craven.fr (.ox.ac.uk)

I've written previously about the ways in which Latin and Greek complement each other in traditional classical education. Another interesting parallel exists in the texts that are most often read by students as their first introduction to real classical prose: for Latin, Cæsar's De bello gallico, and for Greek, Xenophon's Ἀνάβασις.

Both texts are chosen by teachers because of their style is clear and direct (and therefore not too confusing for beginners), and because their style and vocabulary are considered exemplary by the standards of classical prose for the two languages.

It is surprising, then, to note that, by pure coincidence and independently of their suitability for education, the books' actual contents are very similar. Both are autobiographical texts, narrated in the third person, about military campaigns that the author took part in. As such, they are edifying reading, both for history—giving the reader a vivid picture of the very different world that people lived in over 2000 years ago, and as guides to leadership: both tales are some of the most inspiring texts in history in this regard, and the simpler world they took place in makes it easy to take lessons from the various leadership techniques and trials that the protagonists went through.

Despite the similarities, though, I think it would be unfair to Cæsar to equate the two. Firstly, the historical impact of Julius Cæsar on world history dwarfs that of Artaxerxes, let alone Xenophon, so the opportunity to hear him in his own words is so much the more valuable. Not only that, but he is the commander in chief of the campaign he narrates from start to finish, while Xenophon only comes to a position of leadership through necessity. And of course, although both outcomes can give instructive lessons, Cæsar was victorious in his conquest of Gaul, while the Anabasis, a story of a successful escape, takes place in the shadow of Cyrus' defeated attempt to overthrow his brother. Cæsar is a genius in terms of leadership and military strategy (as he intends his writings to get across to us), and also in literary terms: his Latin prose really is outstanding, and he probably still holds the literary title for best use of understatement.

Xenophon cannot be put on the same level, in my opinion. In fact I suspect that were I teaching Greek I might use Plato's Apology and Symposium as my baseline texts for Attic prose. (I think it might also be cool to compare and contrast Xenophon's and Plato's Apologies, but I haven't gotten around to doing this yet myself, so I can't vouch for this approach.) They are sublime stylistically without being too difficult, and the lessons they teach are perhaps of greater use to beginning students. The Anabasis is an adventure story, very exciting, to be sure—but you have to be able to read Greek at a certain level for a page-turner to be a page-turner!

That is not to sell the Anabasis short, though. When military campaigns go wrong, as here or in the events recounted in the movie Black Hawk Down, the ensuing story is often more exciting and more replete with heroism than when everything goes according to plan. (Cæsar's victory at Alesia, however, is a fine counterexample.) When I was a beginning student, in both Latin and Greek I skipped over these texts in favour of others that seemed more interesting to me at the time, but now that I've had time to go back to them later in life I really do think that their place at (Cæsar) or near (Xenophon) the beginning of any classicist's reading list is well deserved.