9781945186240

whether he has hit the target the first time. When combined with the very
abstract vocabulary natural in philosophical prose, this can make for
difficult reading, especially in English, which privileges concision and
concrete vocabulary to a greater degree than Greek. At its best, however,
Marcus’s writing can be extraordinarily effective, most of all when it strikes
a balance between image and idea, as in the opening of 5.23:
Keep in mind how fast things pass by and are gone—those that are now, and those to come.
Existence flows past us like a river: the “what” is in constant flux, the “why” has a thousand
variations. Nothing is stable, not even what’s right here. The infinity of past and future gapes before
us—a chasm whose depths we cannot see.
This particular topic—the transience of human life, the constant change
that shapes and informs the world—is a recurrent theme in the Meditations,
and as we shall see, it is one whose treatment owes as much to literary as to
philosophical models, and as much to Marcus’s own character as to Stoic
doctrine.
Recurring Themes
To try to extract a sustained and coherent argument from the
Meditations as a whole would be an unprofitable exercise. It is simply not
that kind of work. It would be equally fruitless to try to read
autobiographical elements into individual entries (to take 9.42 as referring
to the revolt of Avidius Cassius, for example, or 10.4 as a reflection on
Commodus)—all the more so since so few of the entries can be dated with
any security. This is not to say that the Meditations has no unity or no
relationship to Marcus’s own life, for it has both. What unifies it is the
recurrence of a small number of themes that surely reflect Marcus’s own
preoccupations. It is the points to which Marcus returns most often that
offer the best insight into his character and concerns.
One example that will strike almost any reader is the sense of mortality
that pervades the work. Death is not to be feared, Marcus continually
reminds himself. It is a natural process, part of the continual change that
forms the world. At other points it is the ultimate consolation. “Soon you
will be dead,” Marcus tells himself on a number of occasions, “and none of
it will matter” (cf. 4.6, 7.22, 8.2). The emphasis on the vanity and
worthlessness of earthly concerns is here linked to the more general idea of