Latest / Marcus Aurelius: Rome's Philosopher King — Fexingo History / Marcus Aurelius: The Emperor's Private Grief
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- Lucas: Most people picture Marcus Aurelius as the stoic emperor on his throne, writing Meditations amid the clamor of war. But behind that composed exterior, his personal life was a cascade of tragedies. He and Faustina the Younger had at least 11, maybe 13 children. Only one son lived to adulthood — and that was Commodus. Luna: Wait — only one out of over a dozen? That's brutal. Lucas: It's staggering. Infant and childhood mortality were high in the Roman world, but the imperial family lost children at an appalling rate. Let's start with the twins born in 161, right when Marcus became emperor. They were named Titus Aurelius Fulvus Antoninus and Lucius Aurelius Commodus — the first Commodus, not the famous one. Both died in 165, around age four. The cause? Probably the Antonine Plague, which was ravaging the empire at that exact time. Luna: So the plague didn't just kill millions of subjects — it hit the emperor's own household too. Lucas: Exactly. Marcus and Faustina had another son in 162 or 163, named Marcus Annius Verus, after Marcus's original name before adoption. He was the favorite — bright, healthy, beloved. He died in 169 at age seven, again likely from the plague. Marcus was devastated. Cassius Dio records that the emperor had golden statues made of the boy and carried them in procession during games. That doesn't sound like the austere Stoic we imagine, does it? Luna: No, it sounds incredibly human. How does a Stoic philosopher reconcile public grief with the philosophy of accepting fate? Lucas: That's the tension. Marcus's own Meditations are full of reminders that death is natural and not to be feared — but he never wrote directly about his children's deaths. Some scholars think the surviving text deliberately avoids that pain. Still, in book 8, he writes: 'You have embarked, you have made the voyage, you have come to shore. Get out.' That could be read as acceptance, but it's cold comfort for a father. Luna: Did he have any other children survive besides Commodus? I know there were daughters. Lucas: Yes, several daughters lived to adulthood: Lucilla, Fadilla, Cornificia, and Annia Faustina. But the sons just kept dying. There was another son named Hadrianus — died young. Another named Antoninus — died young. The pattern is grim. The only survivor was the future emperor Commodus, born in 161. And he, as we know, became a disaster. It's almost tragic irony that the one son who lived turned out so poorly. Luna: Maybe Marcus overcompensated — gave Commodus too much freedom out of fear of losing another child? Lucas: That's a common theory. The Historia Augusta, though unreliable, claims Marcus spoiled Commodus and handed him too much power too early. But we also have to remember that Marcus was away on campaign for years, and Commodus was raised by tutors and courtiers. The emperor may not have had the chance to mold his son's character. Luna: It must have been a constant shadow over his reign. Every military victory — but at home, loss after loss. Lucas: Absolutely. And we know that Marcus was not immune to showing emotion in public. After the death of Marcus Annius Verus, he not only erected statues but also had coins minted with the boy's image and the legend 'DIVVS M. ANNIVS VERVS' — proclaiming his deification. That's a huge deal. A child who wasn't a ruler was made a god. It shows how much Marcus wanted to memorialize him. Luna: That's striking. I didn't realize there were coins for a dead child. Lucas: They're rare but they exist. You can see them in museums: a small boy's face with divine attributes. It's a window into a father's grief — a Stoic emperor who openly defied his own philosophy by seeking immortality for his son. But maybe that's the point: Stoicism isn't about not feeling; it's about not being ruled by feeling. Marcus felt deeply, but he kept governing. Luna: So he compartmentalized. Lucas: Exactly. Let's talk about the political dimension. The loss of multiple heirs put enormous pressure on the succession. Marcus had adopted Lucius Verus as co-emperor, but that was a power-sharing arrangement, not a dynastic solution. After Verus died in 169 and all the sons had died, the only remaining male heir was Commodus. Marcus had no choice — he made Commodus co-emperor in 177, just to secure the line. That decision haunted the empire. Luna: If even one of those other sons had lived, history could have been very different. Lucas: Certainly. Commodus's reign was a disaster, and many Romans later blamed Marcus for not choosing a better successor through adoption, like the earlier adoptive emperors. But that ignores the fact that Marcus was out of suitable adult candidates. The Antonine plague had killed many senators and generals too. Marcus was stuck. Luna: And he also had to deal with the grief of his wife. How did Faustina cope? Lucas: Faustina bore the brunt. She was repeatedly pregnant, often in camps while on campaign. The Meditations never mention her by name, but Marcus did honor her with the title 'Mater Castrorum' — Mother of the Camps. She died in 175, possibly by suicide or illness. Some ancient sources claim she died grief-stricken after the death of yet another child. Cassius Dio says she was ill from excessive grief. Luna: That must have compounded Marcus's sorrow. He lost children and then his wife. Lucas: Right. And he didn't remarry. He spent his last five years as a widower, still fighting on the Danube frontier. In his Meditations from that period, you can sense a man coming to terms with impermanence. He writes: 'Soon you will have forgotten all things; soon all things will have forgotten you.' It's haunting, but also a kind of peace. Luna: It really puts his philosophy into practice. He lived it. Lucas: He did. These losses shaped him. They made him more empathetic in his legal reforms — he passed laws protecting children and orphans, for example. He knew what it meant to lose a child. That's where his Stoicism becomes more than just words on a page. Luna: You know, thinking about all this personal cost, it reminds me why shows like this matter — they bring history down to the human level. Lucas: Yeah, exactly. And if you've been walking through history with us episode by episode, especially these Mediterranean stories, you might feel the same: that understanding the real people behind the marble busts makes it all feel more alive. A couple of dollars a month is genuinely what keeps these conversations going — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo, if you've gotten something out of them. It keeps the show ad-free and lets us keep digging into these stories. Luna: Absolutely. No pressure, just something if it's in the cards. Lucas: Right. Anyway, back to Marcus: one last child we haven't mentioned — a girl named Annia Cornificia Faustina, who lived to adulthood and became a patron of the arts. She actually outlived Commodus and survived into the Severan dynasty. So not all his children were lost — but the male line, the one that mattered for succession, died with Commodus. Luna: And Commodus himself died without heirs, so the Antonine line ended. Lucas: Exactly. The philosopher-king's genetic legacy disappeared within a generation. But his philosophical legacy, the Meditations, survived — passed down through the centuries, even written about by Byzantine scholars. In a way, his true children were his writings. Luna: That's a beautiful way to put it. His wisdom outlived his bloodline. Lucas: It's the ultimate Stoic comfort: you can't control who survives you, but you can leave the world better through your actions. And Marcus did. Even in grief, he kept writing, kept governing, kept trying to be a good man. That's the real lesson.