The Philosopher-King of Rome

A review of Donald Robertson’s How to Think Like a Roman Emperor (2019).

This intriguing new book by Donald Robertson centers around the life of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius (121-180 AD); a man for whom philosophy was no mere academic affair. Elevated to the head of the most powerful Empire in the world, despite his own reluctance to inherit the Imperial throne, Marcus would go on to become one of the most celebrated political leaders in history. The admiration still directed towards the reign of Marcus Aurelius is an especially impressive feat given the state of chaos that Rome would lapse into soon after his ascension.

In the North, war would break out across the frontier of the Empire. The thin line separating the territories of Rome from the barbarous lands of Germania strained under pressure from the Germanic hordes now bearing down on it from above. In Egypt, a powerful former ally would rebel against Marcus with all the power of the East at his back, nearly triggering a civil war. Meanwhile, across the towns and cities of the Roman heartlands, the Antonine Plague would spread. Brought back by returning soldiers from the Near East, this vicious disease would claim the lives of thousands of Romans both rich and poor alike, eventually killing Marcus himself whilst stationed by the frosty waters of the River Danube. The Emperor’s personal life would prove just as tumultuous. In addition to the death of his cousin-wife, the Empress Faustina, Marcus would have to cope with the loss of all but five of his thirteen children. His only surviving son and unruly heir Commodus would grow to become a murderous despot, eventually being assassinated by his political rivals. Suffice to say, Marcus’ was not a peaceful reign.

Faced with this endless series of crises , Aurelius would nevertheless succeed in ruling Rome with an equanimity and grace more akin to that of an ancient sage than a conventional politician. His masterwork, Meditations, is a testament to the philosophical approach that would come to characterise his rule. Written solely as a reference for his own personal use and never intended for publication, this book would articulate a worldview heavily influenced by the ancient philosophy of Stoicism, a creed to which Aurelius was dedicated throughout his life. It is in this commitment to Stoicism, Donald Robertson argues, that the secret to Marcus’ success lies. The core promise of the book, as expressed in its title ‘How To Think Like a Roman Emperor’, revolves around this notion. From this premise, Robertson asks a fascinating question: if many of the achievements of the Emperor can be traced back to his devotion to the precepts of Stoicism, to what extent can modern readers emulate this in our own lives?

Living as we are in an age of public scandal, political apathy and Donald Trump, the virtuous life of Marcus Aurelius may seem almost mythological from a contemporary perspective. However, it is a major achievement of Robertson’s book that it manages to depict its subject as a person of flesh-and-blood; a human being facing many of the same flaws, fears, uncertainties and tribulations as any of us mere mortals. Rather than spinning a tale about a bright and brave hero adorned in the glittering robes of unreality, Robertson instead offers an account of a distinctly human life, albeit one lived in the lap of tremendous power.

This grounding of Marcus as a relatable figure is achieved with particular deftness in Robertson’s last chapter on mortality, whereby he creates a fictional internal monologue for the Emperor on his death bed. This exceptional piece of writing gives Aurelius a voice which easily resonates with modern sensibilities. Part-memoir, part-philosophical reflection and part-swan song for the dying Marcus, this chapter realizes much as a culmination of all How to Think aims to achieve. Indeed, Marcus’ death bed ruminations are so powerful that the reader may be left wishing that more of the book had been written in a similarly intimate style.

This leads to another criticism, which is that at times the book can feel somewhat disjointed. This results from the many different roles that it adopts simultaneously, such as providing a historical narrative, offering a self-help guide to the reader, conducting a psychological study and articulating a philosophical treatise on Stoicism. For the most part Robertson manages to juggle these functions with skill. However, this delicate balancing act can feel unsteady at times, with the historical side of the book often being sacrificed for the author’s more philosophical and psychological preoccupations. However, the positive side of this trade-off is that Robertson’s book ends up as a philosophically rich guide for anyone seeking to improve their lives, offering practical wisdom in a highly accessible format. To do this, the author draws from the classical teachings of Stoicism which originally animated Marcus, and then translates them into the language of modern psychotherapy. Robertson’s specific focus here is Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (or CBT), a popular therapeutic method widely in use today and which largely originated in Stoic philosophy.

Much like in Neil Gaiman’s retelling of ancient Nordic tales in his entertaining recent book Norse Mythology (2018), Robertson undertakes a recitation of the same ancient teachings that helped Marcus Aurelius though the difficult days of his reign. This project of interpreting old ideas for modern times is part of a time-honoured tradition in the history of ideas, and Donald Robertson should be praised for attempting it. Deftly weaving together old and new in a delicate yet compelling tapestry, the book manages to provide a unique introduction to the philosophy of Stoicism with the historical example of Marcus Aurelius as its heroic champion. This story of one of history’s very few true ‘philosopher-kings’ is a must read.