Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.32

Augustus' court, wife, daughter, descendants, ancestors, sister, Agrippa, kinsmen, intimates, friends; Areius, Maecenas, physicians, and sacrificing priests—the whole court is dead.

Then turn to the rest, not considering the death of a single man, but of a whole race, as of the Pompeii; and that which is inscribed on the tombs—the last of his race.

Then consider what trouble those before them have had that they might leave a successor; and then, that of necessity some one must be the last. Again, here consider the death of a whole race.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 8 (tr Long)

Once again, another Stoic reminder of our mortality, the repetition being so necessary because we need to do more than just vaguely and abstractly understand how everything is passing, but we need to see around us, at each and every moment, that what the world considers so noble is really just a foolish vanity.

Only then can the practice live up to the principle of embracing what is truly good in life, acting with virtue for each and every moment.

Once again, I need to be very careful about turning this healthy indifference to fame and glory into a morbid preoccupation with pain and loss, because my Black Dog, who has now been with me for almost two decades, tempts me into seeing only what is bad, where I should be rejoicing in what is good.

Though everything comes around again, each generation has its own special fads and quirks. The veneration of materialist science, which reduces human value only to biology and instinct, has been one of the trends of my time.

I remember the excitement one my friends felt when he discovered the idea that the purpose of human life, and of all life, was just to pass on our genetic codes to our offspring, for the sake of the survival of the species. This helped him rest assured that even if he fell to some predator, or died from a wasting disease, or simply faded away into old age, at least his genes would live on.

I hardly wanted him to feel miserable, but I thought about the fact that not only will each individual pass away, like Augustus and his court, but also, sooner or later, the whole race will pass away. Marcus Aurelius raises the stakes here. One of us will inevitably be the last of our kind. Will that have made all the efforts to survive, from generation to generation, pointless? Will that make the life of that last man worthless?

The whole point is, of course, that it hardly matters how long we are rich, or for what time we are remembered, or for how many years we survive, or for how many generations our descendants survive. None of that is for us to give to ourselves, and it will of necessity be taken away. It is therefore hardly reliable, and offers no real or certain comfort.

Whether Augustus is now alive or dead, or whether his descendants are alive or dead, or whether his fancy mausoleum stands today or will be swallowed up by the earth tomorrow is neither here nor there.

What difference does it make to him now if his name is praised on some monument, or some stones were put together to honor him in death?

Did he live well, with a commitment to character, in the time that he lived, regardless if he was an emperor or a beggar, the founder of a dynasty or the last of his kind? That will be the only thing that can make him, or make anyone, be great. 

Written in 4/2008

IMAGE: The Mausoleum of Augustus in Rome