Marcus Aurelius · a new plain-English translation from the original language
1. From my grandfather Verus: good character and an even temper.
2. From the reputation and memory of my father: modesty and a manly bearing.
3. From my mother: reverence for the gods, and generosity, and refraining not only from doing wrong but even from entertaining the thought of it; also plainness of living, far removed from the ways of the rich.
4. From my great-grandfather: not to have attended the public schools, but to have had good teachers at home, and to have learned that on such things one ought to spend without stinting.
5. From my tutor: not to become a partisan of the Greens or the Blues at the races, nor a backer of the Light-Shield or the Heavy-Shield fighters at the games; to be able to endure labor and want little; to work with my own hands and mind my own business; and to be deaf to slander.
6. From Diognetus: not to waste my energy on trifles; to disbelieve what wonder-workers and charlatans say about spells, the driving-away of spirits, and things of that sort; not to keep fighting-quail, nor to be worked up over such pursuits; to put up with plain speaking; to grow at home in philosophy, and to have heard first Bacchius, then Tandasis and Marcianus; to have written dialogues as a boy; and to have set my heart on a hard pallet and an animal skin to sleep on, and whatever else belongs to the Greek way of training.
7. From Rusticus: to grasp the sense that my character needed correcting and training; not to be led aside into rivalry with sophists, nor to write treatises on abstract questions, or deliver little uplifting speeches, or make a showy display of the ascetic or the tirelessly active man; to keep away from rhetoric, poetry, and clever phrase-making; not to go about the house in formal dress, nor do such things; to write letters plainly, the way he himself wrote from Sinuessa to my mother; toward those who had lost their temper with me or done me wrong, to be quick to soften and easily reconciled as soon as they themselves wanted to make it up; to read carefully and not be content with a rough overview, nor to agree too quickly with people who talk a great deal; and to have come to know the discourses of Epictetus, which he supplied me from his own collection.
8. From Apollonius: freedom of will, and unwavering steadiness, looking to nothing else, not even for a moment, except reason; always being the same — in sharp pains, in the loss of a child, in long illnesses; seeing clearly, in a living example, that the same man can be most intense and yet relaxed; patience in explaining things; watching a man who plainly counted his experience and his skill at teaching doctrines as the least of his good qualities; and learning how one ought to accept apparent favors from friends, without being made lesser by them or letting them pass unacknowledged.
9. From Sextus: kindliness; the example of a household run as a father runs it; the idea of living according to nature; dignity without affectation; watchful care for friends' interests; patience with the untrained and with those who form opinions without thinking them through; being agreeable to everyone, so that his company was pleasanter than any flattery, and yet he was most deeply respected by those very people at that very moment; the ability to find and set in order, with sound grasp and method, the doctrines necessary for life; never showing the least sign of anger or any other passion, but being at once entirely free of passion and full of warm affection; giving praise without fanfare, and carrying wide learning without display.
10. From Alexander the grammarian: not to find fault, and not to correct with reproach those who let slip a barbarism, a solecism, or some ungainly phrase, but to bring up, skillfully and by itself, just the expression that should have been used — in the form of an answer, or a supporting remark, or a joint look at the matter itself rather than the wording — or by some other such tactful, indirect reminder.
11. From Fronto: to take note of what envy, cunning, and pretense a tyrant is capable of, and that, as a rule, those among us called well-born are somehow rather lacking in natural affection.
12. From Alexander the Platonist: not to say to someone often, or without real need, or to write in a letter, that 'I am too busy,' nor in this way to keep excusing myself from the duties owed to the people I live with, on the pretext of pressing business.
13. From Catulus: not to make light of a friend's complaint, even when it happens to be unreasonable, but to try to restore things to their usual footing; to speak of one's teachers warmly and gratefully, as is remembered of Domitius and Athenodotus; and genuine love for one's children.
14. From my brother Severus: devotion to kin, a passion for truth, and a commitment to justice; through him coming to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, and Brutus, and forming a picture of a state based on equal law, governed by equality and equal freedom of speech, and of a monarchy that prizes above everything the freedom of the governed; and from him too, steadiness and unwavering constancy in the honor paid to friendship; readiness to do good and to give generously without stinting; good hope, and trust in being loved by one's friends; openness toward those he had reason to find fault with; and that his friends never had to guess what he wanted or did not want, since it was always plain.
15. From Maximus: to master oneself and be swayed by nothing; to keep good spirits in all circumstances, including in sickness; the well-tempered character, gentle and dignified; to work through what lies in front of you without complaint; that everyone trusted him — when he said what he thought, that he thought it that way, and when he did what he did, that he did it without ill intent. Never astonished, never panicked, never in a hurry or hesitant or at a loss, never sullen or falsely smiling, never again angry or suspicious. Ready to do good, ready to forgive, incapable of lying; giving the impression of a man who cannot be bent rather than one who must be straightened out. No one could ever have thought himself looked down on by him, nor could anyone have borne to think himself better than him. And he had a gift for graciousness.
16. From my father: gentleness, and an unshakable adherence to decisions reached after careful examination; no vanity over what passes for honors; love of work and persistence; readiness to listen to anyone who had something to contribute to the common good; an unwavering commitment to giving each person what he deserved; practical knowledge of where effort was needed and where relaxation; an end to the love affairs with boys; his sense of community, and the way he released his friends from any obligation to dine with him always or to travel with him — those left behind by some necessity always found him unchanged toward them; his exacting and persistent way of examining questions in council, never breaking off the inquiry early and settling for the first impressions at hand; his constancy in keeping friends, never growing tired of them nor infatuated with them; his self-sufficiency in everything, and his cheerfulness; his foresight reaching far ahead, and his quiet management of even the smallest matters, without theatrics; how in his reign acclamations and every kind of flattery were suppressed; his constant watchfulness over what the empire needed, his careful stewardship of its resources, and his patience under the blame this sometimes brought.
And this too: no superstition toward the gods, and toward men no crowd-pleasing, no currying favor, no playing to the mob — instead sobriety in everything, and steadiness, and never any vulgarity or love of novelty. As for the things that make life comfortable, of which fortune gave him abundance, he used them without arrogance and without apology — enjoying them naturally when they were present, and feeling no need for them when they were absent. No one could ever call him a sophist, or a house-slave-made-good, or a pedant — but a man mature, complete, immune to flattery, capable of governing both his own affairs and those of others. Beyond this, his respect for genuine philosophers, without reproaching the rest, and without being easily led by them either; and further, his ease in company, his charm that never cloyed; his moderate care for his own body, neither like a man in love with life nor for the sake of appearance, nor yet careless of it — so that through his own attentiveness he needed medical treatment or drugs and dressings only rarely. And above all, his readiness to yield without envy to those who possessed some particular ability, such as skill in speaking or expert knowledge of laws or customs or other such matters, and his eagerness to join in supporting them, so that each might win recognition according to his own strengths.
He did everything according to ancestral custom, yet without making a show even of this — of guarding ancestral custom. He was not one to shift about or dart from place to place, but stayed put, dwelling on the same places and the same matters. After his bouts of headache he would turn at once, fresh and vigorous, to his usual work. He had very few secrets, and those very rare, and only ever concerning public affairs. He showed good sense and moderation in staging public shows, in building projects, in distributions of money, and such things — the conduct of a man who looks to what needs doing, not to the reputation that comes from having done it. He did not bathe at odd hours, he had no passion for building, he gave no special thought to his food, or to the weave and color of his clothes, or to the beauty of his slaves. His country dress came up from his villa below; his tunic at Lanuvium was plain for the most part; the way he once declined the cloak at Tusculum, apologizing for it, and every such trait of his. There was nothing harsh in him, nothing shameless, nothing violent, nothing that would ever make anyone say "this goes too far" — everything was measured out and reasoned through as if there were all the time in the world, calmly, in order, with strength, in harmony with itself.
What is remembered of Socrates would fit him well — that he was able both to abstain from and to enjoy those things which most people are too weak to abstain from and too indulgent in enjoying. To be strong, and to endure, and to stay sober in either case, is the mark of a man with a soul that is whole and unconquerable — such as he showed in the illness of Maximus.
17. From the gods: fine grandparents, worthy parents, a devoted sister, capable teachers, a good household, kinsmen, and friends — nearly all of them; and that toward none of them did I fall into any offense, although I had a disposition of such a kind that, given the chance, I might well have done something of the sort; but it was the gods' kindness that no combination of circumstances arose that was going to expose me. And that I was not raised too long with my grandfather's mistress, and that I kept my youth intact, and that I did not become a man before my time, but even put it off a while longer. That I was placed under a ruler and father who was going to strip me of all vanity and bring me to recognize that a life within a palace can be lived without needing bodyguards, or conspicuous robes, or torches and statues of that kind and similar show — but that one can draw oneself in nearly to the level of a private citizen, and not for that reason be more base or more slack toward what needs to be done, in ruler's fashion, for the common good. That I got such a brother — one able through his character to rouse me to care for myself, while at the same time gladdening me with honor and affection. That my children were not born deficient in nature nor deformed in body.
That I did not advance further in rhetoric and poetry and the other pursuits, in which I might perhaps have been caught and held, had I felt myself progressing smoothly in them. That I was quick to set my foster-parents in the rank they seemed to me to want, and did not put it off on the hope that, since they were still young, I would do it later. That I came to know Apollonius, Rusticus, Maximus. That I formed a vivid and repeated picture of what the life according to nature is, of what sort it is — so that, as far as depends on the gods and the gifts, aid, and inspirations that come from them, nothing any longer keeps me from already living according to nature, though I still fall short of it through my own fault, through not holding fast to the gods' reminders — one might almost call them lessons. That my body has held out so long in such a life. That I never laid a hand on Benedicta or Theodotus, and even later, when I fell into erotic passions, was cured of it. That though I was often harsh with Rusticus, I never did anything further that I would have come to regret. That my mother, though fated to die young, still lived with me through her last years. That as often as I wished to help someone poor, or in need of something else, I never once had to hear that I had no money to do it from — and that I myself never fell into a like need, such that I had to take from someone else.
That my wife is what she is — so compliant, so affectionate, so unassuming. That I had good foster-parents in abundance for my children. That through dreams remedies were given me — among other things, one against spitting blood and against dizziness — and this at Caieta, as an oracle answered. That when I came to desire philosophy, I did not fall in with some sophist, nor sit down to writing treatises, or working out syllogisms, or busying myself with matters of the sky. For all of this needs the gods' help, and fortune. Written among the Quadi, on the Granua.