Showing posts with label rome. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rome. Show all posts

Friday, 8 September 2017

Kirkstall Abbey

For reasons which need not detain us here, I have recently been in a position to visit Kirkstall Abbey in Leeds a couple of times. Despite the place being in reasonably close proximity to the area where I live, this was my first time there since my school days (the early 1980s, to the best of my recollection), when it was a popular destination for day-trips of an educational and enlightening nature.



Kirkstall Abbey is a monastery which was founded in the Middle Ages, and it is situated in the northern suburbs of Leeds. Although today's tourist attraction is basically a set of ruins, it is still a fascinating and thought-provoking place to encounter, exuding some eeriness, but also considerable grandeur and spirituality.  The abbey and its grounds are now surrounded by ordinary residential streets and the normal hubbub and noise of modern commercial activity, and this apparent incongruity only makes the tranquility (both then and now) of the former monastery seem more welcome and desirable....



As I slowly made my way through the various sections of the abbey, what crossed my mind was how the scale and intricacy of the architecture and structures, impressive as it is/was, throw into sharp relief the achievements of other, earlier civilizations in terms of engineering,building, logistics and sheer human effort, ingenuity and endeavour. On the face of it, the things constructed and operated by the Greeks, Romans, Egyptians and so forth, hundreds or even thousands of years before, were scarcely less advanced or complex than what was created there at Kirkstall Abbey.




The abbey is yet another of those places which makes me wish that I could have my time again, in order that I could train and work as an archaeologist or a historian! It was quite easy to visualize, looking at the ruins, what the scene would have been like all that time ago, as the monks went about their daily tasks and rituals. The state of some of the ruins also leaves plenty to the imagination, as one speculates what function such and such a row of stones might have fulfilled back when the monastery was active and vibrant.



My recent strolls around the ruins brought back memories of my childhood visits, and I sought in some respects to reproduce the atmosphere and spirit of those times, even to the point of buying myself an ice-cream (complete with chocolate flake!). Looking back, as a callow and somewhat shy youth I was insufficiently inquisitive or outward-looking to fully appreciate what I was seeing, or being told, about the abbey and its history. These virtues have only come to me in comparatively recent times. Better late than never, I'm forced to admit...

If you are staying in Leeds, or even just passing through, Kirkstall Abbey is well worth a quick visit.


Wednesday, 5 October 2016

The Aeneid - Virgil

Having read Homer's epic poems, The Iliad and The Odyssey, it was logical that I should move on to Virgil's own epic poem The Aeneid, which can be construed as some sort of "sequel" to the former. The story follows the fortunes and travels of the Trojan Aeneas, a survivor of the sack of Troy, and his divinely ordained mission to help plant the origins of Rome.



In some respects, such as the style and techniques of the writing, this poem shares characteristics with Homer's celebrated works. Whilst it is accessible and streamlined, the way in which the words are presented sometimes make it a challenging read. It is unfair to say that it is less profound than The Iliad, as it covers different ground, literally and metaphorically.

It would be advisable to read a version of this work with a "glossary" included, as it is a constant struggle to remember the Roman equivalents of Greek deities,places and people. At the same time, it is not necessary to keep slavishly referring to these things in order to appreciate the story.

For me, the poem became more lyrical, gripping and coherent once the Dido/Aeneas relationship commenced. This is where some of the central themes of The Aeneid begin to reveal themselves. Funnily enough, the Dido/Aeneas dynamic did not have quite the impact on me that I had anticipated, possibly because I had unrealistic expectations.

The strength of this poem for me is its evocation of strong and emotive imagery within a digestible and compact format. Lots of things occur, but the "destiny" of Rome gives it backbone and cohesion.

The language appeals to the senses - the ritual sacrifices, the feasts and banquets, the forces of nature. The prolonged similes sometimes augment a scene, but in other places they seem a touch superfluous. No barrier to enjoyment, however.

One of the things which stood out for me in the story was the contrast between grandiose ambitions and more private, innermost emotions and practical needs and aspirations. Some people fell by the wayside during Aeneas' journey and settled for a more secure and easy short-term existence. Individuality and pragmatism still had a place here.

The "underworld" passages are tremendously vivid and powerful, and function as the hinge of the tale, introducing the future. The pace quickens from here on in.

As with Homeric poetry, the interventions of the gods, and the consequences of those interventions, might be interpreted by modern observers as allegorical of the "masters of war" or "puppetmasters" who, we are told, orchestrate and precipitate conflict and animosity. Some factions are unwillingly pressured into aggression.

As with The Odyssey, there is almost a fairytale/fantasy feel, with tales of monsters and mythical creatures. Another noticeable thing is how the story brings together elements of ancient and classical history and mythology, and makes them seem as one.

Rightly or wrongly, I discerned that the depictions of people's attitudes to war are more modern than might be expected, with citizens critical of their leaders for putting their ambitions before reason and the common good and tranquility. The diplomatic discourse on display also had a nuanced side to it, and the concerns and anxieties still ring true many centuries later.

The final chapter is dramatic and deftly executed. The ending is not exactly comforting on a human level, but it has a certain finality and tidiness about it.

Monday, 12 September 2016

(The History Of) The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire - Edward Gibbon

I recently finished the marathon effort of reading an abridged version of Edward Gibbon's The History Of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.  It featured 28 of the 71 chapters in full, with summaries of the remainder.



Even in an abridged format, this was a monumental tome. The work was written in the 18th century, so some views expressed seem dated, unsurprisingly.  However, it is hard to dispute that Gibbon could write, and his command, and evident relish, of language are startling, as is the confidence which the writing exudes.

As some have observed, Gibbon's trenchant opinions on certain matters, most notably religious topics, are often couched beneath sarcasm and irony, and it sometimes takes some attentiveness to determine precisely when he is being "literal".  Some of the passages in question only heighten the eloquence, whilst also providing some amusement.

The degree of vehemence, and level of sardonicism, are not uniform throughout, probably a consequence of the work being written over a period of some years. I was quite taken with his depictions of some of the religious fanatics of medieval times, and also with his less than glowing praise for the monastic lifestyle.

Basically, the period covered is from the 1st century CE through to the fall of Constantinople. The middle areas of this version of the book did become rather bogged down, for my tastes, with the theological disputes and conflicts of early Christianity, although once again the richness of the writing is difficult to fault, and helps to maintain the interest.

His views on Byzantium are perhaps what one would have expected of man of the Enlightenment, although they are somewhat at odds with much of the scholarship on that subject which appears these days.

Now that I have read this abridged version, I can definitely see what all the acclaim was about, and I am glad that I made the commitment.