How to Think Like a Roman Emperor: The Stoic Philosophy of Marcus Aurelius

7. TEMPORARY MADNESS

May 175 AD. A nervous courier hands over a letter to Gaius Avidius Cassius, commander of the Syrian legions and governor general of the eastern provinces. It contains only a single Greek word, which to his consternation reads emanes (“You’re mad”—you’ve lost your mind).

Cassius is furious and tears it to pieces. He’s not someone to be trifled with. In fact, his brutality has become notorious. One of his favorite punishments is to chain men together in groups of ten and let them drown in the middle of a river. Rumors circulated that he once had dozens of the enemy bound to a pole nearly two hundred feet high and set it ablaze so that for miles around their countrymen could watch them burn alive. Even by the brutal standards of the Roman army, that was considered horrifically cruel. He was renowned among his own troops as a strict disciplinarian, sometimes to the point of savagery. He cut off the hands of deserters or broke their legs and hips, leaving them crippled. Letting them live on in misery was his way of warning others against disobeying his orders. However, Cassius was also a distinguished military hero. Next to the emperor, he was the second most important commander in the Roman army, perhaps even the second most powerful man in the whole empire.

Cassius’s iron grip on his troops was legendary, and it made him indispensable to Rome. Marcus and Cassius had long been family friends, although Cassius was rumored to criticize the emperor behind his back. Marcus would tell his courtiers, “It is impossible to make men exactly as one would wish them to be; we must use them such as they are.” His reputation for clemency and forgiveness stood in total contrast to Cassius’s severity. Nevertheless, despite their opposing characters, Marcus placed his trust in Cassius as a general. During the Parthian War, while Lucius Verus indulged his vices at a safe distance from any actual fighting, Cassius achieved one stunning victory after another, relentlessly pursuing King Vologases deep into Parthian territory. He quickly rose to become Lucius’s second in command. Near the end of the war, however, he allowed his men to sack the twin cities of Ctesiphon and Seleucia, on the River Tigris, where, it was claimed, they contracted the plague. The returning troops brought it home to their legionary bases throughout the provinces, and from there it ravaged the empire. Cassius was rewarded, however, for driving the Parthians out of Syria by being appointed imperial legate (a governor with supreme command) of the province, answerable directly to the emperors. A few years later, in 169 AD, the Emperor Lucius’s untimely demise left a power vacuum waiting to be filled.

In 172 AD, while Marcus was occupied with the First Marcomannic War, on the northern frontier, a tribe called the Bucoli, or “Herdsmen,” who came from the northwest region of the Nile Delta near Alexandria, instigated a revolt against the Roman authorities. This was a major emergency requiring Cassius to enter Egypt with his two Syrian legions, which meant he had to be granted imperium, supreme military authority equal to that of the emperor in his absence. Native Egyptians had borne the brunt of tax increases required to fund Marcus’s war in the north. As a result, more and more of them had turned to banditry, and eventually, out of desperation, they formed a rebel army, led by a charismatic young warrior-priest called Isidorus. The story goes that a handful of these men disguised themselves in women’s clothing and approached a Roman centurion, pretending that they were going to pay him a ransom of gold for their captured husbands. They ambushed him, however, and then captured and sacrificed another officer, reputedly swearing an oath over his bloody entrails before ritually devouring them. News of this reputed act of terrorism quickly spread across Egypt, and a general uprising ensued.

The Bucoli rapidly gained enough support from other tribes to surround and attack Alexandria. When the Egyptian legion confronted the tribesmen in a pitched battle, the vastly outnumbered Romans suffered a humiliating defeat. The Bucoli and their allies continued to besiege Alexandria for months while plague and famine devastated the city. They would have sacked Alexandria had Cassius and his troops not been sent from Syria to relieve the Alexandrian garrison and put down the uprising. He faced so many tribal warriors, though, that he dared not launch a direct counterattack even with three legions under his command. Instead, he chose to bide his time, sowing dissent and instigating quarrels among the enemy tribes until he was finally able to divide and conquer them. Cassius’s reward was to retain imperium throughout the eastern provinces, granting him a unique status and set of powers, dangerously close to those of an emperor.

At the age of forty-five, Cassius had become a hero to his countrymen as a result of his dramatic military victories. His authority was further enhanced by his noble lineage: his mother, Julia Cassia Alexandra, was one of the Cassii, an ancient Roman family famous for their old-fashioned toughness. She was a princess, descended on her father’s side from King Herod the Great of Judea and on her mother’s from Augustus, the first Roman emperor. She also claimed descent from another Roman client-king, Antiochus IV Epiphanes of Commagene, making Cassius a member of the Seleucid imperial dynasty.

In short, Cassius was born to rule. Given his noble pedigree and celebrated military victories, he doubtless viewed himself as a natural successor to the Emperor Lucius Verus. However, far to the north, Marcus had promoted Claudius Pompeianus, another Syrian general, and one from much humbler stock. Pompeianus had already distinguished himself during the Parthian War and subsequently married Marcus’s daughter Lucilla, the widow of Lucius Verus. He served as the most senior general on the northern frontier during the Marcomannic Wars and became the emperor’s right-hand man. It was even rumored that Marcus had invited Pompeianus to become Caesar, although for some reason he declined. It seems likely that Cassius found the idea intolerable that a commoner from his own country might be promoted above him.

Cassius has steadily climbed the ladder of power since the day the Emperor Lucius died. Now, in 175 AD, Cassius has been holding the authority of an emperor in the east for three years; he has one rung left to climb, and Marcus Aurelius is the only person standing in his way. The single word he holds in his hands, emanes, comes from Herodes Atticus, the Sophist who tutored Marcus in Greek rhetoric as a youth. Herodes was known for his eloquence in delivering elaborate speeches, but this letter had the sort of laconic punch more typical of Stoics than Sophists. Only one word was necessary to make his point. Driven by his lust for absolute power, Cassius has rashly instigated a civil war that threatens to tear the whole empire apart and engulf the lives of millions in bloodshed.

At the far side of the empire, over fifteen hundred miles away, an exhausted dispatch rider arrives at the army camp at Sirmium, the capital of Lower Pannonia (in modern-day Serbia). The soldiers who meet him rush him straight to the emperor’s residence in the middle of the camp. It has taken over ten days, using the emergency relay system, to get the news from the east via Rome to the northern frontier. He hesitates before speaking. His news is so astonishing that he can scarcely believe it himself: “My lord Caesar, General Avidius Cassius has betrayed you … the Egyptian legion have acclaimed him emperor!”

The courier has with him a letter from the Senate confirming the news: on May 3, 175 AD, Avidius Cassius had been acclaimed emperor of Rome by the Egyptian legion in Alexandria. “My lord, they’re telling everyone that you’re dead,” the messenger explains. The news came from Publius Martius Verus, governor of the Roman province of Cappadocia (in modern-day Turkey). He had served with great distinction as a general along with Cassius and Pompeianus in the Parthian War. Crucially, Martius Verus’s alarming news comes with the reassurance that he and the three legions under his command have declared their unwavering loyalty to Marcus. However, Cassius reputedly has garnered support for his rebellion throughout the region lying south of the Taurus mountain range, roughly half the eastern empire. A number of senators at Rome who had opposed the Marcomannic campaign have seized the opportunity to petition in favor of Cassius. So far, though, the Senate as a whole remains loyal to Marcus. Nevertheless, Cassius is a highly accomplished general with seven legions under his command. He also controls Egypt, the breadbasket of the empire and by far the wealthiest province in the east. Its capital, Alexandria, is the second largest city and has the largest port in the empire. If exports from Egypt are cut off, Rome will eventually run out of bread, leading to rioting and looting. The fate of the empire therefore hangs in the balance.

Marcus, in fact, has recently been very sick, perhaps even close to death. Aged fifty-four and widely perceived as frail and in poor health, he has long been the subject of gossip at Rome. His wife, Faustina, had traveled back to Rome several months earlier. Rumors say that she was frightened by the possibility of Marcus’s imminent demise and urged Cassius to stake his claim to the throne. Marcus’s only surviving son, Commodus, is thirteen years old and acutely aware that if his father dies or the throne is usurped before he reaches adulthood, his own life will be in grave peril. Faustina had allegedly schemed that by preempting Marcus’s death, Cassius can outmaneuver other pretenders to the throne and perhaps even safeguard the succession of Commodus by marrying her. Others say that Cassius acted on his own initiative, deliberately circulating bogus rumors of Marcus’s death to seize power. Or perhaps he simply acted prematurely, not treasonously, genuinely deceived by false intelligence that declared the emperor dead or dying. The Senate was alarmed, though, and immediately declared Cassius hostis publicus, a public enemy, seizing his assets and those of his family. That has only served to escalate the conflict. Cassius must feel the situation spiraling out of control. He can’t back down; civil war has become inevitable.

Whatever Cassius’s motives, Marcus now finds himself confronting one of the most serious crises of his reign. The emperor has recovered from his latest bout of illness and wastes no time in responding to the sedition. He looks over the faces of his generals. They already know that he must prepare to leave the northern frontier and lead an army to the east with great haste. Cassius’s legions may march against Rome itself in an effort to secure his claim on the imperial throne. This looming threat has cast the city into a state of total panic and emboldened Marcus’s critics in the Senate. However, Marcus’s reputation with the mighty legions serving him on the Danube is now unassailable.

The following morning, Marcus sends the dispatch rider on his way with letters for the Senate in Rome, his ally Martius Verus in Cappadocia, and, most importantly, Cassius in Egypt. His message is clear: the emperor confirms that he is alive, in good health, and will soon return. Now he must make rapid arrangements for peace in the north so that he will be free to march southeast, reinforce the loyalists in Cappadocia, and quell unrest by appearing in person. However, it would be premature to address his troops about the incident until he knows that a civil war is unavoidable. They’re still fighting pockets of resistance among the northern tribes, and he doesn’t want the barbarians along the Danube getting wind of the crisis back home while negotiations for peace are still underway.

In private, he continues to meditate on his reaction to the news. The hardest thing to deal with is the uncertainty of the situation. Marcus assumes that at some level Cassius believes he is doing the right thing: he acts out of ignorance of what is genuinely right and wrong, for, as Socrates and the Stoics taught, no man does wrong knowingly. Of course, it’s precisely this philosophical attitude that Cassius resents in Marcus, because to him forgiveness is merely a sign of weakness. It leads to a contest between their personalities, two ways of ruling, and two philosophies of life: one harsh, the other forgiving.

Several weeks have now passed since Marcus received the Senate’s dispatch notifying him of events in Egypt. His first action on receiving news of the rebellion was to summon his thirteen-year-old son, Commodus, to Sirmium, where he took the toga virilis, officially making him an adult Roman citizen in preparation for being acclaimed emperor. He is being commended to the legions as Marcus’s natural heir in order to help quash Cassius’s claim on the throne. The news must have reached Cassius that the emperor was still alive, but there has been no word of him standing down. However, the failure of Cassius’s rebellion to spread across the Taurus mountain range into Cappadocia means he doesn’t have enough troops to be confident of holding Syria against a major offensive by the loyalist army. Nevertheless, rumor and unrest are growing in Marcus’s camp. The time has come for the emperor to address his men and announce that they will be marching southeast to join forces with Martius Verus in Cappadocia before engaging Cassius’s main army in Syria.

Marcus prepares himself for the day ahead, contemplating the actions of Cassius and the senators who are working against him. Marcus tells himself, as always, that he must be ready to accept meddling, ingratitude, violence, treachery, and envy.¹ According to the Stoics, individuals are bound to make moral errors, because the majority do not have a firm grasp on the true nature of good and evil. Nobody is born wise, but rather we must become so through education and training. Marcus believes that philosophy has taught him right from wrong and the ability to understand the nature of men like Cassius, who appear to act unjustly. He reminds himself that even those who oppose him are his kin, not necessarily through blood but because they are his fellow citizens in the universal community, sharing the potential for wisdom and virtue. Even though they may act unjustly, they cannot truly harm him because their actions cannot tarnish his character. As long as Marcus understands this, he cannot be angry with them or hate them. Those who oppose him have come into being, he says, to work together with him, just as the upper and lower rows of our teeth work together to grind our food. To turn against men like Cassius in anger, or even to turn his back on them, would be contrary to reason and against the law of Nature. Marcus reminds himself not to regard the rebel faction as enemies but to view them as benignly as a physician does his patients. He takes his time, in quiet contemplation, knowing how important it is to preserve a rational frame of mind in the face of adversity, especially given the tremendous power invested in him by the Roman people. As soon as Marcus has finished these meditations, he dons the military cape. Pompeianus and several other advisors meet him outside his room. It is time for him to address the ranks of legionaries assembled in the center of the camp.

Marcus greets them as his fellow soldiers. He says there’s no point complaining or feeling bitter about the rebellion in the east. He accepts whatever ensues as the will of Zeus. He asks them not to be angry with the heavens, and assures them of his heartfelt regret that they must be engaged in war after war in his service. He wishes that Cassius had come to him first and argued his case before the army and the Senate. Astoundingly, Marcus promises them that he would even have stepped down and relinquished the empire without a struggle if he had been persuaded that it was for the common good. However, it’s too late for that now, as war is already upon them.

He reminds his troops that their reputation far surpasses that of the eastern legions, and so they have reason to be optimistic. Although Cassius is one of his most esteemed generals, he says, they have nothing to fear from “an eagle at the head of jackdaws”—a comment that draws a few somber laughs. It wasn’t really Cassius who won those famous victories, after all, but the very soldiers who now stand before him. Moreover, loyal Martius Verus will be by their side, a general no less accomplished than Avidius Cassius. Marcus tells them of his hope that Cassius may still repent now that he knows the emperor lives. He must assume that it was only through mistakenly believing him to be dead that his once-loyal general would have betrayed him in this manner. If not, and Cassius persists in his rebellion, he will be forced to think again when he learns that Marcus Aurelius is marching against him at the head of such a formidable army of seasoned veterans from the north. (The Roman historian Cassius Dio presents what he claims to be the original text of this remarkable speech.)

The legionaries gathered before Marcus know well enough that their beloved sovereign and commander is a philosopher of the Stoic sect. Nevertheless, what happens next must have left them stunned. Marcus assures them that his greatest desire is to show clemency.

To forgive a man who has done wrong, to be still a friend to one who has trodden friendship underfoot, to continue being faithful to one who has broken faith. What I say may perhaps seem incredible to you, but you must not doubt it. For surely all goodness has not yet entirely perished from among men, but there is still in us a remnant of the ancient virtue. However, if anyone should disbelieve it, that merely strengthens my desire, in order that men may see accomplished with their own eyes what no one would believe could come to pass. For this would be the one profit I could gain from my present troubles, if I were able to bring the matter to an honorable conclusion, and show all the world that there is a right way to deal even with civil war.

This is not misfortune, in other words, but to bear it nobly is good fortune. That was something Rusticus and the other Stoics had taught him as a boy. There isn’t a trace of anger in Marcus’s words, although the news of Cassius’s rebellion has turned Rome upside down and left the whole empire in turmoil. The men serving under Marcus’s command know him well enough to expect that he would respond with dignity and calm, even to such a shocking betrayal as this. Even so, it must seem remarkable to the average legionary, standing there in the mud that day, to hear the Emperor Marcus Aurelius summarily pardon not only this usurper but also the rest of those ranged against him.

Upon finishing his speech to the troops, Marcus instructs his secretary to forward a copy to the Senate. He retires to his residence once again, closes his eyes, and continues to meditate on how best to cope with the emerging crisis, turning to his philosophy for guidance. HOW TO CONQUER ANGER

Marcus did not have a completely placid disposition by nature—he had to work on overcoming his temper. In the very first sentence of The Meditations, he praises his grandfather for being so calm and mild mannered, and throughout the rest of his notes, he keeps returning to the problem of mastering one’s anger.² We know that Marcus struggled with his own feelings of anger and worked to become a more calm and reasonable man because he says so. He concludes the first book of The Meditations by thanking the gods that he never lapsed into offending his friends, family, or teachers, even though he felt inclined to lose his temper at times. People who suffer from fatigue and chronic pain, as Marcus did, can often be prone to irritability and anger. It shouldn’t surprise us if a frail man who slept poorly and was bothered by severe chest and stomach pains sometimes felt irritated with the countless people who were trying to manipulate or deceive him.

For Stoics, full-blown anger is an irrational and unhealthy passion that we should never indulge. As we’ve seen, though, it’s human nature to have some automatic feelings of irritation in response to life’s problems. The Stoics consider these “proto-passions” inevitable and accept their occurrence with an attitude of indifference. A Stoic might reasonably prefer that someone behave differently. They might even take determined action to stop them, as Marcus did when he mobilized his army to march against Avidius Cassius. Being a Stoic clearly doesn’t mean being a passive doormat. However, the wise man will not get upset about things that lie beyond his direct control, such as other people’s actions. The Stoics therefore have a variety of psychological techniques that they employ to help them counteract feelings of anger and replace them with a more even-tempered, but equally determined, attitude.

Dealing with feelings of anger by cultivating greater empathy and understanding toward others is one of the major recurring themes of The Meditations. Whereas modern psychotherapy typically focuses on anxiety and depression, the Stoics concerned themselves more with the problem of anger. Indeed, an entire book by Seneca titled On Anger, which survives today, describes the Stoic theory and treatment of this passion in great detail.

As in most aspects of life, Marcus’s supreme role model here was his adoptive father. From the Emperor Antoninus he learned “gentleness” first and foremost, and mildness of temperament. Antoninus exhibited “patient tolerance” of those who harshly criticized his cautious handling of the empire’s resources. Marcus specifically reminds himself of how gracefully his adoptive father accepted the apology of a customs officer at Tusculum on one occasion, and that this was typical of his gentle character. Unlike his predecessor Hadrian, Antoninus was never rude, overbearing, or violent to people, and he never lost his temper. He considered every situation on a case-by-case basis, calmly, methodically, and consistently, as if doing so at his leisure. Elsewhere we hear again of Antoninus’s gentle disposition and “how he put up with those who found fault with him unfairly, finding no fault with them in return” and “his forbearance towards those who openly opposed his views, and his pleasure when somebody pointed out something better.”³ The patience and gentleness Antoninus showed as a ruler were among the most important virtues Marcus learned. Indeed, Marcus was famous for remaining calm in the face of provocation. Nevertheless, he had to practice and train himself to overcome his feelings of anger.

So what therapy did the Stoics prescribe? They believed that anger is a form of desire: “a desire for revenge on one who seems to have done an injustice inappropriately,” according to Diogenes Laertius. Speaking less formally, we might say that anger typically consists in the desire to harm someone because we think they’ve done wrong and deserve to be punished. (Occasionally it might be more of a desire for someone else to harm them, as in, “I hope someone teaches her a lesson!”) This is not unlike modern cognitive theories of anger, which typically define it as based upon the belief that a rule that is personally important to you has somehow been violated. Anger stems from the idea that an injustice has been committed, or someone has done something they shouldn’t have done. It’s often associated with the impression that you’ve somehow been threatened or harmed by the other person, making anger a close companion of fear: “He did something to me that he shouldn’t have done—that was wrong!” Not surprisingly, the Stoic antidote for anger resembles the general therapy applied to desire we described earlier. So it’s worth briefly reviewing the typical steps in this approach and considering how they would apply to this passion:

1. Self-monitoring. Spot early warning signs of anger, to nip it in the bud before it escalates. For example, you might notice that your voice begins to change, or that you frown or your muscles tense, when you’re beginning to grow angry, or you may think of someone’s actions as unjust or in violation of a personal rule. (“How dare she say that to me!”)

2. Cognitive distancing. Remind yourself that the events themselves don’t make you angry, but rather your judgments about them cause the passion. (“I notice that I am telling myself ‘How dare she say that,’ and it’s that way of looking at things that’s causing me to feel angry.”)

3. Postponement. Wait until your feelings of anger have naturally abated before you decide how to respond to the situation. Take a breath, walk away, and come back to it a few hours later. If you still feel like you need to do something, then calmly decide upon the best response; otherwise, just let it go and forget about it.

4. Modeling virtue. Ask yourself what a wise person such as Socrates or Zeno would do. What virtues might help you to respond wisely? In your case, it might be easier to think of a role model you’re more familiar with, like Marcus Aurelius or someone you’ve encountered in your own life. (“A wiser person would try to empathize, put themselves in her shoes, and then exercise patience when they’re responding…”)

5. Functional analysis. Picture the consequences of following anger versus following reason and exercising virtues such as moderation. (“If I let my anger guide me then I’ll probably just yell at her and get into another argument, and things will get a lot worse over time until we’re not speaking anymore. If I wait until I’ve calmed down and then try to listen patiently, though, it might be difficult at first but it will probably start to work better with practice, and once she’s calmed down maybe she’ll begin listening to my perspective.”)

The Stoics probably learned the ancient concept of postponing their actions until anger has abated from the Pythagoreans, whose school was nearly seven centuries old by Marcus’s time. They were known for never speaking in anger but withdrawing for a while until their feelings had died down. They would only give their response when they could do so calmly and rationally. Today therapists sometimes call that taking a “time-out” from anger in order to regain your composure.

In addition to these basic strategies, Marcus also describes a whole repertoire of Stoic cognitive techniques, which focus on addressing the underlying beliefs that cause our anger in the first place. These are different ways of thinking about the situation: alternative perspectives. They could be used at any time. However, it’s difficult to change your point of view while you’re still in the grip of anger. In fact, one of the most common mistakes we make is trying to challenge our angry thoughts when we’re not in the best frame of mind to do so. Instead, use these thinking strategies beforehand, in advance of facing situations that might provoke anger, or after you’ve taken time to regain your composure. Marcus reminded himself to contemplate some of these ideas first thing in the morning while preparing to encounter difficult people during the day ahead.

In one of the most striking passages of The Meditations, Marcus introduces a list of ten thinking strategies to use when “guarding against being angry with others.”⁴ He describes these anger-management techniques as ten gifts from Apollo and his nine Muses. Apollo is the god of medicine and healing—the god of therapy, we might say—and these are Stoic psychotherapeutic prescriptions. The Meditations contains numerous additional references to the same methods, which help clarify what Marcus had in mind. 1. WE ARE NATURALLY SOCIAL ANIMALS, DESIGNED TO HELP ONE ANOTHER

The first strategy Marcus describes using in response to anger involves reminding himself of the Stoic doctrine that rational beings are inherently social, designed to live in communities and to help one another in a spirit of goodwill. As such, we have a duty to live wisely and harmoniously with our fellow humans in order to fulfill our natural potential and to flourish.

In one of the most famous quotes from The Meditations, the opening passage of book 2 mentioned earlier, Marcus describes mentally preparing himself each morning to deal with troublesome people. He adds, “Nor can I be angry with my kinsman nor hate him for we have come into being for co-operation,” and that to obstruct one another by feeling resentment or turning our back on others goes against our rational and social nature. Indeed, he says that the good for a rational creature lies, partly, in having an attitude of fellowship toward others. Marcus also goes so far as to claim that ignoring our fellowship with others is a form of injustice, a vice, and an impiety because it goes against Nature.⁵

The Stoic goal of living in concord, or harmony, with the rest of mankind doesn’t mean that we should expect everyone to act like our friend. On the contrary, we should be prepared to meet many foolish and vicious people in life and to accept this as inevitable. We should not meet disagreeable people and enemies with anger, but treat this as an opportunity to exercise our own wisdom and virtue. Stoics think of troublesome people as if they are a prescription from a physician, or a training partner we’ve been assigned by a wrestling coach. We exist for one another, says Marcus, and if we can’t educate those who oppose us, we have to learn at least to tolerate them.⁶

These challenges will help us grow in virtue and become more resilient. If no one ever tested your patience, then you’d lack an opportunity to exhibit virtue in your relationships. In the Eulogium on Marcus Aurelius, an eighteenth-century work of historical fiction closely based on the Roman histories, the Stoic teacher Apollonius is portrayed saying, “There are wicked men—they are useful to thee; without them, what need would there be for virtues?” 2. CONSIDER A PERSON’S CHARACTER AS A WHOLE

The next strategy involves picturing the person you’re angry with in a more rounded and complete manner—don’t just focus on the aspects of their character or behavior you find most annoying. Marcus tells himself to consider carefully the sort of people who typically offend him. He then patiently imagines them in their daily lives: eating at their dinner tables, sleeping in their beds, having sex, relieving themselves, and so on. He considers how they can be arrogant, overbearing, and angry, but he also contemplates times when they’ve been enslaved by other desires.⁷ The idea is that we should broaden our awareness, not only thinking of the person’s actions that offend us but of the other person as a whole, remembering that nobody is perfect. As we widen our perspective, we’re likely to dilute our anger toward them. Doing so can be seen as a variation of the depreciation by analysis technique.

Indeed, Marcus says that when others hate, blame, or slander you, you should imagine looking into their souls and understanding what kind of people they really are. The more you understand them, the more their hostility toward you will seem misguided and powerless to offend you. He seems to have viewed Cassius in this way, which probably helped Marcus respond calmly to the sudden crisis of the civil war, whereas the Senate offered a knee-jerk reaction.

Marcus says that in addition to putting yourself in the other person’s shoes, you should analyze their character in a manner that gets straight to the core questions: what kind of people do they want to please, for what purpose, and through what kind of actions? What are their guiding principles in life, what do they busy themselves doing, how do they spend their time? You should imagine their souls laid bare before you, with all their errors exposed. If you can picture this, eventually it will seem absurd to you that their blame or praise ever carried any real authority.⁸ Indeed, the wise man only really pays attention to the opinions of those “living in agreement with Nature,” and so he is continually mindful of what sort of men he’s dealing with. He understands who they are “at home and abroad, by night and in the day, in what vices they wallow and with whom.”⁹

The Stoics believed that vicious people fundamentally lack self-love and are alienated from themselves. We must learn to empathize with them and see them as the victims of misguided beliefs or errors of judgment, not as malicious. Marcus says that you should contemplate how they are blinded by their own mistaken opinions and compelled by them to act as they do—they don’t know any better. If you realize that, it will be easier to ignore their censure, forgive them, and yet oppose their actions when necessary. To understand all is to forgive all, as the saying goes. 3. NOBODY DOES WRONG WILLINGLY

This follows on from the previous point. It’s a statement of one of the central paradoxes of Socrates’s philosophy and was embraced by the Stoics: no man does evil knowingly, which also entails that no man does it willingly. Marcus gave Cassius the benefit of the doubt by assuming that at some level the usurper believed he was doing the right thing and was simply mistaken. In The Meditations, he says you should view others’ actions in terms of a simple dichotomy: either they are doing what is right or doing what is wrong. If they are doing what is right, then you should accept it and cease to be annoyed with them. Let go of your anger and learn from them. However, if they are doing what is wrong, then you should assume it’s because they don’t know any better. As Socrates pointed out, nobody wants to make mistakes or be deceived; all reasoning creatures inherently desire the truth. So if someone is genuinely mistaken about what is right, you should, if anything, feel sorry for them.

Everyone resents being called vicious or dishonorable. In some sense, they believe that what they’re doing is right, or at least acceptable. No matter how perverse that conclusion may seem, it’s justified in their own mind. If we constantly think of others as being mistaken rather than simply malicious, as deprived of wisdom against their wishes, we will inevitably deal more gently with them. Marcus therefore says that whenever you believe someone has wronged you, you should first consider what underlying opinions they hold about what’s right and wrong. Once you really understand their thinking, you’ll have no excuse for being surprised at their actions, which should naturally weaken your feelings of anger.¹⁰ Errors of judgment compel people just as much as illness or insanity, and we learn to make allowances for such people and forgive them on that basis. In the same way, we don’t judge children harshly when they make mistakes because they don’t know better. However, adults still make the same moral errors as children. They don’t want to be ignorant, but they act as such unwittingly and unintentionally.

Marcus thinks the rest of humanity deserves our love insofar as they are our kin. Yet they also deserve our compassion, he says, insofar as they are ignorant of good and evil, a handicap as severe as visual blindness. Our moral errors lead us into passions such as anger that easily spiral out of control. We should tell ourselves that other people are compelled by their ignorance to act as they do, and let go of our anger. When faced with someone whose behavior appears objectionable, Epictetus therefore advised his students simply to repeat this maxim to themselves: “It seemed right to him.”¹¹ 4. NOBODY IS PERFECT, YOURSELF INCLUDED

Remembering that other people are human, and flawed, can help you to receive criticism (or praise) from them in a more balanced and less emotional way. In a similar manner, reminding yourself that you’re not perfect either—none of us are—can help you to moderate your feelings of anger. It’s a double standard to criticize other people without acknowledging our own imperfections. Marcus therefore reminds himself that he too does many things that are wrong, and he is just like others in that regard. He actually recommends that whenever we’re offended by the faults of another, we should treat it as a signal to pause and immediately turn our attention to our own character, reflecting on the similar ways in which we go wrong.¹² He makes the very honest psychological observation that he often refrains from wrongdoing himself only because he’s afraid of the consequences or worried about his reputation. Often all that holds us back from committing one vice is another vice, he says (another idea that goes back at least to Socrates). Many people refrain from crime, for instance, because they’re afraid of being caught, not because they’re virtuous. So even if we do not engage in the same wrongdoing as others, the inclination may still be there. Marcus was willing to hear Cassius out because, despite being emperor, he didn’t consider himself beyond reproach.

There are no gurus in Stoicism. Even the founders of the school—Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus—don’t claim that they were perfectly wise. They believe we’re all foolish, vicious, and to some extent enslaved to our passions. The ideal Sage is perfect by definition, but he’s a hypothetical ideal, like the notion of a Utopian society. Ironically, the very anger we feel toward those who offend us can itself be seen as evidence of fallibility on our part. Our anger proves that we too are capable of doing the wrong thing under the influence of strong emotions. Remembering that fallibility is the common lot of mankind—including you—can help diminish feelings of anger. When you point your finger in anger at someone else, remember that three fingers on the same hand point back in your own direction. 5. YOU CAN NEVER BE CERTAIN OF OTHER PEOPLE’S MOTIVES

We can’t read other people’s minds, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions about what their intentions are. However, without knowing someone’s intentions, we can never really be sure they’re doing wrong. People can do things that appear bad for what they believe are good reasons. Marcus was actually an experienced judge in the Roman court of law as well as a good judge of character. He reminds himself that it’s necessary to learn a great many things about another person before we can deliver a firm opinion concerning their personality and motives—and even then we’re basing our conclusions on probability. In the same way, when it came to the civil war, Marcus took it for granted that he could never really know for certain what was in Cassius’s heart.

By contrast, anger assumes an unwarranted certainty about the motives of other people. Cognitive therapists call this the fallacy of “mind-reading”—leaping to conclusions about other people’s motives although they are always somewhat veiled from us. You should always remain open to the possibility that the other person’s intentions are not in the wrong.¹³ Consider that other plausible interpretations of their actions exist. Keeping an open mind will help you dilute your feelings of anger. 6. REMEMBER WE ALL WILL DIE

Marcus tells himself to focus on the transience of the events in the grand scheme of things. He suggests contemplating the fact that both he and the person with whom he’s angry will eventually be dead and forgotten. When viewed from this perspective, it doesn’t seem worth getting flustered by people’s behavior. Nothing lasts forever. If events will seem trivial in the future when we look back on them, then why should we care strongly about them now? This doesn’t mean that we should do nothing. Indeed, by remaining calm, we can plan our response better and take action. Marcus didn’t sit on his hands when Cassius instigated the civil war; he rapidly mobilized a huge army against him. He didn’t allow fear or anger to cloud his judgment in doing so, however.

The Meditations was likely written before the civil war, but when it occurred Marcus probably adopted the same philosophical attitude toward Cassius’s rebellion. Remember that this moment will soon pass, he says, and things inevitably change.

As we’ll see, the civil war turned out to be very short-lived. There are no surviving statues of Avidius Cassius. Few people today would even recognize his name, although he was technically an emperor of Rome, albeit for just a few months. One day, however, Marcus Aurelius will also be forgotten. He always kept that in mind when making decisions. He reminded himself not to worry about how future generations would judge him but to do only what reason commended as the right course of action. When we remember that nothing lasts forever, it no longer seems worthwhile getting angry with other people. 7. IT’S OUR OWN JUDGMENT THAT UPSETS US

It should come as no surprise that Marcus includes perhaps the best-known Stoic technique of all, which we’ve called cognitive distancing. When you’re angry, remind yourself that it’s not things or other people that make you angry but your judgments about them. If you can let go of your value judgments and stop calling other people’s actions “awful,” then your anger will diminish. Of course, as Seneca pointed out, there are initial feelings of anger that we can’t control, which the Stoics call the proto-passions (propatheiai). We share these emotional reactions to some extent with other animals, and so they’re natural and inevitable, like the anxiety of the Stoic teacher whom Gellius described being caught in a storm. Marcus says that it’s up to you, though, whether you persist in your anger. We don’t control our initial reaction, perhaps, but we do control how we respond to it: it’s not what happens first that matters but what you do next.

How can you learn to pause and gain cognitive distance from your initial feelings of anger rather than being swept along by them? By realizing that another person’s actions can’t harm your character, Marcus says. All that really matters in life is whether you’re a good person or a bad person, and that’s down to you alone. Other people can harm your property or even your body, but they can’t harm your character unless you allow them to do so. As Marcus puts it, if you let go of the opinion “I am harmed,” the feeling of being harmed will disappear, and when the feeling is gone, so is any real harm.¹⁴ Often, though, just reminding yourself that it’s not events that are making you angry but your judgments about them will be enough to weaken the hold anger has on you. 8. ANGER DOES US MORE HARM THAN GOOD

Marcus often links gaining cognitive distance with the next technique, which we’ve called functional analysis. Think about the consequences of responding with anger and compare them to those of responding rationally, calmly, and perhaps with empathy and kindness. Alternatively, just remind yourself that anger actually does you more harm than good. The Stoics liked to consider how ugly and unnatural anger looks—a scowling face, grimacing, turning puce with rage, like someone in the throes of a horrible disease.¹⁵ Marcus views the profound ugliness of anger as a sign that it is unnatural and against reason.

Also, where does anger get us? It’s often totally impotent. Bear in mind, says Marcus, that men will carry on doing the same things anyway, even if they cause you to burst with rage.¹⁶ Worse, though, our anger is not only futile but also counterproductive. He notes that it often requires more effort to deal with the consequences of losing our temper than it does just to tolerate the very acts with which we’re angry. The Stoics believe that we take offense because we assume other people’s actions threaten our interests in some way. However, once you consider that your own anger is a bigger threat to you than the thing you’re angry about, then you inevitably start to weaken its grip.

Anger about perceived slights does us more harm than the slights themselves in an even more fundamental sense, though. The actions of others are external to us and cannot touch our character, but our own anger transforms us into a different sort of person, almost like an animal, and for Stoics that’s the greater harm. Marcus therefore reminds himself that the vice of another man cannot penetrate your character unless you allow it to do so. Ironically, anger does the most harm to the person experiencing it, although he has the power to stop it.¹⁷ Your first priority in most cases should therefore be doing something about your own anger before attempting to do anything about the events that triggered it.

Throughout The Meditations, Marcus frequently expresses this in another way, by reminding himself to leave the wrong with the wrongdoer: “Does another do me wrong? That’s his business, not mine.” He who does wrong does wrong against himself; he who acts unjustly acts unjustly to himself, because he harms only himself, he says. The wrongdoer damages his own character; you shouldn’t join him in his misery by making the value judgment that he has offended and harmed you too.¹⁸

It’s tempting, once again, to imagine that Marcus may have been thinking of adversaries like Cassius when he warns himself not to feel toward his enemies as they feel toward him. Likewise, you shouldn’t start to harbor the sort of opinions the wicked hold or those they wish you to hold. In short, the best form of revenge is not to sink to their level by allowing yourself to become angry with them.¹⁹ If someone hates you, Marcus says, that’s their problem. Your only concern is to avoid doing anything to deserve being hated. 9. NATURE GAVE US THE VIRTUES TO DEAL WITH ANGER

Marcus also recommends applying another familiar Stoic technique to anger, the one we’ve called contemplation of virtue. You should ask yourself what virtue or capacity Nature has given you to cope with the situation you’re facing. There are several closely related questions you might also ask: How do other people cope with anger? What would your role models do? What do you admire certain people for doing when faced with situations that would make others lose their temper? Marcus says that you should accept that wrongdoing inevitably exists in the world and then ask, “What virtue has Nature given man as a response to the wrongdoing in question?” He explains this by comparing virtues to medicines prescribed by Nature as the “antidotes” to vice.²⁰

The main antidote to anger for Marcus is the Stoic virtue of kindness, which along with fairness makes up the cardinal social virtue of justice. Whereas the Stoics viewed anger as the desire to harm others, kindness is essentially the opposite: goodwill toward others and the desire to help them. However, what other people do is not strictly up to us, so we should exercise kindness and goodwill toward others with the reserve clause in mind, by adding the caveat “Fate permitting.” Like Cato’s archer, a Stoic should aim at the target (of benefiting others) but be satisfied if he has acted with kindness, and willing to accept both success and failure with equanimity.

Marcus actually gives a specific example of what he means, by describing an imaginary encounter with someone who was testing his patience with their hostility. He imagines gently encouraging the person in the right direction by responding along the lines of “No, my son, we have been made for other things; I shall be in no way harmed, but you are harming yourself.” Marcus says we should speak to them delicately, reminding them that human beings are meant to live together in society, like bees and other communal animals, and not to be at odds with each other. We should not speak sarcastically or include harsh rebukes but rather reply with affectionate kindness in our hearts. We should be simple and honest and not lecture them as though from a schoolmaster’s chair or as though trying to impress bystanders. It’s tempting again to wonder if Marcus was thinking how he should talk to men like Cassius, or even his own son Commodus.

For Stoics, kindness first and foremost means educating others or wishing they would become wise, free from vice and passion. It’s a desire to turn enemies into friends, Fate permitting. Marcus’s example of acting with kindness actually entails educating the other person in two of the most important strategies he mentioned earlier:

1. Anger does more harm to us than to the person with whom we’re angry.

2. Humans are essentially social creatures; Nature didn’t intend us to fight but to help each other.

He views this as another dichotomy: either we can educate the other person and change their opinions or we can’t. If we can teach them a better way, then we should do so; if not, we should accept that fact, without anger. Marcus therefore shows great consideration for the person with whom he’s angry, and he thinks about tactful ways in which they might be reconciled. Did he learn this from the way Rusticus and others spoke to him, correcting his own behavior, when he was a young man? 10. IT’S MADNESS TO EXPECT OTHERS TO BE PERFECT

Marcus describes these first nine strategies as gifts from Apollo’s Muses, which he says we should take to heart. He adds one more piece of advice from the Leader of the Muses himself: to expect bad people not to do bad things is madness because that is wishing for the impossible. Moreover, to accept their wrongdoing toward others while expecting them never to wrong you is both inconsiderate and foolish.

This final strategy is about Stoic determinism: the wise man who views the world rationally is never surprised by anything in life. It’s another standard type of Stoic argument. We already know that there are both good men and bad men in the world. Bad men are bound to do bad things. Therefore, it would be irrational to expect otherwise. “To crave impossibilities is insanity, but it is impossible for the wicked to act otherwise.” Wishing bad men never to do wrong is as foolish as wishing that babies would never cry and becoming angry with them when they do.²¹ We can easily imagine that Marcus had prepared for Cassius’s betrayal in this way. The Senate was shocked and caught off guard, and their hasty reaction just made full civil war more likely. Marcus, by contrast, responded calmly and confidently, as if he expected these things to happen in life.

People say “I can’t believe this!” when they’re upset, but usually they’re describing things that are very common in life, such as betrayal, deceit, or insults. The Stoics realized that in this sense surprise is not entirely authentic and needlessly exaggerates our emotional reaction. By contrast, someone with a more philosophical attitude might say, “That’s no surprise, these things are bound to happen—c’est la vie.” Marcus tells himself, “Everything that happens is as usual and familiar as the rose in spring and the fruit in summer,” including slander and treachery. When we’re surprised that a bad person acts badly, then we’re to blame for expecting the impossible.²² We can easily anticipate the sort of wrongs people do, at least in general terms, but when they actually happen, we behave as if it’s shocking. You should learn to immediately ask yourself this rhetorical question when you’re offended by someone’s shameless behavior: “Could it be that no obnoxious people exist in the world?” Of course not. So remember not to demand the impossible, and apply this technique to all forms of wrongdoing. Marcus believes that you will be able to show kindness toward others if you set aside feigned shock and surprise and adopt a more philosophical attitude to vice.

Marcus used these ten gifts from Apollo to cope with anger. Throughout The Meditations he returns again and again to selections from the list:

It is peculiar to man to love even those who do wrong. And this happens, if when they do wrong it occurs to you that they are kinsmen, and that they do wrong through ignorance and unintentionally, and that soon both of you will die; and above all, that the wrongdoer has done you no harm, for he has not made [the character of your mind] worse than it was before.²³

Those are clearly tactics derived from the ten gifts of Apollo, as are the following:

With what are you discontented? The wickedness of men? Take this conclusion to heart, that rational creatures have been made for one another; that forbearance is part of justice; that wrongdoing is involuntary; and think how many before now, after passing their lives in implacable enmity, suspicion, hatred, and at daggers drawn with one another, have been laid out and burnt to ashes—think of this, I say, and at last stop your fretting.²⁴

However, the strategy Marcus leans on most heavily when coping with anger is the first gift from Apollo and his Muses: he reminds himself to view others as his kinsmen, brothers, or sisters, and that Nature meant for people to work together. We should view even our enemies as part of our family. It’s our duty to learn how to live in harmony with them so that our life can go smoothly, even if they try to oppose us.

After listing the ten Gifts from Apollo, though, Marcus also reminds himself to have this precept at hand when he senses he might lose his temper: “To be angry is not manly but rather a mild and gentle disposition is more manly because it is more human.” This is striking because, as we’ve seen, Cassius reputedly insulted him by calling him a “philosophical old woman.” He meant to insinuate that Marcus was weak. However, Marcus believed that in reality someone who is capable of exercising gentleness and kindness in the face of provocation is stronger and more courageous than one who gives way to their anger, as Cassius was prone to do. Whereas people like Cassius often mistake this passionate anger for strength, the Stoics viewed it as very much a sign of weakness. This brings us back to our story: What was the outcome of the civil war between Cassius the hawk and Marcus the dove? THE MARCH SOUTHEAST AND CASSIUS’S DEATH

By means of daily meditations such as these, Marcus has maintained his famous composure in the face of Cassius’s rebellion. Philosophy has taught him to calmly anticipate events such as the appearance of a would-be usurper. Now, as a Stoic, it is time for him to reconcile acceptance with action as he marches toward another war far from home. The troops have gradually come to view him as blessed and divine. They’re genuinely humbled by the calm demeanor with which he faces adversity—even this, the greatest in a series of betrayals.

Rome is in a state of hysteria following the news of Cassius’s sedition, made worse by the Senate’s knee-jerk response. The people are terrified that Cassius will invade in Marcus’s absence and sack the whole city in revenge. One of Marcus’s senior officers on the northern frontier, Marcus Valerius Maximianus, has already been sent racing ahead to engage Cassius’s legions in Syria with a cavalry regiment twenty thousand strong. Marcus has also sent the distinguished military commander Vettius Sabinianus with a detachment from Pannonia to protect the city of Rome in case the enemy legions advance through Italy.

Cassius seems to be in a strong position at first. With the Syrian legions under his command and Egypt, the breadbasket of the empire, joining his cause, others have started to rally behind him. However, support for his rebellion fails to spread north of Syria. The legions of Cappadocia and Bithynia both remain fiercely loyal to Marcus Aurelius. Marcus has also retained the overall support of the Roman Senate. Cassius is left commanding seven legions: three in Syria, two in Roman Judaea, one in Arabia, and one in Egypt. However, they amount to less than a third of the troops still under Marcus’s command throughout the rest of the empire. Moreover, Marcus’s northern legions are formidable and highly disciplined veterans, whereas the legions under Cassius are still notoriously weak despite his draconian attempts to enforce discipline.

Now, precisely three months and six days after Cassius was acclaimed emperor, as Marcus’s main army marches toward Syria, another messenger arrives with startling news: While walking through his camp, Cassius was attacked by a centurion called Antonius, who charged him on horseback and thrust a blade into his neck as he rode past. Cassius was badly wounded, but nearly escaped. However, a junior cavalry officer joined the ambush, and together these two officers hacked off their newly acclaimed emperor’s head and are on their way to deliver it to Marcus in a bag.

Cassius’s revolt came to this sudden end after his legions discovered that Marcus was alive and marching against them. Now, several days have passed, and Antonius and his companion have arrived with the grisly evidence of the usurper’s demise. Marcus turns them away, refusing to look at the severed head of a man who was once his friend and ally. He instructs them to bury it. Although his troops are euphoric, Marcus does not celebrate. By forgiving the rebel legions, he had inadvertently signed Cassius’s death warrant. Cassius’s men simply had no more reason to fight the superior army approaching them from the north. The only thing between them and their pardon was Cassius, who refused to stand down, and so his fate was sealed.

Marcus was recognized as sole emperor again throughout the empire by July 175 AD. Cassius had earned a reputation for being cruel, changeable, and untrustworthy—and in the end his own men gave him the same callous treatment that he had shown them over the years. History proved that his authoritarian approach ultimately backfired. By contrast, Marcus was known for his constancy and sincerity, and when his legions in Cappadocia repaid him in kind with their steadfast loyalty, his victory was secured. Marcus rewarded the Twelfth, known as the Thunderbolt Legion, with the title Certa Constans (“Surely Constant”) and the Fifteenth, Apollo’s Legion, with the title Pia Fidelis (“Faithful and Loyal”). Cassius, by contrast, had tried to frighten and coerce his own men into risking their lives for him. At the first sign of danger they were bound to turn against him.

After the civil war in Syria had ended, Marcus did not take severe measures against Cassius’s family or allies. He only had a handful of men involved in the plot executed, those who had committed additional crimes. As agreed, he did not punish the legionaries under Cassius’s command but sent them back to their usual stations. He also pardoned the cities that had sided with Cassius. Indeed, Marcus wrote a letter to the “Conscript Fathers” of the Senate, pleading with them to act with clemency toward those involved in Cassius’s rebellion. He asked that no senator be punished, that no man of noble birth be executed, that the exiled should be allowed to come home, and that goods be returned to those from whom they had been seized. Accomplices of Cassius were to be protected from any type of punishment or harm. “Would that I could recall the condemned also from the grave,” he said. The children of Cassius were to be pardoned, along with Cassius’s son-in-law and wife, because they had done no wrong. Marcus went even further and ordered that they were to live under his protection, free to travel as they pleased, with Cassius’s wealth divided fairly among them. He wished to be able to say that only those slain during the rebellion had died as a result of it: there were to be no witch hunts or acts of revenge afterward. Commodus now accompanied him to Syria and Egypt, and Marcus commended him to the legions as his official heir before they finally made their way back to Rome.

Marcus doubtless wanted to restore peace quickly in Rome so that he could return to the northern frontier, where there was still much work to be done, so he wisely showed mercy toward those senators who had supported Cassius. First, though, he found it necessary to tour the eastern provinces to restore order there. Indeed, his popularity in the east grew considerably as a result, and we’re even told that the people were inspired to adopt aspects of his Stoic philosophy.

The Empress Faustina died in spring 176 AD, within half a year of the revolt’s suppression. There were rumors that she committed suicide because of her association with Avidius Cassius. She was held in high regard by Marcus, however, who had her deified after her death. She remained an immensely popular figure, despite all the loose talk about her alleged conspiracies. Not long after Faustina’s death, Commodus was appointed consul, and then in 177 AD, co-emperor with Marcus. Shortly after Marcus’s death, ignoring his father’s orders for clemency, Commodus would have the descendants of Cassius hunted down and burned alive as traitors.