"The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts." - Marcus Aurelius
Deep, I suppose, is how this quote could be described to have taken me further to one of the most fascinating questions about the great philosopher-emperor: was Marcus Aurelius ever happy? Where it takes me in a search for such an apparently complex response is to an eloquent contradiction-the man who happened to possess colossal power and simultaneously was deeply worried, with deep-seated existential-type questions in the core as to his pleasure and fulfillment.
Above all, it should be noticed that Marcus Aurelius comprehended happiness in a totally different way compared with our common conception of the happiness phenomenon. Indeed, his private personal work "Meditations" revealed to us an absolutely different personality-a man who could feel happy living virtuously and stand numerous hardships with dignified bearing. Those events which befell him would have destroyed the spirit of every one of us. Some misfortunes include the death of eight of his children, the betrayal of his closest general Avidius Cassius, and the continuous warfare in his reign. Still, we see in his writings, not despair but remarkable resilience; he writes for the delight of simple things such as the smell of bread baking, the taste of fresh figs, and a spider catching its prey. These observations, if anything, point to the man who learned to be at peace in the middle of turmoil.
But was this stoically accepted happiness in and of itself? I do believe that Marcus lived deeper and more nuanced contentment beyond the fleeting moments of pleasures or joys. His writings reveal a man who had learned to accept life's momentariness and the freedom to live with the things he could not control. When he writes, "Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking," we glimpse a man who had found an internal source of satisfaction.
Still, there are places in "Meditations" where we see him struggle. The constant reminders to himself of the need to remain equanimous in the face of adversity reinforce the idea that this was not easy. He often wrote of the need not to be disturbed by what others did or said, which suggests that he struggled with these very human concerns. It is precisely this that makes him more human and his philosophy all the more valid.
We also notice that Marcus' happiness is even more complicated because he was an emperor, something he never wanted-he wanted to sit in seclusion and philosophize. He performed all duties of an emperor with the utmost seriousness. This state of purpose or serving something higher than oneself has therefore been a huge source of great satisfaction for him.
His relationship with his wife Faustina offers another window into his capacity for happiness. Though there were rumors of her infidelity-a fact modern historians debate-he remained devoted to her, writing touchingly about their relationship once she had died. This would suggest a man who is capable of deep love and emotional attachment despite his stoic philosophy.
What touches me most, however, is how Marcus never preached happiness as an end goal; he preached living virtuously and accepting whatever life throws your way. It is here that perhaps the secret to understanding his relationship with happiness may lie: not to aim for happiness, but to find it in the afterglow of life according to his principles.
The plague that ran through Rome in his time, the constant campaigning, and the burden of ruling the Empire would have broken the spirits of most men. Yet Marcus remained philosophical, still writing about the tranquility of the present moment and acceptance of the natural order. It is this that speaks to such resilience-not of mere resignation but of a deeper kind of contentment.
What makes Marcus's point of view relevant to happiness so now is its sustainability. Unlike fleeting happiness pursued through transient external achievements or possessions, his was from a very firm groundwork of self-knowledge and self-acceptance. When he writes, "The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it," he gives the ageless comment on the character of abiding contentment.
Conclusion, I really do think Marcus Aurelius was happy, but not, perhaps, in the usual sense in which we nowadays use that word. His was a hard-won contentment forged through philosophical reflection and tested by life's harsh realities. It was not the bright, effervescent happiness of a person untouched by life's difficulties but the deep, steady contentment of one who had come to be at peace with life's fundamental nature.
His legacy is that true happiness may not lie in trying to avoid life's difficulties but in building the inner strength to face them with dignity and wisdom. In light of that, Marcus Aurelius's life has stood as testimony to the possibility of finding genuine contentment amidst the most gigantic struggles of life.