Category: Stoicism

The big day is looming, and after about three years in the works, our graphic novel about Stoicism will finally be released by Macmillan on…

The big day is looming, and after about three years in the works, our graphic novel about Stoicism will finally be released by Macmillan on Tuesday (12th July).

Verissimus: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius was a labour of love. I wrote the script, which was illustrated with beautiful original full-colour artwork by our award-winning illustrator, Ze Nuno Fraga. But a whole team of people were involved in the creation of this book, including in the verification of historical details and imagery.

You can see many examples of the artwork online, including in my brand new Medium article: An Illustrated Guide to Stoic Anger-Management.

Please check out the book on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and all good bookstores. It can also be ordered from Diamond comic distributors. Verissimus is available in both hardback and ebook formats.

Thanks for your support,

Donald Robertson

Ten Tips from Verissimus and the Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius

Ten Tips from Verissimus and the Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius

What does Stoic philosophy tell us about how to control our tempers? When we began working on our graphic novel, Verissimus, the illustrator, Zé Nuno Fraga, and I decided to show how colourful and action-packed Marcus Aurelius’ life really was. We also liked the idea, however, of leaving our readers with a good amount of practical advice from Stoicism, which they could take away and use to help themselves and others.

I chose to focus on Stoic advice about anger — the royal road to self-improvement.

I chose to focus on Stoic advice about anger — the royal road to self-improvement. We know that this was a problem for Marcus because he tells us in the Meditations that he struggled, at first, to master his own temper. Later in life, Marcus had a reputation for remaining completely level-headed, even in the face of extreme provocation. So it appears that he succeeded in using Stoicism to master his natural quick temper. He did this by employing Stoic psychological practices, over and over again, on a daily basis. I can see parallels between many of these strategies and those employed in modern cognitive therapy. So I think that, with practice, they may help the rest of us cope with our feelings of anger too.

It was one of the men who provoked Marcus’ temper the most, ironically, who also taught him how to restore calm and rebuild friendships after an argument — his Stoic mentor, Junius Rusticus. We therefore speculated, in our illustrations, that it could have been Rusticus who taught Marcus the ten anger-management strategies he describes using in the Meditations (11.18). Marcus, curiously, refers to these as ten “gifts” from the god Apollo, and his nine Muses. Apollo, Lord of the Muses, was the god of the arts, including the arts of medicine and, in a sense, also philosophy. It’s perhaps fitting, therefore, that Marcus would call these therapeutic strategies, or self-help tips, gifts from the god of healing.

Marcus describes things he should tell himself whenever he noticed he was growing annoyed with someone. I would call these cognitive (thinking) strategies for anger-management. In this article, I’ll discuss each of his ten strategies in turn, adding a few comments, here and there, from my perspective as a cognitive-behavioural psychotherapist.

1. Remember that humans are social creatures

This seems to be the toughest Stoic strategy for most people to swallow today, although it’s the one Marcus appeals to most often. It’s actually based on a philosophical argument, about human nature, which predated Marcus by roughly six centuries. We can trace it back at least as far as the “Great Discourse” of the famous Sophist, Protagoras. He argued, foreshadowing Darwin’s theory of natural selection, that because humans happen to be more physically vulnerable than other creatures, they learned to form communities, which required developing principles of justice. We’re social creatures, by nature, because the survival of our ancestors depended upon their cooperation with one another.

Marcus frequently reminds himself of our social nature in the Meditations. We’re not unlike ants or bees, in this regard, who naturally flourish by working together. Of course, in reality, we often compete with and even fight against one another. Nevertheless, the Stoics believe that we have an innate duty to try to realize our potential for living harmoniously, by showing kindness and fairness toward one another. Stoics call this the virtue of “justice” (dikaiosune), although it includes actively trying to help, rather than harm, our fellow humans. Put very simply, Marcus believed that by reminding himself of our natural capacity for kindness and friendship, he would become more inclined toward these ideals, instead of simply giving in to feelings of anger.

2. Consider their character as a whole

When people become angry their thinking typically becomes more distorted. In a sense, anger makes us irrational, in several ways. The Stoics put it more bluntly: “Anger is temporary madness.” One of the simplest “cognitive distortions” we experience is called selective thinking. Angry people tend to focus their attention on every detail that feeds their negative emotional state. They also ignore things that might give them cause to feel less upset. When enraged we view the person annoying us through angry “tunnel vision”, in other words, whereas others might view them in a more rounded and complete way.

Narrowing attention in this way is like putting our annoyances under a magnifying glass. Stoics do the opposite by deliberately broadening their attention, and thinking about the other person’s character as a whole. The latter is a much wiser, and healthier, way of responding. Rather than denying or ignoring what someone did to upset us, we’re continuing to notice it, but also noticing many other details as well. Marcus says that when someone is starting to annoy him, he makes a conscious effort to think of their behaviour in many different situations: how they eat, sleep, their other relationships, etc. He also considers how certain questionable assumptions, and perhaps even errors, may have shaped their actions. He does this to avoid the problem of selective attention and to arrive at a more balanced perspective on the character of others.

3. No man does evil willingly

Marcus knew that this was a famous “paradox” of Socrates. The Athenian philosopher, who had died over five centuries earlier, had paved the way for Stoicism — you could call Socrates the godfather of Stoicism. He believed that we all naturally want to do what’s good for us. However, everyone is fallible. So, in practice, we have misconceptions about what we should be doing. People who engage in wrongdoing believe that what they’re doing is right. That doesn’t mean they believe other people think it’s right, of course. People often consider themselves to be doing what’s right even though they know others consider their actions wrong. Brutal dictators like Hitler and Stalin arguably provide a good example: they were dangerously convinced that their actions were justified.

Socrates was able to look his accusers in the face and maintain this perspective, rather than growing angry, even when he was sentenced to death, and handed a cup of poison hemlock to drink. He noted, though, that if someone is misguided about what’s genuinely right and wrong, their actions aren’t entirely voluntary. No matter how awful they seem, their actions can be said to be determined by their own moral ignorance.

This is a very forgiving philosophy, in a sense. Marcus believed that by learning to view the behaviour of others in this way he would reduce his frustration and annoyance with them. Perhaps this attitude also allows us to focus, more constructively, on the question of whether or not those engaged in wrongdoing can be persuaded to change their ways. It’s interesting to note that Marcus served, throughout his adult life, as a magistrate in the Roman courts. Like other Stoics, he believed in trying to reform others, where possible, rather than seeking revenge against them.

4. Realize that we all have similar flaws

Pause to look in the mirror when you’re starting to become annoyed with other people. Or at least, step back, metaphorically, from the situation, and take a careful look at your own character and actions. The Stoics were originally called “Zenonians” after their founder, Zeno of Citium. Later they named themselves the “Stoics”, after the Stoa Poikile, or “painted porch”, a public colonnade in the Athenian Agora where they met to discuss philosophy. Other schools of Greek philosophy were named after their founders, such as the Pythagoreans, Platonists, Aristotelians, and Epicureans. The Stoics, however, insisted that no man was perfectly wise or beyond reproach — not even their founder, Zeno, was flawless.

I think this attitude of humility is central to Stoicism. We tend to minimize or ignore our own weaknesses in a way that makes us all slightly conceited and narcissistic. The more angry we feel, the more unforgiving and self-righteous we tend to become. We may disapprove of the actions of another but we tend to become less acutely enraged when we consciously accept that we’re capable of exhibiting similar flaws ourselves. Psychologists used to call this “projection” — when you point a finger at someone, three of your own fingers are pointing back at you! Marcus thought that as soon as we notice ourselves becoming irritated with another person, therefore, we should take it as a signal that we must have lost sight of this. We’re being arrogant and ignoring our own weaknesses and should, instead, stop and think — we should look within ourselves.

Of course, people often do terrible things, even committing crimes like murder, of which we’d like to think that we’re utterly incapable ourselves. The Stoics would perhaps say that this is another form of conceit. Even if we have never done such terrible things ourselves, we may nevertheless have felt like doing them. We don’t know for sure what we could be driven to do if caught in very extreme circumstances. Perhaps you’re convinced nothing could ever compel you to think about actually killing another human, even for a split second. Nevertheless, we’ve all thought about lashing out against people, or seeking revenge, to some extent. In that regard, we all share vicious character flaws, albeit to varying degrees. Having the humility to concede that you’re not perfect yourself, as Marcus did, can sometimes help to reduce the intensity of your anger toward others.

5. Keep an open mind about their motives

Marcus spent decades studying jurisprudence, or legal theory, and took his duties as a Roman magistrate very seriously. Even as emperor, he presided over trials. He learned from extensive experience, presiding in the courts, how difficult it is to be certain about other people’s motives. Marcus noted that we often seem to do the wrong things for the right reasons. Many criminals likewise feel inwardly justified and self-righteous in their actions, or at least believe that the negative consequences for others of their bad behaviour are quite trivial. Marcus recalls how those accused of wrongdoing are often indignant, believing themselves to be innocent. Things are not always what they seem. In fact, not only is it difficult to understand the motives of others but often they don’t even fully understand their own motives.

The Stoics want us to recognize the limits of our knowledge — we’re not mind-readers. Anger is often associated with unwarranted certainty about the supposedly vicious or corrupt motives of others. We jump to conclusions about what other people are thinking when we’re getting mad at them. Everything they do or say appears malicious. You can see that sort of negative confirmation bias operating every day in arguments on social media. The Stoics want us to remember that the reasons behind our actions are often hidden from public scrutiny. Yet anger is fueled by certainty. So to the extent that we can reasonably suspend judgment about the motives of others, we can learn to control our temper.

6. Remember that you both must die

As a young boy, Marcus was adopted by the Emperor Hadrian, and briefly raised in his villa. Later in life, though, he was surrounded by younger men who only knew Hadrian as a historical figure, from sculptures and anecdotes about him in books. Marcus would look at images of Hadrian and imagine that one day he too would be gone except for a few old statues and scraps of history, and eventually he would be forgotten completely. Marcus liked to meditate on how the concerns of Hadrian, and other great rulers who came before him, often seem more trivial in retrospect. They believed that they were very powerful and important men, and yet most of the things they cared about, and became angry about, have since been entirely forgotten.

When he was becoming irritated with someone, Marcus would therefore tell himself that before very long both he and the annoying person would be dead, and eventually forgotten. Once again, in a sense, this involves adopting a much broader perspective on events rather than putting them under a magnifying glass. (That’s a recurring theme in Stoicism.) When we remember that something is transient, we experience both its presence now and we simultaneously imagine a time before it existed and its absence in the future, after it is gone. If we can experience the presence and absence of something at the same time, we naturally reduce the intensity of our emotional reactions, such as feelings of anger. That’s why Marcus contemplated his own mortality, and that of the other person, when he noticed he was becoming angry, and reminded himself of the ephemeral nature of the things about which they were getting upset.

7. It is your own opinions that anger you

Marcus was a big fan of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus who famously said “It is not things that upset us but rather our opinions about them.” Marcus applied this to many situations, including feeling angry with someone. It is not the other person’s actions that make us angry, in other words, but rather our opinions, especially our value judgements, concerning what they did. We make ourselves angry, according to the Stoics. That’s more obvious if you consider that another person looking at exactly the same situation might feel less angry about it, or not feel angry at all. Indeed, you might not feel as angry about it yourself, months or years from now, looking back on events one day in the future.

This is arguably the most important psychological insight ever made by the ancient Stoics. It went on to become the inspiration for modern cognitive psychotherapy. Early pioneers of cognitive therapy, such as Albert Ellis and Aaron T. Beck, used to teach the quote above from Epictetus to their clients and students. Many modern research studies now confirm that our opinions (cognitions) play a key role in determining our emotional responses, and that by changing them we can change unhealthy emotions into more healthy and adaptive ones. Moreover, there’s now good evidence to support the conclusion that this insight alone can give us more control over our emotions and reduce their intensity. Simply reminding yourself, as Marcus did, that it’s not events that make you angry, but rather your opinions about them, can potentially be therapeutic in itself.

8. Anger hurts you more than the thing you’re angry about

This is another very fundamental Stoic principle that applies to many desires and emotions, not just anger. Our strong desires and emotions (“passions”), in general, do us more harm than the things about which we’re upset. The worst, perhaps, that other people can do is kill you, destroy your reputation, and all of your property. Anger, though, by penetrating right to the core of your being, can destroy your very character. The Stoics would even say that anger robs us of our humanity, if we let it, and turns us into wild animals.

There’s a hint of this attitude when people say “It’s not worth it!” to someone who is losing their temper or about to get in a fight. On one hand, the consequences of anger are often that we just make situations even worse for ourselves and others. Actions based on anger frequently do more harm than good. The Stoics emphasise this but they want to go even further and say that, its external consequences aside, anger transforms our very character by its existence, degrading us, and, in that sense, harms us more deeply than any external events ever could. Realizing that anger does us more harm than the things, or people, we’re angry with, though, should motivate us to look inward and focus on personal change rather than lashing out at others.

9. Kindness is the antidote to anger

The Stoics knew that one way to conquer a harmful emotion is to directly cultivate its opposite. Behaviour therapists use a similar strategy named “counter-conditioning”, replacing one habit or emotion with another that naturally inhibits it. (Training in relaxation, e.g., is often used to counteract anxiety.) In Stoic psychology, anger is understood primarily as the desire for revenge — we want to harm someone, or at least for them to be somehow punished. It is associated with the belief that the other person has acted “unjustly”, or unacceptably. More fundamentally, it often derives from the idea that they have somehow harmed us, or at least are threatening to do so. Marcus, for instance, believed that anger is a form of weakness, for several reasons, one being that it is typically based on irrational fears and perceived injuries. A Stoic sage is above anger, because he or she is beyond the reach of fear.

Marcus believed that it requires great wisdom and strength to respond to the provocations of others with kindness. He actually says that true “manliness” consists in having the strength of character to show kindness rather than hatred and aggression. For Stoics, kindness, being the opposite of revenge, consists in the desire to help others rather than harm them. When we really grasp the contrast between these two emotions, it becomes obvious that they’re based on mutually incompatible attitudes. The Stoic ideal is to respond to our “enemies” by wishing to help them rather than harm them. The cognitive strategies above help to prepare the way for this. Marcus is not talking about gritting our teeth and pretending to show kindness but rather a fundamental transformation in our philosophy of life and attitude toward others.

10. Realize the folly of expecting everyone to be wise

Marcus, as we’ve seen, calls these “gifts from Apollo”, i.e., therapeutic strategies derived from the god of healing. Apollo was also the god of prophecy. Marcus says that whereas the other nine gifts derive from his Muses, the tenth comes from the Lord of the Muses, the god Apollo himself. It is the gift of rational foresight, and having a philosophical attitude toward future events.

The Stoics noticed that when people become highly upset they often exhibit shock or surprise, which can seem unwarranted to neutral observers. For instance, they cry out things like “I can’t believe this guy!”, “How can this be happening?”, “This is unbelievable!”, and so on. Oddly, though, these expressions of surprise usually relate to common misfortunes that happen every day to other people — so why act surprised? Marcus portrays the sage-like ability to calmly anticipate common setbacks in life as the crowning glory of Stoic anger management.

Stoics do this through a daily practice called “premeditation of adversity” (premeditatio malorum in Latin) or “dwelling in advance” (προενδημεῖν in Greek). This involves imagining challenging situations, in this case people who might make you angry, in advance, as if it’s already happening, in order to practice adopting a philosophical attitude toward them. It’s both a way of rehearsing Stoicism and of learning to view such events as unsurprising when they actually happen. Marcus describes doing this in what is perhaps the most widely-quoted passage from the Meditations:

Begin the morning by saying to yourself, I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these things happen to them because of their ignorance of what is good and evil. — Meditations, 2.1

In addition to telling himself that they do these things through ignorance more than through malice, Marcus goes on to rehearse several of the other Stoic anger management strategies we’ve just described. He says he cannot be angry or hate these individuals as long as he reminds himself to view them as his kin, like fellow brothers and sisters. Rather than focusing on our potential conflict, he tells himself that nature intended us to work together for the common good. He says that the actions of others can never truly harm him, unless he allows them to change his moral character. One of the foundation stones of Stoicism, in other words, is this daily training. We should, like Marcus, imagine people doing potentially “annoying” things, while we patiently rehearse more resilient ways of coping, thereby training ourselves to adopt a more Stoic attitude toward others.

Marcus warned himself that we are all slaves… as long as we allow anger and other toxic passions to control our lives.

Conclusion

Marcus’ advice is still relevant today. In fact, it may be more important than ever, as social media seems to encourage trolling, arguments, and even hatred and anger toward others. We have to take responsibility for our own emotions, the Stoics said, otherwise we become like puppets whose strings are pulled by external events, such as today’s news and social media. Marcus warned himself that we are all slaves, even a Roman emperor, as long as we allow anger and other toxic passions to control our lives.

Marcus Aurelius was an exceptional ruler, in part, because he dedicated his life to training in Stoicism, including conquering his own anger. We wanted to bring his struggles to life in Verissimus, our graphic novel, through illustrations like the ones above, in order to put a more human face on ancient Stoicism. The more you can visualize a real historical figure using these anger-management strategies, and other aspects of Stoicism, the easier it becomes to do so in your own life.

Reading books where the characters discuss Stoic Philosophy

Reading books where the characters discuss Stoic Philosophy

We have only one story. All novels, all poetry, are built on the neverending contest in ourselves of good and evil. — Steinbeck, East of Eden

One of the most commonly asked questions about Stoicism is whether there are any novels dealing with this philosophy. The question often gets quite varied responses, including lots of references to poker-faced or unemotional characters. There’s a big difference between Batman, though, or Clint Eastwood’s “Man with No Name”, on the one hand, and Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius, on the other. All over the Internet, people tend to confuse “stoicism” (lowercase), the unemotional personality trait or coping style, with “Stoicism” (capitalized), the ancient Greek philosophy — two quite different things.

Fortunately, there are a handful of interesting novels, in which characters explicitly discuss Stoicism…

What if you are not looking for cold-blooded stoic characters, though, but for works of fiction that contain some genuine Stoic philosophy? Fortunately, there are a handful of interesting novels whose characters explicitly discuss Stoicism. These books vary enormously in style and content and will probably appeal to different types of readers. However, they can all contribute something of value to our appreciation of ancient Stoic philosophy.

A Man in Full by Tom Wolfe

Wolfe’s mammoth second novel, published in 1998, is hands-down the best example of a work of fiction featuring discussion of Stoic philosophy prominently in the story. It’s a sprawling story of intersecting lives, with characters from radically different strata of society, which takes place mainly in 1980s Atlanta, Georgia.

Stoicism doesn’t really emerge until about halfway through. However, if you persevere, you’ll be rewarded. The philosophy becomes central to the story of two of the main characters. One, called Conrad Hensley, who discovers the Discourses of Epictetus while in prison, is asked if he considers himself a Stoic and replies:

“I’m just reading about it”, said Conrad, “but I wish that there was someone around today, somebody you could go to, the way students went to Epictetus. Today people think of Stoics — like, you know, like they’re people who grit their teeth and tolerate pain and suffering. But that’s not it at all. What they are is, they’re serene and confident in the face of anything you can throw at them. If you say to a Stoic, ‘Look, you do what I tell you or I’ll kill you’, he’ll look you in the eye and say, ‘You do what you have to do, and I’ll do what I have to do — and, by the way, when did I ever tell you I was immortal?’” — Wolfe, A Man in Full

For students of Stoicism, the shortcoming of Wolfe’s book is that it deals with Stoicism mainly from a literary perspective, to flesh out characters and advance the story, rather than to describe self-improvement strategies. Nevertheless, it’s a great book and, although quite long, most people will find it pretty enjoyable to read.

The Epictetus Club by Jeff Traylor

Subtitled Lessons from the Walls, this book was published in 2004. It was written by a prison counselor, who based the characters on real-life inmates who actually took part in his Stoicism workshops. It’s set in the old Ohio Penitentiary, and follows the story of a group of inmates who meet weekly for a group called “The Epictetus Club”, led by a lifer known as Zeno.

I had been thinking about what Zeno said at our last meeting — that people were not upset by things themselves, but by what they told themselves about those things. At first I had my doubts. But I was also open to considering it, so I decided to pay attention to my thoughts the next time I was worried, upset or angry. It didn’t take long to find my first opportunity. — Traylor, The Epictetus Club

Though very different from A Man in Full, it makes an interesting companion piece as both books happen to portray the Stoicism of Epictetus being adopted and put into practice by prison inmates. Although The Epictetus Club is also a work of fiction, it leans more toward the self-help genre, by trying to give the reader practical guidance to take away, and a more rounded introduction to Stoicism.

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

Steinbeck is on record, several times, as having mentioned the personal meaning the writings of Marcus Aurelius had for him. Old Testament themes permeate his 1952 novel, East of Eden, but Steinbeck also portrays one of the main characters reading the Meditations.

[Lee] lifted the breadbox and took out a tiny volume bound in leather, and the gold tooling was almost completely worn away — The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius in English translation. Lee wiped his steel-rimmed spectacles on a dish towel. He opened the book and leafed through. And he smiled to himself, consciously searching for reassurance. He read slowly, moving his lips over the words. “Everything is only for a day, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.” — Steinbeck, East of Eden

Scholars of literature have argued that themes found in Steinbeck’s book such as staying true to oneself, not becoming like one’s enemies, and not being overwhelmed by fear of death, were inspired by the Stoic philosophy of the Meditations.

Memoirs of Hadrian by Marguerite Yourcenar

The Belgian-born writer Marguerite Yourcenar laboured over this magnificent work of historical fiction for many years before it was finally published in French, as Mémoires d’Hadrien (1951). Her attention to detail is so exceptional that many people take this as an accurate portrayal of Hadrian. Nevertheless, it is a work of fiction, albeit one carefully grounded in historical evidence. The “novel” actually consists of a series of letters which the author imagines being written from the Emperor Hadrian to his adoptive grandson, the teenage Marcus Aurelius. The thoughts it contains are beautifully articulated.

I hoped to discover the hinge where our will meets and moves with destiny, and where discipline strengthens, instead of restraining, our nature. Understand clearly that here is no question of harsh Stoic will, which you value too high, nor of some mere abstract choice or refusal, which grossly affronts the condition of our universe, this solid whole, compounded as it is of objects and bodies. No, I have dreamed of a more secret acquiescence, or of a more supple response. Life was to me a horse to whose motion one yields, but only after having trained the animal to the utmost. — Yourcenar, Memoirs of Hadrian

Although this book contains many reflections on Hadrian’s attitude toward life and love, it says little about Greek philosophy, including Stoicism. Nevertheless, it is extremely valuable to those interested in the life of Marcus Aurelius because it very vividly portrays one of the characters whose influence shaped his childhood years.

One caveat: the character of Hadrian, perhaps unsurprisingly, casts himself in a much more favourable light, in these letters, than Roman history would justify. Yourcenar systematically glosses over or dismisses every major criticism of Hadrian, one by one — giving his legacy something of a whitewash. Hadrian was, after all, vilified by the senate after his death as a political tyrant. Sadly, although Marcus Aurelius was the intended recipient of Hadrian’s fictional letters, we never get to read his fictional replies. Perhaps because, in reality, Marcus seems to have been left with a negative impression of Hadrian, and would probably have disagreed with many of the musings attributed to his predecessor in these letters.

The Eulogium on Marcus Aurelius by Antoine Léonard Thomas

This is the oldest book on the list. It was written in 1775 by Antoine Léonard Thomas, a French poet and literary critic, and translated into English by David Bailie Warden in 1808. The English edition was dedicated to Thomas Jefferson, “the Marcus Aurelius of the United States”. The Eulogium takes the form of a fictional funeral speech, which the author imagines being delivered by the Stoic Apollonius of Chalcedon, in 180 AD, over the recently-deceased body of his former student, the emperor Marcus Aurelius.

Marcus Aurelius, after a reign of 20 years, died at Vienna. He was then preparing to make war against the Germans. His body was carried to Rome, where it was received in the midst of tears and public sorrow. The Senate, in mourning, preceded the funeral chariot, which was accompanied by the people and the army. The son of Marcus Aurelius, the Emperor Commodus, followed the chariot. The procession was slow and silent. Suddenly an old man advanced in the crowd. His stature was tall, his air venerable, all knew him. It was Apollonius, the Stoic philosopher, esteemed at Rome, and more respected for his talents than for his great age. He had all the rigid virtues of his sect, and, moreover, he had been the instructor and the friend of Marcus Aurelius. He stopped near the coffin, looked sadly at it, and suddenly raising his voice… — Léonard Thomas, Eulogium on Marcus Aurelius

Apollonius was also a real historical figure, although the words attributed to him here are not his own but largely paraphrased from the Meditations, and the surviving Roman histories of Marcus Aurelius’ rule.

As this is an 18th century text, its period style may not be to everyone’s taste today, although it’s relatively short and easy to read. It actually gives quite a good introduction to the life of Marcus Aurelius, and some aspects of his thought. The Eulogium makes an interesting companion piece to Memoirs of Hadrian. Both are works of historical fiction set in 2nd century Rome, one portraying Hadrian’s reflections on life, the other portraying those of Marcus Aurelius, through the mouthpiece of his Stoic teacher.

What else?

Several ancient works of fiction survive today, which contain Stoic themes. Perhaps the most notable are the many surviving tragedies of Seneca the Younger, who was, of course, a famous Stoic philosopher himself.

Happy is he whoever knows how to bear the estate of slave or king and can match his countenance with either lot. For he who bears his ills with even soul has robbed misfortune of its strength and heaviness. — Seneca, Hercules Oetaeus

The Pharsalia of Lucan, Seneca’s nephew, is an epic poem, about the civil war of Julius Caesar, which focuses toward the end on Caesar’s opponent, the Stoic hero, Cato of Utica. Many centuries later, this story was retold in Joseph Addison’s Cato, a Tragedy (1712). This play was much beloved by George Washington, who reputedly had it performed for the Continental Army camped at Valley Forge, to raise their morale.

Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome
Can raise her senate more than Cato’s presence.
His virtues render our assembly awful,
They strike with something like religious fear,
And make even Caesar tremble at the head
Of armies flush’d with conquest. — Addison, Cato, a Tragedy

We can also find some references to Stoicism in modern cinema. There is of course, Ridley Scott’s Gladiator (2000), in the first act of which Richard Harris portrays Marcus Aurelius. The movie only contains two or three fleeting references to Stoicism. Its sequel, Gladiator 2, has already been written, though, and greenlit by Paramount Studios. It will tell the story of Marcus’ grandson, which possibly means there could be a few more references to Stoicism.

Acts of Vengeance (2017) starring Antonio Banderas, is a budget revenge movie, in which the lead character stumbles across a copy of the Meditations. Quotes from the book are interspersed throughout the movie, although the philosophical themes aren’t very well integrated with the action, except perhaps in relation to the final twist in the ending. Finally, The Creation of Earthquakes starring John Malkovich, is a forthcoming black comedy, which tells the story of the troubled relationship between Emperor Nero and the Stoic philosopher, Seneca.

It was partly because I couldn’t find many good stories about Stoicism that I decided to write our forthcoming graphic novel, Verissimus: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius. Verissimus tells the story of Marcus Aurelius’ childhood education in Stoicism and his subsequent career as Roman emperor, drawing extensively on the surviving Roman histories and other evidence. It carefully interweaves Stoic concepts from the Meditations with action scenes and relationships drama, linking his inner philosophical journey with the outward events of his life, including several epic battles which shaped Roman history.

In ancient Greece and Rome, philosophy was taught in lectures and through dialogues and essays. However, a much wider audience learned about it through popular plays, and stories, about famous philosophers, such as the anecdotes about Diogenes the Cynic, many of which are believed to derive from satires. All of the stories we’ve looked at in this article help to bring Stoicism, and its historical context, to life for modern readers. They can put a human face on what can seem at first like a somewhat inhuman and austere philosophy, making it more accessible, I hope, to a greater number of people.

Minor points… We are in fact told that Socrates wrote poems, although these are lost. Marcus did write the Meditations, but it was not…

Interesting! Those are all valid observations, except the one about Socrates never having children. Socrates had three sons and very much like Marcus Aurelius, he was known for having sons who were a disappointment, leading people to debate to what extent a father could be held responsible for how his children grow up. Even wise men can have foolish sons, arguably.

Minor points… We are in fact told that Socrates wrote poems, although these are lost. Marcus did write the Meditations, but it was not intended for publication and was arguably a set of notes originally rather than a book. I agree with the gist of what you say here, though.

Socrates did question the powerful but he didn’t always simply conclude that he knew nothing. He notoriously does often claim to know things, and clearly implies moral knowledge of a sort – hence the term “Socratic irony”. We don’t know whether or not Marcus questioned the powerful. Perhaps he did to some extent although probably not in the way Socrates did.

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