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The Melancholy of Time and Disaster |
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written
by pev42 / 10.24.2005 |
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| melancholy of the antique world |
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Part 1: |
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The antique world was melancholy because to them there was no immortal human soul that lived on after death. Those that were forgotten were lost, drowned in the immutable ebony of which Flaubert writes. One too many men had been truned into “gods” right before their eyes for them to have confidence in the powers of the divine. They tried to fight time and mortality by building monuments that would allow their name to live forever. Since they saw the monuments of their ancestors fall or be dismantled for parts, they must have known that even with the grandest works of stone and metal their names and deeds would eventually be forgotten too. In an attempt to deny their mortality, to cheer themselves in the face of death, they built their monuments anyway, hiding their melancholy in the triumphal grandeur and colossal size of the architecture. Some of these monuments have survived to today, but they have been damaged by years of natural disasters and changes in power. This aging has stripped away the layers of denial and revealed the melancholy of their world as its lasting legacy.
The Roman Forum is a collection of temples made for gods by men who wanted to be remembered as supporting them. Some men were made into gods by other men who wanted to benefit politically from it. There are also the Arch of Titus and the Arch of Septimius Severus, monuments that commemorate the triumphs of great military conquests. The Rostra is a platform in the Forum where eloquent speakers are remembered to have made convincing speeches that swayed public opinion. This is a place built for memories, and it is almost entirely in ruins. All that remains of most of the temples are a few columns or a rough outline of the foundation. Parts of both the arches have been destroyed and redone. On the Arch of Septimius Severus, Carcalla went so far as to remove all references to his brother Geta after he had him murdered, effectively erasing him from life and memory. The fact that he did this makes the importance of memory to the ancients clear. Visitors to the Forum today see the destruction of time, of shifting power, and of vandals from their own era and perceive the melancholy of the space, the melancholy of the ancient world. The strongest men, the strongest structures, and even the strongest memories are all lost to the dark void with time.
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Part 2: |
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In Pompei, the dominating feature of the space is not the monumental architecture, but the streets, shops, and houses that people used and lived in every day. Here, the melancholy of mortality is lost in the bustle and drama of life. However, as I walk the streets and explore the buildings of Pompei, I am struck by an even deeper melancholy than that of the Forum. Whereas the men commemorated in the Forum had time to leave their mark on the world before they died, the people here weren’t even able to finish their lives. This entire area was wiped out in one day, the remains of the city protected for hundreds of years by the same volcanic ash that killed its people. In Pompei, the melancholy for the visitor is not that the buildings are slowly falling into ruin, but that they were preserved at the cost of a deadly tragedy.
The Pantheon is beautifully preserved, its structural magnificence seeming to defy the deterioration of time. It stands as a beacon in the void, a triumph over entropy. But at what cost? The interior of the former temple has been dramatically redone, transforming it into a church so that its preservation will be guaranteed as long as the Church controls Rome. Here, the melancholy for the visitor is that we will never know for certain how this building was meant to look. The melancholy of the ancients is still covered, but it is hiding behind the wrong mask.
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