Lives of the Stoics: The Art of Living From Zeno to Marcus Aurelius

In any case, it would be a personal copy of Epictetus’s sayings that made its way from Junius’s library directly into the hands of a young Marcus Aurelius and changed the course of a man’s life.

A book given. A book read. Such a simple exchange, but done between the right two people at the right time—as it was here—can be enough to change the world.

At some point in the boy’s early twenties, Junius became Marcus Aurelius’s official tutor. It was, from the looks of it, a transformative period of study. As Marcus would later reflect, he learned from Junius matters big and small, from how to carry himself with dignity to how to write clearly and effectively.

“From Rusticus,” he reflected later in life,

I learned to become aware of the fact that I needed amendment and training for my character; and not to be led aside into an argumentative sophistry; nor compose treatises on speculative subjects, or deliver little homilies, or pose ostentatiously as the moral athlete or unselfish man; and to eschew rhetoric, poetry, and fine language; and not to go about the house in my robes, nor commit any such breach of good taste; and to write letters without affectation, like his own letter written to my mother from Sinuessa; to show oneself ready to be reconciled to those who have lost their temper and trespassed against one, and ready to meet them halfway as soon as ever they seem to be willing to retrace their steps; to read with minute care and not to be content with a superficial bird’s-eye view; nor to be too quick in agreeing with every voluble talker; and to make the acquaintance of the remembrances of Epictetus, which he supplied me with out of his own library.

From Junius, Marcus Aurelius learned all that Seneca was supposed to but failed to impart to Nero. Indeed, it’s a remarkable parallel. Nero had been attached to Seneca as a teenager, after the death of his father. Marcus began to study with Junius at age twenty-five, after the death of his mother. And when Nero became emperor, Seneca was drawn into more serious governmental affairs. In 161 AD, when Marcus became emperor, Junius was drawn into the role of magistrate and advisor. He, like Seneca, would go on to serve as consul.

Unlike Seneca, Junius seemed to be willing to deliver hard truths to his pupil. Marcus relates that he was “often upset with Rusticus,” but the teacher and student always reconciled. It’s a credit to both of them that Marcus was able to say he never became so angry with Junius’s criticism or methods that he did something he later regretted.

Nero had been a truculent student, a boy who was biding his time so he could do whatever he wanted when he got his power. The respect he had had for Seneca when he was young transmogrified with time into a kind of resentment and disgust. Seneca seemed to be willing to go along with this, to say his piece and hope it landed, and was otherwise unalarmed enough to allow Nero to get that power he so craved.

Marcus, on the other hand, was eager to learn and remained so for the rest of his days, even when the power dynamic between him and his tutor shifted. In the Historia Augusta, we’re told he greeted Junius with a kiss, always, and honored him before anyone else on his staff. He sought counsel in private and in public, and genuinely revered his teacher, to whom he considered himself a “disciple.” Rusticus had managed to do the thing that so few teachers manage, even with lowly pupils: He reached Marcus Aurelius.

Plutarch would talk later talk about how many politicians sought to govern as an exemption from being governed by others. Perhaps what made Marcus so special was that he seemed to place an advisor and a philosopher like Rusticus above himself, despite the fact that his power as emperor was nearly absolute. Why did Marcus remain good while so many other rulers have broken bad? His relationship and deference to a wise, older man like Rusticus explains a lot of it.

Almost immediately after Marcus became emperor, Junius was given major roles serving the state. In 162 AD, he served his second term as consul (almost thirty years after his first). For five years, he was urban prefect, essentially the mayor of Rome, supervising its police, legal enforcement, public works, and the city’s food supply. Given the vast corruption that had been endemic in Rome, this was a position of immense responsibility and trust. By all accounts, he acquitted himself honorably.

It would also put Junius on a collision course with an event that would, unfortunately, define his legacy for most of history. In 165 AD, a seemingly minor court case came to Junius’s desk. A Christian philosopher named Justin Martyr and a Cynic philosopher named Crescens had become involved in some sort of nasty dispute that had spilled out into the streets. Denounced by Crescens, who accused these Christians of being atheists, Justin and six of his students were charged and brought in to face questioning.