History remembers Marcus Aurelius as one of the "five good emperors," that extraordinary succession of Roman leadership in the guise of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Antonius Pius, and Aurelius, whose combined reign spanned most of the 2nd century AD. They arrived at a time when Rome's emperors had gone rogue, a period of decline triggered by transition of the Augustian Principate to Uncle Tiberius. Aurelius et al. pushed back against the incompetence, and by their efforts extended the Pax Romana another four score years. (The nadir of Roman imperial depravity was of course Caligula's giant head lawnmower. Some miscreants have claimed that was but a work of fiction sprung from Bob Guccione's fertile mind. I prefer to think more highly of our esteemed pornographers.)
It was a inimitable club indeed, the VGE. A collection of exemplary executives matched perhaps only by the plenipotentiary run produced at the founding of America. (This back when America was a Republic. Heutzutage, its heads of state are chosen by corporate fiat. But I digress.) So it was with great excitement I learned Aurelius had written a guide to living. Meditations. A sort of Chicken Soup for the Roman Soul. Tuesdays with Moricus. A classic in the tradition of Plato, Cicero, and Neo, the cover blurb promised. A touchstone of Stoic philosophy.
Alas, Meditations is also a classic in the tradition of Hans Christian Andersen.
For the emperor has no prose.
It was a inimitable club indeed, the VGE. A collection of exemplary executives matched perhaps only by the plenipotentiary run produced at the founding of America. (This back when America was a Republic. Heutzutage, its heads of state are chosen by corporate fiat. But I digress.) So it was with great excitement I learned Aurelius had written a guide to living. Meditations. A sort of Chicken Soup for the Roman Soul. Tuesdays with Moricus. A classic in the tradition of Plato, Cicero, and Neo, the cover blurb promised. A touchstone of Stoic philosophy.
Alas, Meditations is also a classic in the tradition of Hans Christian Andersen.
For the emperor has no prose.





