Populus: Living and Dying in Ancient Rome

Also by Guy de la Bédoyère

Samian Ware

Finds of Roman Britain

Buildings of Roman Britain

Towns of Roman Britain

Roman Villas and the Countryside

The Writings of John Evelyn

The Diary of John Evelyn

Particular Friends: The Correspondence of Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn

Hadrian’s Wall: A History and Guide

The Golden Age of Roman Britain

The First Polio Vaccine

The Discovery of Penicillin

The First Computers

Battles over Britain: The Archaeology of the Air War

Voices of Imperial Rome

Pottery in Roman Britain

Aviation Archaeology in Britain

Companion to Roman Britain

Eagles over Britannia: The Roman Army in Britain

The Home Front

Gods with Thunderbolts: Religion in Roman Britain

Defying Rome: The Rebels of Roman Britain

Roman Britain: A New History

The Letters of Samuel Pepys

The Romans for Dummies

Cities of Roman Italy

The Real Lives of Roman Britain

Praetorian: The Rise and Fall of Rome’s Imperial Bodyguard

Domina: The Women who Made Imperial Rome

Gladius: The World of the Roman Soldier

Pharaohs of the Sun: How Egypt’s Despots and Dreamers Drove the Rise and Fall of Tutankhamun’s Dynasty

POPULUS

Living and Dying in Ancient Rome

GUY DE LA BÉDOYÈRE

The University of Chicago Press

The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637

© 2024 Guy de la Bédoyère

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact the University of Chicago Press, 1427 E. 60th St., Chicago, IL 60637.

Published 2024

Printed in the United States of America

33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24        1 2 3 4 5

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-83294-4 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-83295-1 (e-book)

DOI: https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226832951.001.0001

First published in the United Kingdom by Abacus, an imprint of Little, Brown Book Group Limited.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: De la Bédoyère, Guy, author.

Title: Populus : living and dying in ancient Rome / Guy de la Bédoyère.

Other titles: Living and dying in ancient Rome

Description: Chicago : The University of Chicago Press, 2024. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2023031775 | ISBN 9780226832944 (cloth) | ISBN 9780226832951 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Rome—Social life and customs. | Rome—Economic conditions. | Rome—Social conditions. | Rome—Intellectual life. | Rome—Religion.

Classification: LCC DG78 .D45 2024 | DDC 937./63—dc23/eng/20230731

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023031775

This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992

(Permanence of Paper).

Rosemariae

coniugi carissimae ob memoriam iuventutis

quam laeti simul perigimus,

et vera incessu patuit dea.

CONTENTS

Foreword and Introduction

1. Cityscape

2. The Roman Mindset

3. Domus et Familia

4. Sex and Passion

5. Cursus Honorum

6. The Frightened City

7. Slaves

8. Splendid Accessories: Freedmen and Freedwomen

9. Dining Out and Eating In

10. Doctors and Disease

11. Enfeebled by Baths

12. Spectacles

13. Animals in Rome

14. Gods, Shrines, and Omens

15. From Rome to Eternity

Epilogue

Appendices

1. Dates

2. Roman Society

3. Sources

4. Visiting the World of Populus

Glossary of Terms

Notes

Abbreviations and Bibliography

Further Reading

Acknowledgements

List of Illustrations

Index

Figure 1: Plan of ancient Rome 1 – Baths of Diocletian; 2 – Pantheon, basilica of Neptune, and Baths of Nero (Field of Mars), with the Theatre of Pompey to the left; 3 – Theatre of Marcellus; 4 – Capitoline Hill; 5 – imperial forums across this valley; 6 – Colosseum; 7 – Baths of Titus (on the site of the Golden House of Nero), and later Baths of Trajan; 8 – Castra Praetoria (Praetorian Camp); 9 – Circus Maximus, overlooked by the Palatine Hill; 10 – Baths of Caracalla; 11 – Monte di Testaccio; 12 – Via Appia (Antica). From W. Ramsay’s Manual of Roman Antiquities, 18th edition 1894.

FOREWORD AND INTRODUCTION

In my opinion, nothing is more satisfying than that people should always want to know what sort of a person a man had been.

Pliny the Elder¹

Just outside the Porta Maggiore in Rome is an incongruous sight. A prominent Roman tomb made in the shape of a stack of bins for kneading dough stands surrounded by modern streets and overhead cables, silent amid the racket from the traffic that churns around it endlessly. This was the burial place of the ashes of a successful freedman (libertus) called Eurysaces who lived in the first century BC. He had a sense of humour. ‘It is obvious this is the tomb of Marcus Vergilius Eurysaces, baker, contractor’, proclaims the inscription.² The tomb is thus an elaborate joke, hence the text and the substitution of dough bins for the usual cremation urns. Apparently not in the least despondent at the thought of his death, Eurysaces had made a small fortune from his nearby bakery business on a state contract for supplying the dole and was keen for everyone to know it for all eternity. The tomb was wedged into what was originally a narrow road junction. It towered over the endless cavalcade of carts, animals and pedestrians that entered and exited the ancient city on either side.

Without his tomb we would know nothing about Eurysaces and his wife Atistia because, not surprisingly, he appears nowhere in any surviving written source from the period. The monument only survived because three centuries later it was built into the tower of a gate on the new walls of Rome raised by the emperor Aurelian (270–5). Eurysaces and Atistia serve as the perfect example of the random record available to us for life for the ordinary people (populus) of ancient Rome. The tomb is a reminder that Rome was once their home, where they worked and lived as man and wife, just as it was for the unknown millions who have left no trace of their lives apart from the wear on coins that passed through their hands and the countless potsherds in the ancient city’s rubbish that underpins modern Rome.

My first visit to Rome was one evening at Easter in 1975. It is impossible to forget turning a corner and seeing for the first time the three surviving columns of the Temple of Castor and Pollux in the Forum dimly lit in the crepuscular gloom of a Roman night, and behind them the huge silhouette of the imperial palaces of the Palatine Hill.

From those halls and vaulted chambers, emperors had ruled, some wisely, others with unspeakable barbarity, some for decades and some for only days or weeks. Few lived to die in their beds. Most were murdered, whether in Rome or in some far-off province, or died in battle. Beyond and all around were other vast edifices from antiquity: among them the Arch of Titus, just beyond it the remains of Vespasian’s Colosseum, and nearby the colossal remnants of Augustus’ Temple of Mars Ultor (the Avenger), built to commemorate his defeat of the tyrannicides who had murdered Julius Caesar.

The most compelling thought was of the Roman people themselves who crowded into the Circus Maximus to cheer for their favourite charioteers, jeered at the defeated gladiators in the Colosseum, jostled, argued, or ‘idled at the forum’ (as Catullus put it), worshipped at the temples, rioted, fought and feuded during elections, and watched as great military triumphs brandished Rome’s spoils, admiring the fruits of Rome’s vicious wars of conquest.³ They had once lived in any one of the innumerable houses and tenement blocks, packed the narrow backstreets and alleys dodging the litters carrying the high and mighty, and gathered in the markets to buy food and other necessities. The real stories of their lives subsist in the written sources, whether the words of the Roman historians and writers or the inscriptions. Although the record is incomplete in so many ways there is no other ancient civilization which has left such a dramatic and vivid written record of the people who lived then.

In our own troubled times, there is something reassuring about discovering how much of the human experience is common to other ages. With the Romans we have an exceptional record that includes not just the deeds and carryings-on of emperors but also the lives of ordinary people. It takes a moment to realize just how unusual this is. There is no comparable archive for the entire medieval period. It is not until early modern times that the survival of tombstones and ephemera in the form of letters and diaries makes it possible once more to become aware of the existence of modest individuals whose lives made no impact on the grand backdrop of history.

There was much about the Roman world that on the face of it seems alien or even horrible to us, especially the extreme brutality of Rome’s wars and mass entertainment, but in so many other ways the Romans were just like us. They had ambitions, families, beliefs, hopes, fears, frustrations, and joy. More than anything else, though, they had an acute sense not only of self but also of their mortality. This is what led so many of them to leave a record of their lives, usually in the form of tombstones or religious dedications and which makes it possible to write a book like this about them.

Some of those whose lives were centred on Rome, especially some of the emperors and the elite, ranged freely around Italy and the Roman Empire. Besides having homes and political or other essential interests in Rome, they often owned country houses and estates, in Campania and the Bay of Naples with its islands like Ischia and Capri. The epicentre of their existences, though, was always in Rome itself, even if they cherished the chance to hide themselves away in what they liked to depict as rural boltholes.

That, of course, begs the question: what did being Roman mean? For those who could trace their ancestry, whether real or imagined, back to the city’s earliest days the answer was obvious. Being ‘Roman’ was also a state of mind that could be acquired to a greater or lesser degree by moving to the city or its orbit. This was especially for those who could claim to be Roman citizens while also proudly clinging on to their regional or provincial identities. There were millions of people who might − and many did − perceive themselves to be ‘Roman’, yet never set foot in Rome or even Italy.

Rome was packed with people from all over the Empire and beyond. They made for a constant procession of visitors, soldiers, chancers, commuters, and rogues frequenting the congested streets, forums, shops, tenements, and townhouses. They even briefly included Cleopatra VII of Egypt, flaunted in Rome by her lover Caesar who bestowed on her ‘high honours and rich gifts’.⁴ For many of these people, living in Rome may only ever have been a fleeting or occasional experience, albeit a powerful and memorable one, while others eked out their entire existence within the city. The focus of this book is what it was like to be Roman in the city of Rome, but this necessarily involves being flexible about where some of the information comes from.

There is a good reason for this. Although the records for life in ancient Rome are remarkably extensive, they are far from comprehensive. This means that we must necessarily draw on evidence from other places in the Roman world to provide us with analogies and supplementary information. The most obvious sources are the Campanian cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, destroyed by Vesuvius in 79. The recovery from both cities of extraordinary quantities of material relating to everyday life in the late first century means they are fundamental to our understanding of the experience of being Roman. It is reasonable to make this assumption, even with the proviso that these places were Italian country towns with different histories from that of Rome, and with their own local traditions. The records of individuals, as well as the physical remains of public buildings, commercial premises, and shops amply demonstrate that life in Pompeii and Herculaneum had become indisputably Roman. There was after all a great deal of traffic of all sorts between both places and Rome. Pompeii and Herculaneum show above all else how being ‘Roman’ often involved the conflation of regional or provincial identities with identifying oneself also as being part of the Roman world.

For the most part this book is concerned with the individual, whatever their station in life. All these people were also affected by ideas and concepts that defined the experience of being Roman and it is essential to look at these as well. Among these was, for example, the nature of how the Romans were ruled. Under the Republic, the Romans were expected to accept that they were being governed by what passed for a form of democracy, with male freeborn Roman citizens voting in their magistrates and being presided over by an elected assembly of elders known as the Senate. There were huge tensions in a system that was riven with corruption and vested interests. The Senate was controlled by a self-serving and wealthy elite. Voting in the late Republic was manipulated by money and violence. Slaves and freedmen had no electoral rights, and women were excluded from the process also. The collapse of the Republic was born out of a catastrophic series of events and degeneration that involved Rome being at the mercy of a succession of generals (known as the imperatores) drawn from the elite who embarked on a series of alliances and feuds that led to the civil wars of the 40s and 30s BC.

The result was the effective end of the Republic and the emergence of Augustus as the first emperor. The Romans now found themselves being ruled by what amounted to a hereditary monarchy but in a system designed to mask that with a pretence that a single man with supreme authority had restored the Republic under his protection (see below, this chapter). The Roman world was characterized by numerous contradictions and twists that at least most people were prepared to accept and live with, rather than endure any more of the violence that had torn the Republic apart.

Therefore, the reader will find, where appropriate, some consideration of these more abstract ideas. Such incongruities, which one might just call ‘fudges’, formed an important part of the Roman mindset because they created the framework in which the Romans lived and affected how they thought and behaved. Our own lives might differ in detail from those of the Romans, but we too live in a ramshackle haze of contradictions and fuzzy detail which define the present time.

The Romans were certainly consumed with a sense of their magnificent success and entitlement. This did not bring any peace of mind, a paradox that was another defining characteristic of their civilization, especially under the emperors. The phenomenal wealth Rome enjoyed caused a moral crisis as the descent into luxury and indulgence seemed to be destroying the qualities that had made Rome great in the first place. A common belief among Rome’s elite, especially the historians drawn from the upper classes, was that Rome’s success had destroyed the idyll of early Roman society, when men of fortitude, modesty and restraint who worked on the land and fought to defend their homes had made Rome great. Some of the elite now looked around at the city and saw an increasingly febrile mob accustomed to extravagant public facilities and state handouts, and an aristocracy ever more interested in unrestrained extravagance and self-indulgence.

The Augustan historian Livy was enslaved to the reactionary notion that the Romans had once been a higher and better people. Rome had become ‘burdened by its magnitude’, he said.⁵ Catullus envied a friend of his called Furius for being too poor to own a slave, a money box, or even a fire because it meant he had nothing to be afraid of or worry about.⁶ A century later the poet Juvenal wrote that ‘profligate Rome sets no end to its extravagance’ and that everything in Rome came at a price.⁷ Even this plaintive Roman navel-gazing has its echoes in our time, an era increasingly hag-ridden by a sense of guilt at our profligacy and wanton waste of resources and privilege.

SOURCES AND HISTORY

This book depends mainly on ancient sources and inscriptions drawn from the last two centuries of the Roman Republic and the first two or three centuries of the emperors. This reflects the material available. It was a period that charted Rome’s emergence as the supreme international power in the Mediterranean world with the defeat of Carthage in the Second Punic War, its acquisition of a vast Empire that reached its greatest extent under Trajan over three centuries later, and then its gradual decline into the chronic instability of the third century AD which followed the death of Commodus in 192 and lasted at least until the accession of Diocletian in 284.

The reader will soon see that this book is by no means limited to that epoch. Other stories and evidence have been drawn from Rome’s earliest days and on into the fourth century AD, a period of around a thousand years. The earlier material was important to the Romans, even if much was imagined and idealized. They constantly looked back to the city’s earliest days for inspiration, admiring Rome’s mythologized heroes and what they imagined was a time when the Roman people maintained higher standards of morality, self-sacrifice, hard work, and self-discipline.

Much historical literature has survived from the latter days of the Republic and from the reign of Augustus to that of Severus Alexander in the early third century. With a few exceptions, later Roman historians leave a great deal to be desired and are lacking in both detail and reliability. Surviving inscriptions belong predominantly to the last century of the Republic and then from Augustus into the first half of the third century AD. Some key sources are far more important than others. Cicero is, for example, the dominant source of information about political events in late Republican Rome, Tacitus for the reigns of Tiberius and parts of the reigns of Claudius and Nero.

No attempt has been made to tackle the material in consistent chronological order. The sources are distributed far too randomly across time to make that sensible or even desirable. The question of dates is discussed below. Livy’s history of Rome, compiled during the reign of Augustus, is a key source for the rise of Rome right up to and through the fall of the Republic but much is lost or only known to us in later summaries. The further back Livy trawled, the more his efforts were compromised by the absence of proper annals and records, and he was aware of this. To make good some of the gaps in Livy, historians have to turn to the works of others such as the Greek historians Polybius and Diodorus Siculus, which are also affected by missing sections.

Tacitus, who wrote around the beginning of the second century, is a superb source for much of the period AD 14–69 but whole sections have been lost, for example his account of the reign of Caligula (37–41). He is unmatched by any other ancient Roman historian but was mainly concerned with great matters of state, the army, and the imperial family. Tacitus knew only too well how unpredictable events impacted on human history. This was what helped provoke his interest in the way his world had been shaped. Eventusque rerum, qui plerumque fortuiti sunt, ‘fate and circumstance are generally due to chance’, he said.⁸ His interest in the emperors and the activities of the elite meant all the rest were largely dismissed as background noise, the vulgus, ‘common people’.⁹ He tells us relatively little about the day-to-day experiences of ordinary life in Rome. Yet it is so often the evidence for their lives that brings us that sense of the common experience of being human.

Tacitus rarely mentions his prime sources, which are not available to us anyway. Suetonius, who wrote only a little later, produced a colourful account of the same period but by using a different device. He composed individual biographies of the dictator Julius Caesar and then the emperors from Augustus to Domitian. They contain gossip alongside important factual accounts of events and help flesh out some of the gaps in Tacitus. Like so much of Roman history they focused on events and personalities in Rome, much from before Tacitus and Suetonius themselves were born. Cassius Dio was in a similar position, apart from the latter sections of his work in which he describes events in the late second and early third centuries that he had often witnessed personally. A contemporary historian for this period, Herodian, often differs in significant detail, thereby calling both into doubt and therefore by implication Tacitus and Suetonius.

For historians like Tacitus and Suetonius, the Empire was the setting in which the emperors and the senatorial class played out their power games, making for a grand drama. Conversely, their contemporaries, the poets Martial and Juvenal, provide us with entertaining and picaresque glimpses of Rome in the late first and early second centuries. They have no equals at any other time. Valerius Maximus, who lived in Tiberius’ reign (14–37), compiled and published numerous ‘memorable deeds and sayings’ of individual Romans and others drawn from other writers, many of whose works are otherwise lost. He arranged them into nine thematic sections, specifically to save readers the time and trouble of tracking them down. The text has survived in full, and it provides us with invaluable information about what the Romans admired, such as valour and moderation. Pliny (Gaius Plinius Secundus) the Elder recorded countless anecdotes and theories in his magisterial Natural History but he died during the eruption of Vesuvius in August 79. No other Roman ever filled his sandals. Third-century and later written sources (apart from Dio, Herodian, and Ammianus Marcellinus) are generally poor and unreliable. This is a particular problem with certain ‘biographies’ of some of the third-century emperors.

We are also fortunate to have some collections of correspondence, most notably the letters of Cicero and then later those of Seneca, and Pliny the Younger, nephew of the Elder. Inevitably, these exceptional windows into life in Rome, Italy, and the provinces feature extensively in this and other books. They illustrate an imbalance in our sources that we can do nothing about, but it is better to celebrate that we have these ones at all. Nonetheless, we cannot be certain that the texts are those of the actual letters sent since in general our texts must derive from retained copies. They may well have been modified for publication, either by the writers or later editors. This is known to have happened, for example, with the letters of Samuel Pepys (1633–1703) when a selection was first published by Richard, Lord Braybrooke, in 1825. Braybrooke silently telescoped or rewrote the texts wherever he thought fit. Comparison with extant original manuscripts makes it possible to prove what he had done; we obviously cannot do this with Roman correspondence.¹⁰ The letter format was also a literary device. When the author retained a copy, its text might have been suitably altered and ‘improved’. In some cases, the letter may never have been sent and instead had been composed purely for the purposes of embellishing the archive.

The inscriptions and graffiti which supply us with the names and careers of ordinary Romans turn up in various places. Some survive in their original location, such as a cemetery, while others are to be found on altars, religious dedications, or in the remains of buildings. Many have been moved from their original locations, perhaps reused as a step in a house, or converted into a drain cover. Often these are the only reasons they have survived. Unless they bear a reference to the consuls of the year, or an emperor, they can usually only be dated by style. This is an unavoidable weakness of the evidence. It means that when looking at life in ancient Rome it means sometimes associating several pieces of information from different sources separated by periods of time equivalent to that separating us from the reign of George III (1760–1820) or more.

Evaluating the reliability of any of our sources is a great challenge, especially when ancient historians report events involving speech. James Boswell (1740–95) was well-known, even notorious, in his lifetime for his journal and records which he kept on a regular basis. He set down in writing numerous episodes and events, his principal focus being the experience of his friendship with Dr Samuel Johnson (1709–84). Boswell was exceptional in his practices and highly skilled at recreating a vivid and dynamic sense of conversations taking place before his eyes and in which he was a participant. He claimed to write down these occasions as soon as possible after they had taken place. His archives acted as the basis of his Life of Johnson, the most celebrated biography in the English language.

Nonetheless, it has always been a matter of debate just how authentic Boswell’s accounts of Johnson’s pronouncements and interactions with others truly are. There is a good case to be made that Boswell recreated these scenes (and they were ‘scenes’, often with stage direction notes) in Johnson’s style, which Boswell was so familiar with that he could do this plausibly. It is impossible to know to what extent the results were more to do with his skills as a writer rather than mere transcriptions. This is despite many of Boswell’s papers and notes being extant, and the biography going through several editions in his lifetime, with numerous revisions.¹¹

When we are dealing with a Roman source recounting an interaction between an ordinary person and an emperor there are no means of knowing whether the tale is fabricated and hearsay, possibly even confusing the emperor involved with another. It may thus be only a pastiche of a real encounter, an authentic anecdote, or often pure invention. None of the necessary records like Boswell’s exists to substantiate such episodes and he, at least, knew his subject personally.

The Romans had an acute sense of what they called their history, though it was a version of events that suited their self-belief, as all national histories usually are. It was by our standards frustratingly lacking in precise detail, especially for the earliest periods, but peoples are defined as much by their foundation myths as by the authentic sequence of events. The absolute ‘truth’ of exactly what happened is therefore impossible to find, but that is no less true of what happened yesterday in London or Washington DC. There is nothing to be gained by complaining about it. The claims and counter claims erupt the moment after the events they purport to describe took place. In a Radio 4 bulletin the BBC’s political editor Chris Mason reported on a meeting that had taken place a short time earlier between the serving British prime minister Rishi Sunak and the former incumbent Boris Johnson. Mason mischievously observed that ‘accounts of the meeting differ considerably’.¹² What chance then of unravelling the truth twenty centuries later? Most of the variant accounts will probably disappear over time leaving at best one, if any, which is then treated as if it is the whole truth and nothing but the truth because the only alternative is to ignore the whole occasion.

The only truth is that it turns out there is and never was an absolute truth on which everyone could have agreed even while whatever-it-was was happening. All one can do, said C.S. Lewis, is ask ‘who influenced the ancient writer, and how far the statement is consistent with what he said in other books, and what phase in the writer’s development, or in the general history of thought, it illustrates, and how it affected later writers, and how often it has been misunderstood’, all the while unable to acknowledge the knotty question of whether any of it was true in the first place.¹³

Those myths therefore tell us at least as much about the culture they belong to as any other source of information, just as the Battle of Britain and the American Revolutionary War now exist in a blur of fact and myth. The Romans, both collectively and individually, perceived and defined themselves as participants in their drama, depicting and describing themselves accordingly.

The same applies to the stories about the early emperors provided by, for example, Suetonius. He told them because they were current in his time and had become familiar tropes in Roman cultural identity. He knew his readers and while he played up to their expectations, he was also preserving for a distant future how rulers like Caligula and Nero were already perceived, rightly or wrongly.

Both these emperors were inextricably linked by Roman historians to scurrilous tales of incest and sexual deviancy, as well as barbarity and cruelty. We cannot now unravel whether there was any truth in these stories. We have no more evidence to support the tales than is available to us to demolish them. It is therefore more useful to us now to understand that the allegations and rumours were important components in Roman popular culture, especially if they emerged many years after the event. They formed essential ingredients in depicting Caligula and Nero as stock tyrants, later joined by others such as Commodus and Elagabalus. Accepting that there is likely to have been some basis in truth in the stories written about them, however little, is not the same as credulously accepting them at face value. Rumours only usually have currency because existing perceptions give them some degree of plausibility. The challenge for us, and it is usually an insurmountable one, is to wrest the truth from the puff. Endlessly nit-picking to question their credibility, however, only makes for a tiresome and tendentious read. It also ultimately negates their value since the only effect is to suggest they are all unreliable, which is neither interesting nor helpful. Of course, the sources still need to be read with a critical eye. I have noted where I think this is of special relevance.

In his celebrated The Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain recounted how in the late 1860s he was shown in the Church of the Holy Tabernacle in Jerusalem what purported to be the grave of Adam. He wryly observed that ‘there is no question that he is actually buried in the tomb which is pointed out as his – there can be none – because it has never yet been proven that the grave is not the grave in which he is buried’.¹⁴ Twain could not have better described the problem that faces all historians, and especially ancient historians. The evidence usually does not exist to resolve beyond doubt many questions, and the result is an endless parade of hypotheses, ranging from the preposterous to the reasonable. They hang on largely because there is usually no conclusive evidence either to substantiate or to refute them. This is no less true of many questions about the Roman Empire and especially those about the true nature of some of the emperors. As ever, the issues usually come down to what people want to believe. In that context the beliefs the Romans held about their leaders are as relevant to our understanding of what it meant to be Roman as any scholarly theory, and perhaps more so.

Roman culture was filled with the idea of stereotypes, just as ours is, though unlike us the Romans had no qualms about pigeonholing people. Nor had they any inhibitions about bigotry and prejudice, especially about foreigners. Bars and taverns, for example, were thus routinely seen as places where all kinds of ne’er-do-wells gathered to get up to mischief. If that evokes a memory in the modern mind of, for example, the famous tavern scene in the movie Star Wars populated by intergalactic freaks and outlaws, then that only brings our own world closer to that of the Romans. Their streetside cookshops and cheap apartment blocks were filled with the flotsam and jetsam of a vast empire.

EMPERORS

The reality about the status of an emperor was submerged beneath a curious collection of Republican magistracies and other honours which were maintained in a remarkable and durable charade (this is discussed in detail in Chapter 2). Rome and its people reigned supreme across much of Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East. This empire had been won by predatory conquest. In the first century AD Roman civilization was advancing remorselessly towards the zenith of its power.

It seems not to have mattered who the emperor was, at least to most of the Roman people, whether they were senators or slaves or anywhere in between, and regardless of where they lived in the Roman Empire. The face of the current incumbent stared out from the coins in their hands, but so did the faces of his predecessors whose money might circulate alongside new issues for generations. Each symbolized the notion of imperial authority vested in a single ruler over whom the average Roman had no power whatsoever unless he or she joined a rabid mob bent on dragging the emperor out of the palace and killing him.

Ordinarily, the machinations and intrigues in the imperial palace made little or no difference to the way most ordinary people lived on a day-to-day basis. The drama of civil wars when rival emperors battled it out could, and did, devastate the communities unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. To almost everyone else such catastrophes were distant curiosities manifested only on the sudden appearance of new coins bearing the name and face of a new emperor. There is some evidence that ordinary Romans took the misbehaviour of their rulers seriously. Taking to the streets was one option but those coins also occasionally served as targets for resentment when, for example, a chisel was taken to a coin portrait of Nero as a means of symbolically killing him.

Nevertheless, ordinary people could and did write to the emperor or addressed him in person at an imperial audience to importune him for some service or concession, such as citizenship for the child of a serving soldier who had formed a relationship with a provincial.

The Roman emperor was thus by comparison with our own time surprisingly accessible. Sometimes ordinary people came across the emperor by chance and took the opportunity to make a request. Hadrian was on a journey once – we do not know where and given his travelling habits it could have been in Italy or anywhere else in the Empire – when a woman spotted him and tried her luck. She had barely started speaking when Hadrian dismissed her with ‘I haven’t time’. He had miscalculated. She fired back with ‘cease, then, being emperor’. A chastened Hadrian dismounted and listened to her, though we do not know what her grievance was.¹⁵ The story is in Cassius Dio, recorded by him at least sixty years after the event. No one has the slightest idea how it was transmitted down through time and whether it was embellished or modified. Many decades earlier, and to his annoyance, Cicero had discovered that certain jokes were being attributed to him that he knew he had never cracked.¹⁶ This is another phenomenon which might be coined as prestige attribution, a process by which an action, comment, or saying is given false authority by attributing it to someone whose reputation enhances its credibility and significance.

DATING ROME

The Romans counted their dates ‘from the foundation of the city’, ab urbe condita, or ‘from the birth of the city’, which corresponds to what we call 753 BC, though they scarcely ever enumerated these dates on coins or monuments.¹⁷ Years were normally distinguished instead in official records by the names of the two consuls elected at the start of each year, the lists of which survive. Emperors listed their titles on coins and inscriptions but did not distinguish them from those that they had held prior to becoming emperor. For example, Domitian held the consulship seven times prior to his accession in 81. Thus, as emperor in the year 84 his coins and inscriptions recorded his tenth consulship (given as COS X), for example. It is the consul lists that have played the largest part in compiling a continuous sequence of years, calibrated in modern times to absolute calendar years by various other factors, such as eclipses recorded by Roman historians. Rome’s second millennium began in what we call the year 248 and was the subject of massive celebrations by Philip I (244–9).

There is thus no doubt that the Romans had calculated a chronology for their history, leaving them with a clear idea of when Rome had come into being, even if the earlier sections were largely fiction with a nominal basis in fact. Rome’s origins were famously modest, beginning as a collection of farming villages on a few low hills on the banks of the River Tiber. At the time the settlements would have seemed unexceptional and insignificant, as indeed they were. A series of unique factors and chance saw them coalesce into a single force that spent generations pursuing territorial and economic feuds against neighbouring communities. This gradually developed over centuries into dominance of Italy and then, most importantly of all, by the end of the third century BC Rome had also defeated Carthage, its greatest rival, in the First and Second Punic Wars. This opened the way to dominance of the whole Mediterranean world.

Roman history stretches from that mythical foundation of Rome in 753 BC right through to the collapse of the Western Empire in the late fifth century AD. The Eastern Empire lasted till the fall of Constantinople in 1453. This was the extraordinary story of how a group of villages by a river in Italy grew into Rome, the most powerful city in the ancient world.

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This book is not a history of ancient Rome. Many excellent books serve that purpose already. It is instead about some of the experiences that were to be had in Rome and of being Roman, from seeing the bodies of criminals and public enemies hurled down from the Capitoline Hill to enjoying the peaceful empty streets of Rome during a few days when it seemed that almost the whole population had taken itself off to watch the chariot races in the Circus Maximus.

Rome was both glamorous and ghastly, a place where phenomenal extravagance was on display alongside the rotting bodies of crucified criminals, where the wealthy loafed on ivory couches at dinner while outside the streets ran with offal and excrement. Samuel Johnson said (or allegedly said) in 1775: ‘I think the full tide of human existence is at Charing Cross.’¹⁸ He was talking about London, of course, but he might as well have been describing the imperial forums in Rome, the Baths of Caracalla, the cookshops and food markets, or the endless stream of traffic that arrived daily up the Via Appia or along the road and river from the port at Ostia.

The satirist Juvenal thought little of historians whom he dismissed as ‘lazy’ or ‘slothful’, disparaging the amount of oil for lamps and time wasted on thousands of pages to no purpose apart from the ruin of historians.¹⁹ Ironic, then, that he and others like him have played such an important role in handing down everyday vignettes of life in the Rome of his time, providing us with the words and colour to populate the empty ruins of a temple in Rome, a street in Pompeii, and a tenement block in Ostia.

The chapters have been compiled on a largely thematic basis. Inevitably there are frequent instances of overlap. Although freedmen are, for example, covered in their own chapter, they pop up in numerous other instances throughout the book, as do the guilds to which so many of them belonged. I make no pretence that the topics and examples in this book could possibly represent a definitive selection and nor could they serve as a comprehensive guide to life in ancient Rome. The quantity of available material, just as with the Roman army in the companion volume Gladius, would make anything more a practical impossibility and sheer folly to attempt it. The choice is personal. For every story, anecdote, or inscription included, many others had to be passed over. The intention is to provide variety and something of the sheer visceral intensity of life in ancient Rome, including what still seems familiar to us as well as the outlandish.

While some records are comprehensive, many others are incidental. Our knowledge of a temple or cult may come only from a single aside in a passage concerned with another topic. Full references are provided for every story, anecdote, and inscription. These are often not considered necessary nowadays for an ancient history book aimed at a wider readership. In such books it seems the reader is expected to accept the modern writer’s authority and reputation as the sole validation of the points made. This creates an unnecessary degree of separation between a modern readership and the Romans. That is a pity. Everyone is entitled to have the opportunity to know where the material in a book such as this has come from and to pursue it if they wish, rather than to be expected to take something for granted, or to have to engage in an interminable search to find it. Moreover, today it is easier than ever before for anyone to consult these sources for themselves online, and every reader interested in pursuing the subject further should do so. Details of how to do so are contained within the Further Reading section.

If I had anything in mind as an inspiration while writing this book, it was the writings of Valerius Maximus and Pliny the Elder (hereafter Pliny). Both men created idiosyncratic anthologies of the Roman world in the first century AD and both texts have come down to us. Valerius Maximus preserved some remarkable stories that would otherwise have been lost. Pliny’s work was called a natural history but was so far-ranging that it amounts more to a vast and almost unlimited literary cabinet of curiosities. Both men drew freely on records available to them across time and space and were unconcerned with chronology or other technical niceties. They had evidently taken enormous delight in their work, enjoying the liberty to allow their curiosity to range freely, and were unencumbered by our modern obsessions with specialisms. Anyone stimulated by this book, or any other book on the subject, to read further about the experience of living in Roman times could do no better than to start with them.

Exploring the Roman world through its sources is also to throw open a window on a complex urban civilization that operated without electricity or true mechanization of any kind. Countless inventions that we use without thinking, from reading glasses to air conditioning and washing machines to pneumatic suspension, were unknown to them. In our own digitized environment, where electricity and machines are ubiquitous and life without either is unthinkable for most of us, it can be sobering to realize how recent and precarious our way of life is. Yet the self-reliant Romans managed to live, work, and play without so much of what we take for granted that it can be almost impossible for us to imagine how they achieved what they did.

History is, if nothing else, a voyage of discovery through the human experience and our own small part in it, ‘figuring the nature of the times deceas’d’.²⁰ The Romans more than any other ancient civilization have influenced and affected our lives indelibly. We use their letters and many of their words, celebrate their greatest achievements while condemning their failings, and look on in awe at the physical remains of their era. Their voices echo through our everyday lives.

Guy de la Bédoyère

Augusta, Western Australia, where apart from final revisions this book was completed in March 2023

NB Dates throughout this book are AD (sometimes given as ce by others) unless otherwise specified as BC (sometimes given as BCE by others). Where appropriate, AD is supplied to avoid doubt.

1

CITYSCAPE

The smoke, the wealth, and the din of Rome.

Horace¹

Rome at its height was the biggest city in the western ancient world. It had a population of around a million at its peak though no records survive to substantiate that claim. The estimate is based on its physical extent when compared to medieval and early modern European cities whose population sizes are known, at least approximately. The true figure may on occasion have been greater, though it is certain that the total fluctuated continuously, depending on circumstances. Ancient Rome was also large compared to cities of the Middle Ages. It was bigger than its own medieval counterpart by a considerable margin. London did not reach a similar size until the eighteenth century, a time when the tumult in its streets and markets gives us something of an idea of how similarly congested, noisy, and vibrant life in Rome must have been. At its greatest extent imperial Rome ranged from 1.8 to 3 miles (3–5 km) across. Today there are still large open areas within that part of the modern city, beneath which lie buried vast tracts of urban archaeology.

This heaving setting included magnificent public buildings like the baths and temples, palatial houses of the rich, festering slums made up of congested apartment blocks, and everything and anything in between. The River Tiber snaked its way through the middle. Up the river came an endless succession of barges bringing in goods from around the Roman world. Down the river floated the sewage that poured in night and day along with the bloated bodies of dead animals and the victims of execution and murder.

For the most part the lives of the Romans, whatever their class, were short and harsh. The mood was always on a knife edge, which was hardly surprising given how many people lived in Rome. There was no sophisticated crowd management or disciplined and organized policing. In a society where fights to the death formed a core part of public entertainment, brutal muggings were endemic, and where masters could beat their slaves to a pulp on a whim, it was hardly surprising that the state authorities used violence to maintain control. The only additional ingredient needed was an arbitrary and unstable emperor who had learned that with a single word anyone who crossed him could be executed, and a moment later be killed himself.

A flashpoint could erupt at the chariot races, a sport that was wildly popular. The crowds who gathered in the Circus Maximus, or another of the stadiums, were already whipped up into a frenzy before they arrived. Tertullian thought the circus the place ‘where frenzy reigns supreme’.² Buoyed up and emboldened, it was common for the spectators to start shrieking at the attending emperors to hand out favours and benefits. On one occasion, the dangerously volatile Caligula (37–41) was confronted by a circus mob screaming at him for taxes to be reduced, he allegedly having taxed everything possible. Caligula grew angry. The crowd shouted louder, and his fury increased. He ordered ‘agents’ (probably members of the Praetorian Guard) to