Pierre Hadot: Stoicism as a Way of Life

Citation:
Sharpe, Matthew 2020, Pierre Hadot: Stoicism as a Way of Life. In Lampe, Kurt and Sholtz, Janae
(ed), French and Italian Stoicisms: From Sartre to Agamben, Bloomsbury Academic, London, Eng.,
pp.260-280.

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French and Italian Stoicisms
Pierre Hadot

Chapter 13

Pierre Hadot

Stoicism as a Way of Life

Matthew Sharpe

In a series of articles and books beginning in 1972, the philologist and philosopher Pierre

Hadot developed a reading of Stoicism as a philosophical way of life that has had widespread

influence. Hadot’s conception of Stoicism is given its most extended expression in his

magisterial 1992 study of Marcus Aurelius, La Citadelle intérieure: Introduction aux Pensées de

Marc Aurèle, together with a later work, co-authored with Ilsetraut Hadot (2004), on Epictetus’

Handbook and the Neoplatonist Simplicius’ commentary on this text. Since the translation of La

Citadelle intérieure (1998, henceforth cited parenthetically as IC), alongside Hadot’s cognate

studies on ancient philosophy more widely in Philosophy as a Way of Life (1996c) and What is

Ancient Philosophy? (2000), Hadot’s conception of Stoicism has been taken up by a range of

global, internet-based “Stoic” communities, committed to proselytizing and practicing Stoicism

as a manner of life.

Part 1 of this chapter examines the bases and sources of Hadot’s approach to ancient

philosophy as a way of life (manière de vivre, mode/genre de vie), situating it in relation to

Thomas Bénatouil’s distinction between two traditions in the twentieth-century French

receptions of Stoicism. Part 2 addresses Hadot’s reading of the Roman Stoic Epictetus, which

provides what he terms the “key” to his conception of Stoicism as a lived philosophy: the notion

of three exercise-topics or “disciplines” (those of action, assent, and desire) aligned with the

three parts of Stoic philosophical discourse (those of ethics, logic, and physics). Part 3 examines
Hadot’s reading of Marcus Aurelius in this light, attentive particularly to Hadot’s remarkable

development of the notion of “lived physics” as he finds it in the Meditations.

1. Hadot’s way of reading the ancients: sources and contexts

For Hadot, to become a Stoic in the ancient world was not simply to agree to a set of

theoretical claims, or to learn to use a distinctive technical vocabulary. It was to undertake to

deeply internalize Stoic theoretical discourse, so that it could become one’s own inner discourse,

reshaping one’s beliefs, motivations, and actions (Hadot 2010a: 210–15). To enable this, the

student would be enjoined by a teacher to undertake regimens of what Hadot famously called—

in the article of 1977 (1996a) bearing this title—”spiritual exercises.” Such exercises include

practices of listening, reading, and inquiry, like we practice today as students of philosophy

(1996a: 81–2). Yet others of these exercises (like forms of fasting or bodily exercise) are not

simply or primarily “intellectual,” whence Hadot’s wider adjective: “spiritual.” They instead aim

at the therapy of the passions (1996a: 83, 86, 94–5) or transforming students’ perceptions of the

world, cultivating what Hadot calls an “objective spirit” capable of viewing particular

experiences sub specie aeternitatis (1996a: 95–101). These exercises call upon the will,

imagination, and memory of the agent, as well as their reason—indeed, “the entire psychism” or

esprit of the philosophical aspirant (1996a: 82).

In his contribution to the Routledge Handbook of the Stoic Tradition, Thomas Bénatouil

(2015: 541–4) hence positions Hadot within one of two lineages which he identifies in French

receptions of Stoicism in the twentieth century. Hadot, Bénatouil contends, belongs within an

existentialist-influenced, “experience-” or “will”-based reception of Stoicism. This reception

prioritizes Stoic ethics and looks back to Jean-Paul Sartre and before him, Alain (Bénatouil

2015: 541–4). This tradition is opposed to a competing lineage, which positions Stoicism “as a

logic of events and a system,” as in the works of Émile Bréhier, Victor Goldschmidt, and Jules
Vuillemin (546-9). For Bénatouil, indeed, who is here echoing criticisms of Thomas Flynn

(2005), Hadot can be read as “appl[ying] to the whole of philosophy as it was pursued in

Antiquity the existentialist principle of the priority of choice over knowledge, which Sartre

traced back to Stoicism” (2015: 549).

In fact, both the genealogical and metaphilosophical picture is importantly more complex

than this. Bénatouil rightly points to the formative influence of Henri Bergson on Hadot’s

thought (Hadot 2009: 9). Hadot also considered writing his doctoral thesis on Heidegger and

Rilke, before opting for Marius Victorinus (Hadot 2009: 19). Nevertheless, alongside Hadot’s

own abiding interest in forms of mysticism—originating in his own youthful experience,

“provoked by a sense of the presence of the world, or of the Whole” (2009: 15)—other

influences shaped Hadot’s approach to Stoicism and ancient philosophy more generally.

The principal question or problem Hadot’s readings of ancient philosophy respond to arises

from Hadot’s training as a philologist, working on the interpretation of ancient texts. To quote

Hadot at some length, since the passage so directly qualifies his “existentialist” reception:

Concerning the genesis of the notion of philosophy as a choice of life or of the notion of

spiritual exercises in my work, it should also be said that I began by reflecting on this

problem [of] how to understand the apparent inconsistencies of certain philosophers… This

is a rather important point, I believe. I did not begin with more or less edifying

considerations about philosophy as therapy, and so on ... No, it was really a strictly literary

problem … for what reasons do ancient philosophical writings seem incoherent? Why is it

so difficult to recognize their rational plane? (2009: 59)

In this philological light, it was Hadot’s 1959 encounter with Ludwig Wittgenstein, as against

Bergson, Heidegger, or Sartre, that would prove decisive in shaping his readings of the ancients.
For the later Wittgenstein, Hadot saw, each speech-act gains its significance only within the

context of a particular “form of life.” It supposes an entire situation or “language game” within

which agents with divergent interests and aims are trying to do specific things, according to a

series of usually-unstated norms and expectations. Outside of this informing context, any

utterance will tend to lose or alter its meaning. So, Hadot uses the example of the laconic saying:

“God is dead” (1962: 339–40). He compares its significances within ancient religious cults,

Christian theology, Nietzsche’s Gay Science, or a philosopher’s mouthing it, having been

prompted on camera to “say something philosophical.” To understand ancient texts, Hadot hence

came to hypothesize, we will need to resituate them within the historical forms of life in which

they originated. We should ask questions like: what role did philosophical writings play in

teaching, and what relationship did they have to the spoken teachings within the ancient schools?

For which readerships were they intended: school insiders or laypeople, advanced or beginning

pupils? And what goals did they set out to achieve, not simply at the conceptual level, but in

terms of their perlocutionary effects upon these audiences? Could it not be, Hadot came thereby

to propose, that the “inconsistencies” we lament in ancient texts hail less from the texts

themselves, than from our failure to conceive how ancient philosophers were engaged in playing

more and different language games than we play in the later modern world (1962: 340)?

Hadot’s article “Jeux de langage et philosophie” hence ends with a passage which

effectively lays out his research itinerary concerning ancient philosophy for the coming four

decades:

It would be necessary, in this light, to consider as different language games these so

profoundly diverse literary genres, whether the dialogue, the protreptic or exhortation, the

hymn or prayer … the handbook, the exegetical commentary, the dogmatic treatise and the
 meditation ... One will often note that the very fact of being situated in one of these

traditions predetermines the very content of the doctrine which is expressed in this

language game: the “common places” are not so innocent as one might believe. (Hadot

1962: 342–3)

Arnold Davidson comments (at Hadot 2009: 58) that it is in fact in this 1962 article that

Hadot first uses his signature notion of “spiritual exercises.”1 Hadot concurred:

It was also in relation to language games that I had the idea that philosophy is also a

spiritual exercise because, ultimately, spiritual exercises are frequently language games …

Moreover, in the same context, Wittgenstein also used the expression “form of life.” This

also inspired me to understand philosophy as a form … or way of life. (2009: 59)

Relative to Bénatouil’s “existentialist” and “systematizing” lineages within twentieth-

century French receptions of Stoicism, we begin to see that Hadot might better be positioned as

initiating a post-Wittgensteinian tertium quid or stream. This stream will look at ancient

Stoicism, and philosophy more widely, as a form of life: “a phenomenon in the sense of not only

a mental phenomenon, but also a social, sociological phenomenon” (Hadot 2009: 35). It will

understand Stoic philosophizing as a situated, embodied, intersubjective activity, with

institutional forms, protreptic and pedagogical as well as doctrinal dimensions, and more or less

established (if evolving) literary, rhetorical and argumentative conventions. It will begin from an

openness to the possibility that ancient philosophers were trying to do different things with

words than we do today when we publish monographs, articles, chapters and reviews. Above all,

it will try to read ancient authors’ texts in the ways that they understood themselves, within the

ancient philosophical forms of life from whence they hailed, in ways we will see vividly in Part 3

below.
 To emphasize Hadot’s debt to Wittgenstein is not to downplay two other decisive

influences on his conception of ancient philosophy and the Stoics. The first of these is Paul

Rabbow’s 1954 study Seelenführung: Methodik der Exerzitien in der Antike, which Hadot tells

us that he had read by around 1968 (2009: 35–6). Rabbow contended that the practices stipulated

for the Christian aspirant in Ignatius Loyola’s work, Spiritual Exercises, had antecedents in the

ancient pagan philosophical and rhetorical schools. In these ancient schools, Rabbow had argued,

we see the prescription of “procedures or determinate acts, intended to influence oneself, carried

out with the express goal of achieving a moral effect … It always ... repeats itself, or at least is

linked together with other acts to form a methodical ensemble” (at Hadot 1996b: 127). Hadot’s

conception of philosophical “spiritual exercises” is avowedly indebted to Rabbow’s conception

of these “moral exercises,” like the premeditation of death or of evils, at the same time as he

contests Rabbow’s restriction of the adjective “spiritual” to describe only Christian practices

(1996b: 126–7).

The second, decisive influence upon Hadot’s approach to Stoicism is the work of his

wife, Ilsetraut Hadot. When the two met in 1964, Hadot reflects that he had had no idea that

Ilsetraut was working on “a doctorate under the direction of Paul Moraux at the Freie Universitat

of Berlin on the theme of Seneca and the tradition of spiritual direction in antiquity,” (2009: 34)

which would be published in 1969. His wife’s work, Hadot adds, “has exercised a very important

influence on the evolution of my thought” (2009: 34). Indeed, to Ilsetraut Hadot’s extraordinary

study of Seneca, Pierre Hadot discernibly owes several key dimensions of his approach to

ancient philosophy: firstly, his developing understanding of the persona of the ancient

philosopher as a “spiritual director”2: a persona that Ilsetraut Hadot situates within ancient

cultures of friendship and patronage, and traces back to Homeric councillor-figures like Phoenix
in the Iliad (2014: 36–45). Secondly, Hadot will return repeatedly throughout his oeuvre to key

passages in his wife’s book on Seneca and her contemporary article on Epicurean pedagogy, in

which she proposes that ancient philosophical teaching was carried out on two planes (I. Hadot

1969). On the first, in a centrifugal process, the student was progressively exposed to

increasingly demanding conceptual material. On the second, in a centripetal movement, the

student was frequently returned to the principal teachings of the school, so he would deeply

internalize these dogmata as the basis for his way of life. It is precisely as an exercise in this

diastolic-systolic spiritual direction that Ilsetraut Hadot proposes we read Seneca’s Letters to

Lucilius, a text to which Pierre frequently recurs, but which he never makes the object of his own

dedicated treatment (2014: 116–17).

With these sources of Pierre Hadot’s distinct approach to ancient philosophy in place, we

turn to his dedicated readings of Epictetus and then Marcus Aurelius.

2. From the three parts of philosophy to the three disciplines: Hadot’s Epictetus
There can be no question about the centrality of Stoicism within Pierre Hadot’s larger

conception of ancient philosophy as a way of life. Alongside Plotinus, on whom Hadot continued

to work until the end of his life, Marcus Aurelius is the only other ancient to whom Hadot

devoted a whole monograph. Stoic philosophy features centrally in Hadot’s ground-breaking

1977 “Spiritual Exercises” article, as well as in important pieces on the division of the parts of

philosophy in antiquity (1979), the spiritual exercise of the “view from above” (1988; 1993a),

the figure of the sage (1991), and the value of the present moment in the ancient philosophies

(1993b). Surveying the comptes rendus of Hadot’s courses at the École Pratique des Hautes

Études between 1964 and 1980 (Hadot 2010d), we see Hadot beginning to lecture on Marcus

Aurelius from 1971-1972, teaching on Stoic logic from 1972 to 1974, then returning to the

Meditations between 1976 and 1978. Before the appearance of La Citadelle intérieure:
Introduction aux Pensées de Marc Aurèle in 1992, Hadot had published pieces on physics as a

spiritual exercise in Marcus Aurelius (1972), on the interpretive “key” he finds in Epictetus’s

Discourses for the interpretation of the Meditations (1978), on Marcus’ alleged opium addiction

(1984), and on the Stoics’ division of the parts of philosophy (1991).

In fact, Hadot takes perhaps the key distinction in his metaphilosophical work on ancient

thought, that between philosophy as a way of life and “philosophical discourse,” from Diogenes

Laertius’ account of the doctrines of the Stoics (DL 7.39-41).3 The Stoics, Diogenes Laertius

tells us, divided “philosophical doctrines” (hoi kata philosophian logoi) into three parts: ethics,

logic, and physics (DL 7.39). Philosophy (tēn philosophian), by contrast, was depicted by them

as an animal, an egg, a field, a city: “[n]o single part, some Stoics declare, is independent of any

other part, but all blend together” (DL 7.40). Moreover, some—like Zeno of Tarsus—”say that

these [the distinctions between ethics, logic, and physics] are divisions not of discourse (tou

logou), but of philosophy itself (autēs tēs philosophias)” (DL 7.41). For Hadot, what these

passages indicate is the non-identity for the Stoics between “philosophy itself” and

“philosophical discourse,” as a more or less systematic doctrine, divisible into different parts

(Hadot 2011a: 220–1; 1991: 205–6). For the Stoics, as Hadot reads them, “philosophy itself,

being an exercise of virtue and wisdom, is a single act, renewed at each instant” (2010a: 220).

This act, undertaken by an embodied, living person, will be shaped and justified by the

philosophical discourse which the student has deeply internalised. But it is irreducible to this

discourse: a work of formation, as against information, in one of Hadot’s favourite formulations,

drawn from Victor Goldschmidt (e.g. Hadot 1962: 341). We have in this distinction between

philosophy and philosophical discourse, in effect, the ‘Stoicizing’ template for understanding

ancient philosophies as modes of life that Hadot contends can be applied to Epicureanism,
Scepticism, and even to the classical Platonic and Peripatetic philosophies (Hadot 2000: 172–

233).

So, what then in Hadot’s view are the “general characteristics of Stoicism” (IC 74), as

such a lived philosophy? In key places, Hadot will refer above all to Émile Bréhier’s work to

explain his orientation, in a way which again suggests how Hadot triangulates Bénatouil’s

“existentialist-systematizing” dichotomy of twentieth-century French receptions of Stoicism. At

stake is what Bréhier identifies as the ultimate, unifying ontological grounding of Stoicism. This

grounding resides in its doctrine of a single unifying Logos which structures physical events and

the relations between human beings, with which the human mind—its small fragment—can

harmonize itself. Because of this interconnectedness of all things, Bréhier comments, in words

Hadot repeatedly cites:

It is impossible that the good man would not be a physicist and a dialectician, for it is

impossible to realise rationality separately in these three domains, and for example to

completely grasp the presence of reason in the unfolding of events within the universe

without realising, at the same time, the demands of rationality in one’s own conduct.4

This is not to say, for Bréhier or for Hadot, that we cannot distinguish ethics, logic and physics,

in order to teach and understand. It is nevertheless clear, Hadot stresses, that there was

disagreement within the school as to which part of the philosophical logoi to teach first, given

that each part was so closely interrelated with, indeed in different ways dependent upon the

others (DL 7.40-41). This interrelation between the parts of philosophical discourse the Stoics

characterized as one of antakolouthia (“reciprocal implication”), as Hadot notes, citing Victor

Goldschmidt (2010b: 136; Goldschmidt 1977: 66). The Stoics hence exemplify what Hadot in his

works on ancient divisions of the parts of philosophy describes as a non-hierarchical mode of

such division, characterized by “a dynamic continuity and reciprocal interpenetration between

the parts of philosophy” (2010b: 135).5 With Bréhier and Max Pohlenz (a pioneering German

scholar of Stoicism) in view, Hadot traces this feature of Stoicism back to its systematic bases:

This unity of the parts of philosophy is founded on the dynamic unity of reality in Stoic

philosophy. It is the same Logos which produces the world, which illuminates human

beings in their faculty of reasoning and which is expressed in human discourse, all the

while staying fundamentally identical to itself in all the degrees of reality. Physics thus

has for its object the Logos of universal nature. Ethics… has as its object the Logos in the

reasonable nature of human beings. Finally, logic examines this same Logos as it is

expressed in human discourse. (Hadot 2010b: 135)

There is thus an apparent tension that Hadot faces between the division of the three parts of Stoic

philosophical discourse and the single living “act” of Stoic philosophizing he identifies. This

tension is resolved by Hadot in 1978 in the pivotal essay, “Une clé des Pensées de Marc Aurèle:

les trois topoi philosophiques selon Épictète.” This essay presents for the first time what

becomes the organizing claim in Hadot’s understanding of Stoicism as a way of life. We mean

the claim that the three parts of Stoic philosophical discourse correspond to what Epictetus in the

Discourses identifies as three exercise-topics or topoi. As Hadot acknowledges, the term topos is

used in Stoic texts to identify the parts of philosophical discourse (IC 90). Yet, Hadot contends

that, in Epictetus, the same term is used to also identify “the domains in which the practice of

philosophical spiritual exercises should be situated” (1978: 170). Alongside Discourses 1.4.11,

Hadot’s principal proof text for this claim is Discourses 3.2.1:

There are three topics (topoi) in philosophy, in which whoever aims to be beautiful

(kalon) and good (agathon) must exercise himself (peri hous askēthēnai dei): that of [1]
 the desires and aversions, that he may not be disappointed of the one, nor incur the other;

that of [2] the pursuits and avoidances, and, in general, the duties of life …; the third [3]

includes integrity of mind and prudence, and, in general, whatever belongs to the

judgment.6

The third topos here, Hadot contends, is readily identified with logic, “which constitutes a

method of education of [one’s] exterior and inner discourse” (1978: 172). The second topos,

concerning the duties of life and actions, is readily identified with ethics. The connection

between the exercise of desires and aversions and physics “is more difficult to grasp and

nevertheless, on reflection, it is also completely evident” (1978: 172). Hadot claims:

The discipline of desire consists on the one hand of only desiring what depends upon us,

and on the other hand, in accepting with joy what does not depend upon us, but comes

from universal nature, that is to say, for the Stoics, God himself. This acceptance thus

demands a ‘physical’ vision of events, capable of stripping these events of the emotive

and anthropomorphic representations that we project onto them, so as to place them in the

universal order of nature, in a cosmic vision. (1978: 172)

It is difficult to exaggerate the importance of this claim concerning a “correspondence” between

the three parts of philosophical discourse and the three topoi “in which whoever aims to be

beautiful and good must exercise himself” (Epictetus, Diss. 3.2.1) in Hadot’s vision of Stoicism.7

Hadot will call these exercise-topoi, respectively, those of a lived (vecue) logic, a lived ethics,

and a lived physics (2010a: 216–20), juxtaposing them to theoretical logic, ethics and physics as

parts of philosophical discourse, as per figure 1 (IC 90, 44).

Hadot is very open, especially in this 1978 piece, about assigning this key to his reading

of Stoicism as a way of life to Adolph Friedrich Bonhoeffer, writing almost 90 years previously,
in Epictet und die Stoa: Untersuchungen zur stoischen Philosophie (1894).8 The basis of

Epictetus’ conception of the three exercise-topics, according to Hadot and Bonhoeffer, lies in a

conception of the psyche which seems to have been introduced into Stoicism by Epictetus,

perhaps on the model of the Platonic tripartition of the soul (IC 83, 86; I. & P. Hadot 2004: 29).9

This conception sees it as performing three “fundamental activities” which “cover all the field of

reality, as well as the whole of psychological life” (Hadot 1978: 173; IC 84)

The first of these activities is the forming of judgments. Herein, says Hadot, “the soul

tells itself what a given object or event is; in particular, it tells itself what the object is for the

soul, that is, what it is in the soul’s view” (IC 84). Desire and impulse, the activities at play in the

other exercise-topoi, both depend upon this capacity for forming judgments. If we desire

something, it is because we have assented to the judgment that it is beneficial to us. If we have

the impulse to do something, similarly, it will be because we have assented to the idea that it is a

good thing (IC 84). As Hadot comments: “leaving aside doctrinal refinements, we can say that

for the Stoics in general, desire and impulses to action are essentially acts of assent” (IC 125).

The key principle governing Stoic lived logic is that articulated in Enchiridion V: that it

is not things which trouble people, but their beliefs (dogmata) concerning those things. Marcus

Aurelius will echo Epictetus’ formula, when he comments that “everything is a matter of

judgment” for us, or indeed, that “if you are grieving about some exterior thing, then it is not that

thing which is troubling you, but your judgment about that thing.” (2.15; 8.47; IC, 125-7, 107)

The sage will only assent to those representations which are “comprehensive” or, as Hadot

translates katalēptikē, “adequate.” As he explains, the usual translation:

gives the impression that the Stoics believed a representation to be true when it

‘comprehends’ or seizes the contents of reality. In Epictetus, however, we can glimpse a

 wholly different meaning of the term: for him, a representation is katalēptikē when it does

not go beyond what is given, but is able to stop at what is perceived, without adding

anything extraneous to that which is perceived. (IC 84)

Epictetus accordingly tells his students at Discourses 3.8.1-2 that “[i]n the same way that we

train ourselves to be able to face up to sophistic interrogations, we ought also to train ourselves

to face up to representations (phantasiai), for they too ask us questions” (IC 84). What kind of

questions? Epictetus illustrates by examples:

A certain person’s son is dead. [What do you think of that?] Answer: the thing is not

within the power of the will: it is not an evil. A father has disinherited a certain son. What

do you think of it? It is a thing beyond the power of the will, not an evil. Caesar has

condemned a person. [What do you think of that?] It is a thing beyond the power of the

will, not an evil. The man is grieved at this. Grief is a thing which depends on the will: it

is an evil. He has borne the condemnation bravely. That is a thing within the power of the

will: it is a good. (Diss. 3.3.3 ff.)

This veritable “representation [sic] of moral life as a dialectical exercise” (IC 85), as

Hadot calls it, hence involves an exercise in restricting what the individual assents to solely to

what presents itself in events. We must train ourselves to withhold assent, by contrast, to any and

all extraneous “value-judgments” concerning those events: indeed, from any evaluations that do

not concern virtue or vice, according to the Stoic teaching that virtue is the only good. A constant

self-reflective vigilance is thereby enjoined of the Stoic. As Epictetus adapts Socrates’ apology:

“the unexamined representation is not worth having” (Diss. 3.12.14-15; IC 97, 111, 119).

Turning to the second topos: virtue is the only good, for the Stoics. Yet the sage must

concern himself with “indifferent” things beyond his control, to the extent that he wishes to act
in the world. The discipline of lived ethics for Hadot concerns itself with the “impulse to act, as

well as action itself” (IC 86). Its preeminent material is the kathēkonta: “that is, those actions

which, in all probability, may be considered as ‘appropriate’ to human nature” (IC 86), closely

related to the Stoics’ theorization of the differential value (axia) indifferent things have,

depending upon whether they accord with, or oppose our nature (IC 203-204). The kathēkonta,

Hadot notes, are grounded in the natural human impulses to self-preservation and sociability:

“thus, both active impulse and action itself will be exercises above all in the domain of society,

of the state, of the family, and of relations between human beings in general” (IC 86). Following

Max Pohlenz, Hadot thus distinguishes chapters in Epictetus’ Encheiridion on duties towards the

gods (XXXI-II), and duties towards oneself in the context of one’s social relations (XXXIII,

XXXV-XLV). At stake in the latter chapters are counsels against engaging in gossip or raucous

laughter, making oaths or attending banquets; to moderate one’s bodily desires; not to defend

oneself against criticisms or take part in spectacles, boast, engage in vulgar obscenities, or be

anxious before those in power (I. & P. Hadot 2004: 37); then again, duties regarding how to

relate to women or comport oneself at table, and how to choose a profession (I. & P. Hadot 2004:

38). Here again, Hadot notes the importance that monitoring one’s representations plays in the

Stoic life, testimony to the antakolouthia of the different exercise topoi, like the different topoi

within philosophical discourse (Hadot 1978: 173):

The last chapters… highlight the importance of inner discourse… (to say to oneself this

or that) which presides over action… [F]or example, in the attitudes which we take with

regard to the other, it is necessary to tell oneself that the latter has believed himself to be

acting well (chapters XLII and XLV)…; it is necessary equally to know how to find the

discourse which will prevent us from becoming angry at another (by telling oneself, for
 example, not “he has injured me,” but “he is my brother”), or which will prevent

ourselves from feeling superior to others (chapters XLIII-IV). (I. & P. Hadot 2004: 38)

Lived physics, as we have indicated, has as it goal the reshaping of the desires of the

Stoic. In the words of Enchiridion VIII, s/he should not “desire that things happen as he wish[es]

but wish that they happen as they do happen.” We desire things which we consider beneficial

and evince aversion towards those things we consider harmful. Yet, Hadot emphasizes, Epictetus

is very clear that we can only know what is truly good and bad for us, if we understand our place

in the larger Whole of nature: ethics logically presupposes physics. It is necessary thus to

“examine what, according to Chrysippus, is the administration of the world, and what place

rational animals occupy therein. Then, from this point of view, consider who you are, and what

good and evil are for you” (Diss. 1.10.10; IC 94). In short, we must try to reflectively shape what

we desire “according to nature (kata phusin)” as described by Stoic physics. To struggle against

what is necessary, because willed by Nature or Zeus, according to the providential order, is an

exercise in futility. As the Encheiridion counsels:

if you wish your children, and your wife, and your friends to live forever, you are stupid;

for you wish to be in control of things which you cannot, you wish for things that belong

to others to be your own … (Ench. XIV; cf. Diss. 3.24.84; IC 119, 111)

Hadot stresses that the goal of lived physics in Epictetus “consists not only in accepting

what happens,” in a more or less fatalistic spirit, “but in contemplating the works of God with

admiration,” with a more or less grateful disposition (IC 96). With this in view, he cites

Epictetus’ exhortation early in the Discourses: “for us, nature’s final accomplishment is

contemplation, becoming aware, and a way of living in harmony with nature. Make sure that you

do not die without having contemplated all of these realities …” (Diss. 1.6.19-25; IC 96).
Nevertheless, from 1972 onwards, Hadot develops his thoughts about this discipline of lived

physics, in particular, much more in relation to the philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius than in

relation to Epictetus, the philosopher-slave.

We turn now to Hadot’s reading of Marcus Aurelius and his Meditations.

3. Hadot’s Marcus Aurelius

The history of the reception of Stoicism can be written, in one dimension, according to which of

the ancient sources authors have had access to or focused upon: whether the Roman Stoics

Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius, or the fragments of the early Stoa. (The works of

Musonius Rufus, Cleomedes, Hierocles, and Herculaneaum papyri have not yet made much of an

impact beyond highly specialized studies). Hadot’s reception of Stoicism focuses primarily upon

Marcus Aurelius, with two qualifications. The first is that, following an anecdote Marcus reports

in book I of the Meditations concerning his teacher Rusticus, Hadot reads Marcus as, above all, a

faithful disciple of Epictetus (1.7; IC 9-10, 66-69). The second is that, in contrast to most

anglophone commentators, Hadot sees both Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius as in no way

epigones, lacking the philosophical rigor of the Hellenistic founders, and prioritizing ethics to the

exclusion of physics and logic (IC 64). As Hadot writes, invoking Bréhier and Bonhoeffer:

Epictetus himself ... went back to the origins … It can be said that Epictetus subscribes to

the most orthodox Stoic tradition: that which, beginning with Chrysippus, apparently

continued through Archidemus and Antipater; he makes no allusions to Panaetius or

Posidonius. Through Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius was able to go back to the purest Stoic

sources. (IC 82)

What arguably most singles out Hadot’s reading of the Roman Stoics is his simultaneous

stress on the lived dimension of this philosophy and his denial that this implies a downgrading of

the theoretical dimensions of Stoicism. As we mentioned, Hadot spent three years teaching on
Stoic and ancient logic in 1972-1974 (cf. 2010d). Émile Bréhier’s and Victor Goldschmidt’s

accounts of the Stoic system remain formative for Hadot’s understanding of Stoicism, as we will

continue to see. Nevertheless, Hadot sees each part of Stoic philosophical discourse as essential,

precisely for the role it can play in shaping the inner discourse, hence the judgments, impulses,

and desires of the Stoic. In this sense only might we say that each part of Stoicism is “ethicized,”

in Hadot, at the same time as it keeps its distinct principles and theoretical integrity.

Hadot’s first contribution to the reception of Marcus Aurelius involves his attempt to

recover a sense of the literary form of the so-called Meditations, so that we can understand its

philosophical intentionality. Commentators across the centuries have tried to read the text as the

draft of an unwritten treatise, or else as a “journal intime” (IC 25-7). In the twentieth century,

Dodds claimed to see in the text testimony to Marcus’ having suffered an “identity crisis,” giving

vent to his “morbid” propensities (IC 246); the psychosomaticians, Dailly and Effenterre,

discerned in the Meditations the symptomatic outpourings of an individual suffering from a

gastric ulcer (IC 246-8); while Africa would see the text as issuing from its author’s opium

addiction (IC 252-5; cf. Hadot 1984). For Hadot, closer here to Ian Rutherford’s 1989 work on

which he draws on several occasions (IC 13, 257-280; 2014: 243–4, 275), these readings

highlight the grave interpretive errors which moderns can make, when they remain unaware of

the language games in which an ancient philosophical text was situated.

The literary form of the Meditations is, of course, very different from the genres in which

scholars write on philosophy today (IC 28-30). The text is divided into some four hundred and

seventy-three sections and twelve books. Yet the divisions between what we enumerate as books

were marked only by two-line breaks in the Vaticanus manuscript, and the sections were not

numbered (IC 28). Some sections are aphorisms: “receive wealth without arrogance and be ready
to let it go” (8.33); or, famously, “the best revenge is to not become like him who has harmed

you” (6.6). Others involve reflections spanning over forty lines of modern editions. Yet others

are highly rhetorically-crafted (IC 257-260). There are staged dialogues (e.g. 4.12) and

compelling images, like: “if a man should stand by a limpid pure spring, and curse it, the spring

never ceases sending up potable water… How then shall you possess a perpetual fountain?”

(8.51; cf. 7.59). Perhaps most puzzlingly from our perspective, there is a great deal of repetition,

sometimes direct, as for example the phrase: “nothing is so capable of producing greatness of

soul” (3.11.2; X.11.1), but more often with small changes. Hence, compare: “how could that

which does not make a man worse, make life worse,” with “that which does not make a man

worse than he is, does not make his life worse either” (2.11.4 with 4.8; cf. IC 49-51).

To approach such a text, Hadot contends (per Part 1), we need to understand for whom it

was written and why, placing it in the context of the Stoicism which Marcus Aurelius had

embraced in his youth (IC 11-4). It is of the highest importance for Hadot that the text appears

never to have been intended for publication, instead being found amidst Marcus’ mortal remains.

Marcus Aurelius himself thus appears to have been the only intended reader of these notes, as the

title Ta Eis Heauton (“Things for Himself”) given it—according to Hadot—by Arethas in the

ninth or tenth century registered (IC 24). If we look for any Stoic rationale for such an endeavor,

we find Epictetus enjoining in the very opening chapter of the Discourses, concerning the key

Stoic distinctions: “These are the thoughts that those who pursue philosophy should ponder,

these are the lessons they should write down every day (kath’hēmeran graphein), in these they

should exercise themselves” (Diss. 1.1.25). Again, in book III, Epictetus enjoins his interlocutors

to: “[l]et these thoughts be at your command (prokheiron) by night and day: write these things

(tauta graphein), read them, talk of them …” (Diss. 3.24.103 [our italics]) To write down the
basic principles of Stoic philosophy, these Epictetan sayings indicate, was an essential spiritual

exercise in the ongoing efforts of the prokoptōn (“progressor”) to internalize the Stoic principles,

so they could be called upon readily, facing challenges of different kinds. Such ‘memory-aids’

(hupomnēmata) could then be read over, in order to recall to mind what once had been assented

to, in order to “reactivate” these ideas at need (IC 30-4; cf. Foucault 1997). Marcus himself

indicates this much, Hadot notes, when he asks himself:

How can our principles become dead, unless the impressions [thoughts] which

correspond to them are extinguished? But it is in your power continuously to fan these

thoughts into a flame. I can have that opinion about anything which I ought to have. If I

can, why am I disturbed? (7.2)

In this light, the frequent repetitions and circling around established themes takes on rationality.

Many of these fragments (like 2.1, 4.3, 4.26, 7.22.2, 8.21.2, 11.18, 12.7, 12.8, and 12.26), Hadot

argues, condense into “chapter-heads (kephalaia)”—entire chains of Stoic reasoning concerning

ethics, logic, and physics: as such, both reflecting and facilitating Marcus’ effort to continually

recall these dogmata to mind (IC 37-40). Such features of the Meditations, and not least the

frequency of repetitions, thus do not reflect Marcus’ intellectual turpitude, or the work’s status as

a putative “draft” (IC 25-8). Once we understand the genre of the work as involving

hupomnēmata, we can see that these features reflect the sheer difficulty of realizing the Stoic

philosophy in impulse, thought, and deed. As Hadot reflects at the end of The Inner Citadel:

In world literature, we find lots of preachers, lesson-givers, and censors, who moralise to

others with complacency, irony, cynicism, or bitterness, but it is extremely rare to find a

person training himself to live and to think like a human being … the personal effort

appears … in the repetitions, the multiple variations developed around the same theme
 and the stylistic effort as well, which always seeks for a striking, effective formula …

when we read [the Meditations] we get the impression of encountering not the Stoic

system, although Marcus constantly refers to it, but a man of good will, who does not

hesitate to criticise and to examine himself, who constantly takes up again the task of

exhorting and persuading himself, and of finding the words which will help him to live,

and to live well. (IC 312-3; cf. Hadot 1972: 229)

Are there then no organizing principles, underlying the circumambulations of Marcus’

hupomnēmata, in Hadot’s perspective? As we have indicated, from as early as 1978, Hadot was

convinced that Epictetus’ division of the three exercise-topics we examined in Part 2 also shapes

Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. Hadot thus draws our attention to threefold formulations in

Marcus’ apparently aleatory reflections, which reproduce Epictetus’ division of the disciplines of

assent (logic), desire (physics), and action (ethics). Thus, consider, with our interpolations:

What then must you practice? … [1] thoughts devoted to justice and actions in the service

of the community [ethics/action], [2] speech which can never deceive [assent/logic] and

[3] a disposition which gladly accepts all that happens, as necessary, as usual, as flowing

from a principle and source of the same kind [desire/physics]. (Med. 4.33.5; cf. 8.7, 9.7)

Everywhere and at all times it is in your power to [1] piously acquiesce in your present

condition [desire/physics], and [2] to behave justly to those who are about you

[ethics/action], and [3] to exert your skill upon your present thoughts, that nothing shall

steal into them without being well examined [logic/assent]. (Med.7.54)

We cannot examine in detail all the exemplifications and adumbrations of the three Stoic

disciplines that Hadot examines in The Inner Citadel. What interests us is only what Hadot sees

as different about the practice of these disciplines in Marcus’ text, compared to Epictetus’.
 Concerning the discipline of assent, for example, Hadot spends most time in The Inner

Citadel analyzing Meditations 12.3 under the heading of “circumscribing the self” (IC 112-125).

Meditations 12.3 sees Marcus enjoining himself to “separate yourself” from everything that is

not his true self: the hegemonikon or “governing part” (IC 119). If you separate yourselves from

the four “circles” of what others do and say; the past and future; our involuntary, proto-emotional

responses to externals; and “the rushing tide [of external events] which bathes you with its

waves,” then “you will be able to live the time that is left to you, up until your death, untroubled,

benevolently, and serenely.” The general principle presiding over this exercise, Hadot notes, is

the opening distinction of Epictetus’ Encheiridion I (IC 114). It is a question of directing

attention only to what is within one’s control. Yet this exercise is not simply then one of assent:

it also implicates ethics, how to respond to others, and physics, concerning “the rushing tide

which bathes you” (IC 118). One could be forgiven for supposing here a Platonic influence on

the Meditations, or on Hadot’s reading of the text (cf. [Plato], Alc. I, 133b-134a; Phaedo, 64c-

67e).10

Concerning ethics or the discipline of action, Hadot again spends a good deal of his time

on an exercise that we might associate more closely with the disciplines of assent or desire:

namely, the practice of acting with “reservation” concerning our action’s skopoi (goals, targets),

whose achievement is beyond our control (IC 190-3, 204-6). As Hadot notes, this cultivation of a

sage caution in action is closely tied to the praemeditatio malorum, the effort to anticipate even

the worst “outcomes” in advance, so one is not taken by surprise (IC 206-8). Hadot also sees in

Marcus a greater interest in justice than we find in Epictetus, so that it “is so important that

[concern with justice] is sometimes sufficient to define the discipline of action, as for instance in

7.54: ‘To conduct oneself with justice with regard to the people present’” (IC 218). Hadot will
even venture that the three exercise disciplines, in Marcus, are aligned with the specific virtues

of justice (ethics), temperance (desire), and wisdom (assent), in ways not modelled in Epictetus

(IC 323-238; cf. 44).

Nevertheless, it is above all in the discipline of desire or physics that Hadot sees Marcus

Aurelius as going farthest beyond his teacher. Marcus’ physical reflections were already the

subject of Hadot’s ground-breaking 1972 essay, “La Physique comme exercise spirituel ou

pessimisme et optimisme chez Marc Aurèle,” and they occupy the longest chapter in The Inner

Citadel (IC 128-180). In “La Physique,” it is above all Marcus’ exercise of “dividing and

disenchanting” seductive appearances, skirted above in Epictetus, that Hadot focuses upon. The

most famous instance of this exercise involves Marcus enjoining himself to look at Falernian

wine as only grape juice; the imperial purple as dyed fabric; and sex as the rubbing together of

two bodies, ending in the ejaculation of slimy fluid (6.13; IC 165-6; cf. Hadot 1972: 229–33).

Hadot contends that such an exercise, far from expressing Marcus’ morbidity, is carried out by

the philosopher-emperor “in a quite determinate manner, in accordance with a quite determinate

method” (IC 164): notably, when he reminds himself to analytically divide the form, matter, and

duration of the thing he might be tempted to valorize (Hadot 1972: 232). Marcus’ repeated

reminders to recall the transience of phenomena—such as when he asks himself to “acquire a

method for contemplating how all things are transformed into each other” (Med. 4.48.3; cf. X.11;

IC 166, 171)—hence also belong squarely within the Stoic tradition. It is not a matter of

pessimism or optimism, so much as an attempt to cultivate a realistic, Stoic view of things that is

at issue: in Hadot’s words, “to see things in their naked, ‘physical’ reality” (IC 165), shorn of the

anthropocentric values we assign to appearances (IC 164). The flipside of this exercise in

disenchantment comes in sections of the Meditations which describe how even the most
incidental things take on an interest and even a beauty, when they are looked at purely

disinterestedly. To cite one of Hadot’s favorite sections of the Meditations:

We must also bear in mind things like the following: even the accessory consequences of

natural phenomena have something graceful and attractive about them. For instance:

when bread is baked, some parts of it develop cracks in their surface. Now, it is precisely

these small openings which, although they seem somehow to have escaped the intentions

which presided over the making of the bread, somehow please us and stimulate our

appetite in a quite particular way … Ears of corn which bend toward the earth; the lion's

wrinkled brow; the foam trailing from the mouth of boars: these things, and many others

like them, would be far from beautiful to look at, if we considered them only in

themselves. And yet, because these secondary aspects accompany natural processes, they

add a new adornment to the beauty of these processes, and they make our hearts glad.

Thus, if one possesses experience and a thorough knowledge of the workings of the

universe, there will be scarcely a single one of those phenomena which accompany

natural processes … which will not appear to him, under some aspect at least, as pleasing

(Med. 3.2; IC 168-69; cf. Hadot 1972: 237–8).11

It is only when one achieves what Hadot calls “a cosmic perspective” that things can thus

appear as “both beautiful and valueless: beautiful, because they exist, and valueless, because they

cannot accede to the realm of freedom and morality” (IC 171). Such a perspective is what is at

stake, in Marcus as in other ancient authors, in the exercise Hadot (1998, 1993a) dubs the “view

from above.” In many sections of the Meditations, Hadot notes (9.32, 7.47, 11.1.3, 6.36, 12.32,

7.48; IC 172-173), Marcus enjoins himself to “embrace the totality of the cosmos in your

thought” (9.32; cf. 11.1.3), and to look down upon the events that make up human lives. As
Hadot writes, this exercise “furnishes powerful instigations for practicing the discipline of the

desire.” (IC 173) In particular, it enables Marcus to re-perceive just how small and passing are

human affairs, in the scale of the Whole, evaluating ‘indifferents’ according to what the Stoics

see as their “true proportions”. (IC 173) In Marcus as in other authors like Boethius and even

Petrarch, this exercise is adduced particularly to quell Marcus’ desire for fame. When we recall

how “short is the time which each of us lives; [how] puny the little corner of earth on which we

live; how puny, finally, is even the lengthiest posthumous glory,” our desire for fame—at most a

preferred indifferent—is tempered (Med. 3.10.2; IC 175-176).

Finally, in Inner Citadel, Hadot—whose debts here specifically to Victor Goldschmidt’s

remarkable study, Le Système stoïcien et l’idée de temps, are both clear and acknowledged12—

lays particular stress upon exercises in what he terms “circumscribing the present.” At issue here

are those sections in the Meditations which lay stress on focusing one’s attention upon the

present moment. Hadot interprets Stobaeus’ claim that for the Stoics “there is no present time, in

the proper sense of the term; rather, it is spoken of only in an extended sense (kata platos).

Chrysippus says that only the present ‘actually belongs’ (huparchein)” (LS 51B) as pointing to a

distinction between a mathematical present, infinitesimally small, and the lived present, which

“belongs to a subject” and as such has an experiential “thickness” (platos) (IC 135-6). Marcus is

concerned only with this lived present, and the existential importance of its “circumscription.”

Firstly, such a circumscription serves to diminish our sense of the difficulty of challenges, by

dividing them into a sequence of individually bearable, present moments. If we divide a

seductive melody into its notes, it will lose its power over us, Marcus notes. Just so, we should

“transpose this method … to life in its entirety.” (11.2; IC 133) In doing so, we shall see that it is

unprofitable, even meaningfully unreasonable, to “trouble yourself by representing to yourself

the totality of life in advance … try[ing] to go over all the painful hardships, in all their varying

intensity and number, which might possibly happen” (8.36). Indeed, dividing difficulties into

present moments will “make your reflective faculty ashamed” that it could worry about not

bearing up to what we might call a sequence of “minutiae” (8.36; IC 132).

Secondly, Marcus’ focus on the present moment, as Goldschmidt had identified (1977:

168–86), reflects for Hadot the Stoic perspective which sees it as the only “tense” in which we

can act, feel and suffer, whereas the past is unchangeable, and the future of our worries we

cannot presently change. It is, Hadot says, “a matter of increasing the attention we bring to bear

upon our actions, as well as the consent we grant to the events which happen to us” (IC 132). In

doing so, rather than remaining attached to futural concerns and events we cannot control, we

“exalt the consciousness of our existence and our freedom,” as Hadot puts it (IC 134). The result

is the kind of joy which Hadot asks us to see as overwhelmingly characterizing the Stoicism of

Marcus Aurelius (IC 238-242), as when Marcus reflects that:

All the happiness you are seeking by such long, roundabout ways, you can have it all right

now … I mean, if you leave all of the past behind you, if you abandon the future to

providence, and if you arrange the present in accordance with piety and justice. (12.1.1-2; IC

134)

4. Concluding remarks
In this chapter, we have argued that it is imprecise, with Bénatouil, to align Pierre

Hadot’s reception of Stoicism with existentialism, because of the stress he lays upon reading

Stoicism as a way of life; or indeed, that it is inaccurate to construct just two, more or less

mutually exclusive, phenomenological and systematizing strands of 20th century “French

Stoicisms.”
 As we have seen, Hadot instead argues that the exercise disciplines in Epictetus align

with the three parts of systematic Stoic philosophical discourse: logic, ethics, and physics.

Ethics, the exercise of choice or the will, does not take all. Hadot’s reading of the Roman Stoics

Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius instead positions them as orthodox inheritors of the Stoic system,

as reconstructed by figures like Bréhier and Goldschmidt, to whom Hadot is directly and

avowedly indebted. Hadot retains respect for the Stoic systematizing pursuit of knowledge. But,

following Wittgenstein, he situates this systematizing activity within a network of philosophical

language games. And this approach in his work establishes a bridge between theory-construction

and the experiential/existential dimension we see so vividly at work in Marcus Aurelius’

Meditations. The deepest challenge posed to us by Hadot’s re-conception of Stoicism and the

other ancient philosophies as ways of life, as well as theoretical achievements, is then that of

thinking together both sides of ancient Stoicism.

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Figure 13.1 Hadot’s Epictetan “key” to (later Roman) Stoicism as a way of life

Table 13.1

Lived logic Lived ethics Lived physics

Psychological Judgments, Impulses Desire (orexis) and

function thoughts, and (hormai) to act aversion (enklisis)

“assents” and not to act

(synkatatheseis)

Objects, Concerning truth, Regarding others, Concerning external

materials rightness, and appropriate objects and events

goodness and actions

their opposites (kathēkonta).

1
At Hadot (1962: 58).
2
See e.g. Hadot (2010a: 211); see I. Hadot (2014: esp. 36-50, 313-319); and Sharpe (2018: 109–

18). The author would like to dedicate this chapter to Ilsetraut Hadot, in gratitude and admiration

for her work, support, and critique.

3
Similarly, Hadot’s emphasis on the importance of the present moment in ancient thought also

arguably hails from his engagement with Stoicism, mediated by Victor Goldschmidt’s Le

Système stoïcien et l’idée de temps (1977). See Part 3 below.

4
Bréhier 1961: 303, at IC 74; Hadot (2010a: 221, 1991: 209, 2010b 135–6).
5
Cf. IC 79; Hadot (1991: 208–9).
6
Translations from Epictetus are my own, adapting from the Perseus text by Thomas Wentworth

Higginson, and with thanks to Kurt Lampe.

7
Following Max Pohlenz, for instance, Hadot has argued that we can use this “key” to

understand the structuring of the 53 sections of Epictetus’ Enchiridion or Handbook. The

opening chapter, in qualifying the things that are eph’ēmin, already sets out the three domains of

exercise: “[w]hat depends upon us are value-judgments (hupolēpseis) [3], impulses towards

action (hormē) [2] and desire (orexis) or aversion [1]; in short, everything that does not depend

upon us.” (Ench. 1.1) After the opening chapters, chapters III-VI relate explicitly to the

discipline of judgment: a fact which Hadot deems pedagogically significant (Cf. 1978: 171.) VII-

XI, XIV-XXI and then again XVI-XVIII relate to the discipline of desire, punctuated by sections

(XII-XIII; XXII-XXV) concerning what “progressants” in Stoic philosophy should attend to.

Chapters XXX-LXV concern the discipline of impulses; while the last part (XLV-LIII) returns to

counsels specifically directed at the “progressants,” culminating in a final section adducing

maxims from Cleanthes, the Crito and Apology “presenting the fundamental attitude of those

who learn to philosophise as a consent to the will of Nature and Destiny” (I. & P. Hadot 2004:

35–40). Long, notably, takes Hadot’s reading of Epictetus as authoritative (see 2002: 116–7,

125).
8
Hadot writes of Bonhoeffer: “he has magisterially developed the content of the three topoi of

Epictetus, clearly recognized this division into three topoi was a work original to Epictetus, and

even seen that Marcus Aurelius reproduced this division in his ternary schemas” (1978: 189). In

private correspondence, William O. Stephens, translator of Bonhoeffer’s The Ethics of the Stoic

Epictetus (1996), has noted that while the connection of the domains and the psychological
functions is explicit, their alignment with ethics, logic and physics is not directly claimed by

Epictetus or Bonhoeffer.
9
Epictetus’ division of the parts of the psyche, also, is non-hierarchical, like the Stoic division of

the parts of discourse (IC 86). Equally, for the Stoics contra Plato, even the passions are not the

products of any one, lower part of the soul, but transformations of the entire psyche, including

the ruling faculty. See I. & P. Hadot (2004: 29).

10
Compare the criticisms of Hadot, based on his ongoing work on Neoplatonism, in Cooper

(2012: 17–22, 402–3 n. 4–5).

11
Hadot talks of a Stoic “realistic aesthetics” (IC 170).
12
Goldschmidt (1977: esp. 168–86); Hadot (1972: 321 n. 1).