Written as a deathbed letter to Marcus Aurelius, “Memoirs of Hadrian” is a poetic and elegiac novel about the life of one of Rome’s “Five Good Emperors”. More interested in the cultural flourishing of his Empire than in adding to it, Hadrian’s life is mostly spent in travels, in exploration and while some armed conflict did mark his reign, it is not what he is remembered for. History knows him more as a philosopher, a moderate ruler who tried his best to preserve peace and who wanted nothing more than to leave an ordered realm to his successor.

Yourcenar focuses mostly on his inner thoughts, and the book can be a bit confusing if one doesn’t have much background information on the history of Hadrian’s reign to put those thoughts in context, and I had to look up things on Wikipedia a few times, as I was more familiar with the history of the Republic and the early years of the Empire than with the middle period. What is striking in her interpretation of Hadrian is his deeply rooted understanding of the temporary state of his Empire, but also of the world. He knew Rome would one day end, just as it had one day began, and chose to focus on using his time as ruler to make it as good as he could.

Having read John Williams’ “Augustus” just not long ago (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1908237482), I was unable to avoid comparing the two works, and I confess a preference for Williams’ work. As beautiful as Yourcenar’s prose is, an as detailed as her story may be, I did not feel as transported by it as I had been by the polyphonic novel about the first Emperor. The period, however, is very interesting, as it is sort of an in-between: the Mystery cults are slowly dying, and while Christianity is gaining momentum, it is still a fringe religion, barely a century old, so there is a sort of spiritual void in Hadrian’s world, which he seeks to fill with poetry, hunting and visiting and restoring as many of the old temples as he can. Yourcenar also chose to focus on a few more nebulous aspects of Hadrian’s life, such as his relationship with Antinous, instead of focusing on the more famous historical events, such as the building on the Wall, which is an interesting exercise in historical speculation, but which I found just a little bit frustrating, as I craved more details about known events – whilst knowing that this was not her goal at all. I think I was craving a bit more emotion, and besides the passages about Antinous’ death, Hadrian as written by Yourcenar is almost always even tempered, which makes for a very interesting story, but not one that gripped me.

That aside, I can’t praise the gorgeous writing enough: the prose is rich and delectable, like a good caramel. As Candi’s review points out so well, it is a book to be savored slowly. And really, when you think about it, it’s the right way to read a man’s reflections on his life, without rushing, noting the flaws but letting them be gently washed over by the flow of words. Bittersweet, philosophical and lush – I will be reading this one again.