o the list runs on; every one he had dealings with seems
to have given him something good, a sure proof of the goodness of his
nature, which thought no evil.

If his was that honest and true heart which is the Christian ideal, this
is the more wonderful in that he lacked the faith which makes Christians
strong. He could say, it is true, 'either there is a God, and then all
is well; or if all things go by chance and fortune, yet mayest thou use
thine own providence in those things that concern thee properly; and
then art thou well.' Or again, 'We must needs grant that there is a
nature that doth govern the universe.' But his own part in the scheme
of things is so small, that he does not hope for any personal happiness
beyond what a serene soul may win in this mortal life. 'O my soul, the
time I trust will be, when thou shalt be good, simple, more open and
visible, than that body by which it is enclosed;' but this is said of
the calm contentment with human lot which he hopes to attain, not of a
time when the trammels of the body shall be cast off. For the rest, the
world and its fame and wealth, 'all is vanity.' The gods may perhaps
have a particular care for him, but their especial care is for the
universe at large: thus much should suffice. His gods are better than
the Stoic gods, who sit aloof from all human things, untroubled and
uncaring, but his personal hope is hardly stronger. On this point he
says little, though there are many allusions to death as the natural
end; doubtless he expected his soul one day to be absorbed into the
universal soul, since nothing comes out of nothing, and nothing can be
annihilated. His mood is one of strenuous weariness; he does his duty as
a good soldier, waiting for the sound of the trumpet which shall sound
the retreat; he has not that cheerful confidence which led Socrates
through a life no less noble, to a death which was to bring him into the
company of gods he had worshipped and men whom he had revered.

But although Marcus Aurelius may have held intellectually that his soul
was destined to be absorbed, and to lose consciousness of itself, there
were times when he felt, as all who hold it must sometimes feel, how
unsatisfying is such a creed. Then he gropes blindly after something
less empty and vain. 'Thou hast taken ship,' he says, 'thou hast sailed,
thou art come to land, go out, if to another life, there also shalt
thou find gods, who are everywhere.' There is more in this t