Цитаты и изречения Марка Аврелия

After this¹ he gave up to his sister² all that he had inherited from his father, though his mother invited him to share it equally, and replied that he was content with being his grandfather's heir, adding that his mother too, if she were willing, should bestow her property upon his sister, that his sister might be on an equality with her husband.³

When however he learnt that he had been adopted by Hadrian, he was more abashed than pleased, and when bidden to migrate to Hadrian's private house, he left his mother's mansion¹ with regret. And when the household asked him why he took his adoption into the royal house so sadly, he enlarged upon the evils inseparable from sovran power.

The sentence of Plato¹ was for ever on his lips: Well was it for states, if either philosophers were rulers or rulers philosophers.²

If anyone did anything excellent, he praised him and utilized him for that,¹ but did not expect other things from him, saying, It is impossible to make men exactly as one wishes them to be, but it is our duty to utilize them,² such as they are, for any service in which they can be useful to the common weal.

Not only in military but also in civil affairs, before doing anything, he always consulted the chief men of the State. In fact this was ever a favourite saying of his: It is fairer that I should follow the advice of Friends¹ so many and so wise, than that Friends so wise and so many should follow my single will.²

So averse from all bloodshed was his disposition that, though at the people's request he allowed a lion trained to devour men to be introduced into the arena, yet he not only refused to look at it himself or to enfranchize its trainer, in spite of a persistent demonstration of the audience against him, but even had it proclaimed that the man had done nothing to deserve freedom.¹²

When it was said to Marcus Antoninus of his wife, that he should divorce her, if he did not slay her, he is reported to have said, If we dismiss the wife, let us also surrender the dowry.¹ But what was meant by the dowry if not the Empire, which he had received when adopted by his father-in-law at Hadrian's wish?²

When Marcianus said, "I have done no violence," Caesar said, Do you think that violence is shewn only if men are wounded? There is violence then also, whenever a man demands back what he thinks due to him otherwise than by judicial process. But I do not think it consistent with either your modesty or your dignity or your loyalty to the state that you should do anything except legally.

And he said to Peitholaus¹ that he had but one physician and he was a free man, and he went on to say repeatedly about me that I was the first of physicians and the only philosopher.²

And yet, though a most stubborn contest had been followed by a brilliant victory, nevertheless, when petitioned by the soldiers, the Emperor refused to give them a largess, saying only this, that the more they received beyond their fixed pay, the more would be wrung from the life-blood of their parents and kinsfolk; for in the matter indeed of his sovranty God alone could be judge. With such wisdom and self-command did he rule them that, though engaged in so many and such great wars, he never swerved from what was right so as either to say anything from flattery or do anything from fear.¹

Herodes was driven frantic by this calamity¹ and came up to the Emperor's seat of judgment² no longer in his right mind and in love with death. For coming forward he set himself to rail at the Emperor, and without measuring his words or keeping his anger in hand, as might have been expected from one who was practised in speaking, but in defiant and unbridled language he gave vent to his passion, saying "This is all that comes of my friendship with Lucius,³ whom you sent to me, that in judging me you gratify your wife and three-year old child."⁴ But when Bassaeus,⁵ who had been invested with the power of capital punishment, threatened him with death, Herodes said, "My fine fellow, an old man has little more to fear." Saying this he left the court without availing himself of his full time for speaking. But in our opinion the conduct of Marcus at this trial too was signally in keeping with his philosophical tenets; for he did not frown, or so much as turn his eyes, as even an arbitrator might have done, but turning to the Athenians said: Make your plea, men of Athens, even though Herodes is not for allowing you to do so. And as he listened to their case, at many points he was secretly grieved, but when the complaint of the Athenian Assembly was being read to him, in which they openly attacked Herodes for trying to win over the Governors of Greece with many honeyed words, and somewhere or other even cried out, "O bitter honey!" and again, "Happy they that perish in the pestilence!" he was so deeply moved by what he heard, that he was brought to tears in the sight of all. But as the case of the Athenians comprised an accusation against his freedmen as well as against Herodes, Marcus diverted his anger on to the freedmen, punishing them however as leniently as possible—for that is how he himself characterizes his sentence,—but to Alcimedon alone he remitted the punishment, alleging that his calamity in respect of his children was punishment enough.⁶ In a way then thus worthy of a philosopher did Marcus act on this occasion.

When the army of Antoninus the Roman Emperor, who also had the cognomen of Pius, was perishing of thirst,¹ the king, raising both his hands to heaven, said, With this hand, wherewith I have taken away no life, have I implored Thee and besought the Giver of life. And he so prevailed with God by his prayer that upon a clear sky there came up clouds bringing rain to his soldiers.

When he was crossing Palestine on his way to Egypt, constantly moved with disgust at the unsavoury and turbulent Jews, he is said to have cried out, O Marcomanni, O Quadi, O Sarmatians, at length have I found others more useless than you.¹

When Marcus was making preparations for the war against Cassius he would not accept any aid from barbarians, though many offered him their services, saying that the barbarians must not know the troubles that were being stirred up between Romans.¹

When the head of Cassius was brought to him, Antoninus shewed no exultation or pride, but even lamented that he had been robbed of an opportunity for compassion, for he had wished to take him alive, he said, that he might reproach him with the benefits he had done him, and then spare his life. Lastly when one said that Antoninus was to blame for his clemency toward his enemy and his enemy's children and relations and all whom he had found to be accomplices in the usurpation, the man who had imputed the blame going on to say, "What if he had been successful?" Marcus is said to have answered, My worship of the Gods has not been such, my life is not such, that he could be successful. He then, enumerating all the Emperors who had been killed, pointed out that they had deserved their fate, and that no good Emperor had easily been overcome by a usurper or slain, adding that Nero had deserved, Caligula had earned his death, Otho and Vitellius ought never to have reigned. His opinion of Galba was similar, for he remarked that in an Emperor avarice¹ was the most hateful of faults. In a word, rebels had never been able to overcome either Augustus or Trajan or Hadrian or his own father, for many as they were, they had been crushed against the wish or without the knowledge of the reigning Emperor. Antoninus himself, however, besought the Senate not to proceed with severity against accomplices in the rebellion, asking at the same time that no Senator should in his reign be punished with death; and this won for him the love of all.

It is no flatterer's praise but the truest and most just to call Aristides the founder of Smyrna. For he made so moving a lament to Marcus over the utter destruction of this city by earthquakes and openings in the ground, that over the rest of the mournful tale the Emperor sighed repeatedly, but at the "breezes blowing over a city of desolation" he even let tears fall upon the writing,¹ and granted the restoration of the city in accordance with the suggestions of Aristides.² It chanced also that Aristides had already made the acquaintance of Marcus in Ionia, for when they were attending the lectures of the Athenian Damianus, the Emperor who had already been three days in Smyrna, not yet knowing Aristides personally, requested the Quintilii³ to see that the man should not be passed over unnoticed in the imperial levée. They said they had not seen him themselves, for they would not have failed to introduce him; and on the next day they both arrived acting as body-guard to Aristides, and the Emperor addressing him said, Why have you been so slow in letting me see you? And Aristides said, "A professional problem, O King, occupied me, and the mind, when so engaged, must not be detached from the prosecution of its enquiry." The Emperor, charmed by the man's character, his extreme naïveté and studiousness, said, When shall I hear you? And Aristides replied, "Suggest a subject to-day and hear me to-morrow; for I am not of those who 'throw up' what is in their minds but of those who speak with precision. But grant, O King, that my pupils also may be present at the hearing." Certainly, said Marcus, they may, for it is free to all. And on Aristides saying, "Permit them, O King, to cheer and applaud as loud as they can," the Emperor smiling said, That depends on yourself.

On his return to Rome, when, in addressing the people, he mentioned among other things that he had been absent many years, they shouted "Eight,"¹ and signified this besides with their fingers, of course that they might get so many pieces of gold for a congiarium.² The Emperor smiled, and himself said, Yes, eight, and afterwards distributed 200 drachmas³ apiece, a larger sum than they had ever received before.

Marcus even begged of the Senate money¹ from the public treasury, not that it was not in the ruler's power to demand it, but because Marcus said that everything, both money and all else, belonged to the Senate and the people; for We, he said,² speaking to the Senate so far from having anything of our own, even live in a house that is yours.³

Of this Lucius¹ another surprising story is told. The Emperor Marcus was an eager disciple of Sextus the Boeotian philosopher,² being often in his company and frequenting his house. Lucius, who had just come to Rome, asked the Emperor, whom he met on his way, where he was going to and on what errand, and Marcus answered, It is good even for an old man to learn;³ I am now on my way to Sextus the philosopher to learn what I do not yet know. And Lucius, raising his hand to heaven, said, "O Zeus, the king of the Romans in his old age takes up his tablets and goes to school. But my king Alexander died before he was thirty-two."⁴

When he began to sicken, he sent for his son,¹ and at first besought him not to neglect the relics of the war,² lest he should seem to betray the State. But when his son answered that his first care was for health, he let him do as he would, begging him however to wait a few days and not take his departure at once. Then he abstained from food and drink,³ wishing to die, and aggravated the disease. On the sixth day he called for his friends, and mocking earthly things, but setting death at naught, he said to them, Why weep for me and not rather think on the pestilence and the death that awaits all? And when they made as though to retire he said, sighing, If you now give me my dismissal, I give you my farewell and lead the way for you. And when it was asked of him to whom he commended his son, he answered, To you, if he be worthy, and to the immortal Gods. On the seventh day he grew worse, and allowed only his son to be admitted, but dismissed him at once that he might not take the infection. After parting from his son he veiled his head as if he would sleep, but in the night he breathed his last.

When Marcus was seriously ill, so as to have little hope of recovery, he would often cry out in his illness this verse from the tragedy, Such is war's disastrous work.¹²

When near his death, being asked by the tribune for the watchword, he said, Go to the rising sun, for I am setting.