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Entry: A Greek in the Temple of Venus Link: http://www.takimag.com/site/article/a_greek_in_the_temple_of_venus#2318 Post contents: "Valentino’s three day festivities will not be written in stone, but they will be remembered long after he is gone..." But even if they will not be written in stone, hasn't the perdurability of Roman civilisation always been both a cause and effect of Rome's gift for writing in stone? In contrast, China, for example, has virtually no architecture or monuments surviving from before the 18th century; in that sense, if a "continuing civilisation" is evidenced in its material monuments, then the oldest continuing civilisation in the world is not China's, but ours. But of course civilisation is inseparable from the written word - and even on that score, Rome has outperformed China. The ancient Romans were incorrigible grafittists, writing even on the walls of their own houses' interiors, and so today we know incomparably more about the thoughts of private ancient Roman citizens than about their Chinese contemporaries. For what it's worth (as I sit here wearing black Levis and a plain cotton shirt and plain all-leather loafers - "all leather" being a luxury after experiencing the Chinese "economic miracle" of millions of shoes made of vinyl and rubber soles and cardboard), the above reminds me of my favourite Roman tombstone in the British Museum. It's the memorial of Marcus Sempronius Nicocrates, who died circa 300 AD, and so he lived through the twilight interregnal years between the end of the Antonine Age and the onset of the Dark Age - a time similar to the 20th century in many ways. At both ends are relief sculptures of two Roman dramatic masks with their mouths open (by the way, the words "person" and "personal" come from the Latin, "per-sona" meaning "to sound through" a dramatic mask - a peculiar concept of Man's "PERSONAL" essence which simply does not exist in Asia), and a picture of a Muse speaking to the deceased. The Latin epitaph says (and I'm quoting from memory): "M Sempronius Nicocrates. A poet and a lyre player, I played with a festival troupe. Returning home weary after many journeys, I became, friends, a procurer of beautiful women. Fate came from the heavens, taking my soul. And now the Muses keep charge of my body." And of his memory too, the kind of personality who is still familiar to men of the West, even today. Sent at: 2008 07 24