Caesar and Christ, Volume III of Will Durant’s The Story of Civilization, has brought me to familiar territory. I taught Latin and Ancient Roman history and culture for twenty years; I spent a month in Rome two years ago, thanks to some of my students and parents; and I have read several other histories of Roma Antiqua. From such long association, the names, places, events, and stories are as familiar to me as Shakespeare’s “household words.”
This acquaintance led me to expect my reading to proceed at a faster pace, but in fact the opposite has happened. I find myself slowing down, reading more carefully, savoring Durant’s take on the wars and revolutions that brought an end the Republic, his mini-biographies of Cicero, Caesar, and Augustus, his observations on such topics as Roman wedding ceremonies and family life. On these pages, we see many of the same conflicts—social, economic, cultural, even sexual—that we ourselves face. Rome boasted the devout and the superstitious as well as the flinty-eyed atheist, the communist and the capitalist, the sexual morality of the conservative Cato and that of the licentious Julius Caesar.
The more things change, the more they stay the same, one is tempted to say.
One thing that hasn’t stayed the same has nothing to do with Rome, but much to do with writing and prose.
Though he may be little read today—some of his history is dated, and eleven fat volumes are daunting to readers in our age of tweet, twitter, and chat—I would make the case that Will Durant was a great master of the written word. Some critics, I am certain, would denigrate him as pompous and windy, a writer often more concerned with turning a good phrase than with his history. Not me. He is a man in full command of words, syntax, and language; his majestic prose carries the reader through a myriad of complexities; he has a great gift for understated humor. (Shelby Foote's style in his The Civil War echoes that of Durant.)
But rather than stumble on touting his gifts, I will let Durant speak for himself. Listen to the rhythm of the words in these passages from Caesar And Christ that touch on our own times:
Democracy is good when the people are virtuous, which, Cicero thought, is never; besides, it is vitiated by the false assumption of equality.
Antiquity had never known so rich, so powerful, and so corrupt a government.
Usually the power of woman rises with the wealth of a society, for when the stomach is satisfied hunger leaves the field to love.
Since the greater urgency of the male supplies woman with charms more potent than any law, her status in Rome must not be judged from her legal disabilities,
We must think of Caesar as at first an unscrupulous politician and a reckless rake, slowly transformed by growth and responsibility into one of history’s most profound and conscientious statesmen. We must not forget, as we rejoice at his faults, that he was a great man notwithstanding. We cannot equate ourselves with Caesar by proving that he seduced women, bribed ward leaders, and wrote books.
For almost 9,000 pages, Durant maintains this style.
So yes, I stand in awe as I read him. I doubt we will ever see such a history again.
The more things change, the more they stay the same, one is tempted to say.
One thing that hasn’t stayed the same has nothing to do with Rome, but much to do with writing and prose.
Though he may be little read today—some of his history is dated, and eleven fat volumes are daunting to readers in our age of tweet, twitter, and chat—I would make the case that Will Durant was a great master of the written word. Some critics, I am certain, would denigrate him as pompous and windy, a writer often more concerned with turning a good phrase than with his history. Not me. He is a man in full command of words, syntax, and language; his majestic prose carries the reader through a myriad of complexities; he has a great gift for understated humor. (Shelby Foote's style in his The Civil War echoes that of Durant.)
But rather than stumble on touting his gifts, I will let Durant speak for himself. Listen to the rhythm of the words in these passages from Caesar And Christ that touch on our own times:
Democracy is good when the people are virtuous, which, Cicero thought, is never; besides, it is vitiated by the false assumption of equality.
Antiquity had never known so rich, so powerful, and so corrupt a government.
Usually the power of woman rises with the wealth of a society, for when the stomach is satisfied hunger leaves the field to love.
Since the greater urgency of the male supplies woman with charms more potent than any law, her status in Rome must not be judged from her legal disabilities,
We must think of Caesar as at first an unscrupulous politician and a reckless rake, slowly transformed by growth and responsibility into one of history’s most profound and conscientious statesmen. We must not forget, as we rejoice at his faults, that he was a great man notwithstanding. We cannot equate ourselves with Caesar by proving that he seduced women, bribed ward leaders, and wrote books.
For almost 9,000 pages, Durant maintains this style.
So yes, I stand in awe as I read him. I doubt we will ever see such a history again.