We here touch a great secret of moral philosophy and religion. Marcus
Aurelius has no speculative philosophy; his theology is utterly
contradictory; he has no idea founded upon the soul and immortality. How
could he be so moral without the beliefs that are now regarded as the
foundations of morality? how so profoundly religious, without having
professed one of the dogmas of what is called natural religion? It is
important to make this inquiry.
The doubts, which, to the view of speculative reason, hover above the
truths of natural religion, are not, as Kant has admirably shown,
accidental doubts, capable of being removed, belonging, as is sometimes
imagined, to certain conditions of the human mind. These doubts are
inherent to the nature even of these truths, if one may say it without a
paradox; and, if these doubts were removed, the truths with which they
quarrel would disappear at the same time. Let us suppose, in short, a
direct, positive proof, evident to all, of future sufferings and
rewards: where will be the merit of doing good? They would be but fools
whom gayety of heart should hasten to damnation. A crowd of base souls
would secure their salvation without concealment: they would, in a
sense, force the divine power. Who does not see, that, in such a system,
there is neither morality nor religion? In the moral and religious order
it is indispensable to believe without demonstration. It deals not with
certainty: it acts by faith. This is what Deism forgets, with its habits
of intemperate affirmation. It forgets that creeds too precise
concerning human destiny would destroy all moral merit. For us, they
would say that we should do as did St. Louis when he was told of the
miraculous wafer,--we should refuse to see it. What need have we of
these brutal proofs which trammel our liberty?
We should fear to become assimilated to those speculators in virtue, or
those vulgar cowards, who mingle with spiritual things the gross
selfishness of practical life. In the days which followed the belief in
the resurrection of Jesus, this sentiment was manifested in the most
touching manner. The faithful in heart, the sensitive ones, preferred to
believe without seeing. "Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet
have believed," became the word for the time. Charming words! Eternal
symbol of tender and generous Idealism, which has a horror of touching
with the hands that which should only be seen with the heart!
Our good Marcus Aurelius, on this point as on all others, was in advance
of the ages. He never cared to argue with himself concerning God and the
soul. As if he had read the "Criticism of Practical Reason," he saw
clearly, that, where the Infinite is concerned, no formula is absolute;
and that, in such matters, one has no chance of seeing the truth during
his life, without much self-contradiction. He distinctly separates moral
beauty from all theoretical theology. He allows duty to depend on no
metaphysical opinion of the First Cause. The intimate union with an
unseen god was never carried to a more unheard-of delicacy. "To offer to
the government of God that which is within thee,--a strong being ripened
by age, a friend of the public good, a Roman, an emperor, a soldier at
his post awaiting the signal of the trumpet, a man ready to quit life
without regret." "There are many grains of incense destined to the same
altar: one falls sooner, the other later, in the fire; but the
difference is nothing." "Man should live according to nature during the
few days that are given him on the earth, and, when the moment of
leaving it comes, should submit himself sweetly, as an olive, which, in
falling, blesses the tree which has produced it, and renders thanks to
the branch which has borne it." "All that which thou arrangest is suited
to me, O Cosmos! Nothing of that which comes from thee is premature or
backward to me. I find my fruit in that which thy seasons bear, O
Nature! From thee comes all; in thee is all; to thee all returns." "O
man! thou hast been a citizen in the great city: what matters it to thee
to have remained three or five years? That which is governed by laws is
unjust for no one. What is there, then, so sorrowful in being sent from
the city, not by a tyrant, not by an unjust judge, but by the same
nature which allowed thee to enter there? It is as if a comedian is
discharged from the theatre by the same prætor who engaged him. But wilt
thou say, 'I have not played the five acts; I have played but three?'
Thou sayest well; but in life three acts suffice to complete the entire
piece.... Go, then, content, since he who dismisses thee is content."
Is this to say that he never revolted against the strange fate which
leaves man alone face to face with the needs of devotion, of sacrifice,
of heroism, and nature with its transcendent immorality, its supreme
disdain for virtue? No. Once at least the absurdity, the colossal
iniquity, of death, strikes him. But soon his temperament, completely
mortified, resumes its power, and he becomes calm. "How happens it that
the gods, who have ordered all things so well, and with so much love for
men, should have forgotten one thing only; that is, that men of tried
virtue, who during their lives have had a sort of interchange of
relations with divinity, who have made themselves loved by it on account
of their pious acts and their sacrifices, live not after death, but may
be extinguished forever?
"Since it is so, be sure, that, if it should be otherwise, they (the
gods) would not have failed; for, if it had been just, it would have
been possible; if it had been suitable to nature, nature would have
permitted it. Consequently, when it is not thus, strengthen thyself in
this consideration, that it was not necessary that it should be thus.
Thou thyself seest plainly that to make such a demand is to dispute his
right with God. Now, we would not thus contend with the gods if they
were not absolutely good and absolutely just: if they are so, they have
allowed nothing to make a part of the order of the world which is
contrary to justice and right."
Ah! is it too much resignation, ladies and gentlemen? If it is veritably
thus, we have the right to complain. To say, that, if this world has not
its counterpart, the man who is sacrificed to truth or right ought to
leave it content, and absolve the gods,--that is too _naïve_. No, he has
a right to blaspheme them. For, in short, why has his credulity been
thus abused? Why should he have been endowed with deceitful instincts,
of which he has been the honest dupe? Wherefore is this premium given to
the frivolous or wicked man? Is it, then, he who is not deceived who is
the wise man? Then cursed be the gods who so adjudge their preferences!
I desire that the future may be an enigma; but, if there is no future,
then this world is a frightful ambuscade. Take notice that our wish is
not that of the vulgar clown. We wish not to see the chastisement of the
culpable, nor to meddle with the interests of our virtue. Our wish has
no selfishness: it is simply to be, to remain in accord with light, to
continue the thought we have begun, to know more of it, to enjoy some
day that truth which we seek with so much labor, to see the triumph of
the good which we have loved. Nothing is more legitimate. The worthy
emperor, moreover, was also sensible of it: "What! the light of a lamp
burns until the moment in which it is extinguished, and loses nothing of
its brilliancy, and the truth, justice, temperance, which are in thee
shall be extinguished with thee!" All his life was passed in this noble
hesitation. If he sinned, it was through too much piety. Less resigned,
he would have been more just; for surely to demand that there should be
an intimate and sympathetic witness of the struggles which we endure for
goodness and truth is not to ask too much.
It is possible, also, that if his philosophy had been less exclusively
moral, if it had implied a more curious study of history and of the
universe, it would have escaped a certain excessive rigor. Like the
ascetic Christians, Marcus Aurelius sometimes carried renunciation to
dryness and subtlety. One feels that this calmness, which never belies
itself, is obtained through an immense effort. Certainly, evil had never
an attraction for him: he had no passion to struggle against. "Whatever
one may do or say," writes he, "it is necessary that I should be a good
man; as the emerald might say, 'Whatever one may say or do, I must
remain an emerald, and retain my color.'" But, in order to hold one's
self always upon the icy summit of stoicism, it is necessary to do cruel
violence to nature, and to cut away from it more than one noble element.
This perpetual repetition of the same reasoning, the thousand figures
under which he seeks to represent to himself the vanity of all things,
these frequently artless proofs of universal frivolity, testify to
strifes which he has passed through in order to extinguish all desire in
himself. At times we find in it something harsh and sad. The reading of
Marcus Aurelius strengthens, but it does not console: it leaves a void
in the soul which is at once cruel and delightful, which one would not
exchange for full satisfaction. Humility, renunciation, severity towards
self, were never carried further. Glory--that last illusion of great
souls--is reduced to nothingness. It is needful to do right without
disturbing one's self as to whether any one knows that we do it. He
perceives that history will speak of him: he sometimes dreams of the men
of the past with whom the future will associate him. "If they have only
played the part of tragic actors," said he, "no one has condemned me to
imitate them." The absolute mortification at which he had arrived had
destroyed the last fibre of self-love in him.
The consequences of this austere philosophy might have been hardness and
obstinacy. It is here that the rare goodness of the nature of Marcus
Aurelius shines out in its full brilliancy. His severity is only for
himself. The fruit of this great tension of soul is an infinite
benevolence. All his life was a study of how to return good for evil. At
evening, after some sad experience of human perversity, he wrote only
as follows: "If thou canst, correct them; on the other hand, remember
that thou shouldest exercise benevolence towards those who have been
given to thee. The gods themselves are benevolent to men: they aid
them,--so great is their goodness!--to acquire health, riches, glory.
Thou art permitted to be like the gods." Another day, some one was very
wicked; for see what he wrote upon his tablets: "Such is the order of
nature: men of this sort must act thus from necessity. To wish it to be
otherwise is to wish that the fig-tree shall bear no figs. Remember,
thou, in one word, this thing: in a very short time thou and he will
die; soon after, your names even will be known no more." The thoughts of
a universal pardon recur without ceasing. At times a scarcely
perceptible smile is mingled with this charming goodness,--"The best
method of avenging one's self upon the wicked is not to be like them;"
or a light stroke of pride,--"It is a royal thing to hear evil said of
one's self when one does right." One day he thus reproached himself:
"Thou hast forgotten," said he, "what holy relationship unites each man
to the human race,--a relationship not of blood, or of birth, but the
participation in the same intelligence. Thou hast forgotten that the
reasoning power of each one is a god, derived from the Supreme Being."
In the business of life he was always exact, although a little
ingenuous, as very good men usually are. The nine reasons for
forbearance which he valued for himself (book xi. art. 18) show us his
charming good-nature before family troubles, which perhaps came to him
through his unworthy son. "If, upon occasion," said he to himself, "thou
exhortest him quietly, and shalt give to him without anger some lessons
like these,--'No, my child; we are born for each other. It is not I who
suffer the evil, it is thou who doest it thyself, my child!'--show him
adroitly, by a general consideration, that such is the rule; that
neither the bees, nor the animals who live naturally in herds, resemble
him. Say this without mockery or insult, with an air of true affection,
with a heart which is not excited by anger; not as a pedant, not for the
sake of being admired by those who are present; think only of him."
Commodus (if it was for him that he thus acted) was, without doubt,
little touched by this good paternal rhetoric. One of the maxims of the
excellent emperor was, that the wicked are unhappy, that one is only
wicked in spite of himself, and through ignorance. He pitied those who
were not like himself: he did not believe that he had the right to
obtrude himself upon them.
He well understood the baseness of men; but he did not avow it. This
willing blindness is the defect of choice spirits. The world not being
all that they could wish, they lie to themselves in order not to see it
as it is. From thence arises an expediency in their judgments. In Marcus
Aurelius, this expediency sometimes provokes us a little. If we wished
to believe him, his instructors, several of whom were men of mediocrity,
were, without exception, superior men. One would say that every one near
him had been virtuous. This is carried to such a point, that one is
forced to ask if the brother for whom he pronounces such a grand eulogy
in his thanks to the gods was not his adopted brother, Lucius Verus. It
is certain that the good emperor was capable of strong illusions when he
undertook to lend to others his own virtues.
This quality, expressed as an ancient opinion, especially by the pen of
the Emperor Julian, caused him to commit an enormous error, which was
that of not disinheriting Commodus. This is one of those things which it
is easy to say at a distance, when there are no obstacles present, and
when one reasons without facts. It is forgotten at first that the
emperors, who, after Nerva, made adoption so fruitful a political
system, had no sons. Adoption, with the exheredation of the son or
grandson, occurred in the first century of the empire without good
results. Marcus Aurelius was evidently from principle in favor of
direct inheritance, in which he saw the advantage of the prevention of
competition.
After the birth of Commodus, in 161, he presented him alone to the
people, although he had a twin-brother: he frequently took him in his
arms and renewed this act, which was a sort of proclamation. In 166
Lucius Verus demanded that the two sons of Marcus, Commodus and Annius
Verus, should be made Cæsars. In 172 Commodus shared with his father the
title of Germanicus. In 173, after the repression of the revolt of
Avidius, the Senate, in order to recognize in some way the family
disinterestedness which Marcus Aurelius had shown, demanded by
acclamation the empire and the tribunitial power for Commodus.
Already the natural wickedness of the latter had betrayed itself by more
than one symptom known to his tutors; but how shall one foresee the
future from a few naughty acts of a child of twelve years? In 176-177
his father made him _Imperator_, Consul, Augustus. This was certainly an
imprudence; but he was bound by his previous acts: Commodus, moreover,
still restrained himself. In later years, the evil completely revealed
itself. On each page of the last books of the "Thoughts," we see the
trace of the martyr within the excellent father, of the accomplished
emperor, who saw a monster growing up beside him, ready to succeed him,
and to take in every thing through antipathy, the opposite course from
that which he had believed to be for the good of men. The thought of
disinheriting Commodus must, without doubt, have come often to Marcus
Aurelius. But it was too late. After having associated him in the
empire, after having so many times proclaimed him to the legions as
perfect and accomplished, to come before the world and declare him to be
unworthy would be a scandal. Marcus was caught in his own phrases, by
that style of benevolent expediency which was too habitual with him.
And, after all, Commodus was only seventeen years old: who could be sure
that he would not reform? Even after the death of Marcus Aurelius this
was hoped for. Commodus at first showed the intention of following the
counsels of meritorious persons with whom his father had surrounded him.
The reproach which is made, then, against Marcus Aurelius, is not that
of not having, but of having, a son. It was not his fault if the age
could not support so much wisdom. In philosophy, the great emperor had
placed the ideal of virtue so high, that no one would care to follow
him. In politics, his benevolent optimism had enfeebled the state
services, above all, the army. In religion, in order not to be too much
bound by a religion of the state, of which he saw the weakness, he
prepared the great triumph of the non-official worship, and left a
reproach to hover above his memory,--unjust, it is true; but even its
shadow should not be found in so pure a life. We touch here upon one of
the most delicate points in the biography of Marcus Aurelius. It is
unhappily certain, that, under his reign, Christians were condemned to
death, and executed. The policy of his predecessors had been firm in
this particular. Trajan, Antonine, Hadrian himself, saw in the
Christians a secret sect, anti-social, dreaming of overturning the
empire. Like all men true to the old Roman principles, they believed in
the necessity of repressing them. There was no need of special edicts:
the laws against the _c[oe]tus illiciti_, the _illicita collegia_, were
numerous. The Christians fell in the most explicit sense under the force
of these laws. Truly, it would have been worthy of the wise emperor who
introduced so many reforms full of humanity, to suppress the edicts
which entailed such cruel and unjust consequences. But it is necessary
to observe primarily, that the true spirit of liberty, as we understand
it, was not then understood by any one; and that Christianity, when it
was master, practised it no more than the Pagan emperors. In the second
place, the abrogation of the laws against illicit societies would have
been the ruin of the empire, founded essentially upon the principle that
the state ought not to admit within its bosom any society differing
from it. The principle was bad, according to our ideas: it is very
certain, at least, that it was the corner-stone in the Roman
constitution. Marcus Aurelius, far from exaggerating it, extenuated it
with all his powers; and one of the glories of his reign is the
extension of the right of association. However, he did not go to the
root: he did not completely abolish the laws against the _collegia
illicita_, and in the provinces there resulted from them some processes
infinitely to be regretted. The reproach which can be made against him
is the same that might be made to the rulers of our day, who do not
suppress with a stroke of the pen all the laws restrictive of the
liberties of re-union, of association, and of the press.
From the distance at which we stand, we can see that Marcus Aurelius, in
being more completely liberal, would have been wiser. Perhaps
Christianity left free would have developed in a manner less disastrous
the theocratic and absolute principle which was in it; but one cannot
reproach a man with not having stirred up a radical revolution on
account of a prevision of what would occur several centuries after him.
Trajan, Hadrian, Antonine, Marcus Aurelius, could not know the
principles of general history and political economy which have been
understood only in our time, and which only our last revolutions could
reveal. In any case, the mansuetude of the good emperor was in this
respect shielded from all reproach. No one has the right to be more
exacting in this respect than was Tertullian. "Consult your annals,"
said he to the Roman magistrates. "You will then see that the princes
who have been severe towards us are of those who have held to the honor
of having been our persecutors. On the contrary, all the princes who
have respected divine and human laws include but one who persecuted the
Christians. We can even name one of them who declared himself their
protector,--the wise Marcus Aurelius. If he did not openly revoke the
edicts against our brethren, he destroyed their power by the severe
penalties which he declared against their accusers." It is necessary to
remember that the Roman Empire was ten or twelve times as large as
France, and that the responsibility of the emperor was very little in
the judgments which were rendered in the provinces. It is necessary,
moreover, to recall the fact that Christianity claimed not only the
liberty of worship: all the creeds which tolerated each other were
allowed much freedom in the empire. Christianity and Judaism were the
exceptions to this rule on account of their intolerance and spirit of
exclusion.
We have, then, good reason to mourn sincerely for Marcus Aurelius. Under
him philosophy reigned. One moment, thanks to him, the world was
governed by the best and greatest man of his age. Frightful decadences
followed; but the little casket which contained the "Thoughts" on the
banks of the Granicus was saved. From it came forth that incomparable
book in which Epictetus was surpassed, that Evangel of those who believe
not in the supernatural, which has not been comprehended until our day.
Veritable, eternal Evangel, the book of "Thoughts," which will never
grow old, because it asserts no dogma. The virtue of Marcus Aurelius,
like our own, rests upon reason, upon nature. St. Louis was a very
virtuous man, because he was a Christian: Marcus Aurelius was the most
godly of men, not because he was a Pagan, but because he was a gifted
man. He was the honor of human nature, and not of an established
religion. Science may yet destroy, in appearance, God and the immortal
soul; but the book of the "Thoughts" will still remain young with life
and truth.
The religion of Marcus Aurelius is the absolute religion, that which
results from the simple fact of a high moral conscience placed face to
face with the universe. It is of no race, neither of any country. No
revolution, no change, no discovery, will have power to affect it.
Transcriber's Notes:
Phrases in italics are indicated by _italics_.
Words in the text which were in small-caps were
converted to title-case.
The "oe" ligature is indicated by "[oe]" (e.g. Ph[oe]nician).
Missing word added:
pg 34 the word "it" has been added to the phrase:
"if (it) had been announced"
Words re-arranged:
pg 126 "the be strongest" --> "be the strongest"
Typos corrected:
pg 32 "Pysche" --> "Psyche"
pg 54 "apochryphal" --> "apocryphal"
pg 95 "Judean" --> "Judæan" (2 occurrences)
pg 109 "Mithracism" --> "Mithraicism"
pg 150 "ctizens" --> "citizens"