: “I, too, have seen my little ones in your sight
+of them: as also I saw yourself in reading your letter. It is that
+charming letter which forces me to write thus.” Alas! Apollonius;
+what has become of the Stoic ἀπάθεια which you inculcated with such
+great pains? The spirit indeed was willing, but the flesh was weak;
+and so the good Emperor cared more for the slender breath of life that
+kept soul and body together in his little Annius Verus than for all
+the sublime mysticity of the Weltseele--the world-soul of the Stoic
+creed. All the sadder was the early death of his children, one after
+another; one son alone being left to him--Commodus, his successor in
+the Empire--assuredly not the fittest to survive. “Better that he had
+never been born,” anyone had said, except he who had most right of
+all to say it. But for Marcus, whatever was, was right; the gods, if
+gods there were, determined all things, and they could do no wrong.
+Commodus, bright, handsome, impulsive, wayward, fond of gladiators and
+low life, found the teaching of Fronto and his father little to his
+taste. He was more at home in the circus and the amphitheatre than
+in the lecture-room; with the actors, the archers and the gladiators
+and the “smart set,” which Faustina gathered round her, than with the
+bearded and hooded sophists and rhetoricians who talked ἐγκράτεια
+(self-restraint) and αὐτάρκεια (self-sufficiency) in the palace gardens.
+
+Bitter as must have been his disappointment at his ill-success with
+Commodus, there was another which thrust home deeper. Ill-fame had long
+been gathering round the name of his wife Faustina--the most beautiful
+woman in the Empire. One of her vivacious temperament, more Parisian
+than Roman, was assuredly ill-mated with the Stoic Emperor, whose
+days were spent in introspection; their union was “the great paradox
+of the age.” She knew no law but the law of the senses: while he was
+ever guided by the admirable but unamiable call of duty, cold as the
+beckoning of a star, not soft and warm as the sunlight of devotion.
+No modern belle of the season had more zest in the life of the moment
+than she had; whilst he lived always in the shadow of the wings of
+Death. “Since it is possible that thou mayest depart from life this
+very moment, regulate every act and thought accordingly.” Every act
+was to be done “with forethought, as if it were the last of thy life.”
+Yet, different as they were, by a whole heaven’s breadth in character,
+it is to the credit of both that they loved one another. The rumours
+that assailed her name were probably in great part the exaggerations
+of prurient gossips, though with sufficient foundation to make them
+credible. Whatever their truth, the Emperor did not hearken to them.
+Even when they became the property of the stage and he himself was
+ridiculed in connexion with them, he paid no heed. In the first book of
+the Meditations, written a few years before the death of Faustina, he
+thanks the gods that he had such a wife, “so obedient, so affectionate,
+so simple.” He, too, must have felt at times that Cæsar’s wife should
+be above suspicion, but his kindly nature was ever disposed to take the
+most charitable view of things, and he minded little the slanderous
+tongues of men.
+
+“Does a man gather figs from thistles, or grapes from thorns?”--this
+was the keynote to his philosophy of life--a strange fatalist
+philosophy it too often was; but it served to lay the gibbering
+spectres that haunted the palace of the Cæsars. After all, Faustina,
+associating with sailors and gladiators (even if the worst were true),
+and Commodus, already giving free reign to his passions over all the
+paths of license, were but acting in accordance with nature, “just as
+the fruit trees” or the beasts of the forest. Thus, in the loneliness
+of his spirit, would Aurelius reason, with an indulgence to the
+shortcomings (or worse) of others, which we must condemn as weakness.
+But perhaps it was owing to his tact and consideration that her untamed
+restlessness carried her to no greater excesses, and that Pater’s
+words are true, “the one thing quite certain about her, besides her
+extraordinary beauty, is her sweetness to himself.”
+
+One of his biographers, writing under the Emperor Diocletian, has this
+pious reflection on the story: “Such is the force of daily life in a
+good ruler, so great the power of his sanctity, gentleness, and piety,
+that no breath of slander or invidious suggestion from an acquaintance
+can avail to sully his memory. In short, to Antonine, immutable as the
+heavens in the tenor of his own life, and in the manifestations of his
+own moral temper, and who was not by possibility liable to any impulse
+or movement of change, on any alien suggestion, it was not eventually
+an injury that he was dishonoured by some of his connexions; on him,
+invulnerable in his own character, neither a harlot for his wife, nor
+a gladiator for his son, could inflict a wound. Then as now, O sacred
+lord Diocletian! he was reputed a god; not as others are reputed but
+specially and in a separate sense, and with a privilege to such worship
+from all men as is addressed to his memory by yourself, who often
+breathe a wish to heaven that you were or could be such in life and
+merciful disposition as was Marcus Aurelius.”
+
+We saw that even Marcus’ integrity could not shield his household from
+the taint of scandal, ever mingling with the divinity that doth hedge
+a king; yet the life of that household was of the simplest kind. The
+Emperor’s tastes were mostly domestic--philosophy, the fine arts and
+intercourse with the learned world around him. The palace was a museum
+of all the curious and choice things of every land gathered together
+by Hadrian and preceding Emperors; the precious and luxurious were
+strewn all around in Oriental magnificence; but not for long. The
+Emperor had learnt from Antoninus to be a king without the trappings;
+and in his later life he set an example truly Platonic to all future
+monarchs of private detachment for the sake of the public good. At that
+time distress became universal; the treasury was exhausted; and yet
+money was wanted for the wars in the North. In these circumstances, in
+order to avoid all further taxation, Marcus put all the treasures of
+his Roman palaces and country villas into the public market. Jewels,
+pictures, furniture of rare workmanship; dinner-services of gold and
+crystal; murrhine vases; the rich hangings and sumptuous apparel of
+the imperial household, including even the wardrobe of silken robes,
+interwoven with gold, which had been his wife’s before her death:
+all these objects, made sacred by long use in the home of the divine
+Cæsars, were put under the hammer and fetched fabulous prices. The
+auction lasted two months. The _novi homines_--the Roman equivalent for
+our _nouveaux riches_--were as keen as would be a group of Americans
+at an auction of the Vatican contents. Thus the historic palace of the
+Cæsars was despoiled; but Marcus was content while the neighbouring
+library in the temple of Apollo remained intact, with Fronto and
+Rusticus to come at morning and evening and walk with him amidst the
+shrubberies of the Palatine discoursing on the great Greek schools
+of Ionia, of Athens, and of Elea; of Democrites, of Plato, Zeno and
+Pythagoras and his favourite Epictetus.
+
+In his home, as in public, he was devoted to the old religious
+practices. The _lararium_--or family shrine--contained statues of his
+favourite gods, one of his own _Genius_ (or spiritual counterpart) and
+those of his favourite philosophers and teachers. Here he would offer
+the morning sacrifice with flowers and lights and incense, and beg the
+favour of the gods for himself and for the Empire. There he would utter
+a prayer for the wayward Commodus and Faustina, and for the courage to
+persevere to the end on his own steep path. “Every morning I pray for
+Faustina,” he writes; and again: “My mother’s illness leaves me not a
+moment’s rest; and now Faustina’s confinement is approaching. Well,
+we must trust in the gods.” In all this, how strange the mixture of
+truth and falsehood; of crude superstition and a higher light breaking
+through; of matter and spirit; perhaps even of nature and grace; for it
+is hard not to see the special handiwork of God in these fair works of
+the spirit world--who will set limits to His mercy and power? or who
+will nicely disentangle the strands of that strange mesh-work, a human
+soul? St. Clement of Alexandria and St. Augustine saw in those pagan
+heroes those who were to prepare the way of the Lord and make straight
+His paths. “Paganism saw at least the road from its hill-top,” said
+Augustine. We too may say that they were not far from the Kingdom of
+God.
+
+          Christo iam tum venienti,
+          Crede, parata via est.
+
+“Believe me even then the path was made straight for Christ already on
+His way.” So sang the Christian Prudentius; and we sing, Amen! Even so,
+Lord Jesus.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+                             ON THE DANUBE
+
+
+A prince of peace, Marcus Aurelius was destined by the irony of fate
+to live most of his days as a leader of battles. The low rumbling of
+war from the provinces mingled discordantly with the acclamations
+which proclaimed him Princeps, Rome’s chief citizen and lord. The
+disturbances in Britain and on the Rhine were easily quelled; but not
+so in Parthia or on the Danube.
+
+Parthia was Rome’s great rival in the old world. More than once had
+the captains of that mysterious Eastern kingdom plucked the laurels
+from Roman brows; the Roman eagle had brooded in captivity in Parthian
+dungeons; and had been released not by steel but by gold. On the
+succession of Marcus, King Vologeses, a man with all the spirit and
+ambition of his race, determined to secure for himself the neighbouring
+kingdom of Armenia. The Romans resisted and their first army was
+annihilated. This defeat was quickly followed by another; the Eastern
+legions were demoralised, and things looked grave for Rome.
+
+It was at this crisis that Marcus entrusted to his consort, Lucius
+Veras, the command in the East: a foolish choice, scarcely less foolish
+than the first folly of making him his consort. For Lucius had neither
+ability nor morality; he spent his days amidst the pleasant groves,
+the flowers and the perfumes and the sensuous society of Antioch. He
+committed the campaign to the care of his generals, the chief of them,
+Avidius Cassius, a soldier tried and true; whilst he himself frittered
+away his hours in soft dalliance amidst the ill-famed groves of Daphne,
+which made Antioch the lodestone of voluptuaries from all parts of the
+world. Avidius Cassius with Priscus and Martius Veras ended the war
+within a few years; and Lucius Verus with a heavy heart turned his face
+towards the West, to celebrate a triumph and receive high titles in
+Rome for his great achievements. But Rome paid dearly for the conquest;
+for with the army came the plague which devastated the capital and
+Italy.
+
+In the desolation which surrounded him, the Stoic Emperor recognised
+the need for something more inspiring than the maxims of his masters,
+Zeno and Chrysippus. The futility of such chamber philosophy and
+religion was borne home to him with fearful intensity by the human
+misery he saw on every side, the stench of the unburied dead, the
+haggard looks and demoniacal cries of the living. He recognised, then,
+that a syllogism never soothed an aching heart; that for life’s tragic
+moments we need a living, breathing, throbbing, thrilling, religion,
+a religion of the whole man. Hence he called on all the gods, old and
+new, Roman, Grecian, Eastern and Egyptian, to aid the suffering State.
+Every altar reeked with the incense of sacrifice; great nobles marched
+in procession bearing the statues of the gods; noble ladies might be
+seen, half-naked, standing beneath the platform from which the hot
+blood of the slain bull poured down upon them, enduring this baptism of
+the Great Mother, by which they were to be “reborn for eternity”; at
+eventide a wanderer in the Campus Martius might hear the vesper song
+of Isis, and entering her shrine might see dark Egyptians holding up
+the water of the Nile for adoration; or, descending into a subterranean
+chapel, he might see the slave, the soldier, and the senator, side
+by side, attending at the strange mystic initiations of Mithra, the
+Unconquered One, the god of light, the strong young god in Phrygian cap
+and loose flowing mantle caught by the sculptor in the symbolic slaying
+of the bull. No extravagance of superstition, however fantastic, was
+omitted, not even the greatest extravagance of all, the cry of “the
+Christians to the lions.” If Aurelius had but known; if Rome in its
+desolation could have seen; if modern Europe and its rulers could but
+realise the secret healing of Christ’s religion of sorrow, how much
+the world, laboured and heavy-burdened, would be refreshed! But Marcus
+did not know this healing. He prayed and he sacrificed: but the plague
+did not pass, nor were his people comforted. The ancient world never
+recovered from the blow, Niebuhr says. While it yet raged, another call
+to arms came, this time from the Danube.
+
+It was the severest onset of the barbarians which the Roman Empire had
+yet endured. All the tribes from the Rhine to the Don, Teutonic and
+Slavonic, seemed in league against it. These wild Northmen, chaste and
+strong of limb, had hurled themselves on the Danube frontier and broken
+into the sacred precincts of the _Pax Romana_. The Danube passed,
+Pannonia, Dacia, Greece were overrun. The prints of Northern hoofs were
+on the plains of Rhætia and Noricum; and the wild Marcomanni were seen
+in the streets of Venice and Padua. Well might the Romans fear that
+it would be with them now as it was in the days of Hannibal. Aye, and
+even worse; for the Romans of the second century of the Empire were
+not the Romans of the second or third century before the fall of the
+Republic; and to replace a Scipio and a Marcellus, they had for leader
+not a Vespasian or a Trajan, but a sickly “Greekling,” “a philosophical
+old woman,” as Avidius Cassius used to call him. This was their Emperor
+Aurelius, and in these wars on the Danube he was amply to refute these
+taunts of the men of rougher mould. His was the great task of stemming
+the first inflow of those nomadic tribes which, two centuries later,
+swept in full flood-tide over the Empire; and he performed it well if
+not greatly.
+
+The heralds of the revolt found him at his work of peace and
+legislation, of charity and self-culture in the capital. Now came
+the test of his principles of devotion to duty. Would he face the
+loneliness, spiritual and intellectual, the barbarity, the long-drawn
+desolation of a campaign in the dull plains of Hungary? Would he be a
+leader to his people? or would he, like certain selfish souls, wrap
+himself in himself and seek his own advancement towards the sapiency of
+the perfect Stoic at the cost of his people? It was the test of a man;
+and he answered well to it. He elected to lead the troops in person.
+
+This was in the year A.D. 167. The Romans were just then busy burying
+their plague-stricken, but the call to arms would brook no delay; and
+to arms they went. War, the plague, and the Emperor’s charities had
+exhausted the treasury; hence the difficulty in raising supplies and
+a force. It was then that he sold by auction the treasures of the
+palace and his villas and thus secured the required funds. To swell
+the numbers of his troops he compelled the gladiators to serve. This
+was the most unpopular act of his reign as it was one of the most
+creditable. “He wants to steal our amusements from us,” cried one;
+“Aye, to compel us to be philosophers,” cried another of the mob, who
+cared for nothing but the _panem et circenses_, the public dole of food
+and the public games. The sporting set, the loungers, the fast young
+men about town, the brutalised rabble, almost created a revolt against
+the act. They cared little for the Empire, if they could but get their
+meed of blood; the gladiators were better spent in glutting their evil
+eyes than in checking the onrush of those Wandering Nations, who were
+one day to sit in those amphitheatres and exult over fallen Rome,
+having changed the history of Europe and the world.
+
+The two Emperors led the troops in all the glory of warlike array
+through the streets of Rome to the Northern gates. Aurelius, as he
+rode in all the Imperial adornment, yet with sad, wistful look and
+countenance sickled o’er with the pale cast of thought, contrasted
+ominously with the splendour of the pageant of which he was the centre.
+He seemed to be far away from it all--far away, yes, in the depths of
+his own soul. On one side of him rode Lucius Verus, resplendent and
+gay, the hero of levees and banquets; on the other, Faustina, now as
+ever outshining all in the great functions of state, her beauty making
+her the darling of the mob. Throughout the war she abode with Marcus
+faithfully and was called by the army the _Mater castrorum_, the mother
+of the camp; and the Emperor thanked the gods for the solace her
+fidelity brought to him.
+
+The army reached Venice in A.D. 168. Such had been the energy of their
+preparations that a panic seized the barbarian invaders. They begged
+for peace; but Marcus had determined that there should be no peace
+or a lasting one; the barbarians must be taught a lesson; and he set
+about subjugating the tribes one by one. In this he was for a time
+successful, thanks mainly to his able generals Pompeianus and Pertinax.
+The Quadi were compelled to restore the 60,000 Roman prisoners they
+had taken; and in A.D. 169 the Emperors felt justified in returning to
+Rome, leaving the completion of the war to their generals. On the way
+Verus died and this left Marcus sole ruler. At Rome he paid the highest
+honours, civil and religious, to his colleague’s questionable memory.
+
+His stay there was, however, abruptly cut short as, owing to the
+acuteness of the war with the Marcomanni and Jazyges, he had to return
+again to the fighting line. The Romans once more met with severe
+defeats. Two commanders fell; and it was not till A.D. 172 that the
+tide of victory turned. In that year the Marcomanni suffered an
+overwhelming defeat and the Emperor assumed the title _Germanicus_. But
+in the meantime the Quadi had rebelled and driven out their king, who
+was a friend of the Romans, and elected one opposed to Rome. Marcus
+then turned his attention to these: he set a price of 1,000 pieces of
+gold on the head of the rebel king; and on his being betrayed sent him
+to Alexandria.
+
+During one of these campaigns against the Quadi occurred the incident
+of the “thundering legion”--a story famous in the early Church and much
+controverted. It is interesting as bringing Marcus and the Christians
+face to face for the first time.
+
+It was during the hot summer months that a legion containing many
+Christians was surrounded by the Quadi in a wooded and hilly country.
+They were cut off from all means of getting water, and suffered
+terribly from the heat and thirst. In these straits, the story goes on
+to say, the Christians in the legion knelt and prayed for release; and
+lo! suddenly the whole heavens became overcast; a storm gathered and
+broke over the opposing forces; rain fell abundantly and the Romans
+gathered it in their helmets and in the hollows of their shields,
+and drank eagerly and gave to drink to their horses. The barbarians
+saw that they must now attack before the Romans recovered strength.
+But the rain which had refreshed the Romans turned to blinding hail
+against their foes; and the rain and the lightning “burnt them like
+oil insomuch as they wounded one another to extinguish the fire with
+blood.” Many, seeing such evident favour from heaven for the Roman
+cause, went over to their side; and Marcus Aurelius received them
+mercifully.
+
+There are many controverted points in connexion with the details of
+this story, and the use made of it by the Christian apologists, into
+which this is not the place to enter. Certain it is that this Danube
+legion got the title of _Fulminata_, at least for some time; even
+though the twelfth legion, to whom it properly belonged since the time
+of Augustus, were at this time at the Euphrates. It is certain, too,
+that everyone, pagan and Christian, regarded the incident as a miracle.
+Some attributed it to the prayers of the Emperor himself, and this
+view was commemorated in bas-reliefs of the Antonine column, erected
+after death to his memory and to be seen to this day. There one sees
+represented in the air the winged figure of an old man with streaming
+hair and beard, the god of rain, Jupiter Pluvius; while the Romans with
+helmets and shields receive the torrents of rain, and their enemies lie
+transfixed to the ground by the hail and lightning. Marcus Aurelius
+himself was represented in pictures with hands uplifted and praying,
+with strange forgetfulness of his barbarities against the Christians,
+“Jove to thee do I lift this hand, which hath never shed blood.”
+Others attributed this miracle to the Egyptian magician Arnouphis, who
+accompanied the army.
+
+That there were Christians “in Cæsar’s household” and round Marcus
+Aurelius is certain. That there were many Christians in this legion
+cannot reasonably be denied. But the great import of the event for
+Tertullian and other Christian apologists, before and after him, was
+based on a letter undoubtedly apocryphal, which Marcus Aurelius was
+supposed to have written to the Senate, acknowledging that he had been
+saved by Christian prayers and forbidding their further persecution.
+
+The truth is that Marcus’ attitude to the Christians was in no way
+changed for the better by this incident, but rather for the worse.
+As Renan says: “In three or four years the persecution reached the
+highest pitch of fury it knew before Decius.” In Africa persecution was
+widespread and furious; Sardinia was crowded with Christian exiles; in
+Byzantium nearly the whole population was put to death with torture;
+while in Asia, where the Christians were especially numerous, officials
+vented all their fury on them, interpreting the laws in a way in which
+they had never been intended to be applied. “Truly,” to quote Renan
+again, “these repeated persecutions were a bloody contradiction to a
+century of humanity.” Marcus was not directly responsible for all this
+cruelty; he was probably for the most part passive and indifferent.
+Some of the Christian apologists certainly looked on him as friendly,
+as, for instance, Melito, who wrote to him: “As for yourself, who
+cherish the same kind of feeling for us [as the other good Emperors],
+with a heightened degree of philanthropy and philosophy, we rest
+assured that you will do what we ask you.” But the confidence of the
+Christians in Marcus’ humanity and friendship for them and in his
+ability to restrain the pagan mob or his own more brutal officials was
+ill-founded. This passing incident in the Danube campaign was of little
+importance in the history of the Empire, but its interest will never
+die as a picturesque detail in the great world-battle of the spirit
+then in its acutest stage.
+
+In A.D. 175 Marcus followed up his reduction of the Quadi by that of
+the Jazyges. This practically ended the war. Marcus intended securing
+the fruit of his conquest by establishing two more Roman provinces; but
+a new danger had appeared in the East, and he had to conclude a hasty
+peace with the barbarians and to hurry with all speed to Syria.
+
+These victories in the North stirred in him no pride. Here is his sadly
+disillusioned comment on the whole campaign: “A spider is proud when
+it has caught a fly, and a hunter when he has caught a poor hare, and
+another when he has taken a little fish in a net, and another when he
+has taken wild boars, _and another when he has taken_ _Sarmatians_.
+_Are not these robbers, if thou examinest their principles?_”
+
+He can scarcely have been an inspiring general who took this view of
+war; and such sentiments have caused many active spirits to find him
+a very dull person indeed. After this we can scarcely wonder at the
+remark of one of his generals: “The soldiers don’t understand you;
+they don’t know Greek.” In the frieze on the Antonine column which
+represents him on horseback, surrounded by banners and triumphant
+soldiers, receiving the submission of the kneeling Germans, there is
+the same disenchantment in his eyes, the same firm lines of duty on the
+lips; there is no flash of enthusiasm, no gloating over the fallen. He
+seems absorbed in the thought that all is vanity, and the vanquished
+look at him with a puzzled, interested look which has something of
+affection in it.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+                        THE BOOK OF MEDITATIONS
+
+
+It was in the midst of this active strife that Marcus wrote one of the
+most introspective and peaceful of books--his Thoughts About Himself
+(τὰ εἰς ἑαυτὸν βιβλία)--the twelve books of his Meditations. Few books
+have had such influence over men’s lives, and its influence still
+abides; and for all students of humanity it will ever be a priceless
+document illustrative of one great phase of human thought, and one
+great thinker. Surely Stevenson, testifying to the moulding force of
+this little book on his own life, did not exaggerate in saying: “The
+dispassionate gravity, the noble forgetfulness of self, the tenderness
+of others that are there expressed, and were practised on so large a
+scale in the life of its writer, make this book a book quite by itself.
+No man can read it and not be moved.... When you have read, you carry
+away with you a memory of the man himself; it is as though you had
+touched a loyal heart, looked into brave eyes and made a noble friend;
+there is another bond on you thenceforward, binding you to life and to
+the love of virtue.”
+
+The secret of this charm and influence is in the candour and utter
+absence of self-consciousness of the book. It reveals the author as he
+wished himself to live, a sincere and open life, “lived on the mountain
+top--a naked soul more visible than the body which clothed it,” a soul
+whose thoughts may be read “as the beloved one reads all things in the
+lover’s eyes.” These jottings were the fruit of his frequent searchings
+of the heart, the outward expression of the inner life of one who
+seemed to live all within, with now and then some golden gleanings from
+his favourite moralists. These thoughts he meant to be his strength
+against the beggarly elements in his weaker moments. They, with the
+_Discourse of Epictetus_, were to be his mainstay. This latter book--a
+noble book too--was his à Kempis, and to it he owed the suggestion of
+gathering together his own thoughts. Having these he bore his cloister
+always with him.
+
+“Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores
+and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things very much.
+But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it
+is in thy power, whenever thou shalt choose, to retire into thyself.
+For nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does a
+man retire than into his own soul, particularly when he has within him
+such thoughts that, by looking into them, he is immediately in perfect
+tranquillity; and I affirm that tranquillity is nothing else than the
+good ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself this retreat
+and renew thyself; and let thy principles be brief and fundamental,
+which, as soon as thou shalt recur to them, will be sufficient to
+cleanse the soul completely, and to send thee back free from all
+discontent with the things to which thou returnest.”
+
+“For with what art thou discontented?” he asks himself. The badness of
+men? The lot that is assigned to thee out of the universe? The clinging
+of corporal things still to thee? The desire of the thing called fame?
+Thou hast maxims that will alleviate all these. “This then remains.
+Remember to retire into this little territory of thine own, and above
+all do not distract or strain thyself, but be free and look at things
+as a man, as a human being, as a citizen, as a mortal. But amongst the
+things readiest to thy hand to which thou shalt return, let there be
+these, which are two: One is that _things_ do not touch the soul, for
+they are external and immovable; but our perturbations come only from
+the _opinion_ which is within. The other is that all these things which
+thou seest change immediately and will no longer be; and constantly
+bear in mind how many of these changes thou hast already witnessed. The
+Universe is transformation; life is opinion.”
+
+In these last sentences we have the kernel of the Stoic doctrine of
+resignation.
+
+  “The mind is its own place, and in itself
+  Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”
+
+The mind can weave its own Universe; and with it it rests to weave it
+a fairyland of ordered goodness and beauty. All things without are
+fleeting and unstable, shadows that will pass, mists that disappear
+at dawn. “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it
+so.” “The aids to nobler life are all within.” Man is but part of the
+Universe, and his best wisdom is to live in accord with its beautiful
+harmony, which disposes all things sweetly for the good of all. It
+would be contrary to the Divine Kosmos, the ordering of the great
+world-spirit, if what were for the good of all were not for the good of
+each:
+
+“If the gods have determined about me and about the things which must
+happen to me, they have determined well, for it is not easy even to
+imagine a deity without forethought; and as to doing me any harm,
+why should they have any desire towards that? For what advantage
+would result to them from this, or to the whole, which is the special
+object of their providence? But if they have not determined about
+me individually, they have certainly determined about the whole at
+least, and the things which happen by way of sequence in this general
+arrangement I ought to accept with pleasure and to be content with
+them. But if they determine about nothing, which it is wicked to
+believe, or if we do believe it, let us neither sacrifice, nor pray,
+nor swear by them, nor do anything else which we do as if the gods
+were present and lived with us--but if, however, the gods determine
+about none of those things which concern us, I am able to determine
+about myself, and I can inquire about that which is useful; and that
+is useful to each man which is conformable to his own constitution
+and nature. But my nature is rational and social; my city and country
+so far as I am Antoninus is Rome, but so far as I am a man it is the
+world. The things then that are useful to these cities are alone useful
+to me.”
+
+All this is very beautiful; it is admirable; but it is not human.
+An abstract idea never ministered to a mind diseased or healed a
+broken heart; and when all is said the Stoic Weltanschauung is a sad
+one. As Arnold felt many have felt: “It is impossible to rise from
+reading Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius without a sense of constraint and
+melancholy, without feeling that the burden laid upon man is well-nigh
+greater than he can bear.” But we must add with him: “Honour to the
+sages who have felt this, and yet have borne it.” For ourselves we
+feel a need of something more personal, something with more love and
+sympathy and appeal. How chilling are the maxims of the Porch beside
+the glowing verses of the Apostle of Love, which express the essence of
+Christianity--an intense personal love for God, an acceptance of all
+trials from a motive of love, and a love of our neighbour like unto the
+love God bears them.
+
+This was the Christian answer to all the ancient philosophies--the
+solution of the world-problem by love; and neither in Marcus Aurelius
+nor Plotinus nor any of the great pagans do we find anything at once so
+human and divine, anything which so responds to the noblest aspirations
+of the human soul without losing sight of its weakness.
+
+But it is not the formal doctrine of the book of the Meditations
+which gives it its attraction; it is the spirit of the author it
+reveals so intimately. Rarely do we get from philosophers such
+familiar self-revelation as this from the beginning of the fifth book:
+interesting, even though it suggests a lack of humour and sense of
+proportion:
+
+“In the morning when thou risest unwillingly, let this thought be
+present--I am rising to the work of a human being. Why then am I
+dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for which I exist and for
+which I was brought into this world? Or have I been made for this,
+to lie in the bed-clothes and keep myself warm? But this is more
+pleasant--Dost thou exist then to take thy pleasure and not at all for
+action or exertion? Dost thou not see the little plants, the little
+birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees, working together to put in
+order their several parts of the Universe? And art thou unwilling
+to do the work of a human being, and dost thou not make haste to do
+that which is according to thy nature?” Imagine the sight of a spider
+rousing a sluggard!
+
+And again in the same book:
+
+“Thou sayest, Men cannot admire the sharpness of thy wits. Be it so;
+but there are many other things of which thou canst not say, I am
+not formed for them by nature. Show those qualities then which are
+altogether in thy power, sincerity, gravity, endurance of labour,
+aversion to pleasure, contentment with thy portion and with few things,
+benevolence, frankness, no love of superfluity, freedom from trifling
+magnanimity. Dost thou not see how many qualities thou art immediately
+able to exhibit, in which there is no excuse of natural incapacity and
+unfitness, and yet thou still remainest voluntarily below the mark? or
+art thou compelled through being defectively furnished by nature to
+murmur, and to be stingy, and to flatter and to find fault with thy
+poor body, and to try to please men, and to make great display, and
+to be restless in thy mind? No, by the gods; but thou mightest have
+been delivered from these things long ago. Only if in truth thou canst
+be charged with being rather slow and dull of comprehension, thou
+must exert thyself about this also, not neglecting it nor yet taking
+pleasure in thy dullness.”
+
+Stoic optimism can scarcely be said to have solved the mysteries
+of evil and the unrest of the soul, or satisfied the craving for
+happiness, for guidance and support which is deep down in every heart.
+Yet the followers of that school were a good influence on a corrupt
+world. We feel in all the book of the Meditations a calm strength, a
+forbearance, a perseverance despite failure in good resolutions, which
+does all honour to its author living in the most sensual surroundings.
+And in Marcus this stern character is relieved by touches of tender
+affection and gratitude constantly recurring. They reveal a character
+far inferior to that of the Christian Saint; nobody except some of our
+neo-pagan paradoxists will look for such perfection in him; the marvel
+is that he so often reminds us of them and approaches them even afar.
+In none of those pagan heroes do we find that blending of strength
+and humility, of austerity and gentlest love, that touch of the Light
+Divine and that reflex of Christ, which remove a St. Francis de Sales
+or a St. Vincent de Paul a whole heaven’s breadth from them and make it
+an irreverence to compare the one to the other.
+
+But we do find wonderful things in them. Take, for instance, the nine
+considerations which Marcus proposed for himself as an aid to bearing
+with those who had offended him; they are given in the eleventh book,
+and the second of them well shows the imperfection inseparable from
+pagan virtue, even the highest: (1) All men are born for one another.
+(2) Consider the private vices of those that have offended thee. (3)
+If they do wrong it is involuntarily and in ignorance. (4) Thou also
+doest many things wrong, and thou art a man like others; and even if
+thou dost abstain from certain faults still thou hast the disposition
+to commit them, though either through cowardice or concern about
+reputation or some such mean motive thou dost abstain from such faults.
+(5) You may be judging them rashly. (6) “Man’s life is only a moment,
+and after a short time we are all laid out dead.” (7) Your annoyance is
+due not to those acts but to your own impressions. (He says elsewhere:
+“How easy it is to repel and to wipe away every impression which is
+troublesome or unsuitable, and immediately to be in all tranquillity.”)
+(8) Anger and vexation are a greater evil than the thing which causes
+them. (9) One of the most amiable passages in the Meditations:
+“Consider that benevolence is invincible if it be genuine, and not an
+affected smile and acting a part. For what will the most violent man do
+to thee if thou continuest to be of a benevolent disposition towards
+him, and if, as opportunity offers, thou gently admonishest him and
+calmly correctest his errors at the very time when he is trying to do
+thee harm, saying, Not so, my child: we are constituted by nature for
+something else: I shall certainly not be injured, but thou art injuring
+thyself, my child--and show him with gentle tact and by general
+principles that this is so, and that even bees do not do as he does,
+nor any animals, which are formed by nature to be gregarious. And thou
+must do this neither with any double meaning nor in way of reproach,
+but affectionately and without any rancour in thy soul; and not as
+if thou wert lecturing him, nor yet that any by-stander may admire,
+but when he is alone.” Again he asks himself what have the evil deeds
+of others to do with the intellect’s abiding pure, self-possessed,
+temperate, and just. Nothing at all: “Even as if one standing by a
+sweet and transparent fountain were to utter abuse against it, and
+it ceased not to pour forth its salutary waters. And if one cast mud
+or filth therein, it would speedily dissipate and wash it away, and
+would in no wise be stained by it. How shalt thou be an ever-flowing
+spring, and not a cistern? Grow every hour into freedom, united with
+gentleness, simplicity and modesty.”
+
+The view of his fellow-men which Marcus expresses is a curious mixture
+of charity, pity, and contempt. He frequently strengthened himself
+against human respect by considering that the evil lives of other men
+made their opinion contemptible. These passages seem to reveal a nature
+tinged with spiritual pride and aloofness. He insists time and again on
+the fellowship of men, as fellow-citizens of one great polity: but he
+has a profound sense of their folly and baseness too. Yet his lonely
+nature craved for friendship with kindred souls, though seemingly
+fastidious in its friendship. With his detached attitude towards his
+fellow-men it is little wonder that he had but few friends; and he
+was conscious of it. In a letter to Fronto he mentions this and also
+in a passage from the Meditations: “Solace your departure with the
+reflection: I am leaving a life in which my own associates, for whom I
+have so strived, prayed, and thought, themselves wish for my removal,
+their hope being that they will perchance gain in freedom thereby.”
+
+This note of world-weariness and disillusion as regards everything
+men prize recurs again and again in the course of the Meditations: it
+runs through his doctrines of resignation, of charity and forbearance,
+of self-restraint and peace. Its recurrence in the many--perhaps too
+many--quotations in this chapter may have wearied the reader: yet I do
+not regret that I have made it prominent, for it was the most intense
+idea in the Emperor’s mind, and surely strange enough to be interesting
+when found in the ruler of the greatest of Empires at the height of
+its civilisation. I hope, too, that these quotations will initiate the
+reader into the spirit of the great Stoic. There was no question of
+giving an exact account of the system expounded in the Meditations:
+for there is no such system; Marcus Aurelius was more interested in
+virtue than in learning; he would rather feel compunction than know its
+definition.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+                           LAST DAYS IN ROME
+
+
+The hasty summons to the East which interrupted Marcus’ northern
+campaign was due to the revolt of one of his best generals, Avidius
+Cassius.
+
+Cassius until now had been loyal to the Emperor and had served him well
+in the war against the Parthians. In that war the worthless debauchee
+Lucius Verus, Marcus’ colleague, had been nominally in command, but
+really confined his campaigns to the voluptuous groves of Daphne,
+while Cassius bore the brunt of the fight. Further, Cassius had by
+iron discipline restored the efficiency of the Eastern legions. At
+first, like all reformers, he was cordially hated; this hatred found
+expression in mutiny; but, on this being suppressed, gave place to
+respect and even to popularity. It were well for Cassius had he
+confined his zeal for reform to the army; but he wished to reform the
+Emperor and the court also. His murmurings became public property, and
+Lucius Verus wrote to Marcus warning him against him: “I would you had
+him closely watched. For he is a general disliker of us and of our
+doings; he is gathering together an enormous treasure, and he makes
+an open jest of our literary pursuits. You, for instance, he calls
+a philosophising old woman, and me a dissolute buffoon and a scamp.
+Consider what you would have done. For my part I bear the fellow no
+ill-will; but again I say take care that he does not do mischief to you
+and to your children.”
+
+The answer of Marcus gives a most searching insight into his character.
+Steeped in the most obstinately logical fatalism, it is yet generous
+and noble and “breathes the very soul of careless magnanimity reposing
+upon conscious innocence”:--
+
+“I have read your letter, and I will confess to you I think it more
+scrupulously timid than becomes an Emperor, and timid in a way
+unsuitable to the spirit of our times. Consider this--if the Empire is
+destined to Cassius by the decrees of Providence, in that case it will
+not be in our power to put him to death, however much we may desire
+to do so. You know your great-grandfather’s saying, ‘No prince ever
+killed his own heir’; no man, that is, ever yet prevailed against one
+whom Providence had marked out as his successor. On the other hand, if
+Providence opposes him, then, without any cruelty on our part, he will
+fall spontaneously into some snare prepared for him by destiny.... For
+Cassius, then, let him keep his present temper and inclinations, and
+the more so, being (as he is) a good general, austere in discipline,
+brave, and one whom the State cannot afford to lose. For as to what
+you insinuate, that I ought to provide for my children’s interests, by
+putting this man judiciously out of the way, very frankly I say to you,
+‘Perish, my children, if Avidius shall deserve more attachment than
+they, and if it shall prove salutary to the State that Cassius should
+triumph rather than that the children of Marcus should survive.’”
+
+Gradually Cassius had been strengthening his forces; and at length in
+A.D. 175 openly raised the standard of revolt against the reign of
+the philosophers. His manifesto shows how deeply the military party
+resented the ascendancy of men who seemed to have no qualification for
+office except their long beards and eccentric life. Jibes such as this
+were common: “His beard is worth ten thousand sesterces to him; come,
+we shall have to pay goats a salary next!” Avidius admits that Marcus
+is a worthy man, but he is letting the State go to ruin, while “hungry
+blood-suckers batten on her vitals.” He longs for the old strict regime
+of Cato. “Marcus Antoninus is a scholar; he enacts the philosopher;
+and he tries conclusions concerning the four elements and upon the
+nature of the soul; and he discourses learnedly upon the _Honestum_;
+and concerning the _Summum Bonum_ he is unanswerable. Meanwhile, is
+he learned in the interests of the State? Can he argue a point upon
+the public economy?” And he adds: “You see what a host of sabres is
+required, what a host of impeachments, sentences, executions, before
+the commonwealth can resume its ancient integrity!”
+
+A rumour that Marcus was dead hastened the outbreak of the revolt and
+won support for Cassius. But it was quickly contradicted; and this
+caused the collapse of his forces. Officers and men deserted him, and
+he was at length assassinated by one of his own followers.
+
+Meanwhile Marcus was coming with all haste from the Danube, accompanied
+by Faustina. When they reached Cappadocia, at the foot of Mount Taurus,
+Faustina died, to his great grief, and the tongues of the slanderers
+were silent at length. The last accusation against her was that she
+had been privy to this very revolt, and had promised to marry Cassius
+in the event of its success. But to all these charges we must give
+a verdict of “not proven”; they are for the most part unreliable
+gossip of the most gossiping of historians. But even though she was
+not guilty of all that was laid to her charge, yet she seems to have
+wearied of the over-wisdom of Marcus and his friends: she lived a
+different life and had different tastes from his. Yet even after her
+death Marcus cherished her memory. He had a temple built to her honour
+on the spot where she died, and at his request the Senate decreed her
+deification. The visitor to Rome may still see in the Capitoline Museum
+a bas-relief in which she is represented being borne up to heaven by
+Fame, while Marcus follows her from the earth with that look of tender,
+wistful pathos which characterises most of the representations of
+him. In decreeing these honours, as also in establishing an institute
+for orphans to be called _Faustinianæ_, after her name, he was but
+following step by step the action of his father Antoninus on the death
+of the elder Faustina.
+
+When Marcus reached Antioch the revolt was already ended. One of the
+assassins, hoping for reward, brought the head of Cassius to the
+Emperor; but he put him from him with indignation and loathing. His one
+regret was that he had been deprived of the pleasure of pardoning his
+enemy.
+
+But the good deed was done, if not to Cassius, at any rate to his wife
+and relatives. Many urged him to wreak his vengeance on them. Faustina,
+before her death, had insisted that he “should show no mercy to men
+that showed none to you, nor would have shown any to me or my sons in
+case they had gained the victory”; she would have had him punish the
+army also severely as accomplices. Marcus replied that he admired her
+zeal for their family, but said that he would spare Cassius’ wife and
+children and son-in-law and commend them to the mercy of the Senate.
+As to his other relatives: “Why should I speak of pardon to them, who
+indeed have done no wrong, and are blameless even in purpose.” The
+Senate granted his requests, and the household of Cassius was amply
+provided for by the generosity of the Emperor.
+
+We are wont to think of the forgiving to seventy times seven times
+as the peculiar and most characteristic virtue of Christianity as it
+assuredly is the most beautiful of the natural virtues. Yet it was
+a virtue familiar to the wise ones of the Stoics, and perhaps not a
+difficult virtue to those who adopted their philosophy of life. If
+nothing matters and all is in very truth but vanity of vanities and the
+soul is steeped in this conviction, the disposition to look on life’s
+worries, whatever their sources, as but petty and trifling, is natural
+and spontaneous. For one with the Stoic temperament hard things are but
+the whetstone of the will, and herein precisely lies the danger of that
+temperament from the Christian point of view. The Stoic will, if not
+well-ordered, is a harsh grinding thing which sucks in and crushes the
+beautiful things of life as grist beneath its wheels. It exults in its
+strength with a forbidding and unlovely pride, so different from the
+beautiful diffidence of Christian strength, which loves not the beauty
+of the creatures less, but the beauty of the Creator more, and with a
+kind of supernatural Epicureanism renounces the beauty of the fleeting
+for the sake of the beauty of which it is but an image far removed, the
+beauty of Him whose beauty is older than the hills and will abide when
+they have crumbled away.
+
+It is to the credit of Marcus Aurelius that even in this he avoided
+to a great extent the faults of his virtues; it is the touch of
+emotion in his writings and in those of the other later Stoics of the
+Empire which gives them their charm beyond the earlier members of the
+school. We have many indications that his soul was open to the ἀπορροὴ
+τοῦ κάλλους, the inflow of beauty from sensible things, while his
+correspondence with Fronto shows that his nature was affectionate.
+Throughout the Meditations also we see the reflection of the constant
+struggle which he had with his own nature. One who did not feel deeply
+would never have insisted so much on the necessity for control of the
+feelings. It is a fallacy to think that the Stoic is necessarily dead
+to humanity. In a sense, and in theory at least, he is the truest lover
+of man and the human. His sole vocation in life is the good of the
+whole; the _caritas generis humani_ (love for his fellow-men), if not
+the central point of their system and far from the Christian ideal of
+charity in beauty and efficacy, yet was present and active in them.
+The Stoic must check his feelings but not suppress them. It suffices
+that the barrier of the will be raised and strengthened day by day and
+then the feelings may surge up behind it, ready for right use; but as
+servants not as masters. Thus the paradox is true that those have often
+the strongest emotions whose emotions are most in check.
+
+On his way back from the East the Emperor passed through Athens. There
+he found much that attracted him and much that repelled. The schools
+of philosophy were his chief interest, but he liked not their sophisms
+and disputations, and the irresponsibility which seemed irreverent
+towards the true philosophy whose end was life. When he thinks of
+the dialecticians of his day he thanks the gods that he 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.” He thinks with gratitude of Rusticus as
+having taught him “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 fine-writing.” “_Quid tibi de generibus et
+speciebus?_” said à Kempis.
+
+But though the spirit of the schools was repugnant to his sincerity,
+yet, true to his leading principle of fostering culture, he founded
+several chairs in what we may call the University of Athens.
+
+While at Athens he was also initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries.
+This act was not with him merely an act of State-policy, an act of
+condescension to an alien religion such as other Emperors often showed;
+nor was it, as it was with Hadrian, the outcome of a restless desire
+to pry into the novel and the mysterious. With Marcus Aurelius it was
+probably a sincere act of religion. There was much in the symbolism
+and ritual of the mysteries, its hymns and processions and dramatic
+representations resembling the mystery plays of the Middle Ages, in its
+fasting and nightly torchlight processions by the sea-shore and through
+the plain, which would appeal to his ritualistic nature. The doctrines
+of expiation and a future life, the καλαὶ ἐλπίδες--the fair hopes of
+Eleusis, must have had an especial attraction for him.
+
+As to his own religious views, he certainly was not the Agnostic which
+Renan would have him be. “In every time and place,” he says, “it
+rests with thyself to use the event of the hour religiously: at all
+seasons worship the gods.” He asserts that it is impious to deny the
+existence of the gods, and he rests his theories of right and wrong
+on the supposition of their existence. True, as Renan points out, he
+often holds out to himself the alternative of their non-existence,
+but even then it is only to assert the existence of the Divinity in
+another form. He says that if they did not exist, yet truth to our own
+nature would be a sufficient motive for right action; but our nature
+is for him but a part of the nature which is Divine, and derives its
+sanction from its participation in this supreme nature. His religion
+was a strange mixture of monotheism, polytheism, and pantheism;
+but to atheism he never really consents. Strictly speaking, he had
+no philosophy or theology; for he was not interested in systems as
+such. Yet he never wavered in his loyalty to the national religion,
+however much or little of it he really believed when he stood at the
+sacrificial altar in pontifical robes and chanted the ancient hymns and
+formularies, all of which he knew by heart.
+
+Indeed, he was more deeply interested in the practical than in the
+pure reason; and conduct was more for him than dogma: hence it is
+that his thoughts are so intensely human and universal in their
+appeal. His nature, however, had little in common with the light and
+frivolous agnosticism of Renan and the dilettanti; and only a very
+subjective interpretation of the Meditations can eliminate from them
+the “supernatural” element. Renan recognises this element to a certain
+extent, and accounts it a blemish “which, however, does not affect
+the marvellous beauty of the work as a whole.” It is for him, as for
+Matthew Arnold, the gospel of those who walk by sight and not by faith,
+“who have no faith in the supernatural”; and it “will never grow old
+because it affirms no dogma.”
+
+It is useless to inquire further into the nature of his religious
+beliefs. He would have been at a loss to define them himself. The
+great salient feature is here as elsewhere the tragedy of a great moral
+nature in the throes of superstition, of a beautiful life deprived of
+its fit setting: a tragedy too common in our own days filling wide
+spaces with spiritual waste and hopeless sighs, and making hearts
+desolate for that their light is gone out or flickers low.
+
+On his return to Rome, Marcus celebrated a splendid triumph, shared in
+by Commodus, over the conquered German peoples. It was against his own
+better feelings and in concession to Roman vulgarity that he endured
+this ordeal. He often expresses his disgust for these functions and,
+as we have seen, regarded conquerors as no better than robbers. The
+shouts of the mob, the long train of captives, the reeking public
+banquets were little to his taste; and for him there was no need of the
+attendant who usually stood behind the conqueror on the triumphal car
+to remind him that he was a man lest he should perhaps bring down on
+himself the wrath of the gods by an unseemly arrogance.
+
+There was less need than ever on this day; for with Commodus by his
+side a great sorrow overshadowed him. He had nominated Commodus as his
+successor to avoid a worse evil--the evil of civil war, which would
+certainly have arisen had he chosen one more worthy from his own
+philosophic circle. Yet Commodus, though still a youth, had already
+given full reign to his passions; and Marcus can scarcely have failed
+to foresee the disaster which he was to bring upon the Empire. The
+shadow of this sorrow and of the great loneliness which was his during
+his later years, grows darker and darker over the last books of the
+Meditations.
+
+As Renan has remarked, they have but one thought, that of passing
+as gently as may be from the world. In the earlier books he gathers
+strength for the struggle of life; now all is preparation for death.
+
+The evil plight of public affairs also justified this world-weariness.
+The signs of decay were already visible in Rome: the handwriting had
+been seen on the walls of the Capitol. Even Renan has to admit that
+“in reality the progress effected during the reigns of Antoninus and
+Marcus Aurelius had been merely superficial. It had been limited to a
+varnish of hypocrisy and external professions, which people assumed
+in order to be in harmony with the two wise Emperors. The masses were
+grossly materialistic; the army was decaying; the laws alone had been
+changed for the better.” Plague, famine, and war had done their work
+of death. Marcus did all he could to alleviate the misery; but bad
+finance had left him helpless to cope with such universal disaster. And
+to fill his cup of bitterness news was brought that his old enemies on
+the Danube were in arms again. He must needs, ill and heartsick though
+he was, gird himself once more and prepare to leave Rome for the wild
+North--this time never to return.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+                       “THE END OF THE OLD WORLD”
+
+
+The peace hastily made in A.D. 175 was broken two years later. The
+local commanders again proved incompetent to drive back the barbarian
+hordes, and Marcus had once more to assume the command in person.
+This time he decided to take with him Commodus, in the hope perhaps
+that, like so many of the Roman nobles, worthless at home, he might
+develop in the provinces those powers for government and war which were
+innate in that race of rulers; or, at the very least, in the hope of
+strengthening him against effeminate influences by the hard northern
+winters and the privations of camp life.
+
+Before leaving Rome the Emperor gave a pitiful exhibition of his
+powerlessness to diffuse the light of his own philosophy amongst his
+subjects; or else of the strange grip, growing stronger as the shades
+drew round him, which the pagan superstitions had upon his soul. For
+seven days before his departure the city was the scene of the wildest
+religious extravagances. The older gods of the West shared the honours
+with their lighter brethren from the East and South. The number of
+white steers sacrificed was so great that some of the wits circulated
+an epigrammatical petition from them to the Emperor: “The white oxen to
+the Emperor Marcus Aurelius: If you return as conqueror, that will be
+the end of us.” Sumptuous feasts were prepared before every temple at
+which the statues of the gods reclined: and Rome reeled in mad revel.
+Quacks from all parts of the Empire gathered in Rome and flourished
+during those days.
+
+Lucian has left us a vivid picture of one of these. This was Alexander
+of Abonoteichos, the prince of impostors. He had started a new religion
+in Paphlagonia with mysteries and rites based on those of Eleusis. This
+had quickly spread over the East; and with the other Eastern impostures
+found a welcome at Rome. Rutilianus, a Roman senator of consular
+rank, became its patron and zealous advocate. The new mysteries
+were celebrated during three days with scenes of wild excitement
+and immorality. Even the friends of Marcus and Marcus himself were
+deceived. During the Northern wars, at a word from Alexander’s sacred
+serpent, Marcus had solemnly presided in the robes of the Pontifex
+Maximus over a most ridiculous ceremony. The Romans were assured that
+if they cast two lions alive into the Danube they would be victorious
+over the enemy arrayed against them on the opposite bank. The lions
+were cast in with all ceremony; but, unfortunately for Alexander’s
+reputation and Marcus’ credulity, they were beaten to death on reaching
+the other bank, and the Romans, when they crossed, fared no better.
+
+The Emperor went through a ceremony at this time which must have
+been no less revolting to him than it is to us. This was the ancient
+ceremony of the casting of the dart, a ceremony almost as old as Rome
+itself. The Emperor went in procession to the temple of Bellona,
+surrounded by a mob of fanatics, who cut into their living flesh with
+knives and whips and then lapped the streaming blood--to honour and
+placate their Goddess of War! Arrived at the Temple he hurled the dart
+towards the North--where his enemies were already pressing his armies
+hard.
+
+When he had done all that he considered necessary to appease the gods
+or to soothe the superstitious fears of his subjects, Marcus at length
+set out for the scene of war in A.D. 178. Of this war very little is
+known. The dream of Augustus and many of the other Emperors, given up
+as hopeless by them--the extension of the Roman frontier to the Elbe
+and the consolidation of Roman power in the North--was almost realised.
+But the Dark Shadow which had crossed Marcus’ path so often before drew
+nigh once more and for the last time. On the eve of a great and, it
+would seem, a final conquest, illness and death conquered the Conqueror.
+
+It was in the spring of A.D. 180 that the plague which had taken
+off half the population of the Empire came to claim the life of the
+Emperor. He fell ill, probably at Vienna, on the 10th of March. His
+constitution had never been robust and the hardships of the last years
+had still further weakened it. Hence he recognised immediately that
+this illness was to be unto death; and is said to have at once welcomed
+its approach. Continual disappointment had killed all hope within him,
+and with hope the pain of hope unfulfilled; and so he had no regrets
+now that that strange spirit which had ever dogged him once more passed
+by at midnight over the dreary northern plains and entering into his
+tent dashed the cup of victory from his lips. He asked Commodus as a
+last request to complete the war and then prepared for the end. For
+seven days the illness lasted. On the sixth he bade farewell to his
+friends. He spoke to them of the vanity of life and the easiness of
+death; commended to them the interests of the State and Commodus, “if
+he should prove worthy”; and all this with a great calm. On the seventh
+day he would see nobody except Commodus, and him only for a short time,
+with a last despairing hope perhaps of inspiring at least one noble
+sentiment into that monster of brutality. Then he seemed to sleep; and
+his sleep deepened into death.
+
+It was a death free from pomp, lonely and detached as his life had
+been. But death, in whatever form it came, seems to have had no terrors
+for him. He had often faced the thought of it and always to persuade
+himself that in it there was nothing to fear, but perhaps much to hope
+for.
+
+His confidence in facing death sprang from no sure hope of personal
+immortality. He believed in an immortality for both soul and body and
+that the gods would care for both; but whether the life beyond would be
+a continuance of the personal life of time, or whether this human soul
+should be swallowed up in the great world-soul he knew not. “You have
+embarked upon life: when you have made your voyage debark without more
+ado. If you happen to land in another world there will be gods to take
+care of you there; but if it be your fortune to drop into nothingness,
+why then you will be no more solicited with pleasure and pain. Then
+you will have done drudging for your outer covering, which is the more
+unworthy in proportion as that which serves it is worthy: for the one
+is all soul, intelligence and divinity, whereas the other is dirt and
+corruption.”
+
+Yet elsewhere, though admitting the possibility of the absorption of
+the human soul into the world-soul he rejects the possibility of utter
+annihilation. “What is sprung from earth dissolves to earth again and
+heaven-born things fly to their native seat.” But again he adds: “When
+a man dies, and the spirit is let loose into the air, it holds out for
+some time, after which it is changed, diffused, or knotted into flame,
+or else absorbed into the generative principle of the Universe.” This
+is the best he can promise us: yet how miserable a mockery of human
+aspirations it is! how unsatisfying to the longings of the soul, which
+seeks in the spiritual for the most truly and intensely real and in the
+spiritual and the spiritualised, thus truly real, for the truest beauty!
+
+A philosophy which takes the brightness out of both lives, here and
+beyond, reducing both to a dull grey mist, can never be a spiritual
+force, and, if it prevailed, must result in the reversal of all
+ordinary judgments of value. This was a conclusion frankly accepted by
+the Stoics, and they carried it even to the extent of the abnegation
+of man’s most absorbing desire--the will to live. A man may even deny
+this: for adequate cause he may, nay, even _should_, take away his
+own life. In ordinary circumstances man should stand at his post till
+dismissed by his commander; he should play out the tragedy of life to
+the end as arranged by the dramatist: for just cause he may quit the
+stage before his part is played out. The reason is that between life
+and death there is nothing to choose; they are but successive stages
+of one and the same natural process. Marcus held that man may quit
+life if he finds it intolerable. True, he says that life ought not
+to be intolerable: it is our own fault if it is. But supposing that
+through weakness we cannot bear it, then “we may give it the slip”;
+and again because death is not the serious thing men imagine it to
+be: “What great matter is this business of dying? If the gods exist,
+you can suffer nothing, for they will do you no harm; and if they do
+not, or if they take no care of us mortals--why, then a world without
+gods or providence is not a world worth a man’s while to live in. But
+in truth the being of the gods and their concern in human affairs is
+beyond dispute.” If a man is of such a character or placed in such
+circumstances that for him a virtuous life is morally impossible, then
+Marcus says he has just cause for suicide, “for reason would rather
+that you were nothing than that you were a knave.” “You may live now,
+if you please, as you would choose to do if you were near to dying. But
+suppose people will not let you--why, then, give life the slip, but by
+no means make a misfortune of it. If the room smokes, I leave it, and
+there is an end; for why should one be concerned at the matter?”
+
+Thus did he try by force of argument, often the merest sophistry, to
+conjure away the dread realities of human existence. But when death
+called for one after another of his children, he realised how futile
+his doctrine was. Yet it was the best he could adhere to, and he did
+but share in the cruel disenchantment that comes sooner or later to all
+who follow a false philosophy of life. The self-deception which makes
+these systems plausible in the abstract vanishes at the cold touch of
+death or at a thrill of love from a kindred heart. All that is most
+sacred in life, its morality and its ideals, the foundations of society
+and the aspirations of the individual; the problems that vex men as
+to the ultimate grounds of obligation, beauty and love; the problems
+of freedom, of evil and of immortality; the need of the human heart
+for guidance and support can receive no adequate explanation except in
+the acceptance of integral Christianity--namely Catholicism. Hence the
+folly of our neo-pagan revival. Paganism was tried and is dead with the
+souls and the hopes it slew; the future lies with a vigorous fighting
+Catholicity. It is vain to attempt to resurrect the corpse which
+Constantine prepared for burial. Wisdom and duty bid us follow the
+system which our whole nature cries out for: reason alone or sentiment
+alone is a blind guide; truth lies in the leading of the whole man.
+
+Yet the moral greatness which Marcus had attained in spite of all the
+limitations of his system was made very clear by the universal grief
+and reverence which was expressed at his death. When his body was
+brought to Rome the whole city went into mourning. Henceforth we are
+told men spoke of him no longer by his imperial titles, but old men
+spoke of him as “Marcus, my son”; young men, as “Marcus, my father”;
+and men of his own age, as “Marcus, my brother”; such was the affection
+of all for him. The decreeing of divine honours was not in his case, as
+it was in that of so many of the Emperors, a formality or a burlesque:
+it was from the heart; the _vox populi_ proclaimed him “propitious
+god” before the Senate passed the formal decree. And, truly, as St.
+Augustine said of Plato, we might well pardon the pagans if they
+raised a temple to him rather than to the gods they honoured. For more
+than a century after his death his statue was to be seen amongst the
+household gods in the hearth-shrines of the whole Western Empire, and
+men looked askance at a chance defaulter to this cult. He was the model
+of succeeding Emperors, and Christian writers vied with pagans in their
+praises of him. Even in our own time that strange, melancholy figure
+is dear to all that know him: there is a pathos and an interest in his
+life and thoughts which is unique: “Everyone of us wears mourning in
+his heart for Marcus Aurelius as though he died but yesterday.”
+
+Renan was right in this; but we cannot admit his further statement that
+“the day of the death of Marcus Aurelius can be taken as the decisive
+moment at which the ruin of ancient civilisation was decided.” It was
+decided long before; perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say that
+the day of Marcus’ accession was the first day of decadence, as it
+was the last of the old type of Roman rule. But in truth the fate of
+empires never hangs on a single day or a single ruler. They grow and
+they decay over long centuries: the seed of life and the rot of death
+is working long before its effects appear without; and in the reign
+of Marcus the Empire was already doomed. The old Roman virtues--those
+especially which form the _morale_ of an imperial race--strict probity,
+sacrifice of individual interests to the good of the State, initiative,
+enterprise and the fighting qualities were all dissolving. In their
+place was being developed the citizen, who is ever the product of
+centralisation--the man without originality, devotion, or virtue; who
+is interested in subtlety rather than in truth; wrapped up in his own
+petty world, incapable of heroism or sacrifice.
+
+In the midst of this death there was a strange stirring of life in the
+North and in the East--a life which was to feed on the death of the
+Empire. The forbears of Alaric and his Goths had already knocked at the
+gate and announced his coming. The eloquent pleadings of the Christian
+apologists addressed to Marcus himself told of a new stirring in the
+spiritual and intellectual world--of a new vision which he and his
+friends could not or would not see; and the brave words and noble deeds
+of the martyrs told that there was life in this new creed--yes! life
+and love to conquer Stoic apathy and pagan death.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+                         THE MARTYRS OF CHRIST
+
+
+In reading the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius we frequently are struck
+by the almost Christian spirit which permeates them. Mr. F. H. Myers
+has well said: “Whatever winds of the Spirit may sweep over the sea of
+souls the life of Marcus will remain for ever the high-water mark of
+the unassisted virtue of man.” So sublime and seemingly preternatural
+is his spirit that men in all ages have asked and answered in various
+ways the questions: “Has Christianity anything better to offer us?
+and if so, in what precisely does it consist?” It is as an answer to
+these questions that I introduce this brief reference to the story of
+the Martyrs, preferably a few of the many that suffered under Marcus
+himself.
+
+During his reign the Church endured a persecution severer than any it
+had yet known. How far he was personally responsible for this we cannot
+tell. He was not wholly guilty nor yet wholly innocent. He certainly
+ordered the torture and execution of the Martyrs of Lyons; his most
+intimate friend sentenced St. Justin to death at Rome; and his most
+trusted lawyer condemned St. Felicitas and her sons; but, on the other
+hand, many of the persecutions were due to the anger of the mob, and
+withal he knew not what he did. The Christians were to him merely an
+uncultured and fanatical sect without a single redeeming virtue. In the
+only passage in the Meditations where he mentions them he attributes
+their constancy in death to sheer perverseness. After expressing his
+admiration for a soul, “which is ready, if at any moment it must be
+separated from the body, to be extinguished, or dissolved, or to
+continue to exist,” he adds, “but this readiness must come from a man’s
+own judgment, not from mere obstinacy as with the Christians, but with
+considerateness, with gravity, so as to be persuasive without tragic
+show.” With such a view of the Christian character it is not strange
+that he felt no qualms in sanctioning, though he did not instigate,
+the first persecution that bore the semblance of being universal and
+systematic.
+
+Furthermore, Roman tradition was law for him; and Roman tradition
+was very clear as to the treatment which Christians deserved. The
+superstitious pagans attributed all public calamities to the wrath
+of their gods, and this wrath to the contempt which the Christians
+showed for the pagan idols. As Tertullian puts it: “The Christians are
+the cause of all disasters, of all public calamities. If the Tiber
+floods Rome, if the Nile does not flood the plains, if the heavens are
+closed, if the earth trembles, if a famine takes place or a war or
+a plague, immediately a cry is raised ‘The Christians to the lions!
+to death with the Christians!’” Now, the reign of Marcus was one of
+singular calamities, all the more aggravating because unforeseen and
+irresistible and devastating the city and the Empire at the culminating
+point of their prosperity. The reign opened with wars and rumours
+of wars on the frontiers; the Tiber overflowed Rome; there had been
+a plague and a famine. Here truly was the anger of the gods against
+the Roman welfare--the _deorum ira in rem Romanam_ of Tacitus. The
+mob howled for Christian blood; and Marcus was too weak or too little
+concerned to resist. Antoninus, Hadrian, Trajan had consented to
+the torture of the fanatics, though they had not shared the popular
+prejudices against them; many of the lawyers and philosophers had
+counselled it for the good of the State; why should he say no? His
+better nature probably revolted from such brutality, but it is the
+misfortune of diffident conventionalists, such as he, that they
+sacrifice their better instincts to the received views of ruder natures.
+
+The first victims of the superstition of the Romans and the
+conventionality of their Emperor were St. Felicitas and her sons.
+Their trial and death forms a celebrated episode in the history of the
+martyrs. It well illustrates the spirit of the martyrs[A] and the great
+things which the Church was doing for the weak ones of the world; how
+that out of the mouths of babes and sucklings she was perfecting praise
+through the strong love of Christ which was the inheritance of her
+children.
+
+[A] This is admitted even by those scholars who regard, and rightly it
+would seem, these Acts as a historical romance, _but founded on facts_.
+Since the main facts are true, and my concern is to illustrate the
+spirit of the martyrs, this testimony seemed sufficient justification
+for quoting the Acts.
+
+The Act tells us that “owing to indignation amongst the Pontiffs,
+Felicitas, a woman of high rank, was struck down with her seven most
+Christian sons.” Her life had been a source of great edification to her
+fellow-Christians, and the Pontiffs “seeing that, thanks to her, the
+good repute of the Christian name was growing, spoke of her to Augustus
+Antoninus (i.e., Marcus Aurelius), saying: ‘This widow and her sons
+are outraging our gods to our great peril. If she does not pay homage
+to the gods, your majesty must know that they will be so angry that
+they cannot be appeased.’ Then the Emperor ordered the Prefect of the
+City to compel her and her sons to appease the wrath of the gods by
+sacrifice.”
+
+This Prefect of the City was Publius Salvius Julianus, the most
+distinguished and trusted of Roman lawyers; and before him Felicitas
+was now brought for trial. He attempted first by blandishments, then by
+threats, to persuade her to sacrifice. She replied: “You cannot entice
+me by blandishments nor frighten me by threats, for I have within me
+the Holy Spirit, Who keeps me from being conquered by the devil: this
+is my ground for assurance, that living I shall overcome thee and when
+dead I shall triumph still more.” “At least let your children live.”
+“My children live if they do not sacrifice to idols; but if they commit
+such a crime, they shall go to eternal death.” Thus ended this first
+interview between Publius, a Roman of the old school, with a strong
+sense of justice as he understood it, but understanding it only as
+identified with Roman law, and this Roman matron of noble birth, who
+had left the darkness for the light.
+
+Next day she and her sons were again brought before the Prefect. “Have
+pity on your sons,” said he, “those fine young fellows yet in the
+flower of their youth.” Felicitas replied: “Your pity is impious and
+your advice cruel.” Turning to her children she added: “Lift up your
+eyes to heaven, my children, look aloft where Christ awaits you with
+His saints. Do battle for your souls and show yourselves faithful
+in the love of Christ.” At this Publius ordered her to be buffeted.
+“Darest thou in my presence counsel contempt for the Emperor’s orders!”
+
+Then he called each of the seven sons in turn. He cajoled; he
+threatened; but to no avail. The first, Januarius, replied: “The wisdom
+of the Lord sustains me and will enable me to overcome all.” He was
+beaten and sent back to prison, but the second was not cowed: “We adore
+one only God,” he replied, “to Whom we offer the sacrifice of a pious
+devotion. Think not that you can separate me or any of my brothers
+from the love of the Lord Jesus Christ. Even under the threat of blows
+and your unjust designs our faith cannot be conquered or changed.” To
+the third son, Philip, the Prefect said: “Our Lord, the Emperor, has
+ordered that you sacrifice to the all-powerful gods.” The boy replied:
+“They are neither gods nor all-powerful but worthless, wretched,
+insensible images, and those who sacrifice to them will incur eternal
+risk.” Silvanus made a similar reply and then Alexander was sent
+forward. Him the judge tried to win by kindness: “Have pity on thine
+age and on thy life, still in the prime of its youth. Be not obstinate
+but do what most will please our Sovereign: sacrifice to the gods that
+you may become one of the friends of Cæsar and gain both your life and
+the good-will of the Emperors.” The privilege of being “a friend of
+Cæsar” was a great one. These _amici Cæsaris_ formed a narrow circle
+round the Emperor, and the honour was coveted even by the highest in
+Rome. But it was no temptation to the Christian youth; he had a higher
+title: “I am the servant of Christ; I confess Him with my lips; I
+remain devoted to Him with my heart; I adore Him unceasingly. My years,
+so weak, as you see, have yet the prudence of old age and adore one
+only God. Thy gods and their adorers shall perish.” The two remaining
+children were equally unyielding, equally ardent in their love for
+Christ. They were all sent back to prison and Publius drew up a report
+of the process and sent it to the Emperor. What were Marcus’ thoughts
+on reading it, if he read it at all.
+
+Whatever his thoughts, he ordered the martyrs different tortures under
+various officials in different parts of the city. The first child died
+under the lash shod with lead, the second and third under the bludgeon;
+the fourth was hurled from a precipice, while the remaining three and
+Felicitas herself were mercifully beheaded. The reason for the severity
+and variety of the sentences may have been, as Allard suggests, the
+Emperor’s desire to strike the imagination of the people and cause
+them to believe that the gods had had enough of victims. He must have
+abhorred such cruelty, but he was too weak to resist the clamour of the
+priests and mob of Rome as Pilate had been in presence of other priests
+and another mob. Interpret his conduct as we will, mere natural virtue
+and the maxims of the philosophers show ill beside the folly of the
+Cross. Children and a weak woman put to shame this paragon of virtues;
+but, if they did so, the glory was not theirs but Christ’s; it was His
+love that nerved them to brave the lash, the bludgeon and the axe; He
+Who bade them be His witnesses to the ends of the earth, was in them,
+and suffered for them, because they suffered for Him. It is mockery and
+sophistry to think that such strength could come from frail humanity.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+St. Felicitas and her sons fell victims to the prejudices of the
+priests and the mob. The martyrdom of St. Justin and his companions
+was due to another force that was strongly to resist the advance of
+Christianity--namely, the opposition of the philosophers. The priests
+and the mob hated the Christians for the contempt with which they
+treated the State religion. The philosophers had an additional motive
+for hatred in their jealousy of the influence of the new teachers. “You
+see we profit nothing: the whole world is gone after Him.”
+
+St. Justin, like many of the great Christian apologists, had come to
+the Church through the Greek schools. He had searched for truth in
+all the beaten paths of Greek philosophy and found it not. “Nobody
+had such faith in Socrates as to die for his doctrines,” he tells us;
+and it was the eloquence of the martyrs’ sufferings which converted
+him. The voice of Christ said “Come,” and the heart of the pagan said
+“Come, Lord Jesus.” He became a Christian and devoted to the cause of
+making Christ known the whole ardour of heart and intellect with which
+he had sought and found Him. This Christian Socrates would walk in his
+philosopher’s dress, which he still retained, through the public places
+of the city--the porches of the temples, the colonnades, and porticoes
+and baths, where the _élite_ of Rome used to lounge each day discussing
+the latest society scandal, the news from the provinces, the elections
+or the games, and in these places he would converse and dispute with
+all comers. He had in this way inflicted severe humiliations on many of
+the pagan philosophers, who went about denouncing the Christians, and
+earned their thorough hatred. One especially was bitter against him.
+This was Crescens, a Cynic, whom Justin long expected would denounce
+him and who did so at length.
+
+Justin and six of his disciples were arrested and brought before the
+Prefect of the City, Junius Rusticus, the Emperor’s most trusted and
+intimate friend. The dialogue between these two men, both trained
+in the Greek schools of philosophy but now completely alienated, is
+typical of the conflict between old and new which marks the age of the
+Antonines.
+
+“To begin,” said the Prefect, “obey the gods and do what the Emperors
+command.” Justin replied: “We cannot be accused or blamed for obeying
+the precepts of Our Saviour Jesus Christ.” “What doctrines do you
+profess?” “I have studied all doctrines in turn and have settled in
+that of the Christians, although it is disliked by the advocates
+of error.” “What dogma is that?” “The doctrine which we Christians
+devotedly follow, the only true doctrine, is the belief in one only
+God, Creator of all things, visible and invisible, and the confession
+of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Whom also the prophets announced,
+Who is to judge the race of man, the Herald of Salvation, and the
+Teacher of all those who have good-will to be taught by Him. And I
+consider myself, being but man, incapable of speaking worthily of His
+Infinite Deity. That is the work of the prophets. They for centuries,
+inspired from on high, announced the coming amongst men of Him Whom
+I have said is the Son of God.” Here was a revelation to the devotee
+of Epictetus, one of the best of pagans; but he paid no heed. “Where
+do you Christians meet?” he asked. “The God of the Christians is not
+confined to any place; He fills Heaven and earth with His invisible
+presence; in every place the faithful adore and praise Him.” “You
+are then a Christian?” “Yes, I am a Christian.” Turning to Justin’s
+companions he asked the same question and got the same reply. To the
+slave Euelpistus, he said: “And you, what are you?” “I am a slave of
+Cæsar, but also a Christian, and I have got my freedom from Christ; by
+His goodness, through His grace, I have one hope with these.”
+
+Here for the first time was realised the equality of man in its truest
+sense. Rusticus might well have recalled the words of his master
+Epictetus: “The slave, like you, derives his origin from Jupiter
+himself; he is his son like you; he is born of the same divine seed.”
+But he gave no token of sympathy. The winged word of Euelpistus: “a
+slave of Cæsar but a freedman of Christ” passed like an arrow through
+his mind and left not a trace of its passage.
+
+Turning again to Justin he said: “Listen to me, you who are called
+learned, and think that you have the true doctrine; if I get you
+scourged and beheaded, think you that you must needs go up to Heaven?”
+“I hope,” answered Justin, “to receive the reward destined for those
+who keep the commandments of Christ, if I suffer the tortures you
+promise me. For I know that those who have lived thus will keep the
+Divine favour to the end of the world.” “You think, then, that you will
+mount up to Heaven, there to receive your reward,” said the judge with
+a sneer. “I do not think it, I know it, I am certain of it without a
+doubt.” This assurance of a future life of happiness fell strangely
+on the ears of the Stoic philosopher. His heart craved for it but at
+best he could hope for immortality only, “if it were best for the whole
+Kosmos that it should be so.” He gave his final command to sacrifice to
+the idols and received a final refusal; and all were immediately sent
+to execution.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+More famous than either the martyrdom of St. Felicitas or of St. Justin
+was the martyrdom at Lyons of forty-eight Christians, afterwards known
+as the martyrdom of the Maccabees. It is typical of the persecutions in
+the provinces as the others were of those in Rome, and fortunately we
+still possess the beautiful letter of the churches of Lyons and Vienne
+to the churches of Asia which gives a full account of it. It took place
+in A.D. 177, when Marcus Aurelius had already reigned for sixteen years
+and within three years of his death. He was then grappling with the
+barbarians on the Danube frontier and the plague was working havoc in
+the provinces as in Rome and Italy. Superstition broke out on all sides
+with renewed force and with especial intensity at Lyons, the religious
+capital of the Three Gauls. The old calumnies against the Christians
+were revived. They were accused of infanticide and incest, of treachery
+to the State, of secret conspiracy, and of contempt for the gods and
+hatred of mankind. To them was due the anger of the gods; and by their
+blood alone could it be satiated.
+
+The persecution began by a social ostracism of the Christians from all
+intercourse with their fellow-citizens in the baths, the forum and the
+other public places of the city, and even in private houses. If they
+violated this order they were beaten and stoned in the streets. So
+violent did this persecution become that the magistrates had at last to
+arrest all known to be Christians and examine them before the people.
+All confessed to the faith and were thrown into prison to await the
+arrival of the Imperial legate.
+
+Immediately on his arrival the formal trial began. By a strange
+travesty of justice the prisoners were first cruelly tortured. Stirred
+by this a young nobleman, Vettius Epagathus, stood out from the crowd
+and demanded to be allowed to plead their cause. He was already a
+Christian of ascetic life and loved by his brethren as “a gracious
+disciple of Christ following the Lamb whithersoever He went.” “Are
+you a Christian?” the legate asked him. “I am a Christian,” in his
+boldest tones. He was immediately put amongst the accused. “Behold the
+Christian’s advocate,” jeered the judge.
+
+In this trial ten of the accused, weaker and worse prepared than the
+rest, denied Christ. This was a matter of far keener anguish to the
+faithful than their own sufferings. But the ranks thus broken were
+soon filled up by others, amongst them their aged Bishop, Pothinus.
+Meanwhile the slaves of Christian masters had been arrested, and
+tortured and bribed into swearing to all the current charges. Their
+evidence lashed the mob to still greater fury. No torture was now to be
+spared. A second time the Christians were placed at the gentle mercies
+of the torturers; this repetition of the torture in such cases having
+been legalised by Marcus. But nothing could break the spirit of these
+warriors; they rejoiced to be accounted worthy to suffer something for
+Him they loved. How intense was the nerving power of love in the souls
+of Sanctus the deacon and the slave-girl Blandina!
+
+Sanctus when questioned again and again did but answer: “I am a
+Christian.” Even when the white-hot plates of brass were applied to his
+body and his flesh hissed and seared beneath them, in all his agony,
+his one relief was to proclaim again and again: “I am a Christian.”
+“Bathed and refreshed,” his brethren tell us, “in the heavenly
+well of living water which flows from the breasts of Christ,” every
+fresh torture was to him “a refreshment and a remedy rather than a
+punishment.”
+
+But his courage was as nothing to that of Blandina. She was the
+bravest of the brave in the bravest of all armies--the “witnesses” of
+Christ. Her mistress and her fellow-Christians dreaded lest from her
+frail, sensitive frame she should give way, as ten stronger had done
+before. They misjudged, however, the power of love; the right hand
+of the Lord wrought strength in her. She had no words of surrender,
+no cry for mercy. From morning till evening she wearied out several
+sets of torturers, who retired baffled and amazed that she still
+lived. “I am a Christian and we do nothing wrong,” was her cry again
+and again amidst her pains; and fresh and fresh with each repetition
+came new strength and courage. Renan rightly says of her: “As to the
+maid-servant Blandina, she proved that a revolution had been achieved.
+The true emancipation of the slave, emancipation by heroism, was in
+great measure her work. The pagan slave was supposed to be essentially
+wicked and immoral. What better way to rehabilitate and free him than
+to show him capable of the same virtues, the same sacrifices, as the
+freeman? How were these women to be treated with disdain, who had
+been seen acting with even more sublime heroism than their mistresses
+in the amphitheatre? The good Lyonese maid-servant had heard it said
+that the judgments of God are the overthrow of human appearances, and
+that God is often pleased to choose that which is humblest, ugliest,
+and most despised to confound that which seems beautiful and strong.
+Inspired by her rôle she called for the torture and burned with
+eagerness to suffer.” It is the glory of Christianity to have raised
+the off-scourings of mankind to such sublimity. Galen acknowledged
+that the conduct of the ordinary Christian was as noble as that of
+the most enlightened of the philosophers. He wrote as one who had
+been a contemporary of Epictetus and physician to Marcus Aurelius and
+intimate with the best lives which paganism produced. We who read the
+lives of the martyrs whole and appreciate the motives of their heroism
+know that it is an irreverence to compare with their virtue the virtue
+even of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius. Yet it is well to have this
+testimony of an enlightened pagan contemporary to the elevating power
+of Christianity on the masses.
+
+The final execution was spread over several days. The legate made the
+occasion a public holiday; and delegates from all Gaul, then present
+at Lyons for administrative and religious purposes, witnessed the
+spectacle.
+
+Maturus, Sanctus, Attalus and Blandina were chosen to provide the first
+day’s entertainment. Their tortures, we are told, saved the town the
+expense of a gladiatorial show. Christians were more novel game and
+cheaper than hired soldiers, lions and panthers. Blandina was bound all
+but naked to a pole at the end of the amphitheatre. She was to be at
+the mercy of the beasts; and the beasts proved more merciful than the
+yelling savage mob, who crowded tier over tier all around. That day
+none of them would touch the frail, delicate form that, bound as it
+was, recalled to the martyrs another form bound too by the Romans on a
+hill outside Jerusalem. She was reserved for another day, and meanwhile
+her fortitude gave courage to all.
+
+Attalus was a Roman citizen well-known to the people. Hence they called
+for his torture as for a favourite actor or gladiator. He was forced to
+walk round the amphitheatre amid the jeers of the spectators, preceded
+by a placard with the motto “This is Attalus, the Christian.” But the
+rights of a Roman citizen were not to be outraged with impunity; and
+so the legate sent Attalus back to prison without torture, there to
+await the Emperor’s orders.
+
+No such rights protected Maturus and Sanctus; their bodies were already
+each a mass of wounds from their former tortures; and they would be
+well spent in making a people’s holiday. A file of roughs lashed their
+naked, lacerated bodies as they passed into the arena. Their eyes fell
+on the instruments of torture--a gruesome array--along the centre; and
+then the awful moment came. A sullen growl and a roar from the farther
+end, and already the beasts were upon them. A thrill of mad excitement
+ran through the throng above. The beasts sank their teeth in the
+Christians’ flesh and lapped the Christians’ blood, and many a pagan
+envied them the feast. But, sure of their prey, they did not devour
+them at once; they tossed them to and fro in cruel sport and left them
+for the time. The mob were impatient; they wanted death; and called for
+the red-hot iron chair. Into this the martyrs were placed and the foul
+smell of the burnt flesh was incense to the nostrils of the holiday
+makers. But the Christians would not recant; the beasts would have no
+more of them; and it was slow sport watching this roasting process;
+so at a signal from the mob they received the _coup de grace_, the
+_finale_ of all the people’s pleasures.
+
+Here as ever persecution did but beget fresh victims. The whole
+Christian population was aflame with desire to confess Christ; and even
+transgressed the wise rule of the Church, which forbade them to seek
+imprisonment. But in this moment of spiritual intensity discretion
+were out of place; who can blame them for not standing meekly by when
+their brethren were writhing in torture and the name of Christ was
+being blasphemed? They can well afford to concede superiority in this
+always somewhat suspicious virtue of discretion to their arm-chair
+critics; they will have enough left to secure for themselves Heaven and
+the homage of mankind. The number of the accused increased day by day,
+especially the number of Roman citizens. This alarmed the legate, and
+he sent for instructions to the Emperor. After some weeks the reply
+came: those who recanted were to be released, the obstinate were to be
+put to death with torture. After all allowance has been made for the
+circumstances of the time and his own inevitable ignorance, this act
+remains a dark stain on the Stoic saint.
+
+The last act of this long-drawn tragedy at last began. A final inquiry
+was held by the legate, this time chiefly in order to discriminate the
+Roman citizens from the non-citizens. The latter were to receive the
+full measure of torture; the former were to be beheaded outright--all
+except Attalus, who was reserved for the arena as a favour to the mob.
+In this last trial despite promises and threats not one, even of those
+who had before fallen, wavered. The executions continued for several
+days, owing to the great numbers of the martyrs. Each day from early
+morning the pagans thronged the amphitheatre. Attalus and Alexander
+were the next victims. They went through the whole gamut of pain
+without a word or a groan, their souls wrapped in prayer the while.
+Finally they were finished off by the sword when the mob tired of them.
+Blandina and Ponticus were subjected again to yet fiercer torments,
+ending in death--torments so cruel that the Gauls said one to another:
+“Never in our country has woman endured so much.”
+
+The whole proceedings are a terrible commentary on the rule of the
+philosopher-king and Gibbon’s picture of the Golden Age, “the happiest
+period of the world’s history, when the good of the subject was the
+one object of government.” Much may be admitted to palliate Marcus’
+connivance, but assuredly he cannot be wholly excused. We can acquit
+him of monstrous brutality; but only at the cost of attributing to him
+narrow prejudice or pusillanimity. We can save his heart, but only at
+the expense of his intellect and will.
+
+I have dwelt on a few of the many martyrdoms of his reign to show the
+conduct and the ideals of Christianity side by side with the conduct
+of the pagan philosophers. What reasonable being can read aright the
+story of this struggle and yet prefer the cold, negative, ineffectual
+ideals of Marcus and his friends to the warm throbbing life of love and
+the heroic death of Ponticus and Blandina, of Justin and Felicitas?
+Yet, if we are to believe Renan and Arnold, the Meditations of Marcus
+are the force which will transform the world when, to quote Renan,
+the Gospel and the _Imitation of Christ_ have passed away, and on the
+hillside of Lyons where the martyrs died “a temple shall rise to the
+Supreme Amnesty and contain a chapel for all causes, all virtues, all
+martyrs.” Surely this is dilettanteism and paradox run wild, as untrue
+to psychology as it is to history and all sane and effective religion!
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X
+                           THE PAGAN À KEMPIS
+
+
+The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius have often been compared with the
+_Imitation of Christ_. The comparison is interesting; and the analysis
+which it involves of one of the noblest and purest of pagan ascetics
+on the one hand, and of the great exponent of Christian asceticism
+on the other, cannot but strengthen belief in the divine origin of
+Christianity. Unfortunately, we cannot attempt anything like a complete
+analysis of the two books; and we must be content to call attention to
+a few points of resemblance and difference in the two ascetics; and
+estimate their respective values as salves to wounded souls.
+
+The appraisers of “disinterested” and “undogmatic” morality have
+professed to find in the pagan book a surer guide to life. They find it
+more human, less scholastic, freer and fresher. Renan has voiced this
+view with his usual brilliance and fickle impressionism.
+
+It is true of course that the _Imitation of Christ_ is built on
+Christian dogma and steeped in Christian mysticism. But this is not
+matter of discredit to the _Imitation_ but of glory to Christianity.
+It is because the martyrs were strengthened by Christian dogmas and
+ideals that they alone surpassed Aurelius in that age. There is far
+less of rigid adherence to the letter of formulæ and infinitely more of
+spirit, of unction, of personal devotion in the _Imitation_. If dogma
+did not hinder but rather inspired a book which gives such freedom
+to the spirit, it is time to revise some of the current cant about
+the sterility of theology, its fettering of the spirit, and the witty
+definition of dogmatism as “puppyism grown big.”
+
+Those who have embraced Christianity and walked its peaceful paths
+can have no doubt as to the superiority of the _Imitation_ in all
+that is beautiful, good and true. But even positivists, professing
+completely to reject the supernatural, find in à Kempis a unique charm.
+George Eliot, the best of them, has told us in inspired words what the
+_Imitation_ was to her:--
+
+“I suppose that is the reason why the small, old-fashioned book, for
+which you need only pay sixpence at a bookstall, works miracles to this
+day, turning bitter waters into sweetness; while expensive sermons
+and treatises newly issued leave all things as they were before. It
+was written down by a hand that waited for the heart’s prompting; it
+is the chronicle of a solitary hidden anguish, struggle, trust and
+triumph--not written on velvet cushions to teach endurance to those who
+are treading with bleeding feet on the stones. And so it remains at
+all times a lasting record of human needs and human consolations; the
+voice of a brother, who, ages ago, felt and suffered and renounced--in
+the cloister, perhaps, with serge gown and tonsured head, with much
+chanting and long fasts, and with a fashion of speech different from
+ours--but under the same silent far-off heavens, and with the same
+passionate desires, the same strivings, the same failures, the same
+weariness.”
+
+This is the opinion of one who has deprived the _Imitation_ of its
+supernatural element. And even from the purely natural point of view,
+what more beautiful than the teachings of à Kempis on the true conduct
+of life? But this is not its characteristic charm, and one suspects
+that it is not the purely natural element in à Kempis that fascinates
+the positivist humanitarians; it is the supernatural element; and the
+attraction is but the strong cry of their spiritual nature revolting
+against the materialism to which their “positive” tenets lead; just
+as that same need for a religion led the best of them, even at the
+cost of inconsistency, to establish with much ritual and fantastic
+aberrations the cult of Humanity.
+
+But there is no need to settle the question between the two books
+by authority. Were it necessary to do so, one need but recall the
+multitudes of all classes and creeds, from St. Francis Xavier and
+St. Ignatius to Leibnitz and Bossuet and thence to Wesley, George
+Eliot, Gladstone, and Gordon, for whom the _Imitation_ has been a
+shining light and a guide upon their path second only to the Sacred
+Books themselves. To join that number one has but to take and read.
+The points of similarity between the two books consist in many maxims
+common to both, such as “that we ought not to regard the opinion of
+men”; “that we ought to keep the passions in restraint”; “that we ought
+to despise pleasures and endure hardship with patience”; “that we are
+not to be too much attached to life and to earthly things”; “that we
+ought to bear with the faults of others and return good for evil.” This
+similarity is, however, to a great extent merely verbal. The same words
+do not express the same spiritual attitude in the two writers. It is
+merely the resemblance which prevails between all the great ascetical
+writers, from Seneca and Epictetus to St. Francis, St. Ignatius and
+Bunyan, and thence to modern writers such as William James. They all
+study by introspection the same human soul with the same natural
+faculties and tendencies, strength and weakness, in all its varying
+moods of joy and sadness, perplexity and peace. Whereas the differences
+are measured only by the distance between the natural and the
+supernatural and show themselves in the whole spirit and atmosphere,
+tone and motive, of the two books.
+
+I have already hinted in passing at the sympathy there is between à
+Kempis and Marcus Aurelius in their contempt of sophistry and vain
+learning. But this similarity of view does but bring out all the more
+strikingly the difference in motive and the manifest superiority of
+the Christian. Aurelius was glad that he had not made more proficiency
+in the rhetorical and sophistical training of the day; and for the
+praiseworthy motive that thus he might have more leisure to attend to
+the main work of life--his own perfection. But how cold is his analysis
+beside the glowing words of à Kempis. The pagan seeks leisure for an
+introspection too often morbid; the Christian wishes for silence of the
+schools that God Himself may speak within him, and in the ecstasy of
+this holy discipleship cries out:--
+
+“Happy is he whom Truth teacheth by itself, not by figures and words
+that pass, but as it is in itself.... It is a great folly for us to
+neglect things profitable and necessary and willingly to busy ourselves
+about those which are curious and hurtful.... He to whom the Eternal
+Word speaketh is set at liberty from a multitude of opinions.... O
+Truth, my God, make me one with Thee in everlasting love. I am wearied
+with often reading and hearing many things; in Thee is all that I will
+or desire. Let all teachers hold their peace; let all creatures be
+silent in Thy sight; speak Thou alone to me.”
+
+In passing, we may compare this prayer and the whole mystic rapture
+and personal heart-cries of the _Imitation_ with Aurelius’ idea of
+a perfect prayer: “A prayer of the Athenians: Rain, rain, O dear
+Zeus, down on the ploughed fields of the Athenians and on the plains.
+In truth we ought not to pray at all or we ought to pray in this
+simple and noble fashion.” This simplicity was a great advance on the
+hypocrisy and verbiage which often marked Roman prayers and provided
+matter for satire to Horace and Juvenal; but, after all, it does not
+present us with any very lofty ideal. So, too, when he speaks of the
+objects which we ought to pray for: “Why dost thou not ask that the
+gods may give thee the faculty of not fearing any of the things thou
+fearest, or of not desiring any of the things thou desirest, or not
+being pained at anything rather than pray that any of these things
+should not happen or happen? One man prays thus: How shall I not lose
+my little son? Do thou pray thus: How shall I not be afraid to lose
+him. In fine, turn thy prayers this way, and see what comes.” All this
+does Aurelius credit, but it is far from the outpouring of the soul to
+God, which is the essence of the Christian book.
+
+Both books teach that peace must come through strife--strife without
+and strife within. The Stoic like the Christian teaches that life is
+a warfare; that safety lies in continual vigilance; in restraint over
+our lower nature; in retirement and self-examination; in regarding all
+the things of time as of no account in themselves. “Look within,” says
+Aurelius, “within is the fountain of good, and it will ever bubble up,
+if thou wilt ever dig”; “the mind maintains its own tranquillity by
+retiring into itself”; “retire into thyself. The rational principle
+which rules has this nature, that it is content with itself when it
+does what is just and so secures tranquillity”; “the mind which is free
+from passions is a citadel, for man has nothing more secure to which
+he can fly for refuge and for the future be inexpugnable.” À Kempis
+also bids us “seek a proper time to retire into thyself” but this
+retirement is not into solitude; it is to the most sublime communion:
+“Shut the door upon thyself and call to thee Jesus thy beloved. Stay
+with Him in thy cell, for thou shalt not find so great peace anywhere
+else”; for “whosoever aims at arriving at internal and spiritual things
+must with Jesus go aside from the crowd”; “in silence and quiet the
+devout soul goes forward and learns the secrets of the Scriptures”;
+“for God, with His holy angels, will draw nigh to Him who withdraws
+himself from his acquaintances and friends.”
+
+The ideal of à Kempis is by subjection of the passions to reach the
+interior freedom which begets all the Christian virtues until these in
+turn are concentrated into one strong glow of love by which the lover
+is united to his Beloved, heart to heart, and soul to soul. It is
+this love which makes his short sentences quiver and glow and pierce,
+especially in the beautiful chapter on the effects of Divine love,
+where he prays that he may cast off the human and put on God:--
+
+“Free me from evil passions and heal my mind of all disorderly
+affections, that being healed and well purified in my interior I may
+become fit to love, courageous to suffer, and constant to persevere.
+Love is an excellent thing, a great good indeed, which alone maketh
+light all that is burthensome and beareth with even mind all that
+is unequal.... The love of Jesus is noble and it spurreth us on to
+do great things and exciteth us to desire always that which is most
+perfect.... Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing stronger, nothing
+higher, nothing broader, nothing more pleasant, nothing more generous,
+nothing fuller, or better in heaven or earth; for love is from God and
+cannot rise but in God, above all things created.”
+
+It is scarcely necessary to say that the Stoic had no such ideal as
+this; for it is essentially a Christian ideal.
+
+À Kempis soars on the wings of love through the spirit world at home
+amongst the angels; while the Stoic trudges drearily along the hard,
+bleak road of logic; and once more logic is convicted of futility
+as a complete guide to life. Follow reason, said the Stoic: reason
+tells you that you can guide your own destinies and mould your own
+inner life: rely on yourself, since you can rely on nobody else: be
+self-sufficient. This self-sufficiency was the parent of hardness and
+at times of an unlovely spiritual pride. Aurelius seems to thank God
+that he is not as the rest of men; he is better than the pharisee
+only in that he pities the publican and acknowledges that he himself
+has that within him which could lead him to lower depths did he cease
+to follow the Stoic ascesis; but his pity has frequently something
+of spiritual disdain and contempt in it. Yet he is not wholly proud;
+there is in him a certain modesty and self-suppression which often in
+its expression reminds us of sayings of à Kempis; but he never learnt
+to think: “We are all frail; but do thou think no one more frail
+than thyself.” “If thou wouldst know and learn anything useful, love
+to be unknown and esteemed as nothing; this is the highest and most
+profitable lesson, truly to know and despise oneself”; or with St.
+Paul “who is weak and I am not weak.” But we should not expect unaided
+reason to reach these heights. À Kempis himself tells us that light
+comes to the soul only when reason is transcended by faith and love:
+“If thou reliest more upon thine own reason or industry than upon the
+virtue that subjects to Jesus Christ, thou wilt seldom and hardly be an
+enlightened man; for God will have us perfectly subject to Himself, and
+to transcend all reason by ardent love.” “Reason transcended by ardent
+love”: in this is expressed the whole relation between Christianity
+and all systems that rely on reason alone. The soul itself in all its
+aspirations is, as Tertullian said, naturally Christian, and it is only
+by a Procrustean torture that it can be forced into any other system.
+
+The inadequacy of Aurelius’ teaching is brought out most clearly in the
+shallow optimism with which he tries to conjure away all the sufferings
+of life. Nothing can be more unreal than his attitude towards evil. We
+turn to à Kempis and at once we are struck by the contrast. Suffering
+and evil are for à Kempis an intense reality. He does not attempt to
+waive them away with the magic formula “Never mind.” No; it is because
+they are realities, often terrible realities, that they are the most
+precious things in life with the power to transmute the human into
+the Divine. He recognises that no ordinary motive can reconcile frail
+humanity to the trials of life; that many are ready to follow Jesus to
+the breaking of bread but few to the drinking of the chalice of His
+passion; that only an ardent personal love and loyalty to Christ can
+induce men to take up their cross and follow Him, Who has gone before
+bearing His cross. When suffering is borne in this spirit it loses the
+unreasonableness which besets all other explanations of it. It becomes
+the greatest of blessings; it makes us indeed like unto God.
+
+How ineffectual beside this spirit of suffering for love are the cold
+formularies with which, as by magic spells, the Stoic would benumb
+human pain. Take for instance the much-quoted passage from the end of
+the second book: “Of human life the duration is a point; the substance
+is fleeting; the perception is dull; and the fabric of the whole body
+subject to rottenness; the soul is an idle whirling and fortune hard to
+divine, and fame a thing devoid of judgment. In short, all that there
+is of the body is a stream and all that there is of the soul a dream
+and a vapour. Life is a warfare and a sojourning in a strange country,
+and after-fame is oblivion. What then is that which can conduct a man?
+One thing, and only one, philosophy.” But he himself found, as many
+have found, that sorrow is not banished nor the riddle of life solved
+by philosophy.
+
+Thus we see the spirit of these two teachers of men. Further comparison
+would but illustrate more clearly that the Christian book, because it
+is in a sense divine, is intensely human, adequate to fulfil all that
+is best in man; while the pagan book, because it is merely human, does
+not satisfy the human soul, which always seeks for something better
+than itself. The one is centred in God and draws its inspiration from
+the inspired books themselves, concentrating all its efforts on the
+reproduction of Christ in the Christian. The other, though it bids
+us to “love man and follow God,” means something quite different by
+this love of man and this following of whatever its author understood
+by “God.” For it is essentially centred in man, in self; and has
+no inspiration but the gropings of the unaided intellect. Nor can
+it propose to us any higher model for our imitation than the blind
+subjection to law which prevails in the inanimate and organic universe;
+the stones, a fig-tree, or the brutes. It is true that in the spirit of
+the Meditations there is something akin to the sayings of à Kempis; but
+the Christian time and again feels in the pagan book the sense of void,
+the vain strivings after ideals--ideals fully realised and expressed by
+the lowly brother of the Common Life. The humblest Christian has as his
+birthright truths which were the fruit of years of training and much
+struggle in the noble pagan soul; and he has more.
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78320 ***