LIFE
depicted history upon a large and just scale but whose judgement is never, or rarely, biased by sentiment. 'His Meditations', he writes, 'composed in the tumult of a camp are still extant; and he even condescended to give lessons on philosophy, in a more public manner than was perhaps consistent with the modesty of a sage or the dignity of an emperor. But his life was the noblest commentary on the precepts of Zeno. He was severe to himself, indulgent to the imperfection of others, just and beneficent to all mankind. . . . War he detested, as the disgrace and calamity of human nature; but when the necessity of a just defence called upon him to take up arms, he readily exposed his person to eight winter campaigns on the frozen banks of the Danube, the severity of which was at last fatal to the weakness of his constitution. His memory was revered by a grateful posterity, and above a century after his death many persons preserved the image of Marcus Antoninus among those of their household gods.' Similarly Montesquieu has said: 'Search through all nature and you will not find greater objects than the two Antonines.'
Two further questions deserve a brief notice—the presumed weakness of husband, brother, and father to Faustina, his colleague Lucius and his son Commodus, and what is sometimes called his persecution of the Christian Churches. Immediately upon his accession he made Lucius joint Emperor and betrothed his daughter Lucilla to him. Lucius was son of L. Aelius Caesar, originally nominated to succeed Hadrian, a man who inherited his father's handsome presence and promise of intellectual gifts, which we may presume belonged to the chosen favourite of the experienced Hadrian. Marcus had as Caesar taken a large share in government and his health was precarious. Probably, almost certainly, he foresaw civil strife if he ignored a man who had a kind of claim upon the throne and had besides attributes
