SOURCE: “Marcus Aurelius: Rational Asceticism and Social Conservatism” in Subversive Virtue: Asceticism and Authority in the Second-Century Pagan World, The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995, pp. 21-52.

[In the following excerpt, Francis contends that Aurelius's practice of asceticism was cerebral and notably unconcerned with the physical.]

In the second century, asceticism ascended to the very apex of Roman society. In contrast to the philosophy-hating tyrannies of Nero and Domitian, Marcus Aurelius ruled with the reputation of a philosopher-king¹ and, to a certain extent, that of an ascetic. Although much has been written examining the precise nature of the emperor's philosophical tenets, the character of his asceticism has remained ill-defined and in need of detailed study.²

Paradoxically, Aurelius's reputation and that of the entire Antonine period make this task more difficult. Gibbon's characterization set the tone for most of modern scholarship: “But his life was the noblest commentary on the precepts of Zeno. He was severe to himself, indulgent to the imperfections of others, just and beneficent to all mankind.” It is not surprising that immediately after his description of Aurelius, Gibbon penned his famous phrase that the Antonine age was “the most happy and prosperous” in human history.³ Most biographies written about the emperor remain colored by this “Golden Age” Tendenz. Concomitant with this romanticization of the age is the denigration or dismissal of any phenomenon contrary to it, including religiosity, mysticism, miracle working, and asceticism.⁴ As a result, no satisfactory general framework of the emperor's life and thought exists; it must be built up by examining the Meditations in the broader intellectual and social context of their author's life and times.⁵

Aurelius's asceticism, based upon Stoic principles of psychology, reason, and nature, was profoundly cerebral and markedly deemphasized the physical. At the same time and deriving from the very same principles, Aurelius's social views were equally profound in their conservatism and traditionalism. This presents a seeming contradiction. Though purporting to value ascetical ideals highly, Stoic Romans would have no sympathy with ascetics who were perceived as a threat to the social order. As the espousal of Stoic principles had long been fashionable among the Roman ruling class, Aurelius's attitudes may be taken as representative of that class as a whole. Philosophic principles thus generated both a reverence for asceticism and a justification for the status quo. In doing so, Stoicism drew a clear line at which sympathy for commonly held ideals stopped and the demand for social conformity began.

Aurelius presents a unique case, particularly worthy of study. First of all as emperor, he offers a perspective both of his own aristocratic class and of that intangible entity, the Roman “state,” insofar as the perspective of the state can be defined. Second, in preserving for posterity his own musings to himself in the Meditations, the emperor allows a glimpse into the workings of his own thoughts, values, and inner contradictions.⁶ In addition, E. R. Dodds has argued that the man himself displays an intensity of ascetical feeling, of the unreality of the world, of desolation and even resentment against the physical, uncommon in the classical world.⁷ The accuracy of this extreme thesis is questionable. Yet, with the exception of Dodds, Aurelius's asceticism has simply been noted in scholarship, but not discussed in any specific way.

AURELIUS AS AN ASCETIC

Aurelius himself describes some elements of ascetical practice at the opening of the Meditations:

Simplicity in manner of life far removed from the habits of the rich (I.3);

To be long-suffering and have few wants, to work with my own hands and mind my own business (I.5);

To desire a plank-bed covered with a pelt and whatever else that belongs to the Greek method of education. …

(I.6).

These passages occur in the catalogue of the emperor's teachers and the description of his education. While it is safe to say that the virtues of simplicity and hard work continued into adult life, the physical asceticism described (such as the plank-bed) belong to Aurelius's youth, as a form of training or exercise in his early upbringing. The lines quoted from I.6 follow his mention of “composing dialogues as a boy,” (…), and underscore the context of youthful practice. This concords with other evidence. The Historia Augusta states that at the age of twelve Aurelius dressed in a rough philosopher's cloak and slept on the ground.⁸ These practices were meant to give the youth the bodily endurance (tolerantia) of a philosopher, the propaideutic physical discipline necessary to begin the study of philosophy. The overall impression is the same as in Musonius Rufus's On Askesis, where physical discipline is a mere preliminary to the development of the true asceticism of the mind or soul. Seneca, too, had recommended that a few days should be regularly devoted in the education of a youth for him to live in poverty. The object is apatheia, teaching that physical want, should it befall him, is nothing to be feared since such deprivation cannot harm the soul.⁹ So it appears that for Aurelius the purpose and value of his early physical asceticism was also only as a propaideutic, a temporary exercise directed toward a higher goal and not an end in itself.

It would be incorrect to put too much weight on the philosophical and ascetical bent of Aurelius's education. Nothing appears out of the mainstream, much less radical, for an aristocratic Roman youth.¹⁰ Five of Aurelius's teachers mentioned in the first book of the Meditations were not only senators, but consulars. Much of what the emperor learned was not concerned with philosophy, but rather with the proper conduct of a prince in society. This is particularly obvious in his veneration for Antoninus Pius and the lessons learned from him (I.16). If for no other reason, the weight of Aurelius's social class and responsibility, as well as that of his eventual high office, would have tempered any excess of philosophical or ascetical zeal.¹¹

References to the adult emperor offer no evidence of continued ascetical practice beyond the training of his youth. Cassius Dio mentions that Aurelius took very little food, and that only at night (LXXII.6.3f.) But the context of this comment is the emperor's frail health, with no mention of either philosophy or asceticism. Fronto admonishes him for being too serious and disagreeable, reading books at banquets and the theater (ad M.C. IV.12.5). Dio states that the emperor wore himself out and destroyed his health from his excessive devotion to business and duty (LXXII.24.2, 36.2).¹² This is certainly self-sacrifice, but does it reflect a deliberate pursuit of physical asceticism? The sources do not mention specific practices or philosophic principles. The impression, rather, is that Aurelius simply worked himself to death.¹³

In a similar vein, HA M.A. XV.1 also mentions his habit of attending to business at the games, but this too is in a context describing Aurelius's devotion to work and attention to the details of government. No sort of Stoic disgust at the brutality or inhumanity of the spectacle is suggested. Suetonius had said the same of Julius Caesar for the same reasons (Aug. 45.1).¹⁴HA M.A. XXIII.4-5 does relate an anecdote that when the emperor recruited Roman gladiators to fight in the Marcomannic Wars, there was talk that he sought to deprive the people of their amusement and thus force philosophy upon them. The import of the tale is perhaps that the emperor, and philosophers generally, were widely regarded as prudes, but scarcely more than that. The emperor sought to repair his image by seeing to it that lavish games were provided by wealthy benefactors. This and the controversial S.C. de pretiis gladiatorum minuendis offer clear and specific evidence that Aurelius did not hesitate to promote the spectacles, especially when his own popularity was at stake.¹⁵ The only comment the emperor himself makes in this regard is not that the circus is disgusting, but rather simply tedious (VI.46).

Some minor passages have also been taken as an indication of Aurelius's physical asceticism. There is, for instance, the emperor's lack of ostentation and avoidance of wearing the purple (Med. I.17.3 and Dio LXXII.35.5). Yet other Antonine emperors, most particularly Pius, were just as frugal and unostentatious for reasons having nothing to do with philosophy. Economy in the imperial household was one concern; another was the practice of imperial civiltas, an emperor's deliberate presentation of himself as mere “first citizen,” which was particularly popular among the more constitutionally minded and conservative of the Antonines. Aurelius himself states that he learned this sort of moderation from Pius (Med. I.16, 17.3; VI.30).¹⁶ The emperor also practiced sexual restraint, even as a youth (Med. I.17.2, 6). Yet his decision to abstain until the appropriate age and not to surrender to passion, even when the opportunity presented itself, is certainly in conformity with the moderate opinions of Musonius and Epictetus. Though Aurelius may have been more rigorous than was common in the practice of his day, his sexual continence conformed to the professed ideals of the Roman aristocracy—ideals that had been “on the books” since Augustus's moral legislation.¹⁷

Philosophy made Aurelius overly serious and demanding. A comment from the HA is telling: “Because Marcus appeared harsh both in military matters and in all parts of his life on account of his philosophical regimen, he was bitterly criticized. Yet, he replied either by word or letter to those who spoke ill of him.” It is clear that he was concerned with what others thought of him in this regard, despite his own protests to the contrary.¹⁸

THE ASCETICISM OF REASON

Except for a period of training in his youth, Aurelius's life was not characterized by rigorous physical practices of asceticism.¹⁹ It did, however, involve an amount of austerity and self-discipline that appeared more than ordinary to his contemporaries. It would be incorrect to say that there were no elements of asceticism in his life, but it remains to define his ascetical gravitas in positive terms.

The most obvious aspect of Aurelius's asceticism is precisely that it is not physical. Its focus is the mind, rather than the body; it is primarily internal.²⁰ In this regard, Epictetus had been quite insistent.

Whatever discipline that is applied to the body by those exercising it … may in fact be a form of askesis, if in some way it tends toward desire and aversion. …

(Epict. Diss. III.xii.16.)

The position and character of the layman is this: he never searches for help or harm from within himself, but from things outside of himself. The position and character of the philosopher is this: he searches for all help or harm from within himself

(Ench. 48.1).

If you should allow your askesis to turn outward towards things that are not proper objects of moral choice, you will have neither your desire successful in its aims nor your aversion on a sure footing.

(Epict. Diss. III.xii.5)

It would be appropriate to refer to this sort of discipline as the “asceticism of reason.” This is consistent with the Stoic emphasis on intention as the determiner of the morality of a given act. Physical asceticism, like most if not all acts, is morally neutral in itself and, therefore, can be vicious if undertaken for the wrong reasons.²¹ This emphasis results in a devaluation of an individual's acts as an accurate representation of character. A striking example occurs in a brief comment Aurelius makes regarding Socrates, the archetypal philosophic hero. The philosopher's noble death, skill at disputation, and endurance of privation are insufficient to determine the good of his character. Rather, it is necessary to view the nature of his soul. The determination rests on his possession of a catalogue of Stoic virtues: justice, piety, endurance of evil, acquiescence in fate, apatheia.²² If this could be said of Socrates, it holds true for anyone.

The predominance of intention, of mind, naturally carries with it ramifications for the valuation of the body.²³ The nature of this view of the body is twofold. While Stoic psychology placed complete emphasis on will and reason, the Stoic view of nature and acceptance of the “natural” prevented it from setting the body in strict opposition to the mind. The flesh is indisputably natural, so that the duty of the wise man is not so much to vanquish, much less reject, his corporeal nature as to accept its reality and power and bring it under the command of reason. The same is true of all other aspects of human personality and life. Stoic doctrine was not strictly “dualist.”²⁴ The body is not the enemy; it is simply unimportant. It is wrong to give the body and its desires attention beyond the measure prescribed by nature, but it is equally unnatural to disregard them entirely. At times, Aurelius states the position exactly.

If it is to the advantage of your rational nature, keep hold of it; if to your animal nature, simply say so and quietly maintain your decision—only see to it that you make a sound judgment.

(III.6)

Let the ruling … and lordly part of your soul be unmoved by smooth or rough movements in the flesh. Let it not mingle with them but circumscribe itself, sealing off these feelings within their proper areas. When, however, they do issue forth into the intellect in virtue of that other sympathetic connection, as happens in an integrated organism,²⁵ then you must not try to resist the sensation, natural as it is, and do not let the ruling reason … then add its own estimate as to whether it is good or bad.

(V.26)

Side by side with this view, however, there also exists an apparent disgust with the physical that Aurelius makes no attempt to reconcile.

Just as bathing appears to you: oil, sweat, filth, greasy water, everything revolting, so is every part of life and everything we encounter.

(VIII.24)

The rot that is the substance of everything: water, dust, bones, stench. Again, marble is but calloused earth; gold and silver are sediment; clothing is animal hair; the purple is blood; and so for everything else. The puny soul is just the same, changeable from this to that.

(IX.36)

E. R. Dodds has emphasized Aurelius's disgust with the physical world and his expressions of desolation and alienation.²⁶ The reality of these sentiments in Aurelius's mind, and the depth of their intensity, is beyond question, but their meaning and significance remain open to discussion. On the surface, at least, the emperor appears to be truly of two minds.²⁷

J. M. Rist has suggested a more refined explanation of Aurelius's attitude toward the physical, attributing its origin to Heraclitus's teachings, appropriated either directly by Aurelius or indirectly through their influence on the development of Stoic doctrine.²⁸ Aurelius's feelings of disgust are not with the physical per se, but rather with physical reality as the most persistent, tangible reminder of the necessity of change and decay—Heraclitan flux. The same is true for fame, reputation, adulation, and the simple recognition of the passage of time. In the emperor's own words:

Adopt a scientific approach to the way all things change, one into another; pay close attention and exert yourself in this area, for nothing so produces greatness of mind. Such a one has put off the body and, understanding that he must almost at once leave all these things behind and depart from among men, has devoted his entire self both to justice in his own actions and to the dictates of universal nature in whatever else comes to pass.

(X.11; cf. II.14f.; III.10)

By devoted study of the passing nature of all things, the individual divests himself of the body. This is not to say that one escapes the body as a prison; rather, the individual is confronted with the reality of his own mortality, that the Heraclitan flux applies even to the self. The object is not to “flee the body” nor is it to “flee the world.” This realization is rather a spur to ethical action in society and to a resigned acceptance of fate.²⁹

This distinction between mind and body introduces a subject vital both to the understanding of the Meditations themselves and of Aurelius's concept of asceticism—the “spiritual exercise.”³⁰ P. Hadot has outlined the process by which Aurelius moves from pessimism to optimism regarding life and the world by the repetition of fundamental Stoic dogmas.³¹ This constitutes the fundamental spiritual exercise in Stoic philosophy, and the Meditations is essentially a handbook of such exercises. The exercise begins with pessimism, the necessity of seeing things the way they are: “dust, stench, sediment, blood.” Clarity of vision and reason are the fundamentals of “greatness of mind.” The purpose of the exercise is not, however, to stop here. It is only through this clear, if unattractive, vision of stark reality that the individual may see that all things are but part of nature and subject to the same universal laws, most especially those of change, decay, and death. The mind expands, and what initially appeared repulsive or depressing is now seen in a cosmic perspective as holding no cause for revulsion or fear. Optimism arises as the final phase of the exercise when all is seen to be a manifestation of the rational order of nature and, therefore, necessary and good. Thus it is that Aurelius's most positive statements refer to the grandeur and beauty of nature and the reasoned order of the cosmos, while his most negative deal with the narrow particulars of life and the world. The object of the exercise is to change the individual soul, that is, to correct one's initial, instinctive perceptions and thoughts by the continuous application of the principles and truths of philosophy. This is the asceticism of reason at work—the careful, deliberate, and repeated exertion to discipline and correct the internal attitudes and perceptions of the mind.

Nor is the soul exempt from this process: “The rot that is the substance of everything: water, dust, bones, stench. … The puny soul is just the same, changeable from this to that” (IX.36). The soul is also a physical entity for Aurelius, and no matter how far he spiritualizes its qualities it cannot leave the body after death, much less be immortal.³² It cannot be set up as the complete antithesis of the body.

For Aurelius, then, the body remains an unimportant, morally neutral instrument. It is natural; its reality must be accepted, but merely disciplining or depriving it would have no effect on the mind or soul. The asceticism of reason is, in effect, a one-way street. Discipline flows from the mind to the body, seldom the reverse. An asceticism that concentrated on the body would, therefore, be pointless. Two important points emerge. Because the body is natural, it cannot be a source or locus of evil. In addition, the body is neutral; it cannot be a battleground in the struggle for virtue. Its actions are ultimately unimportant. Virtue exists solely in the state of mind and motivation.

The asceticism of reason is, therefore, a discipline of mind and motivation: “Annihilate imagination. Block impulse. Quench desire. Keep ruling reason … in control” (IX.7; cf. VII.29; VIII.29, 49; XII.25). Its privation is internal: “Therefore casting away everything else, hold on to these few things. Recall that each man lives but a short time, a brief moment; the rest has either been lived or lies in an unknown future” (III.10).³³ As such, it is the product of education, indeed, of higher education as it was known in the ancient world. It requires a carefully honed and discerning reason. It is most definitely not for the common man. This is just the opposite of the Christian practice, as Galen (129?-199), Aurelius's contemporary and court physician, noted:

Just as now we see the people called Christians drawing their faith from parables [and miracles], and yet sometimes acting in the same way [as those who philosophize]. For their contempt of death [and of its sequel] is patent to us every day, and likewise their restraint in cohabitation. For they include not only men but also women who refrain from cohabiting all through their lives; and they also number individuals who, in self-discipline and self-control in matters of food and drink, and in their keen pursuit of justice, have attained a pitch not inferior to that of genuine philosophers.³⁴

What amazed Galen was that the unlettered multitude could perform acts of virtue without education, or perhaps more correctly, with a false education not based on reason. As will be seen below, this rather sympathetic view can also allow a much harsher verdict. Here it is important to note that among educated pagans asceticism was purely a matter of education, philosophy, and reason. Any practices not founded on this basis were suspect, be they of the Christians or of other pagans like Lucian's Peregrinus and Alexander, who made equally irrational appeals to the unlettered and the gullible.³⁵

Resignation, at a most profound level, is to be found everywhere in the Meditations. The asceticism of reason produces little in the way of external actions and, in some respects, negates the entire idea of effective action itself. This is seen in two related concepts: apatheia (VI.16), which can be described as detachment from one's internal states, and ataraxia (IX.31), a separation from external circumstances.³⁶ At one point in the Meditations, Aurelius gives this as the very definition of philosophy:

What then can accompany man in his sojourn of life? One thing and one thing only—philosophy. And this lies in keeping the daimon within free from insult and injury; master of pleasures and pains; doing nothing aimlessly, deceptively, or hypocritically; independent of another's action or inaction. Furthermore, this lies in accepting whatever happens and is allotted to one as coming from that same source from which he himself came, and above all in awaiting death with an amiable attitude as nothing other than the loosing of those elements from which every living thing is composed.

(II.17; cf. III.4 and Epict., Ench. 12.2)

Apatheia has a rational basis for “the universe is transformation and life is opinion.” By virtue of Providence, all that happens is good; therefore all perturbation comes from within, from the opinion or attitude of the mind (IV.3; cf. II.15; IV.7; XII.22).

Even in regard to the gods, true piety consists in praying, not that something happen or not happen, but to be free of the desire or fear of the event in either case (IX.40).³⁷Apatheia lies not in the suppression of emotion, not even if such emotion has an irrational basis, but of irrational reaction to such emotion.³⁸ The internal state of the philosopher, his psychological reactions, are carefully circumscribed by reason. When confronted with passion or distress, the wise man must first resignedly accept his condition and then, by applying his reason, not act on his feelings. The discipline required is to accept passively the decrees of fate: “At all times and in all places it lies with you to be piously content with your present circumstance” (VII.54), or again: “Accept without arrogance; let go without struggle” (VIII.33).

Some examples of ataraxia have already been seen in Aurelius's opinions regarding fame, reputation, and adulation. Again, the rational basis for this detachment is the passing nature of all things.³⁹ Life must be lived according to reason; if this results in social isolation, or even death, this too must be borne with equanimity (X.15; cf. III.4 ad fin.; VI.59; VII.62; VIII.52f.; IX.34). Above all, one must never desert the post in life assigned by fate (VII.45; X.25; cf. Epict., Ench. 22 and Plato, Apology 28E). Virtue lies in the acceptance and performance of duty, in acquiescence rather than action or change. This often entails merely resigning oneself to the presence of stupid and evil men, without hope of changing them (IX.20, 42; cf. V.17; VII.29; IX.38; and Dio LXXII.34.3f.). These forms of detachment offer another reason for the deemphasis of the physical in Aurelius's asceticism. Focus centers on the achievement of apatheia, inner detachment. Through the practice of ataraxia, external events and circumstances become unimportant. Again Aurelius illustrates: “Wherever it is possible to live, there one can live rightly; it is possible to live in palace, hence it is possible to live rightly even in a palace” (V.16). Physical surroundings, even the opulence of the imperial residences, are no hindrance to the achievement of the true asceticism of apatheia. As with physical rigor, material deprivation or its opposite need not have any impact on the mind. The practice of voluntary poverty would be pointless.⁴⁰

Asceticism in the Meditations is decidedly passive. It offers no impetus to action beyond that of discerning personal morality and performing one's appointed duty. Moreover, this concept of asceticism draws clear boundaries as to the unacceptable. Stoic apatheia would have little tolerance for displays of enthusiasm or extremism. Excesses of emotion or display would reflect irrationality. The concept of ataraxia would make the physical privations of Christian, Cynic, and Pythagorean asceticism appear ludicrous.

ASCETICISM AND PERSONAL AUTHORITY

Another characteristic of this view of asceticism is that it conveys no extraordinary authority, moral or otherwise, on its practitioner. Aurelius does not make his own experience a paradigm for the instruction of humanity. In this, he is simply following Stoic doctrine as it had developed from the time of Panaetius (c. 185-109 b.c.), whose psychology carried to the extreme the Stoic emphasis upon motivation as the determiner of the morality of a given act. By insisting on absolute purity of motive, Panaetius banished the true Stoic sage into the realm of the hypothetical. The ordinary individual (… “the one making progress”) was left only to strive toward virtue by the performance of his duty (… officia) as a rational and social being.⁴¹ The “holy man” does not exist for Aurelius, nor for his Stoic contemporaries, and one can only assume a very negative reaction if such a one presented himself to the emperor or other like-minded individuals.⁴²

One passage in the Meditations might be taken to indicate otherwise: “Therefore such a man, now no longer putting off being among the best, is a kind of priest … and servant of the gods, utilizing that which is set within him” (III.4). The reference to priesthood is, first of all, a simile. … It is simply descriptive, not a claim to spiritual authority. The wise man is like a priest because he attends to the cult, or cultivation, of his particular god. For the wise man, this is his own daimon within, his ruling reason …, which is a part of the divine reason of the cosmos. Every human being has this divine spark, so the philosopher is not unique in its possession, but only in its cultivation. This passage goes on to state that the cultivation or use of the deity within produces a whole catalogue of Stoic virtues. Exactly the same effect results from the right use of reason and from following nature.⁴³ The cultivation of the daimon generates internal moral virtue, not external miraculous power. Here lies another motive for the suspicion of self-styled holy men, wonderworkers, and theatrical ascetics: cion of self-styled holy men, wonderworkers, and theatrical ascetics: their works are outside the “normal” course of relations with the divine. From this it is a short step to adduce a sinister source for such extraordinary feats.⁴⁴

A worthwhile comparison can be made with the later development of Neoplatonism in the writings of Porphyry. His mentor Plotinus's guardian spirit is no mere daimon, but a god himself (Vit. Plot. 10). Porphyry states that it is the Supreme God himself who is established within the inward parts of the philosopher (de Abst. II.52). His comments regarding the philosopher as priest go far beyond Aurelius. The simile is gone. The philosopher is a priest, and not just of any particular god, but of the Highest God. He is knowledgeable in all things pleasing to the Supreme Divinity (de Abst. II.49f.) and thus can claim ultimate religious and philosophical authority.⁴⁵ In comparison, Aurelius's simile is feeble indeed. Elsewhere in the Meditations, Aurelius accepts with resignation the fact that those closest to the gods in life meet with the same fate of oblivion in death as the rest of humanity.⁴⁶

Though Aurelius's pursuit of philosophy endowed him with no special personal authority, it is possible that it colored his exercise of authority as emperor. An obvious place to look is in the field of politics, law, and society, where the emperor's views could find their most direct application.

At first glance, the Meditations suggest that the emperor's beliefs would have a positive impact. Justice or the obligation to social activity or “conduct becoming a rational, political being” is mentioned more than one hundred times.⁴⁷ In addition to this general concern is the Stoic doctrine of the unity of humanity, which finds its locus classicus in IV.4: “If this is so, we are citizens; if so, we share in some political entity; if so, the universe is like a state—for to what other political entity can one say that the whole human race belongs?” (cf. IV.3; VII.9). Humanity is united by its common reason into a commonwealth with common laws. Finally, there are Aurelius's comments regarding his own political education, invoking the names of Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, and Brutus and ideals such as equality of rights, equity, freedom of speech, and liberty.⁴⁸

The meaning behind the emperor's words is another matter. Despite Aurelius's repeated emphasis on the performance of social acts, he gives no concrete examples of the sort of acts of which he is speaking. Given the nature of the Meditations, it may be that Aurelius had no need to remind himself of the specific acts he had in mind.⁴⁹ In either case, he assumes them. The key point is that the definition of “acts becoming a social being” is not contained in Aurelius's philosophy. It must be provided from the outside, from the prevailing norms of society. Rather than providing a critique of society, Aurelius's Stoicism provides a philosophical justification for the status quo. If the path of virtue lies in the performance of duty and acceptance of the decrees of fate, the wise man will not seek to alter or abandon either his society or his position within it. Seneca had already said as much, adducing the Stoics as an example: “The philosopher (sapiens) will not upset accepted customs (publicos mores), nor turn public attention to himself by some novel manner of life (Ep. 14.14, cf. 73.1).⁵⁰ This conclusion is consistent with the almost complete emphasis on the internal dynamics of the personality mentioned earlier. Stoic morality and ethics were essentially individual concerns. Justice, social activity, and political conduct are meant to be guides for individual action, not items on a social agenda.⁵¹ When Aurelius addresses the point directly, he must admit that Platonopolis cannot be built (IX.29).

As for the unity of mankind and the world state, scholars have already made short shrift of the practical import of these ideas.⁵² One further observation should be added. Aurelius's cosmopolitanism, in comparison with Epictetus's for example, gives particular emphasis to reason and law.⁵³ This emphasis has the ability to transform this benign, philanthropic doctrine into a potent weapon. Those who do not conform to the mores of the world state can be branded irrational (i.e., insane or malevolent) or outlaws (i.e., traitors to the state). When theory is brought down to the level of reality, the world state of the Stoics does not possess its own laws, but can only appropriate them from the customs and codes of existing society.

The political ideals mentioned by Aurelius bring up the question of law and legislation. Here scholarly opinion differs sharply. At the extreme are the generalizations of E. V. Arnold, who attributes the “humanity” of the whole of Antonine legislation to Stoic influence, whether or not those identified with the legislation were professed Stoics.⁵⁴ P. Noyen is more specific, arguing that laws such as the S.C. Orfitianum and the Constitutio divi Marci ad Aufidium Victorinum bear the personal mark of Aurelius's philosophical beliefs. He describes the former law as “revolutionary and progressively feministic” and the latter “the culmination of legislation in favor of the destitute.”⁵⁵ Such views are not only exaggerated; they are fundamentally incorrect.

Noyen limits himself entirely to Aurelius's laws. His thesis lacks context. If these laws bear the imprint of Aurelius's own Stoicism, they must be shown to be significantly different from the laws of other emperors. M. Hammond, in surveying the entire Antonine era, emphasizes the continuity of “humane” legislation throughout the second century and, in some cases, even under the principate as a whole.⁵⁶ G. R. Stanton, arguing directly against Noyen, notes that Aurelius's legislation is equal in volume to that of his predecessor, and in many cases simply develops existing laws of Hadrian or Pius. Specifically he notes that the S.C. Orfitianum was of only indirect benefit to women. The earlier S.C. Tertullianum under Hadrian or Pius actually did more.⁵⁷ Aurelius was, in fact, no innovator but rather continued the trends of the second-century imperial administration.⁵⁸

A unique perspective on this problem comes from the studies of W. Williams who, independently of the issues discussed here, searched for signs of individuality in the imperial constitutions from Hadrian to Commodus. Of the laws which, in Williams's view, carry marks of Aurelius's personal intervention, only two coincide with those Noyen lists as bearing the emperor's philosophical stamp; while Williams finds no evidence of Aurelius's intervention in the pieces of legislation Noyen considers to be most characteristic of the emperor's personal philosophic influence.⁵⁹

Aurelius's legal acta simply do not demonstrate any particular Stoic humanitas. In certain instances even the opposite is true, especially when property rights and civil order were at issue. For example, Ulpian cites and summarizes the generalis epistula of Aurelius and Commodus on hunting down fugitive slaves. The emperors command unyielding measures in retaining captured runaways and strictly limit the rights of citizens when encountering slave-catchers (Dig. XI.4.1.2 ad fin.-5). Ulpian also notes a senatorial oration by Aurelius on the topic, stressing the same fierceness and disregard for others' rights when recovering this human property (Dig. XI.4.3). It is repeatedly specified that these rules are part of a general tightening of laws and procedures regarding slaves under Aurelius and Pius. The treatment of Christians offers another example. Here too, the emperor was once portrayed as mild and benevolent. Although it is probable that Aurelius did not pursue active, systematic persecution, it has become clear that he, at the least, embraced Trajan's policy of punishing confessed Christians. At the same time, when public order was threatened—as at Lyon in Eus., HE V.1—he could countenance severe measures.⁶⁰ It has even been suggested that the first surviving treatise attacking Christianity, Celsus's True Doctrine, was inspired by Aurelius and served as an exposition of his policy.⁶¹

Despite the repeated emphasis on society and social acts in the Meditations, despite all the references to politics and political ideals, there is no evidence of any positive social impact brought about specifically by Aurelius's philosophical beliefs. The Stoicism of this period, and any ascetical concepts attached to it, remain inward-looking, detached, conservative, a technique for “surviving” the world rather than reforming it.

SOCIAL NORMS AND SOCIAL CONFORMITY

The conservative nature of Stoicism, and its dependence upon surrounding society for the norms to which the “social animal” must adhere, imply severe consequences for those who would not conform. Aurelius is uncharacteristically harsh in his description:

The soul of a man does violence to itself most especially when it becomes, as far as it can, an abscess and tumor, as it were, on the universe.

(II.16)

If he is a stranger to the universe who has no understanding of the things that are in it, no less is he a stranger who has no understanding of what occurs in it. He is a fugitive, who flees the rational law of society; a blind man, who shuts the eyes of his understanding; a beggar, who is in need of another and does not have of himself all that is required for living; an abscess on the universe, who rebels and severs himself from the reason of our common nature because he is displeased at what happens, for this same nature brought this about which also bore you; a part cut off from the body politic, who cuts his own soul off from that of all rational beings, which is but one soul.

(IV.29)

What specific acts could be so heinous as to make someone a festering sore on the world, a cancer in the cosmos, a stranger to the universe, a universal fugitive, blind, a cringing beggar, a social amputee? Aurelius, unfortunately, does not say. It is clear, however, how closely these words resemble the accusations made against the Christians of antisocial behavior, obstinacy, insanity, inhumanity, and treason.⁶² This is precisely the point. What this line of reasoning offered was a philosophical justification for persecuting any individual or group perceived to be a threat to the social order either by society as a whole or by those who ruled it. The criteria for judging the case can only be taken from the norms of the surrounding society. Epictetus had already admitted this:

Our duties … are, in general, measured by our social relationships. … In this way, therefore, you will discover the duty … owed to and expected from your neighbor, your fellow-citizen, your commanding officer, if you accustom yourself to examining your relationships with them.

(Ench. 30; cf. Epict. Diss. II.x)⁶³

Add to this Aurelius's own emphasis on submission, especially to the decrees of fate.⁶⁴ Anyone who is unaccepting of his lot, discontented with his fate, is a rebel and outcast. This is the automatic verdict on the demagogue, the reformer, and the sectarian. As the lives of such dissidents as these were often characterized by conspicuous practices of physical asceticism, such practices were suspect by association. In addition, the radical ascetic, whose discipline was both physical and extreme, could be for these very reasons branded “irrational” by Stoic standards, and subjected to the penalties of those who refuse to acknowledge reason and submit to fate.

In Med. X.25, Aurelius repeats this theme, and connects it with the concept of law: “He who flees his master is a runaway slave, but the law is master and he who breaks the law is also a runaway.” As the emperor makes clear in the following line, by law he means fate and the inexorable bonds of one's lot. Yet by drawing this analogy, Aurelius cannot but bring up ideas of social order, crime, and punishment, subjects on which he held strong opinions, as indicated by his treatment of runaway slaves. It is but a short step from the law of fate to the law of the State: “The end of rational creatures is to obey the reason and law of that most ancient of cities and governments [i.e., the universe]” (II.16). Since Posidonius, the emphasis in Stoicism had been moving from the simple following of nature to joining in the organization of nature.⁶⁵ The State, therefore, can be seen as the enforcer of the laws of nature, the guardian of the rational order. Certainly, such a view is consistent with Rome's own view of her purpose in the world and her role in history.

No amount of personal virtue or asceticism can make up for “antisocial” behavior. In one sentence, an answer is given to the Christians who demanded to know why the empire would persecute those of blameless life. As J. M. Rist has noted, people are to be valued only according to their possession of reason; if fools get what they deserve, that is no cause for pity. Stoicism, not only in spite of but actually because of its belief in the unity of humanity, the power of reason, and the supremacy of nature, can be quite harsh and inhumane to modern sensibilities.⁶⁶

There is evidence that this line of thinking was directly applied to the Christians, even by Aurelius himself.⁶⁷ There once was a locus classicus in Aurelius's comments regarding readiness for death: “This readiness must come from one's own judgment, and not from mere obstinacy [like the Christians], but with deliberation, and dignity, and—if it is to serve as an example—without theatrics” (…, XI.3).⁶⁸ The specific mention of the Christians is now held to be an interpolation.⁶⁹ Yet the point is still worth noting. Willingness to face death—which perhaps can be viewed as the ultimate form of asceticism—is meaningless if it springs from mere obstinacy. This is consistent with the Stoic emphasis on the motivation of an act and Aurelius's comments regarding avoidance of display. The emperor, and those like him, could turn a hard face to martyrdom.⁷⁰ The issue of obstinacy is further illumined by Galen: “One might more easily teach novelties to the followers of Moses and Christ than to the physicians and philosophers who cling fast to their schools” (de Puls. III.3). Galen's complaint is against those who accept dogma over logic and empiricism. The Jews and Christians offer the best example of this form of irrationality.⁷¹ Likewise Epictetus: “If then one can develop such an attitude toward these things through madness and even through habit, as the Galileans do, can nothing be taught by reason and demonstration?” (Epict. Diss. IV.vii.6).

The connection with reason appears again in another disputed passage: “Yet to have a mind directing them … toward what appears to them to be their duties … also belongs to those who do not believe in the gods, who betray their country, and who do all manner of things behind closed doors” (Med. III.16). The mention of treason, atheism, and secret abominations is clearly reminiscent of the stock accusations against the Christians. Whether Aurelius actually had the Christians in mind at this point is less important than the general pattern of his thought.⁷² The mere possession of reason is no proof against antisocial behavior. The characteristic of the good man is submission, as Aurelius's next statement makes clear: “If then everything else is also common to all these types of people I have mentioned, the one thing remaining unique to the good man is to love and embrace whatever befalls and is spun for him by fate.”

Aurelius's thought begins with the Stoic concept of the “commonwealth of reason.” Citizenship depends upon the performance of social acts, that is, obeying the law. The law is fate. Social behavior, therefore, lies in accepting one's lot. Those who do not submit are fugitives and outlaws who believe neither in the state, the gods, nor the norms of society. What could be a more complete, practical description of fate than state, gods, and society put together? To question one is to become an outlaw. Christian ascetics questioned all three. So did Cynics.⁷³ The emperor's own thinking demonstrates how the progression could be made from a seemingly detached philosophical ideal to slanders and accusations. The process has its own logic. This also explains the similarity between the accusations made against Christians, Cynics, Epicureans, goetes, etc. Deviance is perceived first, and the most obvious evidence of such deviance would be the practice of radical physical asceticism. By failing to comply with certain social norms, it follows that such persons believe in no norms, no laws, and no gods. The emperor could have had any or all such persons in mind when he wrote.⁷⁴

In this light, one of the emperor's comments is particularly revealing. Among the lessons Aurelius learned from Rusticus was: “Not to display oneself as a man keen to impress others with a reputation for asceticism or beneficence” (I.7).⁷⁵ The only occurrence of a form of the word askesis in the Meditations is negative in context.⁷⁶ In the first place, not making a display of one's qualities is certainly consistent with both Stoic teaching and with traditional Roman sobrietas and gravitas.⁷⁷ Second, Seneca had already advised that a philosopher conform to outward fashion and decorum, avoiding all ascetical display, lest he make the name “philosopher” less popular than it already was.⁷⁸ Conspicuous asceticism was regarded with suspicion in and of itself.

There is another less obvious, but for the purposes of this study more important, aspect of asceticism revealed here. Diognetus, who introduced Aurelius to “the Greek method of education,” also taught him “to disbelieve the tales of miracle mongers … and goetes about incantations and the exorcisms of daimones” (I.6). Some form of ascetical display could be expected of the magician or religious charlatan to impress crowds, woo the rich and powerful, and obtain contributions. Epictetus was himself aware of the problem: “Training exercises … must not be performed which are opposed to nature and aberrant, since then we who call ourselves philosophers would be in no way different from wonderworkers” … (III.xii.1). Commonly such quacks either posed as philosophers or embroidered their “medicine shows” with philosophical doctrine. The comparison one modern scholar has made to medieval palmers and friars is most apt.⁷⁹ One who made too much of a show, who gained an ascetical “reputation” or popular following, could lay himself open to the charge of goeteia.⁸⁰ A conspicuous rise in one's fortunes could be enough. Philostratus says that the sophist Hadrian the Phoenician was so favored in imperial circles that many believed he must have been a goes to gain such a position (VS 590). In his Apology, the same accusation is made against Apuleius by the relatives of a wealthy widow whom he had the good fortune to marry. Significantly, Apuleius maintains that he is simply a learned, curious man, interested in philosophy.⁸¹ Galen stated that he did not go bragging about his cures and treatments, lest other physicians and philosophers label him a goes and soothsayer (… de Praecog. 10.15).

It seems fair then to adduce the suspicious connection between asceticism and goeteia as another motive for the avoidance of physical asceticism or ascetic display in Aurelius. Not that the emperor would lay himself open to such a charge; rather, the point is that such display had clear and unsavory connotations that a cultivated, philosophic gentleman would naturally avoid. An active interest in philosophy required discernment and care both against false doctrine and for personal reputation. So fine was the line between learning and quackery, “fakiry” and “fakery” so to speak, in both the popular mind and in everyday social reality. It is no accident that the teacher who warned Aurelius away from magicians and charlatans was the same one who first introduced him to philosophy. Interest in one could lead to the other too easily in a vulnerable mind. Philostratus's comment regarding the charge made against Dionysius of Miletus of improving his students' memories by “Chaldean arts” is appropriate: “Who of those counted among the wise would be so unthinking of his reputation that, by practicing goeteia among his pupils, he would also taint what he taught them properly?” (VS 523).⁸² That the emperor had direct experience with philosophical posturing and pretension is clear.⁸³

THE “COMMON PERSPECTIVE” OF THE EDUCATED CLASS

The Meditations reveal important evidence regarding asceticism and society in the second century. Asceticism is seen as a cerebral process of self-discipline. It is not defined primarily in terms of the physical, which Stoicism regards with a decided indifference, but rather in terms of the internal workings of the mind: motivation, attitude, and emotional response. As a discipline, it requires philosophical education and decorous moderation. It is a matter of “deportment,” of producing a virtuous man according to the canons of tradition, classical paideia.⁸⁴ Rather than reflecting any sort of radicalism, asceticism—in Aurelius's Stoic sense—was a vehicle for conforming to traditional standards of moral behavior.

For those who would not conform, Aurelius's philosophy also provided a justification for persecution. By its equation of reason, nature, and fate, and the necessity of taking its prescriptions for social behavior from the mores of its surrounding society, Stoicism could condemn dissent from prevailing norms as irrational, antisocial, and inhuman. Persons such as Cynic philosophers, prophets of new cults, miracle-working holy men, and the foolhardy atheistic followers of a “crucified sophist”⁸⁵ were thus perceived as clear and present dangers to the fabric of society itself. This was Lucian's verdict on Peregrinus and Celsus's on the Christians, while Philostratus endeavored to save Apollonius of Tyana from precisely this sort of accusation.

In writing of the end of Aurelius's reign, Dio made his famous comment that Rome descended from a kingdom of gold to one of iron and rust (LXXII.36.4). In one respect, although not one Dio intended, the process was already under way. Aurelius is both a critical Stoic thinker and a man whose thought is subject to the play of old ideas and prejudices.⁸⁶ Twice Aurelius urges himself to be a Roman (II.5; III.5). In the final analysis, it is a combination of Stoicism and Romanitas that best describes the emperor's character and beliefs.⁸⁷ Stoicism, stripped of its earlier radical nature, provided a justification for the status quo both of the society of the Roman Empire and of the inherited culture of classical civilization.⁸⁸ The practical application of Stoic principles: the way one behaved as a social being, how one submitted to fate, the manner of demonstrating social reason, all had to be taken from the attitudes and values of the surrounding society.

A parallel exists between the individual and society. Just as Aurelius was forced to admit the intractability of the physical and irrational side of human nature, so the social and political status quo also had to be accepted as a decree of fate. The most that could ever be done was to allow reason to maintain all the elements of both the individual personality and the social fabric in their proper place.⁸⁹ By the time of Aurelius, Stoicism had become the philosophical justification for Romanitas. The emperor's philosophical beliefs neither led him to question established principles of policy nor offered him any guidance in determining the objective content of his actions. It probably never occurred to him that any such examination would be necessary.⁹⁰ Aurelius's outlook offered a strong defense for a political and social structure that was particularly conservative by nature.⁹¹ Far from embracing any movement sympathetic to its own ascetical bent, Roman Stoicism presented a clear case for attacking those perceived as a threat to the social order.

Notes

1. Among pagan sources, both Dio (LXXI.1.1) and the Historia Augusta title Aurelius “the philosopher.” HA M.A. I.1: “A man who pursued philosophy all of his life and who surpassed all rulers in the purity of his life”; HA M.A. XXVII.7: “The saying of Plato was always on his lips, that nations flourished if either the philosophers ruled or the rulers pursued philosophy”; cf. XVI.5, XIX.12. Even Christians readily attribute the title to Aurelius: Justin, 1 Apol. I; Athenagoras, Leg. I; and Melito in Eus., HE IV.26.9-11, where also Nero and Domitian are singled out specifically as the only emperors who persecuted, while Aurelius is described as holding opinions “both more philanthropic and philosophic” than even the beneficent Hadrian and Pius.

2. For bibliography, see R. Klein, ed., Marc Aurel., Wege der Forschung 50 (Darmstadt, 1979), 503-29, and F. H. Sandbach, The Stoics, 2d ed. (Bristol, 1989), 179-82. Establishing a detailed definition of Aurelius's philosophy, beyond matters that touch upon asceticism, would both be redundant and lie outside the scope of this work. Much more so would any discussion of his “personal commitment” to his beliefs. This question is controversial and, I believe, unanswerable given the nature of the sources. The Meditations is not a diary, and any discussion would be based on subjective modern views of what Stoicism or the emperor ought to have been. On this, see P. A. Brunt, “Marcus Aurelius in his Meditations,” JRS 64 (1974): 1-20; P. Hadot, “La Physique comme exercice spirituel ou pessimisme et optimisme chez Marc Aurèle,” Revue de théologie et philosophie 22 (1972): esp. 239; and R. B. Rutherford, The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius: A Study (Oxford, 1989), 8-21. Recent attempts to read personal motivations, engendered by Stoicism, into the historical record include P. Noyen, “Marcus Aurelius the Greatest Practician of Stoicism,” Antiquité Classique 24 (1955): 372-83; and M. Józefowicz, “Les idées politiques dans la morale stoïcienne de Marc Aurèle,” Eos 59 (1971): 241-54. Such attempts are well refuted by G. R. Stanton, “Marcus Aurelius, Emperor and Philosopher,” Historia 18 (1969): 570-87; and Brunt, “Marcus Aurelius.” A prudent, well-balanced treatment is given by J. M. Rist, “Are You a Stoic? The Case of Marcus Aurelius,” in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, ed. B. F. Meyer and E. P. Sanders (Philadelphia, 1982), 3:23-45.

3. E. Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Modern Library (New York, 1932), 69f., 73f.

4. Though revised, A. Birley, Marcus Aurelius: A Biography, 2d ed. (New Haven, 1987), still tends to romanticize the emperor. The works of Noyen and Józefowicz are positively apologetic. Ernst Renan, Marc-Aurèle et la fin du monde antique (Paris, 1882), most severely disparaged the “superstitious” and “credulous” tendencies of the times in contrast to Aurelius's example of enlightened rationality. Most recently, this opinion has reappeared in Rutherford, 182, 216ff. On the fallacies of the “rationalism vs. superstition” dichotomy in the period, see R. MacMullen, Paganism in the Roman Empire (New Haven, 1981), 70-79, and R. Lane Fox, Pagans and Christians (New York, 1987), 64f., 76-261 passim. A more balanced view of the age of Aurelius may be found in A. S. L. Farquharson, Marcus Aurelius: His Life and his World, ed. D. A. Rees (New York, 1951), 1-12.

5. Pertinent studies include the articles by Stanton, Brunt, and Rist cited above. Other important works are: J. Rist, Stoic Philosophy (Cambridge, 1969); P. A. Brunt, “Stoicism and the Principate,” PBSR 43, n.s. 30 (1975): 7-35; E. V. Arnold, Roman Stoicism (Cambridge, 1911), though the reader needs to be cautious of his sources and generalizations; and E. R. Dodds, Pagan and Christian in an Age of Anxiety (Cambridge, 1965), also with a word of caution. R. B. Rutherford's literary study of the Meditations is useful in its descriptions of the broader context of Aurelius's writing, but is often diffuse on topics discussed here and, I believe, simply incorrect in its analysis and conclusions regarding the emperor's asceticism and supposed “world hatred.” See P. A. Brunt's authoritative review in JRS 80 (1990): 218-19; and M. T. Griffin, CR, n.s. 41 (1991): 42-44, who though less critical rightly notes that historians will find fault with Rutherford's work. The specific difficulties in both Dodds and Rutherford will be discussed below.

6. Dodds, Pagan and Christian, 8 n. 1: “The personal character of his notebooks makes them better evidence for ‘the feelings of the individual man in his solitude’ than the letters of Seneca, the essays of Plutarch or the sermons of Epictetus, all of which were designed for a public audience.” This is safe to say, but must not be overstated. Hadot, “La Physique,” argues throughout that the Meditations are a traditional form of Stoic “spiritual exercise” that certainly reflect Aurelius's chosen system of belief but actually give precious little insight into the personal and individual character of the man.

7. Dodds, Pagan and Christian, 8, 21, 27f.

8. HA M.A. II.6. It is also stated that Aurelius's mother soon forced him to modify this discipline, persuading him to sleep instead on a couch strewn with skins—obviously reflecting Med. I.6. No citation of the Historia Augusta must go for long without some mention of the innumerable problems surrounding this document. The HA is a collection of imperial biographies from the period 117 to 284 c.e. As a whole, the work is notoriously tendentious, unreliable, and—in the biographies of the later or little known emperors—outright fictitious. The date(s) of composition and authorship remain in dispute. The reader is directed to T. D. Barnes, The Sources of the Historia Augusta, Collection Latomus 155 (Brussels, 1978) and R. Syme, Historia Augusta Papers (Oxford, 1983). By way of apology, it should be noted that the biography of Aurelius is considered to be one of the more factual (Syme, 35) and that here the HA is cited simply to amplify material from other, more reliable sources with which it agrees.

9. Musonius Rufus IV, Lutz 52-56. Seneca, Ep. 18.5-7; see Arnold, 337f., 360-64. J. Perkins, “The ‘Self’ as Sufferer,” Harvard Theological Review 85 (1992): 271f., perceives this same distinction between Aurelius's practice as a youth and adult, which she attributes to his deliberate rejection of the new and growing concern with the body in the second century in favor of traditional mental self-discipline. Her insightful and stimulating analysis avoids the pitfalls of “world hatred” theories.

10. So Farquharson, Life and World, 60, suggests that Aurelius's early inclination to self-discipline was probably not motivated either by specifically Stoic or even generally philosophic principles.

11. The five consulars were Cornelius Fronto, Herodes Atticus, Iunius Rusticus, Claudius Maximus, and Claudius Severus. On this point and on “princely” education, see E. Champlin, Fronto and Antonine Rome (Cambridge, Mass., 1980), 119; also Farquharson, Life and World, 13-23, 33-54. There is debate on the philosophical versus the rhetorical character of Aurelius's education and personal interests; see birley, Marcus Aurelius, 69ff., 95ff. (chaps. 4 and 5, passim), and Champlin, Fronto, 31, 33, 106f., 121f.

12. Dio LXXII.36.2 states that Aurelius was, at one time, physically vigorous but made himself frail. The word askesis is used, but the text gives no indication that this refers to practices of rigorous physical asceticism. Dio first mentions lack of leisure suggesting that askesis here should be taken to mean “assiduous exertion.” In the immediately preceding section, Dio speaks of Aurelius's sedulous pursuit of learning in rhetoric and philosophy, so that E. Cary, in the Loeb edition, translates the passage: “As a result of his close application and study he was extremely frail in body.” Perhaps echoing Dio, HA M.A. III.7f. states that Aurelius ruined his health as a youth by his devotion to his studies, specifically law. The precise meaning of Dio LXXII.36.2 can certainly be debated. The essential point remains, however, that if Dio is speaking of physical asceticism here, this would be the only passage to suggest extreme practice on the part of the adult emperor.

13. Rutherford, 120, makes an unwarranted assumption in implying that the emperor's frail health resulted from his rigorous practice of physical asceticism.

14. Aurelius may have simply been following the advice of Epictetus: “There is no need, for the most part, to go to public shows. If there should be such an occasion, however, show that you have concern for nothing other than yourself, that is, only wish for those things to happen which do happen and only for him to win who does win. Thus you will not be impaired. Refrain completely from shouting, laughing at anyone, or from great excitement. After leaving, do not speak a great deal about what happened, but only as much as contributes to your own betterment. Otherwise, it would appear that you had been absorbed in the spectacles” (Ench. 33.10).

15. For the text of the S.C., see J. H. Oliver and R. E. Palmer, “Minutes of an Act of the Roman Senate,” Hesperia 24 (1955): 320-49.

16. See Farquharson, Life and World, 76ff.

17. Rutherford, 119, takes the points discussed here: Aurelius's diet, civiltas, and sexual restraint, as evidence of his “extravagant asceticism.” The foregoing discussion establishes that this is not the case.

18. HA M.A. XXII.5-6. D. Magie in the Loeb edition notes at this passage that the emperor's critics were in the consilium principis itself. On Aurelius's concern for his reputation, see HA M.A. III.4, 6; VII.1.

19. So Perkins, 271f., rightly observes that in rejecting physical practices of asceticism in favor of internal discipline, Aurelius “maintained his adherence to traditional modes of self-mastery.”

20. “The belief that underlies all others is that he should devote himself entirely to the intellect.… Nothing matters except the intellect; and its activities are wholly within our power. The intellect is a deity, δαίμων, that has emanated from the universal deity; as such, it must be worshipped and kept pure by the individual, acting as a priest,” E. Asmis, “The Stoicism of Marcus Aurelius,” ANRW II.36.3 (1988): 2236. For further elucidation of philosophical concepts and technical terms in the Meditations, the reader may consult Farquharson's commentaries on the specific passages in his Meditations of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.

21. Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 97-111; Brunt, “Stoicism,” 12. So also B. L. Hijmans. … Notes on Epictetus' Educational System, Wejsgerige teksten en studies 2 (Assen, 1959), 55, notes that for Epictetus “to act virtuously without the right state of mind is no virtue at all,” and traces the source of this opinion back to Democritus. Arguing that intention is not the sole determiner of morality: I. G. Kidd, “Stoic Intermediates and the End for Man,” CQ, n.s. 5 (1955): 181-194 = Problems in Stoicism, ed. A. A. Long (London, 1971), 150-72; see also his “Moral Actions and Rules in Stoic Ethics,” in The Stoics, ed. J. M. Rist (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1978), 247-58.

22. VII.66: “Whether he could content himself with being just towards men and pious towards the gods, and not become rashly irritated at wickedness or thrall to another's ignorance, nor take as foreign anything allotted by the universe or suffer it as unbearable, nor turn his mind over to his paltry flesh in sympathy with its passions.” This is, perhaps, the most concise description of Stoic virtue found in the Meditations. The same themes appear repeatedly throughout, for example, II.16; III.4; IV.31; VII.54ff.; IX.20, 28, 40, 42; X.11, 15; XII.27. Regarding this judgment on Socrates, see Rutherford, 217 n. 112.

23. This is stated most emphatically by Arnold, 286: “Virtue is a state of mind, a disposition of the soul; it is not an act. Hence the bent of the mind (inclinatio), its aim (intentio), its desire is everything; the performance through the organs of the body is nothing” (citing Sen., Ep. 95.57; De Ben. II.31.1; Cic., De Fin. III.9.32; Epict. Diss. I.29.1, 2).

24. See Chapter 1, pages 12-19. Such broad conceptual terms as “dualism” are notoriously difficult to define precisely, and are used most often without such definition at all. To have utility as a concept, “dualism” should require not only a distaste for physical or bodily reality, but also its clear opposition to the intellectual or spiritual. It should also imply a moral distinction: the physical is a source or locus of evil, the mind or soul of good. This opposition and moral distinction exists nowhere in the Meditations. So also Dodds, Pagan and Christian, 13: “The visible cosmos as a whole could only be called evil in contrast with some invisible Good Place or Good Person outside and beyond the cosmos: radical dualism implies transcendence. Stoicism recognized no such place or person: it was a one-storey system” (citing S. Pétrement, Le Dualisme dans L'histoire de la philosophie et des religions [Paris, 1946], 105).

25. … the meaning is unclear and the translation above is literal. Farquharson, Meditations, 2:664, suggests that the “one” sympathetic connection is that of the mind down to the body, and the “other” is that of the body up to the mind. Thus, though the mind seals itself off from descending to the physical / emotional level, feelings are still able to travel up to the mind; the human being is a unity and there can be no complete severing of mind from body.

26. See above, notes 6 and 7. Aurelius is, for Dodds, a prime example of the individual in an “Age of Anxiety.” This thesis has not found general acceptance. For example, R. Lane Fox, 64ff., gives a succinct and powerful critique: “Anxious individuals can be found in any age with a personal literature. … To sum up an age by a single emotion is to focus on a few individuals and to simplify even those few … and their written theories on the age-old problems of evil and its origins were neither distinctively ‘anxious’ nor new to the Antonine age.” On the difficulties with Dodds's work in general, see R. C. Smith and J. Lounibos, eds., Pagan and Christian Anxiety: A Response to E. R. Dodds (Lanham, Md., 1984).

27. Dodds himself admits this, Pagan and Christian, 21: “He fought against the exclusive dominion of such thoughts with all the strength of his Stoic religion, reminding himself that his existence was part and parcel of the great Unity”; cf. 27f., 80f. Rutherford, 29-39, 227-47, endeavors to resurrect Dodds's view of Aurelius but fails to take sufficient account of the contrary views expressed in the Meditations themselves, and of the insights of Rist and Hadot, which will be discussed presently. Instead, Rutherford speaks in a general, subjective, impressionistic manner about Aurelius's feelings of “enslavement” to and “hatred” of the body (242), concomitant with the emperor's “extreme asceticism” (227), and in distinction to the views of Epictetus (246)—ignoring his own caveat (228) on comparing the two because of differences in circumstance, genre, and audience.

28. For Aurelius's use of Heraclitan imagery and language, see Rist, “Are You a Stoic?” 36-39, and Asmis, 2246-49. On Heraclitan influence on Stoicism in general: A. A. Long, “Heraclitus and Stoicism,” Philosophia 5-6 (1975-76): 133-56. Rist considers Long's arguments on this point exaggerated. See also Arnold, 258f. who sees a particularly Roman flavor in Aurelius's opinions on the body.

29. “This resolute benignity in the presence of change and death is not gained without severe discipline of the body and its passions and the mind with its shifting imaginings,” Farquharson, Life and World, 137.

30. Fundamental to the study of this subject is P. Hadot, “La Physique”; his later works collected in Exercices spirituels et philosophie antique, 2d ed. (Paris, 1987); and “Les Pensées de Marc Aurèle,” Bulletin de l'Association Guillaume Budé 1 (1981): 183-91. Earlier and more controversial is P. Rabbow, Seelenführung: Methodik der Exercitien in der Antike (Munich, 1954); more recently, see R. J. Newman, “Cotidie Meditare: Theory and Practice of the Meditatio in Imperial Stoicism,” ANRW II.36.3 (1989): 1473-1517, on Aurelius, 1506-15.

31. See Hadot, “La Physique,” 228-34. Hijmans, 78-91, outlines a similar process … in Epictetus.

32. Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 269ff. I would disagree, however, with Rist's calling Aurelius a dualist, for the reasons stated above in note 25. The division of the individual into mind / reason, soul, and body is simply a commonplace bit of reasoning in ancient philosophy. It is the conclusions drawn from this division, the attitude toward each of the parts, e.g., whether they are “good” or “evil,” that defines dualism in any specific and useful way.

33. Dodds, Pagan and Christian, 27f., suggests that the introjection into the self of feelings of resentment against the world, such as those found in Aurelius, results either in the mental torment of moral self-reproach or in physical acts of self-punishment. The asceticism of reason can certainly be described as the former. The more intriguing point is that the alternative results in the practice of that sort of intensely physical asceticism that would become so popular little more than a century after Aurelius's death. In Dodds's view, the reasoned, cerebral self-searching of the emperor and the harsh physical excess of the desert monk are but two sides of the same coin, i.e., an introvert and extrovert manifestation of some common reality. The suggestion is intriguing in itself, without one's necessarily subscribing to “world hatred” as its cause. This thesis merits full consideration from psychological, philosophical, and religious perspectives, well beyond the scope of this present work.

34. Citation from Galen's lost commentary on Plato's Republic in P. Kraus and R. Walzer, eds., Plato Arabus, vol. 1, Galeni compendium Timaei Platonis aliorum dialogorum synopsis quae extant fragmenta, ed. P. Kraus and F. Rosenthal (London, 1943), 99; trans. Walzer, Galen on Jews and Christians (London, 1949), 15; discussed on 65-74. Walzer notes that the Christians' success with the multitude lay precisely in the appeal of myth and exhortation and in avoiding difficult philosophical questions. Though the results may be admirable, they are vitiated by a method that appeals to emotion and faith rather than reason. The “irrationality” of the Christians, in this narrow sense, is a constant refrain in pagan objections to the new faith. This criticism is voiced by Galen himself: “If I had in mind people who taught their pupils in the same way as the followers of Moses and Christ teach theirs—for they order them to accept everything on faith—I should not have given you a definition,” Kraus and Walzer, Plato Arabus, 1:20; trans. Walzer, Galen, 15; discussed on 48-56 and passim.

35. See Chapter 3.

36. For a philosophical discussion of these terms, see M. Pohlenz, Die Stoa: Geschichte einer geistigen Bewegung, 4th ed., with corrections, additions, and index by H.-J. Johann (Göttingen, 1970), 1:141-53.

37. Cf. Epict., Ench. 14.2: “Whoever wants to be free, let him neither wish for anything nor avoid anything that is under the control of others.”

38. As Aurelius states, sensation is not to be resisted. It is, after all, simply natural (V.26). I would refine Rist's comment, Stoic Philosophy, 25-27, 195, that apatheia is the suppression not of all emotion, but only of irrational emotion. Emotion is, by definition, irrational (or arational) though in some cases emotions may also have irrational, that is, logically unfounded, causes. Aurelius would not resist even these emotions themselves, but rather apply reason to avoid either being swept away by their very real power or acting while in the flush of passion. Hence Clement of Alexandria's contention that Christians aim to experience no desire at all, while pagans merely attempt to resist it (Strom. III.7.57); see P. R. L. Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York, 1988), 31f.

39. X.11; II.14f; III.10. An excellent statement on the transitoriness of life occurs in IV.32-36.

40. On the issue of wealth and the practice of philosophy, Arnold, 320f., notes that no subject would be easier on which to find conflicting Stoic views. In general, he characterizes the position in practice as “he who feels the need of wealth least, can best make use of it.” Again, focus is on internal attitude; the justification of wealth lies in the intention of using it well. See Cic., de Off. I.68 and Epict. Diss. IV.ix.2. Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 189f. comments on a “notorious” proposition of Panaetius, mentioned in Diogenes Laertius 7.128, that virtue alone is insufficient to secure happiness, but that health, property, and strength are required as well. Material want can be a constant distraction to the mind, and a certain amount of substance is necessary to secure the otium needed to pursue philosophy. See also Dio Chrysostom, Or. 20.11-18, 26 …, where he argues that true withdrawal is within the mind and that physical surroundings are neither a help nor a hindrance to one determined to live philosophically.

41. Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 186ff., 197; Arnold, 101f., 302. See below, page 43.

42. Lucian expresses precisely this reaction to Peregrinus and Alexander, while evidence for such a reaction against Apollonius of Tyana is found in Philostratus's Life of Apollonius. See Chapters 3 and 4.

43. For a succinct explanation of Aurelius's equation of nature, fate, God, reason, and the daimon, with citations from Meditations, see Brunt, “Marcus in his Meditations,” 15.

44. Hence Philostratus's concern to portray Apollonius as a devout worshiper of the traditional gods, as opposed to a goes conjuring up daimones; see Philostr., VA V.12; VIII.7.2, 9; and Chapter 4, page 97.

45. Cf. Apollonius's own claims to religious authority, Chapter 4, pages 108-12.

46. XII.5: “How could the gods, having arranged all things artfully and benevolently towards men, have overlooked this one thing: that some men who were particularly good and had, so to speak, the closest relations with the divine—having become intimate with divinity through pious acts and worship—should, once dead, never again come into being but be utterly extinguished.”

47. Brunt, “Marcus in his Meditations,” 7.

48. … (I.14). There is also a certain irony in Aurelius's mention of these names of antityrannical heroes of the Roman past. Stoicism, by his day, no longer offered a platform for rebellion or revolution. It had become so entrenched in the imperial status quo that an emperor could feel safe in mentioning the names of those who plotted against his predecessors; see Brunt, “Stoicism,” 29f.

49. Stanton, “Emperor and Philosopher,” 579, holds that Aurelius's references to social acts are nebulous because they lie purely in the realm of theory and carry no effective practical import. Against this view Brunt, “Marcus in his Mediations,” 6, argues that Aurelius knew quite well what actions were required of him in his position and would not have bothered to elaborate upon them in writing. This latter view is, in my mind, the more correct. Aurelius assumes the definition of social acts from the commonplace accepted norms of his society.

50. Brunt, “Stoicism,” 32: “The historian can note that what the Stoics supposed to be right, what they could conscientiously devote or sacrifice their lives to doing, was largely settled by the ideas and practices current in their society, and that a Helvidius or a Marcus was inspired by his beliefs not to revalue or reform the established order, but to fulfill his place within that order, in conformity with notions that men of their time and class usually accepted, at least in name, but with unusual resolution, zeal and fortitude.”

51. Rist, Stoic Philosophy, 92: “Throughout our investigation of Stoicism we find a concern for the individual case, and in ethics with the individual per se.” See also his “Stoic Concept of Detachment,” 264ff.

52. Brunt, “Stoicism,” 16 n. 49: “It is a misunderstanding to ascribe to this metaphysical doctrine political or practical import.” Stanton, “Emperor and Philosopher,” 579: “For in his view the task of the citizen of the universe is to work from observation to theory and not from theory to practice.”

53. G. R. Stanton, “The Cosmopolitan Ideas of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius,” Phronesis 13 (1968):192.

54. Arnold, 402: “This legislation is not entirely the work of professed Stoics; it is nevertheless the offspring of Stoicism.” Concomitant with such a view is an overstatement of Stoic ideals and their practical effects: “The practical statesmen who set about to recreate Roman law on the principle of substituting everywhere human rights for class privileges were men thoroughly imbued with the Stoic spirit, whether or not they were avowed disciples of this philosophy” (281). Such statements are particularly surprising since Arnold elsewhere agrees that Stoicism, by this time, has lost its moral vitality and had settled into a conventional respectability (303).

55. Noyen, 375ff.; cf. “Divus Marcus, princeps prudentissimus et iuris religiosissimus,” Revue internationale des droits de l'antiquité, 3d ser., 1 (1954): 349-71. Noyen admits that his motivation in this study is to come to a judgment about Aurelius's personality; that is, did he practice what he preached? On the fallacy of such an approach, see above, note 2. For the laws themselves, see Paul., Sent. IV.10; Ulp., Reg. XXVI.7; Inst. III.4; Dig. XXXVIII.17.9 (Gaius), 17.6 (Paul.), 17.7 (Paul.); Dig. XXIII.2.59 (Paul.); Dig. XXXVII.7.9 (Tryph.); Dig. XXV.4.1.pr. (Ulp.).

56. M. Hammond, The Antonine Monarchy, Papers and Monographs of the American Academy in Rome 19 (Rome, 1959), 331 and nn. 18-21.

57. Stanton, “Emperor and Philosopher,” 571, 571 n. 6, and 573-75. For the S.C. Tertullianum: Inst. III.3.2; cf. Dig. XXXIV.5.9.1, XXXVIII.17.2.9 (Pius); Zonaras 12.1.

58. G. R. Stanton, “Marcus Aurelius, Lucius Verus, and Commodus: 1962-1972,” ANRW II.2.2 (1975): 500f., wherein he cites the opinions of J. Bleicken, Senatsgericht und Kaisergericht: Eine Studie zur Entwicklung des Prozeβrechtes in führen Prinzipat, Abhandlungen der Akad. der Wiss. in Göttingen, Philol.-Hist. Klasse, Folge 3:53 (Göttingen, 1962), 118-20; R. P. Duncan-Jones, “The Purpose and Organization of the Alimenta,” PBSR 32 (1964), 123-46; P. D. A. Garnsey, Social Status and Legal Privilege in the Roman Empire (Oxford, 1970), passim; A. R. Hands, Charities and Social Aid in Greece and Rome (London, 1968), 111-15; and H.-G. Pflaum, “Tendences politiques et administratives au IIe siècle de notre ère,” Revue des études latines 42 (1964): 112-21.

59. W. Williams, “Individuality in the Imperial Constitutions. Hadrian and the Antonines,” JRS 66 (1976): 67-83. The two examples of legislation coinciding with Noyen are on insanity: Dig. I.18.14, and on the status of freedmen: Dig. XXXVII.14.17.pr. Williams's criteria pertain to the style of the documents. He argues that Aurelius's hand (rather literally) manifests itself in four characteristic traits: (1) painstaking attention to detail, (2) insistence on obvious or trivial points, (3) linguistic purism, and (4) attitudes expressed toward the Greeks. On the basis of these criteria, Williams is careful to conclude that some (Williams's emphasis) constitutions demonstrate the personal intervention of the emperor. On the emperor's personal involvement in framing law generally, see the more detailed study of F. Millar, The Emperor in the Roman World (Ithaca, N.Y. 1977), chap. 5, 203-72.

60. See below, esp. note 68.

61. M. Sordi, “Le polemiche intorno al cristianesimo nel II secolo e la loro influenza sugli sviluppi della politica imperiale verso la Chiesa,” Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia 16 (1962): 17ff.

62. See J. Beaujeu, La religion romaine à l'apogée de l'Empire, vol. 1, La politique religieuse des Antonins (96-192) (Paris, 1955), 358, and Rist, “Stoic Concept of Detachment,” 260-66. On the persecution of the Christians in general, see P. Keresztes, “The Imperial Roman Government and the Christian Church I. From Nero to the Severi,” ANRW II.23.1 (1979): 247-315, with bibliography.

63. See Chapter 1, pages 18-19.

64. Stanton, “Cosmopolitan Ideas,” 187-91. Stanton derives Aurelius's emphasis on submission from his cosmopolitan ideas. The unity of humanity under reason creates a “type of state” with a common law (IV.4). The prime moral imperative is submission to reason and the decrees of fate (i.e., obeying the law). There is a clear unity to Aurelius's thought, connecting his psychology to his ethics and politics. Taken together, they offer a strong logical argument for social and political conservatism.

65. See M. Laffranque, Poseidonios d'Apamée: Essai de mise au point, Publ. de la Faculté des lettres et sciences humaines de Paris, serie “Recherches” 13 (Paris, 1964), 477-79.

66. Rist, “Concept of Detachment,” 260-66.

67. In regard to actual persecution in Aurelius's reign, sources are found in Eus., HE IV.9, 13, 26.3-11; and V.1 (the martyrs of Lyon), esp. V.1.45. Most scholars hold that Aurelius's policy cannot be established as any different from that of Trajan legally, and that most persecution during the period was the result of local agitation and mob violence; see Stanton, “Marcus, Lucius, and Commodus,” 528-32, where scholarship from 1962 to 1972 is reviewed, and Keresztes, “The Imperial Roman Government.” Note especially P. A. Brunt, “Marcus Aurelius and the Christians,” in Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History, ed. C. Deroux, Collection Latomus 154 (Brussels, 1979), 1:484-98; also T. D. Barnes, “Legislation Against the Christians,” JRS 58 (1968): 32-50; F. Millar, Emperor in the Roman World, 559f.; M. Hammond, 211f.; and R. Lane Fox, 423. On the specific issue of Aurelius's deliberate role in persecution: P. Keresztes, “Marcus Aurelius a Persecutor?” Harvard Theological Review 61 (1968): 321-41; M. Sordi, “I nuovi decreti di Marco Aurelio contro i cristiani,” Studi Romani 9 (1961): 365-78, and “Le polemiche intorno.” The issue of the Christians is discussed in specific detail in regard to Celsus's True Doctrine in Chapter 5.

68. Philostratus would later put a similar sentiment into the mouth of Apollonius; see VA VII.31.

69. Brunt, “Marcus and the Christians,” 483ff. The argument is accepted by Rist, “Are You a Stoic?” 26 and 26 n. 15. A complete discussion of the issue is found in Birley, Marcus Aurelius, 263ff. (appendix 4). …

70. This attitude would, of course, not be limited to Christians. It is safe to say that the emperor would have shared Lucian's disdain for Peregrinus's theatrical suicide. D. Clay, “Lucian of Samosata: Four Philosophical Lives (Nigrinus, Demonax, Peregrinus, Alexander Pseudomantis),” ANRW II.36.5 (1992): 3416f. and nn. 18f., stresses the importance of the word “theatrics” … in Lucian in terms equally applicable to Aurelius. His preferred translation of “solemn farce” would suit the passage in the Meditations as well.

71. Trans. Walzer, Galen, 14; see also 37-45, 48-56. A stimulating discussion of Galen's attitude toward the Christians may be found in R. Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (New Haven, 1984), 68-93.

72. The majority of scholars hold that the passage does not refer specifically to the Christians: Farquharson, Meditations, 2:587; Brunt, “Marcus and the Christians,” 494ff.; Birley, Marcus Aurelius, 265. A notable exception is Rist, “Are You a Stoic?” 26 and n. 15.

73. Cynicism will be discussed in the next chapter in relation to Lucian and Peregrinus. A certain at least perceived relation existed between Christians and Cynics. Aelius Aristides compares the Cynics to “the impious in Palestine” (Or. 3.671 in Behr = Or. 46 in Dindorf, 2:402). Lucian relates that Peregrinus spent a few years as a Christian before his embrace of Cynicism (Peregr. 11-16). Thus J. Bernays, Lucian und die Kyniker (Berlin, 1879), 36 n. 20: “Es wird sehr begreiflich, dass ein Jude oder Christ die pseudepigraphische Maske des Kyon wählte.” Christian sources, however, usually view Cynicism negatively. The Cynic Crescens is Justin's opponent in 2 Apol. 3, 10. Hippol., Refut. 8.13 draws an unfavorable comparison between Cynics and Encratites; significantly, his complaint is that both are puffed up with pride because of their asceticism. Tatian, Orat. ad Graec. 19, again defames Crescens and holds him responsible for Justin's death. In 25, Tatian unleashes a general denunciation of the Cynics, specifically insulting Peregrinus's physical appearance and the Cynic “habit.” Interestingly Tertullian, ad Mart. 4.5, speaks favorably of Peregrinus's “philosophical martyrdom.”

74. In persecution trials, the fundamental issue lay in returning to Roman mores, to societal discipline and tradition. Slanders of immorality were irrelevant to the essential grounds of the trial and were simply ignored upon recantation; this appears among the earliest evidence of legal proceedings against the Christians in Pliny, Ep. X.96.5-7. See R. Lane Fox, 426f. and S. Benko, “Pagan Criticism of Christianity During the First Two Centuries a.d.,” ANRW II.23.2 (1980): 1074. Roman magistrates sought worshipers of the gods, not martyrs. Their aim was to reestablish social norms first, to punish only as a last resort. It can also be said that, if the “pattern” of social deviancy is considered as a whole, a reversion to norms in one area would lead to a reversion in the others. If Christianity was a crime, it was because it stood for a complex of deviant behaviors. Thus, sacrificing to the gods or saluting the emperor's genius would suffice as evidence that the accused now accepted the whole social order. The acta of Christian martyrs offer abundant evidence of these “loyalty tests,” for example, on sacrifice: A. Carp. et al. 9 (Greek), 2 (Latin); A. Pionius 4, 7, 9; on swearing by the emperor's genius: A. Polycarp 9; A. Scillitan. Mart. 3; A. Apollon. 3; and on caerimonia in general: A. Cypr. 3. For the texts, see H. A. Musurillo, ed., Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford, 1972).

75. There is, I believe, a specific connection in Aurelius's mind between asceticism … and beneficence or philanthropy. … In both cases, the issue is that of an act performed for the sake of drawing public attention to the doer. The latter term carries connotations of public benefaction and philotimia, acts of public largesse meant specifically to enhance the social standing and reputation of the benefactor. So also ascetic display can be used for the sake of attention and reputation. As will be seen in Chapter 3, Lucian constantly refers to Peregrinus's ascetical acts as performed “for the sake of notoriety.” … The very publicity of such actions and the adulation they inspire are sufficient to make them ethically suspect in Aurelius's eyes.

76. Instead of askesis Aurelius refers to the physical disciplines of his youth as “the Greek method of education” … (I.6); see above, note 8.

77. Epict., Ench. 47: “And should you ever wish to undertake training … for physical endurance, do so for yourself and not for others to see”; cf. Epict. Diss. III.xii.16-17. On the dangers of pride in moral achievement, Med. III.6.2, XII.27. Rist, “Are You a Stoic?” 26f., notes that posturing in any form is objectionable, but posing as a “moral athlete” is particularly undesirable, being merely a more sophisticated form of the crude lust for fame; see Med. VI.16.2. Even on the level of practical affairs and the traditional stuff of philotimia, doing what is necessary is more important than establishing a reputation as a benefactor, Med. I.16; cf. Epict., Ench. 24.4.

78. Sen., Ep. 5.2: “I admonish you, however, that you do nothing conspicuous in your dress or way of life, in the manner of those who desire not to improve themselves but to gain notoriety. Eschew unkempt clothing, uncut hair, slovenly beard, outright scorn of money, a bed placed on the ground, and whatever other conceits this perverse way entails. The very name of philosophy, even when pursued unassumingly, is already held in enough contempt; what would happen if we began to dissociate ourselves from the conventional ways of men?”; see also 5.4.

79. R. MacMullen, Enemies of the Roman Order: Treason, Unrest, and Alienation in the Empire (Cambridge, Mass., 1966), 60: “They were to the ancient world what palmers and friars were to the medieval, a familiar sight everywhere, both suspect and sacred, but more rightly suspect, since the whole movement, like any vogue, drew in recruits who had the least suitable talents and motives.” …

80. “The charge of magic is likely to be made by legitimate religious leaders against people who are viewed as threatening the social order but who have as yet done no other prosecutable criminal offense. For instance, Mathematici, Jews, and Christians could be seen as subversive by the Roman government, so it was logical to charge them with “magic” even though the charge might be factually groundless and impress us as absurd,” A. F. Segal, “Hellenistic Magic: Some Questions of Definition,” in Studies in Gnosticism and Hellenistic Religions: Presented to Gilles Quispel on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, ed. R. van Den Broek and M. J. Vermaseren (Leiden, 1981), 370. This adumbrates a major theme in the following chapters.

81. Apuleius states that he is not only defending himself, but the good name of philosophy as well (Apol. 3). He mentions his long unkempt hair (4), and people's objections to his wallet and staff (peram et baculum, 25); that is, his philosopher's “habit.” Note that Apuleius phrases the accusation in terms of his outward appearance as a philosopher. As will be seen in the following chapters, Peregrinus affected the same appearance at Parium while Apollonius's garb formed one of the accusations in his trial before Domitian. The case of Apuleius will be further discussed in Chapter 4.

82. It is worth comparing the use and frequency of the goeteia slander among such personalities as Dionysius, Hadrian the Phoenician, Apuleius, and Galen. Again, mere celebrity seems sufficient to draw down a rumor or accusation, not to mention professional and personal jealousy. In the cases of Hadrian and Apuleius, however, there appears to have been some real interest in magic on their part. As will be seen below, defining “magic” is no simple task—as evidenced by Apuleius himself in Apol. 25ff. Neither would it be easy in antiquity to draw clear lines between the professions of sophistry, philosophy, and medicine represented here and what we today would term “magic” or even “religion.”

83. Med. IX.29: “How petty these politicians who, as they see it, play the philosopher. They are full of rubbish.” Galen, de Praecog. 11.8, reports that Aurelius observed that most contemporary philosophers were not only fond of money, but contentious, ambitious, envious, and malicious. Dio LXXII.35.1-2 states that as a result of the emperor's philosophical interest, great numbers pretended to pursue philosophy, hoping that they might be enriched by him. HA M.A. XXIII.9 makes a tantalizing comment about men “pretending to be philosophers” stirring up trouble “for both the state and private citizens,” but offers no specifics. On Galen's own low opinion of the philosophers current in Rome, see de Praecog. 1.13-15, 10.16. On the topic, see also Rutherford, 80-89.

84. P. R. L. Brown, “The Saint as Exemplar in Late Antiquity,” Representations 1, no. 2 (Spring 1983): 1-4. See also H. A. Marrou, A History of Education in the Ancient World, trans. G. Lamb (New York, 1956), 96-101, 217-26.

85. See Lucian, Peregr. 13.

86. Arnold, 217. G. W. Bowersock, Greek Sophists in the Roman Empire (Oxford, 1969), 74f., makes a similar judgment about Galen and the sophists of the age.

87. Rist, “Are You a Stoic?” 35; Birley, Marcus Aurelius, 98.

88. “Stoicism had become an authorized doctrine rather than a developing philosophical system,” A. A. Long, Hellenistic Philosophy: Stoics, Epicureans, Sceptics, 2d ed. (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1986), 115.

89. This parallel between the individual and society is noted by Brown, Body, 30f.: “Like society, the body was to be administered (by reason), not changed.”

90. Brunt, “Stoicism,” 23f.

91. An excellent exposition of the “culture” of Roman conservatism is given by C. N. Cochrane, Christianity and Classical Culture: A Study of Thought and Action from Augustus to Augustine, revised and corrected ed. (Oxford, 1944), 114-76.

Abbreviations

AAR: American Academy of Religion

ANRW: W. Haase and H. Temporini, eds., Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt / Rise and Decline of the Roman World (Berlin and New York, 1972ff.).

CIL: Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum

CQ: Classical Quarterly

CR: Classical Review

GRBS: Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies

ILS: H. Dessau, ed. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, 3 vols. in 5 (Berlin, 1892-1916)

JBL: Journal of Biblical Literature

JHS: Journal of Hellenic Studies

JRS: Journal of Roman Studies

JSOT: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

JTS: Journal of Theological Studies

LSJ: H. D. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, 9th ed. revised and augmented by H. S. Jones, with a supplement by E. A. Barber et al. (Oxford, 1968).

PBSR: Papers of the British School at Rome

RE: A. Pauly, G. Wissowa, and W. Kroll, eds., Real-encyclopädie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft (Munich, 1893-1980).

SBL: Society of Biblical Literature

TAPA: Transactions of the American Philological Association

Vig. Chr.: Vigiliae Christianae