The Darkening Age: The Christian Destruction of the Classical World

by Catherine Nixey

Hilary Mantel once said that “history is not the past . . . It is what is left in the sieve when the centuries have run through it.”

In the Renaissance, Lucretius and his atomic theories were revolutionary. In Celsus’s time they were utterly unremarkable. It wasn’t just the fact that Christians were ignorant about philosophical theories that annoyed Celsus; it was that Christians actually reveled in their ignorance. Celsus accuses them of actively targeting idiocy in their recruitment. “Their injunctions are like this,” he wrote. “Let no one educated, no one wise, no one sensible draw near. For these abilities are thought by us to be evils.”

Christians, Celsus wrote, “do not want to give or to receive a reason for what they believe, and use such expressions as ‘Do not ask questions; just believe,’ and ‘Thy faith will save thee.’”44 To men as educated as Celsus and Galen this was unfathomable: in Greek philosophy, faith was the lowest form of cognition.

Roman emperors wanted obedience, not martyrs. They had absolutely no wish to open windows into men’s souls or to control what went on there. That would be a Christian innovation.

but this, said Libanius, was bunk: “they speak of conversions apparent, not real. Their ‘converts’ have not really been changed—they only say they have.” In which case, he went on, “what advantage have they won when adherence to their doctrine is a matter of words and the reality is absent? Persuasion is required in such matters, not constraint.”50

It has been estimated that less than ten percent of all classical literature has survived into the modern era.34 For Latin, the figure is even worse: it is estimated that only one hundredth of all Latin literature remains.35 If this was “preservation”—as it is often claimed to be—then it was astonishingly incompetent. If it was censorship, it was brilliantly effective.

When Julia, the famously racy and beautiful daughter of the emperor Augustus, was asked how, given her many lovers, her children all resembled her husband, she replied that she would “take on a passenger only when the ship’s hold is full.”30

“Quam minimum credula postero”—trust as little as possible in tomorrow—advised the poet Horace, and instead “carpe diem.” Seize the day.32

A monk was toil, said another. All toil. How should a monk live? “Eat straw, wear straw, sleep on straw,” advised another revered saying. “Despise everything.”