THE EMPEROR MARCUS AURELIUS.

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VERY significant change took place in the tone of Stoic teaching at Rome in the period between the establishment of the Empire and the commencement of its decline. The elegant speculations of Cicero and the comfortable complacency of Horace are succeeded by profound conceptions of God and his providence, by moral earnestness and directness of purpose, by remonstrances, exhortations, and practical teachings for the conduct of life. Indeed, the philosophers became preachers. Juvenal, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius are not mere theorists, or mere men of the world, or pharisees. Their abhorrence of evil, their personal strivings, their practical aims, their sense of divine guidance, all indicate how the evil times, which plunged the multitude into reckless corruption, made mellow and rich and wise the hearts of the few who were able to stand. Seneca even, notwithstanding the cloud which rests upon his memory, has a more profound apprehension of moral truth than any teachers of the preceding century. These philosophers turn from speculation to the conduct of life, from subtle reasonings to direct appeals to the conscience. Their constant aim is to plant the seeds of righteousness in the corrupt society about them. They exhort, entreat, and plead. In the fervor of their zeal for morality they let go every other subject of philosophy, and they begin by applying all their teachings to themselves. "My friend," says Epictetus, "you would become a philosopher: then first train yourself at home and in

silence; examine long your temper and weigh your powers. Study long for yourself before you preach to others. Plants ripen only by degrees, and you too are a divine plant. If you blossom before the time, the winter will nip you; you will fancy yourself some fine one, but you are dead already-dead even to the roots." Or, again: "Strive to heal yourself, to change your nature; put not off the work till to-morrow. If you say, To-morrow I will take heed to myself, it is just as though you said, To-day I will be mean, shameless, cowardly, passionate, malicious. But if it be good for you to be converted, and to watch with heart and soul over every action and desire, how much more is it good to do so this very moment! If it is expedient to-morrow, how much rather is it to-day!" This is preaching. Compare it with Cicero's De Officiis, and the change of tone which has taken place in the interval between them will be at once apparent. It is a change of the deepest interest, for it betokens the gradual drift of the human mind from blinding political ambition and bewitching speculations toward the realization of a higher life, and a desire to enter upon it. The answer to the newly-awakened cry of want came from a quarter whence none expected it.

Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius are the noblest ornaments of the later philosophy; and what a range is that from the crippled slave to the imperial ruler! For Epictetus was a servant of servants, owned by one of Nero's freedmen, a wealthy, brutal, vulgar wretch, who with his tortures made his philosophic slave halt for life. When Epictetus was set free, he lived at Rome in a hired house, the whole furniture of which consisted of a bed, a cooking-vessel, and an earthen lamp. He was poor and lame and feeble, but from the midst of his suffering and poverty he sends up a voice of exultation, as of a strong man to run a race. His heart continually overflowed with comfort and gratitude, and he was "so filled with a sense of the divine presence that his life was one continued hymn to Providence."1 For his own epitaph he wrote, "Epictetus, a slave, maimed in body, an Irus in poverty, and favored by the immortals."

But while a Democritus comes from the slave-pen, an Heraclitus issues from the palace. The hard blows of fortune made Epictetus exult as a conqueror; the possession of all that men commonly esteem the blessings and honors of life developed in Marcus Aurelius a gentleness and sweetness without parallel in the ancient heathen world. He is hard only to himself. In the same breath he exhorts himself to kindness and charity toward the worst of men, and to rigid, unre

1 Lecky's Hist. of European Morals.

mitting discipline in his own life. The sadness of the little book of "Meditations" impresses all readers of it. It is not gloomy or deeply despondent; it is not a record of heartaches and sorrows; but it is sad-sad because of the helplessness which pervades its views of the evils of life; sad because its admonitions and exhortations reveal to us a sensitive, susceptible soul struggling with the burden of human misery and degradation alone, with no word of cheer to ease the weight, and no better hope than that probably all things work for the good of the universe, and pushing on in the path of the most austere virtue without enthusiasm and without wavering.

The character of Aurelius made a profound impression upon the Roman people. The voice of slander has hardly whispered an accusation against him. "In that fierce light which beats upon a throne" he lived without reproach, and long after his death busts of him were to be found sacredly preserved as household gods in the homes of the Romans of Britain and Gaul. Later times have not failed to do him honor. "The most beautiful figure in history," says Matthew Arnold, "the acquaintance of a man like Marcus Aurelius is an imperishable benefit." Niebuhr wrote: "It is more delightful to speak of Marcus Aurelius than of any man in history, for if there is any sublime human virtue, it is his. He was certainly the noblest character of his time, and I know no other man who combined such unaffected kindness, mildness, and humility with such conscientiousness and severity toward himself." Montesquieu says: "One cannot read his life without a softening feeling of emotion. He produces such an effect upon our minds that we think better of ourselves, because he inspires us with a better opinion of mankind." And Mr. Lecky speaks of him as "the purest and gentlest spirit of all the pagan world."

He was born at Rome on the 26th of April, A. D. 121. He was a nephew of Antoninus Pius, but when Hadrian chose the latter as his own successor to the purple, he required of Antoninus to adopt Lucius Verus Commodus and Marcus Aurelius as his sons. The education of Marcus received unusual care. He himself enumerates eleven tutors to whom he was indebted for valuable instructions, and says that from his grandfather he learned "that a man should spend liberally on these things." Playing upon his family name, Verus, Hadrian had in very early life fondly called him "Verissimus," and this pet name indicates the early beauty and sincerity of his character. At twelve years of age he became a Stoic, and learned to prefer, as he writes, "a plank bed and a skin, and whatever else belongs to the Grecian discipline." To this he rigidly

adhered during his whole life. The skin, it is said, was added, rather against the inclinations of the young enthusiast, at the solicitation of his mother, who feared that his philosophy would prove too strong for his constitution, which was never robust. His mother Aurelius mentions only a few times, but these mentions are very touching. Thus he thanks the gods that "though it was my mother's fate to die young, she spent her last years with me." And in another place he says: "From my mother I learned 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." It adds not a little to our estimate of the power of her influence to know that this tribute was written years after her death, near the close of his reign, when Aurelius was in camp on the frozen Granua, striving to force back the barbarous Quadi from the borders of the empire. One of his notes to his tutor Fronto gives a delicious picture of the life of Marcus and Antoninus at the lovely villa of Lorium, their favorite residence. Here they employed their leisure in hunting, fishing, boxing, wrestling, and the rustic sports of the vintage. “I have dined," he writes, "on a little bread. . . . We perspired a great deal, shouted a great deal, and left some gleanings of the vintage hanging on the trellis-work. When I got home I studied a little, . but not to much advantage. I had a long talk with my mother, who was lying on her couch." It cannot be wrong to assume that the gentleness and sweetness which "light up" his Stoicism are the result, in part at least, of such hours with his mother.

The habits of Aurelius at this time were those of a student rather than of an emperor. It is said that before the death of Antoninus he never slept away from home more than two nights. He was absorbed in study and the duties incident to his position. From the "Meditations" we learn that he did not make much proficiency in rhetoric and poetry, and he is thankful for it, because he thus escaped being drawn away from more important studies. Logic and history fared little better. He remembers with gratitude that from Rusticus he learned not to be led "to writing on speculative matters, nor to delivering little hortatory orations"-these two sentences set the boy-moralist very clearly before us-and that he early preferred philosophy and the Grecian discipline. This is a somewhat narrow scheme of education, and his views on this subject have a rigorous practicalness which would delight some of our modern reformers. He compares education to the training of a vine, or a horse, or a dog, and thinks that every art seeks that the

thing that has been made should be adapted to the work for which it has been made. But, clearly, he does not believe that man was made chiefly that he might know the history of a piece of chalk. Perhaps he is wiser than we are in giving, in his estimate of the relative practical importance of the studies which are considered essential to a good education, the highest place to those that relate to the formation of character.

When the death of Antoninus left him sole emperor, in A. D. 161, Aurelius was forty years old. The first act of his reign was to associate Verus with him in the government. It was an unselfish but mistaken policy, and served only to increase the difficulties of administration. These commenced with the new reign. The long tranquillity which had blessed the rule of Antoninus terminated with his death. Hardly had the ashes of the dead emperor been laid away in the mausoleum, when the Parthians burst upon the legions in Syria, and, having almost annihilated them, swept over the province, laying it waste with fire and sword. Verus was sent against them, partly to get him out of the sight of the Romans, for he was at best but "a warped slip of wilderness." He now loitered by the way, revelling in the luxuries of the Eastern cities, and left his lieutenants to conduct the campaign. Under Avidius Cassius the legions slowly retrieved the disaster, and after five years Verus led them back to Rome to celebrate a triumph to which he had no claims. But they brought with them from the East the seeds of a terrible pestilence, which spread desolation over the fairest portions of the empire. The bodies of the dead were so numerous at Rome that the government took upon itself the duty of burial. Throughout Italy towns and cities were desolated, and villas and lands left unoccupied and falling to decay. The plague spread to the very borders of the empire. Superstition added to the distress of the time, for we are forced to believe that the fresh persecutions of the Christians which now sprang up must be attributed to the belief that the calamity resulted from the desertion of the old temples and altars, due in great measure to the influence of the new religion. Pagans and Christians were looking for the end of the world. In the midst of these gloomy scenes troops were mustering for a new war. The whole Danubian frontier was disturbed by the movements of restless tribes-Germans, Sarmatians, and Scythians-who seemed acting in concert, and were urged on by the pressure of roving tribes in their rear. The legions were so wasted by disease that it required three years to recruit them. Then Aurelius, taking Verus with him, left his court for the camp on the Dan