Daily Life in Ancient Rome by Jerome Carcopino

A fantastic snap-shot of life two-thousand years ago

Carcopino’s book is exactly what it says on the cover. The book is divided into two parts. The first deals with aspects of life general to all cities in history, such as buildings and streets, and social classes for example. The second part takes us through a typical day of a Roman citizen, and in doing so touches on the routines of rich and poor alike. Although functional, Carcopino’s work is never mundane, and remains highly readable even almost seventy years after its first publication.

In an introduction to an otherwise terrible book on the history of the world, the French historian Fernand Braudel gives some very wise advice on how history should be taught to young people. He says that first you have to hook them with the stories of the big figures such as Caesar and Alexander, and then after their interest has been piqued, you can teach history that focuses on more ordinary people. Carcopino, also a Frenchman and contemporary of Baudel, has written the latter kind of book, and while very readable and entertaining, I recommend that you get to know the big events of Rome’s history before delving into this book.

It is clear that Carcopino has an avid interest and respect for his subject. The beginning of the book has a lavish description of the Forum of Trajan that just drips with praise. The book contains immense detail, which really brings ancient Rome to life. This is created through the regular events of the city, reaching its height when Carcopino portrays the races in the Circus Maximus. As he describes the order and type of horses as they were reined to the chariots, one can almost hear the roar of the crowd in the background.

One thing that can get annoying with this type of book is when the writer unreservedly praises the Romans and ignores all the ridiculous, impractical or even pernicious aspects of their society. Carcopino never falls into this trap and is quite prepared to criticise where necessary. Through this criticism we get, among other things, a very absorbing account of the inadequacy of the Roman education system which acts as a balance to Carcopino’s fulsome praise in other areas.

Daily Life in Ancient Rome is certainly a product of its time. The writing can be rather sexist (prepare yourself before reading the section on Marriage, Woman and the Family) and it is clear that the writer has his own axe to grind. As the book continues Carcopino relates more and more aspects of Roman society to the rise of Christianity, but while it is clear that Carcopino is a Christian himself, this doesn’t detract from the interest of his argument. Carcopino describes the inadequacy of traditional Roman religion to satisfy the spiritual needs of the people and also discusses the influence of other religions that arrived in Rome from the East. During this argument Carcopino is prone to take a detour into what may not be thought of as daily life, but it is a fascinating and important discussion just the same. If you’ve ever wondered how Rome became Christian then this is a good book to read.

Like Goldsworthy’s superb The Roman Army at War, this is an excellent book for anyone who wants to know about the every day life people who were just as important to Rome as any Hadrian or Augustus.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkewicz (translated by W.S. Kuniczak)

Life is too short for this Christian clap trap

(Photo by hoyasmeg)

Quo Vadis is a love story set in the ancient Rome of Nero’s time. Young patrician Marcus Vinicius falls for a girl named Ligia. Lust drives Vinicius to use his power and influence to have Ligia removed from a happy home and taken to him against her will. She runs away to live with fellow members of a new underground religion: Christianity. The narrative follows the efforts of Marcus to get Ligia back and in the process, becoming exposed and converted to the new faith.

The novel is terrible for many reasons. Historical inaccuracies and anachronisms abound, it is repetitive, unrealistic and the characters are one-dimensional. Above all Quo Vadis’ evangelism always gets in the way of the story.

With historical fiction, it can be pedantic to point out factual errors if there are only one or two over the course of a few hundred pages. In Quo Vadis however, they are so obvious they constantly yank the reader out of any suspension of disbelief. In the first few pages alone, Vinicius refers to an event that happened during the time when Drusus was emperor. The other character, Petronius, a noteworthy senator, listens attentively while neglecting to point out that there never was a Roman emperor by that name. Other mistakes occur every three or four pages or so, notably with the death of the most prominent Roman never to become emperor, Germanicus, being shifted all the way from Antioch in Syria to the imperial palace in Rome. The appendix states that Sienkiewicz went to great trouble to research his work by travelling to Rome itself. I would have thought that opening a few history books would have done him as much good.

Another factor which breaks the spell of being in ancient Rome is the anachronisms which litter the text. The most obvious is that it is doubtful that the Christians of this time would have used the cross as a symbol of their faith. Then we come to the speech of the characters, which to be fair is the fault of the translator rather than the author. Nevertheless when Vinicius asks Petronius to “check into” something it strikes an odd chord indeed.

Six-hundred pages of story are often the same scenes repeated again and again. The character Chilon visits Vinicius and Petronius on at least three occasions which could have been condensed into one. The characters’ constant introspections become boring too, with the same old thoughts going around and around. This is particularly true as Vinicius wrestles with his opinions of Christianity. Much of the time Sienkiewicz has his characters mapping out each probable course of action before actually doing anything, thus eliminating any tension or compulsion to read on.

Next we come to how unrealistic the story is. We are expected to believe that someone could not leave the city of Rome after dark. Sienkiewicz tells us that 10,000 people lived in Nero’s palace! Also, I realise that Vinicius and Petronius are supposed to be extremely wealthy men but I’m not sure even they could have afforded scores of slaves to go out day after day and scour the streets for a single young girl. When his slaves fail in conveying Ligia to him from the imperial palace, Vinicius kills one of them whom we are told helped to raise him, and has all the rest sold to work in quarries. Slaves were a valuable resource in this era and simply would not have been treated in this way.

The way that Vinicius treats his slaves is convenient for Sienkiewicz though. It slips neatly into the modern idea of the decadent and evil Roman, especially when this is juxtaposed to the pious and moral Christians. For a more blatant contrast of good and evil you’d have to look to the work of the brothers Grimm. All of the characters are one dimensional which, added to the repetition of scenes, just becomes boring.

Finally we come to the undisguised proselytising of the text. From chapter two onwards, when Pomponia states that she believes “in the one true God who is omnipotent and just,” the story descends into a simplistic sermon where Rome is corrupt and Christianity is innocent and good. This contrast is both unrealistic and insulting to the intelligence. Sienkiewicz projects the values of nineteenth century Christianity backwards almost two thousand years, with no thought or consideration that it would have been very different a few decades after the death of Christ.

Are there any good points to the novel? Well, not really. As someone who enjoys the period very much I tried to take pleasure in the story for what it was (the picture of a ridiculous singing and acting Nero was certainly entertaining). Unfortunately the faults in the writing often had me invoking the name of Christ, though not in the way Sienkiewicz intended.

If you must force yourself through this book, then do yourself a favour and afterwards read Gore Vidal’s Julian as an antidote.

Vespasian by Barbara Levick

An accomplished yet dry biography of a pivotal figure in the Roman Empire

Photo by mdcassano

Levick is nothing if not knowledgeable. She provides a complete picture of Vespasian’s life from birth to death, and tries to pin down his origins and family history. This latter task is not easy with someone who, unlike many other emperors, rose from a relatively obscure background to become arguably the most powerful man in the world.

Vespasian’s time in Britain, his leadership of the Roman forces during the Great Jewish Revolt and his actions during the Year of Four Emperors were the most dramatic periods of his life, and so inevitably receive the most attention. It is here though that Levick’s writing is at its worst, as it becomes barely more than a list of legions, dates and places. The reader has to frequently refer to the maps (which thankfully are plentiful) to keep abreast of things. Levick doesn’t do much to help with remembering or picturing the people involved in the events either. Names are introduced with little or no description, so it really becomes quite a task to recall who people are.

We learn about Vespasian’s reign after his bid for power in 69 A.D, but Levick is unable to make anything during this period of stabilisation stick in the mind. The one obviously fascinating part of this time, the building of the Colosseum, Levick skips over in a few paragraphs. The book picks up towards the end in the chapter about Vespasian’s sons. Levick does a good job of keeping the focus on Vespasian while briefly discussing the short reign of Titus, and that of the last of the dynasty, Domitian.

Levick seems to have great respect for Vespasian. While she points out that he was by no means the perfect emperor, she does credit him with ending the chaos caused by the Year of Four Emperors and paving the way for Trajan, who was to usher in Rome’s golden age.

I found Vespasian to be a better work than one of Levick’s other biographies Claudius in that it organises events chronologically. Claudius is such as difficult read because in choosing to write about themes such as “Law, Justice and the Stable Society”, Levick flits backwards and forwards, from one year to another. Thankfully with Vespasian the reader is able to get a much better sense of the shape of the reign. Despite this the book could hardly be described as enjoyable, with Levick seemingly going out of her way to make the text dense and awkward. One example of this is during her description of the Great Jewish Revolt, much of which is confused by her insistence on using the Jewish names of months; you are forced to break away from the prose and refer to a table in order to understand.

This biography is an important work as it is the only one available in English on Vespasian. Until someone with a more fluid style comes along to write another, I’m afraid that you’ll have to put up with Levick. If you have a strong interest in the Roman Empire, then Vespasian is worth a read but don’t expect to enjoy it very much.

First-rate biography from Everitt

Cicero – The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician by Anthony Everitt

Although I’m not sure that he deserves the title of Rome’s greatest politician, (an accolade that surely must go to Julius Caesar) Cicero was definitely one of the greatest Romans. His influence on our world can still be felt today, and so a knowledge of his life and work are essential, not just for those of us interested in the history of Rome. If you don’t know anything about Cicero, or even late Republican Rome, then the best place for you to start is here with Everitt’s marvelous biography.

The ease of Everitt’s prose makes this a five star book. There are plenty of Roman histories and biographies around that seem to delight in using pompous and murky language, obscuring players and events inside paragraphs that go on for page after page. Not so here. It is clear that Everitt derives satisfaction from making events that took place over two thousand years ago very easy to understand. He does a particularly good job when describing the movements and machinations of the various factions after the death of Caesar. Everitt manages this clarity by avoiding over complicated vocabulary and sentence structure, while also reining the prose into short focused segments, dealing with one or two important points at a time.

This period of Rome’s history abounds with amazing characters. Everitt does a great job of describing each of them in all their glory. Not only do we learn about Cicero himself but also such giants as Pompey, Brutus and of course Caesar. Although he covers a lot of people Everitt manages more than just broad brush strokes. Even in the case of Cato, the filibustering and awkward traditionalist who it is easy to dislike, various facets of character are presented. It really is a testament to Everitt’s writing that he is able to do this. Only in fictional works such as Robert Harris’s Imperium or Colleen McCullough’s Masters of Rome series is this usually done so well.

Cicero was a prolific writer, and we are lucky enough to still have much of his work. While his political speeches and also his philosophical works are informative, it is the letters between Cicero and his good friend Atticus that really give the lowdown on the state of the Republic at this time. Everitt uses all of this material to good effect and manages to make the few chapters dealing with Cicero the writer just as interesting as those on Cicero the politician. Everitt leaves you with the desire to read more of Cicero’s actual works, especially his attacks on Mark Anthony in the Philippics.

Everitt rounds off the book with a brilliant concluding chapter, neatly summing up the various aspects of Cicero’s character; his good points and failings, and also his worth to us today.

One odd thing about the book is the cover. I imagine a writer as knowledgeable as Everitt can’t be pleased with the choice of the Colosseum to front his work. While it is indeed a very dramatic building, it was built more than one hundred years after Cicero died, and for me represents the Roman Empire rather than the Republic Cicero strove so much to rescue.

This book leads brilliantly into Everitt’s biography of Augustus which is also excellent. I recommend getting them together and reading one after the other, which would cover more than one hundred years of world shaping history in an accessible and entertaining way. Read them in conjunction with Tom Holland’s Rubicon which is also fantastic.

It’s my pet project to read about as many prominent Romans as I can. I’ll certainly be reading Everitt’s biography of Hadrian when it comes out. I’d love to see what he would do with Marius and Sulla or perhaps even the Gracchi.

A solid account of one of Ancient Rome’s most interesting periods

69 A.D. The Year of the Four Emperors by Gwyn Morgan

Morgan’s book is really the story of five emperors as it inevitably has to start with the suicide of Nero and the fall of the Julio-Claudian dynasty before moving on to Galba, Otho, Vitellius and Vespasian. Morgan does a good job of bringing to life these long dead men who, with the exception of Vespasian, held onto Rome’s reins of power for such a brief time.

Plutarch said that in these civil wars, the troops led and the generals followed. Morgan disagrees, but after reading this account it’s hard not to have some sympathy with Plutarch’s view. This is an account moving from the last months of Nero in 68 A.D. to Vespasian’s forces securing power in December 69 A.D; a period of 18 months. We are treated to all the twists and turns of fortune in great detail and as such it is not a book for the casual reader. Even If you have an interest in the Roman Empire the going can be a little arduous.

Morgan is great when talking about the emperors themselves and the characters of many of the people around them. The prose really starts to bog down with the descriptions of the battles. As is so often the case with this kind of book, there just isn’t a sufficient amount of maps. This would greatly aid the casual reader’s understanding and help to whip things along a bit.

This book is clearly as much about the sources as the events themselves. This is where Morgan can be interesting, piecing together the most likely story from the extant authors (Josephus, Plutarch,Tacitus, Suetonius, Cassius Dio) who all had their own axe to grind. Yet this also can become a bit turgid when it descends into nitpicking. An appendix deals interestingly with the characters of these men and how much they can be trusted.

The highlights with this book are the interesting tales of little known individuals who did amazing things. One such is Julius Agrestis who committed suicide in order to rouse his emperor to action.

Dry at times, fascinating at others, a good account of a pivotal time in the Empire.