Uplifted by the Decline and Fall

In 2011 I undertook and completed a reading project that I had wanted to do for years:  I read Edward Gibbon's The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire in its entirety.  My Folio Society edition is eight volumes, with over 2,000 pages, though the original was published serially in six volumes from 1776-1788.  This work remained the definitive history of Rome and its empire until well into the 20th Century.

Although it has been eclipsed by more modern scholarship, and its interpretations are generally seen as antiquated now, Gibbon's History remains one of the great works of Enlightenment scholarship.  It is most compelling to a modern reader because of its narrative style:  this is not history presented as a dry list of events, dates, and people; this is a narrative of brave men (and a few women) making bold moves to expand, hold, and defend a great Empire, and build a great culture.

Taking the time to read a work like this seems slightly antiquated in the age of Google and Wikipedia, where any information you can think of is at your fingertips.  Want to know who the Emperor Julian was and what he did?  You can find it in seconds.  But putting individuals into their context, understanding what came before and after great events and great men in history, and seemingly moving through history with them provides a much richer perspective on the past than what one gets from simply cherry-picking facts from Google.

It certainly took time, and more than a bit of organization, to get through such a magnum opus in one year.  I basically broke the year into eight, 6 to 7-week milestones and set a goal for myself to finish one volume by each milestone.  In general, I'd say it worked out to about 15-20 minutes a day of reading, or roughly the same amount of time it takes to watch one sitcom on my DVR, skipping the commercials.  It would be interesting to debate the merits of reading Gibbon vs. watching The Big Bang Theory daily.  For me, it was certainly time well spent.

What did I learn from the books?  Well, I was introduced to Roman emperors whose names I had heard, but I didn't really know what they had done or how they fitted in to history, e.g. Augustus, Marcus Aurelius, Julian, Theodosius.  One volume covers the birth of Mohammed and the rise of Islam, subjects that were not covered in history when I was in school.  I came to realize that the first 1000 years following the time of Christ were a bloody mess of violence and death in everyday life, to a degree that would shock us today, even as jaded as we have become by foreign wars and senseless domestic shootings.  Life really was nasty, brutish, and short.

(One particularly grim episode:  a Roman general punished a wayward soldier by pulling together the tops of two adjacent pine trees, securing them with a rope; tying one arm and one leg of the poor soldier to each tree; then cutting the rope that held the trees together.  Ouch.)

But as different as life was from today, there are certain episodes and people that seem shockingly modern, or that provide inspiration all these years later.  For example:  here is how Gibbon describes the typical day of Alexander Severus, who was emperor from 222-235 A.D.:

The simple journal of his ordinary occupations exhibits a pleasing picture of an accomplished emperor, and....might well serve the imitation of modern princes.  Alexander rose early; the first moments of the day were consecrated to private devotion, and his domestic chapel was filled with the images of those heroes, who, by improving or reforming human life, had deserved the grateful reverence of posterity.  But, as he deemed the service of mankind the most acceptable worship of the gods, the greatest part of his morning hours was employed in his council, where he discussed public affairs, and determined private causes, with a patience and discretion above his years.  The dryness of business was relieved by the charms of literature:  and a portion of time was always set apart for his favorite studies of poetry, history, and philosophy.  The works of Virgil and Horace, the Republics of Plato and Cicero, formed his taste, enlarged his understanding, and gave him the noblest ideas of man and government.  The exercises of the body succeeded to those of the mind; and Alexander, who was tall, active, and robust, surpassed most of his equals in the gymnastic arts.  Refreshed by the use of the bath and a slight dinner, he resumed, with new vigor, the business of the day; and, till the hour of supper, the principal meal of the Romans, he was attended by his secretaries, with whom he read and answered the multitude of letters, memorials, and petitions, that must have been addressed to the master of the greatest part of the world. His table was served with the most frugal simplicity; and whenever he was at liberty to consult his own inclination, the company consisted of a few select friends, men of learning and virtue....The dress of Alexander was plain and modest, his demeanor courteous and affable.....

To summarize, Alexander Severus practiced morning devotions; spent time at work on public and private business; read literature to relax; took daily exercise and a daily bath; and ate simple meals with close friends.  Here we are 1800 years later, after innumerable advances in technology, medicine, psychiatry, and living standards, and yet still one could do a lot worse than follow this daily routine (which, as Gibbon observed, "might well serve the imitation of modern princes").    Talk about history coming alive!

How to Live?

I’ve been led into deep thoughts from recent random events.  First, the events:

• Two weeks ago I celebrated my birthday with my annual reading of Seneca’s On theShortness of Life.

• Yesterday I read of the death of Tim Stack, 60, CEO of Piedmont Healthcare, a prominent hospital system here in Atlanta.

• Today I saw the report of the death of Gore Vidal, 86, celebrated author.

Now, the deep thoughts:

I never met Tim Stack or Gore Vidal, but I couldn’t help thinking of each as a reference point for me: if I live to Mr. Stack’s age, I have 16 years left; if I live to Mr. Vidal’s age, I have 42 years left.  That’s a big difference.  What would I do differently today if I knew for certain that I have only 16 years left to live rather than 42?

Enter Seneca: 

“…all save a very few find life at an end just as they are getting ready to live.” 

I’ve known people for whom that is true; they look forward their entire working lives to retirement, so that they can really live, and then they die or become incapacitated and can’t do it.  It is tragic and sad when it happens.  I don’t want to do that, and if it comes to pass that I have only 16 years left, I need to get busy living.  But what if it turns out I have 42 years left?  How do I prepare for a long future life, which may not come, without passing up on too much life today, which I certainly have right now?

Getting this balance right is very difficult.  It is unrealistic for most of us to extract ourselves from common bourgeois existence to pursue leisure full time.  (I’m using “leisure” here in the classical sense, meaning activities that have intrinsic value in themselves, without regard for the ends they might achieve, like money.)   Yet at the same time, many of us realize that the hectic pace of modern American life, a treadmill of earn --> acquire --> earn more --> acquire more, with very little time devoted to leisure pursuits, probably isn’t the best way to live, either.  We know we should get off the treadmill at some point, hence the “When I retire, then….” dreams.  But should we really put off good living until then?  Do we run the risk of fulfilling Seneca’s prediction that we find life at an end just as we are getting ready to live?

Yet there seems to no good or easy time to get off the treadmill early.  We need to pay off the student loans; then we need the bigger house; then we need to put the kids through school; by then there is the beach house to take care of, too, and the wardrobe to keep current, and then electronic gadgets seem to need upgrading more frequently than ever…….

Enter Seneca again:

  …”very wretched , therefore, and not merely short, must the life of those be who work hard to gain what they must work harder to keep.  By great toil they attain what they wish, and with anxiety hold what they have attained; meanwhile they take no account of time that will never more return.”

And so it is that the treadmill remains attractive because our focus rests on the fruits of our labor:  the trinkets, tokens, and totems of success that our society has deemed valuable.  But the very real risk is that we overvalue the trinkets while we undervalue the time that it takes to earn them; we assume we have an unlimited store of time from which to draw; and when that turns out not to be true, we are surprised by the shortness of our lives.  The true value of our time suddenly comes into focus, just as we run out of it; and we find ourselves with no time to really live.

So how do we find the right balance?  How can we really live throughout our lives, and not save all the good stuff for the end that may get cut short?  There are no easy or obvious answers.  But it is certainly something to think about.

“Why do you delay?  Why are you idle?  Unless you seize the day, it flees.”

                                                                                                                -Seneca