Latest / Marcus Aurelius: Rome's Philosopher King — Fexingo History / Marcus Aurelius and the Antonine Plague's Toll
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- Lucas: So we've spent several episodes now on Marcus Aurelius the emperor, the Stoic, the commander on the Danube front. But there's one force that shadows almost everything he did, and we haven't really zeroed in on it yet: the Antonine Plague. Luna: The plague that swept through the empire during his reign — yes, I've heard it called the Antonine Plague, but I don't know much beyond the name. Lucas: Right. And it's sometimes called the Plague of Galen, after the physician who described it. It broke out in 165 AD, right at the peak of the Parthian War, when Roman troops under Lucius Verus were campaigning in Mesopotamia. The soldiers brought something back with them from the siege of Seleucia — almost certainly smallpox. Luna: Smallpox — that's devastating. Lucas: It was catastrophic. Modern estimates suggest the plague killed somewhere between five and ten million people across the empire, maybe more. Some cities lost a third of their population. The army was hit especially hard — which is partly why Marcus struggled so much to hold the Danube frontier in the 170s, because he simply didn't have enough healthy soldiers. Lucas: Galen, who was a young doctor in Rome at the time, left detailed clinical notes. He described fever, diarrhea, pustules that would dry and form scabs, and a blackish rash — all classic smallpox symptoms. He also noted that patients who survived the first week often recovered, but the mortality rate was very high overall. Lucas: And here's a strange detail: Galen fled Rome when the plague hit. He went back to his native Pergamon for a few years. He only returned after Marcus summoned him personally to serve as his physician on the northern campaigns. But his writings remain our best source. Luna: Wait — Marcus summoned him? So Marcus was personally exposed to the plague through his court? Lucas: Absolutely. And it almost certainly killed Lucius Verus in 169, though ancient sources are divided on whether it was plague, a stroke, or poison. Either way, Marcus lost his co-emperor at a terrible time. He also lost his praetorian prefect, a key general, and countless soldiers. The plague was a constant drain on resources. Lucas: Now, one of the most interesting questions is: why does Marcus never mention the plague in his Meditations? He writes about death constantly — 'You could leave life right now', 'everything is ephemeral' — but he never once says 'and by the way, a pandemic is killing us all.' Luna: That's striking. Do scholars have a theory? Lucas: One common view is that the Meditations are personal exercises in Stoic self-discipline, not a historical record. Marcus was writing to himself, about things he could control — his judgments, his reactions. The plague was an external event, like a storm or an earthquake. A Stoic tries not to dwell on externals. So maybe his silence is itself a philosophical choice. Lucas: Another possibility: he didn't need to write about it because he was living it. Every day he saw the bodies, the empty ranks, the panic. Writing it down would have been redundant — it was the context for everything he wrote. Luna: So the Meditations are like a coping mechanism for dealing with an ongoing disaster. Lucas: Exactly. And there's archaeological evidence too. In Rome, mass graves from the plague have been found — sometimes dozens of bodies dumped together. The city's population dropped from maybe one million to seven hundred thousand during the decades of the plague. The economy contracted, trade slowed, and there was a noticeable decline in construction and public works. Lucas: Marcus did try to respond. He passed laws to support orphans — because so many children had lost parents — and he sold off imperial property to fund the military and relief efforts. But he couldn't stop the disease. There was no understanding of contagion, no quarantine beyond fleeing. Luna: Did he try any religious or ritual responses? Lucas: Yes. He revived old Roman ceremonies, like the Lectisternium, where statues of gods were laid on couches and feasted. He also summoned priests from foreign cults. And there's one famous episode: during the Marcomannic Wars, a sudden rainstorm saved the Roman army from thirst — the so-called Rain Miracle — and Marcus attributed it to the gods, specifically to Hermes or Jupiter. He even had a temple built to Aesculapius, the god of healing, in Rome. Luna: So he was hedging his bets — Stoic philosophy, but also traditional piety. Lucas: Right. Stoicism didn't forbid religious observance. Marcus was a Roman emperor first; he had to maintain the pax deorum, the peace of the gods. But privately, his Meditations show a man who accepted death as natural. He wrote: 'A plague may destroy the city, but it cannot harm your mind unless you let it.' Luna: That's powerful — but also a little cold if you're a parent who just lost a child. Lucas: It is. And that tension is real. Marcus was a human being and a father — he and Faustina had at least thirteen children, though only five survived to adulthood. He knew personal loss intimately. The plague took his friends, his colleagues, and quite possibly one of his sons, though we don't know for sure. Lucas: The long-term effects of the plague were immense. It weakened the empire at every level, and combined with the constant wars, it drained the treasury. Some historians argue that the Antonine Plague was a major contributor to the Crisis of the Third Century — the fifty-year period of civil war, economic collapse, and barbarian invasions that nearly destroyed Rome. Luna: So in a way, Marcus's reign marks the beginning of the end of the Pax Romana. Lucas: Exactly. The golden age of the Antonines was already fading. Marcus was the last of the 'Five Good Emperors', but his rule was anything but peaceful. He spent most of it fighting wars and managing a pandemic. And yet, he still produced one of the most introspective philosophical works ever written. Lucas: You know, honestly, if today's conversation was worth a coffee to you, that's the link — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It keeps us ad-free and digging into these details. Luna: Yeah, it's a small thing that really helps. Lucas: So the plague eventually receded in the 180s, but it never fully went away. Outbreaks continued for generations. And Marcus himself may have died from it — though some ancient sources say he starved himself to death, or was poisoned by his own doctors. But the historian Cassius Dio, who lived a generation later, implies that the plague was still active when Marcus died in Vindobona — modern Vienna — in 180. Luna: So the philosopher-king may have fallen to the very disease he fought to contain. Lucas: It's possible. And if so, it adds a grim symmetry to his story. A man who taught that death is natural and not to be feared, facing a death that was cruel and undignified — but facing it, presumably, with the same Stoic composure he wrote about. And that, for me, is part of his enduring appeal.