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Melancholy? But Why? |
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written
by joeplumb / 10.24.2005 |
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| melancholy of the antique world |
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Flaubert wrote, “The melancholy of the antique world seems to me more profound than that of the moderns, all of whom more or less imply that beyond the dark void lies immortality. But for the ancients that ‘black hole’ is infinity itself; their dreams loom and vanish against a background of immutable ebony. No crying out, no convulsions – nothing but the fixity of the pensive gaze.”
What Flaubert is drawing upon here is a key difference between the society of today and that of the ancients. Today most people believe in some form of immortality of spirit. The Romans, in contrast, saw immortality in the markers they’ve left behind. In this sense the ancients surely must feel melancholy when they look upon the world of today. Massive structures have disappeared without a trace, while most survive as only a hint of the buildings they once were. Perhaps the easiest example of this is the forum, the great Roman meeting place which had been eroded into a grazing plot for cattle. Even after extensive reconstruction it is barely a shadow of its former grandeur. Flaubert believes that this melancholy seems to be more profound because this was the struggle of the ancients: to build a monument to themselves which would stand for all time.
But this is exactly the opposite of Pompeii, where even the smallest detail, barely significant in Roman times, is still present, to be meticulously researched and catalogued. The thing that most convinces me of this is the graffiti on a few of the walls. Surely some young Maximus or Caecilius scribbled it on some dark night, not so much unlike a Marco or Giovanni might leave “AS Roma merde” on a present Roman wall. But the ancient writing survived, along with the trinkets and knickknacks that were transitory even in the century before Christ. Yet here they survive, to everyone’s surprise. There is no melancholy in Pompeii, because the markers they left behind were those which were to be eternal as well as mundane.
Today some of the greater Roman monuments remain, stripped of metals and precious stones, their only legacy the half-complete buildings and piles of rubble. Truly, the ancients of Rome would weep should they ever come upon the immortality their pensive gaze was laid on for so long, while those of Pompeii rejoice in seeing their smallest achievements held carefully and treasured by museums around the world.
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