Ancient Rome

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Io Saturnalia! – The Great Festival Through the Eyes of Ancient Romans

Io Saturnalia, Romanophiles!

It’s that time of year again, the time which the Roman poet Catullus referred to as optimo dierum, the ‘best of days’.

From December the 17th to the 23rd, Romans and people across the Empire would celebrate Saturn, the Winter Solstice, and the Unconquerable Sun. It can only be described as a joyous, indulgent carnival atmosphere that involved, eating, drinking, candles, holly, gifts, music, gambling, dressing up (or down!) and more. In fact many of the traditions of Saturnalia have informed our own traditions of Christmastime.

To read all about the specific traditions of Saturnalia, check out the previous post entitled Io Saturnalia! – Celebrating ‘The best of days’ in Ancient Rome by CLICKING HERE.

This year, we’re going to be looking at the festival of Saturnalia from a different angle, that is, through the eyes of ancient writers!

What did Saturnalia mean for people in ancient Rome? Was it like Christmas for us today? Did they look forward it? Did they dread the expense and preparation it required to entertain or put a smile upon the faces of their familiae?

In this brief blog post, we’re going to hear from several ancient authors about what they thought of the various aspects of this ancient and sacred festival…

The Gods Command You to Have a Good Time!

The rule of Saturnus was thought to be a mythological ‘golden age’ for Rome, and this festival harkens back to that. It honours Saturn who was the chthonic (of the earth) Roman god of seed sowing, who was often equated with the Greek god Cronus.

The Greek writer, Lucian of Samosata (c. 125-180 CE), in his dialogue, Saturnalia, relates a conversation between the god Cronus (ie. Saturn) and his priest, in which he declares that people should enjoy themselves during his festival:

Mine is a limited monarchy, you see. To begin with, it only lasts a week; that over, I am a private person, just a man in the street. Secondly, during my week the serious is barred; no business allowed. Drinking and being drunk, noise and games and dice, appointing of kings and feasting of slaves, singing naked, clapping of tremulous hands, an occasional ducking of corked faces in icy water,–such are the functions over which I preside. But the great things, wealth and gold and such, Zeus distributes as he will.

(Lucian, Saturnalia II)

This one paragraph is a wonderful source for us today because it highlights some of the most important traditions and activities of Saturnalia. and if the Gods command it, well, you HAVE to obey!

But Saturnalia was not always seven days in duration. At first, it was only a single day. As it grew in popularity, however, this expanded.

The ancient author Macrobius Theodosius Ambrosius (c. 400 CE), usually referred to simply as Macrobius, wrote what is perhaps the most famous work on this ancient festival. He acknowledges and praises the changes that led to a longer festival:

Long awaited, the seven Saturnalia are now at hand… “Our ancestors instituted many fine customs, and this is the best: from the deepest chill they produced the seven-day Saturnalia.”

(Macrobius, Saturnalia 10.3)

In addition to a lengthy period of merrymaking, just as today, things shut down for a few days. From December 17th, to December 19th, everything closed in Rome. No business was transacted and no war was waged. In a way, everyone was bound by divine decree to enjoy themselves!

Enjoy the Feast!

Just as with our own sacred days, food and eating played a major part in the Saturnalian festivities. The main sacrifice to Saturn consisted of a suckling pig, and this is what most Romans ate, if they could afford it.

The roman authorities also put on public feasts for the people of Rome, so everyone got a chance to enjoy and indulge a little. This convivium publicum was held in the Roman forum and the image of the God Saturn, presided over it.

The famous Roman historian, Titus Livius (c. 64 BCE – 12 CE), wrote about this public feast:

Finally-the month was now December – victims were slain at the temple of Saturn in Rome and a lectisternium was ordered – this time senators administered the rite – and a public feast, and throughout the City for a day and a night “Saturnalia” was cried, and the people were bidden to keep that day as a holiday and observe it in perpetuity.

(Livy, The History of Rome, Book I, XXII – 1.19)

Saturnalia was indeed a time of good will and everyone, rich and poor, master and slave, enjoyed some portion of the festivities.

A Time of Opposites

One thing that was unique to Saturnalia was the encouragement to do the opposite of what was considered normal. Rules were meant to be broken. For example, public gambling was encouraged without risk of punishment, but they did not gamble with coin, but rather, with hazelnuts! Instead of their usual toga or tunic, men wore a brightly coloured garment called a synthesis, and a pointy felt cap called a pileus. Priests at the temples and the paterfamiliae in private homes, who usually made sacrifices with their heads covered, made sacrifices during Saturnalia with their heads uncovered in the ritus Graecus, the ‘Greek fashion’.

Perhaps the most well-known, and looked-forward-to tradition for some, was the role reversal of master and slave. At one point during Saturnalia, the masters prepared and served dinner to their slaves, and gave them presents as well. Macrobius describes this for us:

Meanwhile, the head of the slave household, whose responsibility it was to offer sacrifice to the Penates, to manage the provisions and to direct the activities of the domestic servants, came to tell his master that the household had feasted according to the annual ritual custom. For at this festival, in houses that keep the proper religious usage, they first of all honour the slaves with a dinner prepared as if for the master; and only afterwards is the table set again for the head of the household. So, then, the chief slave came in to announce the time of dinner and to summon the masters to the table.

(Macrobius, Saturnalia, 1.24.22-23)

In the above quote, Macrobius references ‘houses that keep the proper religious usage’, and so, by this reference, one has to infer that there were houses where such traditions were not kept, religious or not. Surely there were houses where the slaves of the familia were treated better than in others? Those slaves whose masters observed the proper traditions of Saturnalia were, no doubt, the envy of others whose masters took a more miserly view of Saturnalia.

It does seem like most masters were happy to honour the tradition of trading places with their slaves for part of the festival, but no doubt some masters had to deal with impertinent slaves as well!

In his Satyricon, Gaius Petronius Arbiter (27-66 CE), often known simply as Petronius, refers to masters having to deal with impudent slaves during a feast, and of giving gifts to slaves:

Taking everything that was said for high praise, the foul slave now drew an earthenware lamp from his bosom, and for more than half an hour mimicked a trumpeter, while Habinnas accompanied him, squeezing his lip down with his fingers. Finally he actually stepped out into the middle of the room, and first imitated a flute player by means of broken reeds; then with riding-cloak and whip, acted the muleteer, till Habinnas called him to his side and kissed him, gave him a drink and cried, “Bravo! Massa, bravo! I’ll give you a pair of boots.”

We should never have seen the end of these tiresome inflictions but for the extra-course now coming in,- thrushes of pastry, stuffed with raisins and walnuts, followed by quinces stuck over with thorns, to represent sea-urchins. This would have been intolerable enough, had it not been for a still more outlandish dish, such a horrible concoction, we would rather have died than touch it. Directly it was on the table,- to all appearance a fatted goose, with fish and fowl of all kinds round it. “Friends,” cried Trimalchio, “every single thing you see on that dish is made out of one substance.” With my wonted perspicacity, I instantly guessed its nature, and said, giving Agamemnon a look, “For my own part, I shall be greatly surprised, if it is not all made of filth, or at any rate mud. When I was in Rome at the Saturnalia, I saw some sham eatables of the same sort.” I had not done speaking when Trimalchio explained, “As I hope to grow a bigger man,- in fortune I mean, not fat,- I declare my cook made it every bit out of a pig. Never was a more invaluable fellow! Give the word, he’ll make you a fish of the paunch, a wood-pigeon of the lard, a turtle-dove of the forehand, and a hen of the hind leg! And that’s why I very cleverly gave him such a fine and fitting name as Daedalus. And because he’s such a good servant, I brought him a present from Rome, a set of knives of Noric steel.” These he immediately ordered to be brought, and examined and admired them, even allowing us to try their edge on our cheeks.

(Petronius, Satyricon LXIX)

One imagines that a master could, when in company, be embarrassed by his slaves’ behaviour as is so hilariously portrayed by Petronius above. Though the feast of Trimalchio in Satyricon is not a Saturnalia feast, it carries many similarities, as well as a reference to the sacred festival.

But it was not only slaves who sought to call upon Saturnalia for better treatment from their masters. Cassius Dio, in The Roman History, relays how the troops in Britannia, under the command of Aulus Plautius, invoke Saturnalia when they are most upset with their commander:

While these events were happening in the city, Aulus Plautius, a senator of great renown, made a campaign against Britain; for a certain Bericus, who had been driven out of the island as a result of an uprising, had persuaded Claudius to send a force thither. Thus it came about that Plautius undertook this campaign; but he had difficulty in inducing his army to advance beyond Gaul. For the soldiers were indignant at the thought of carrying on a campaign outside the limits of the known world, and would not yield him obedience until Narcissus, who had been sent out by Claudius, mounted the tribunal of Plautius and attempted to address them. Then they became much angrier at this and would not allow Narcissus to say a word, but suddenly shouted with one accord the well-known cry, “Io Saturnalia” (for at the festival of Saturn the slaves don their masters’ dress and old festival), and at once right willingly followed Plautius…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History LX 19)

A Time of Gift-Giving

December the 19th, the third day of Saturnalia, was the all-important day of the sigillaria. Sigillaria were gifts that were given to family members, to friends, guests, and even to slaves.

Just as today at Christmas, gifts given at Saturnalia varied widely and in accordance with one’s budget and social status. The poet Marcus Varlerius Matialis (c. 38-102 CE), known as Martial, wrote about the giving of gifts at Saturnalia:

Now, while the knights and the lordly senators delight in the festive robe, and the cap of liberty is assumed by our Jupiter; and while the slave, as he rattles the dice-box, has no fear of the Aedile, seeing that the ponds are so nearly frozen, learn alternately what is allotted to the rich and to the poor. Let each make suitable presents to his friends. That these contributions of mine are follies and trifles, and even worse, who does not know? or who denies what is so evident? But what can I do better, Saturn, on these days of pleasure, which your son himself has consecrated to you in compensation for the heaven from which he ejected you? Would you have me write of Thebes, or of Troy, or of the crimes of Mycenae? You reply, “Play with nuts. But I don’t want to waste even nuts. Reader, you may finish this book wherever you please, every subject is completed in a couple of lines.

(Martial, Epigrams XIV)

Martial seems to have especially enjoyed the gift-giving aspect of Saturnalia, for his works, Xenia, and Apophoreta, were apparently given as gifts during this ancient festival. In his Epigrams, he also gives a long list of gifts that are suitable for Saturnalia, and there is something to fit every budget.

Some of the possible gifts for guests at feasts which Martial lists include tablets (of wood or ivory); coffers (wood to hold silver, ivory to hold gold); a dice box; a gaming table; a pen case; toothpicks; ear picks; hair pins; combs; balls; hats; knives; spears; a sword and belt; a dagger; a bookcase; bundles of reed pens; candles (cerei); candlesticks; games; balls; dumbbells; leather caps; strigils; flasks; horse whips; reed pipes; slippers; pigs; various birds; vases; cups; furniture etc. etc.

Cut Out That Racket!

Not everyone enjoyed Saturnalia, however, and just as many may not look forward to the holidays today, so too did some Romans dread the advent of Saturn’s festival.

How many of us, when caught up in the chaos of entertaining and large family gatherings (before our modern plague, that is), longed for some quiet time to catch our breath? The introverts among us especially need occasion to recharge before heading back into the partying throng, no?

It was the same for the Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (c. 61-113 CE), Pliny the Younger, who relayed his need to escape the festivities:

Adjoining it is an ante-room and a chamber projected towards the sun, which the latter room catches immediately upon his rising, and retains his rays beyond mid-day though they fall aslant upon it. When I betake myself into this sitting-room, I seem to be quite away even from my villa, and I find it delightful to sit there, especially during the Saturnalia, when all the rest of the house rings with the merriment and shouts of the festival-makers; for then I do not interfere with their amusements, and they do not distract me from my studies.

(Pliny the Younger, Epistles II.17.24)

Pliny doesn’t seem to want to be a party-pooper, and so kindly withdraws to allow his guests to carry on with their revelry. 

However, not everyone would have been so kind.

Enter Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c. 4-65 CE), the Scrooge of his age, it seems, for he paints a dire and distasteful picture of the Saturnalian revels going on around him:

It is the month of December, and yet the city is at this very moment in a sweat. Licence is given to the general merrymaking. Everything resounds with mighty preparations, – as if the Saturnalia differed at all from the usual business day! So true it is that the difference is nil, that I regard as correct the remark of the man who said: “Once December was a month; now it is a year.”

If I had you with me, I should be glad to consult you and find out what you think should be done, – whether we ought to make no change in our daily routine, or whether, in order not to be out of sympathy with the ways of the public, we should dine in gayer fashion and doff the toga. As it is now, we Romans have changed our dress for the sake of pleasure and holiday-making, though in former times that was only customary when the State was disturbed and had fallen on evil days. I am sure that, if I know you aright, playing the part of an umpire you would have wished that we should be neither like the liberty-capped throng in all ways, nor in all ways unlike them; unless, perhaps, this is just the season when we ought to lay down the law to the soul, and bid it be alone in refraining from pleasures just when the whole mob has let itself go in pleasures; for this is the surest proof which a man can get of his own constancy, if he neither seeks the things which are seductive and allure him to luxury, nor is led into them. It shows much more courage to remain dry and sober when the mob is drunk and vomiting; but it shows greater self-control to refuse to withdraw oneself and to do what the crowd does, but in a different way, – thus neither making oneself conspicuous nor becoming one of the crowd. For one may keep holiday without extravagance.

(Seneca, Epistles XVIII, Letters to Lucilius)

A Time of Hope

Even though some people, like Seneca, seemed to dread the coming of Saturnalia, for most it was a time of hope and celebration, a time to honour Saturn and each other, and to celebrate the Solstice and the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, the birthday of the Unconquerable Sun.

It was something to look forward to at the darkest time of year.

Perhaps not that much changes? In the West, many of us look forward to December and the celebrations that do stretch on for some time.

The Greco-Roman poet, Publius Papinius Statius (c. 45-96 CE), in one of his poems, relates the feelings of hope and joy which many must have felt with the coming of December:

Mighty Apollo, and stern Pallas

And you Muses, away and play!

We’ll recall you on Janus’ Kalends.

Let unchained Saturn join with me,

And December soaked with wine,

Smiling Humour and wanton Jest,

While of happy Caesar’s joyous

Day I tell, and of tipsy feasting.

Scarce had Aurora brought the dawn,

And already good things rained down:

These the dews the easterly sprinkled:

Whichever are best of Pontic nuts,

And dates from Idume’s fertile hills,

And plums pious Damascus grows,

And figs Ebusos and Caunos ripen,

Freely the lavish spoils descend.

And pastries and ‘little Gaiuses’

Ameria’s un-dried apples and pears,

Spiced cakes and ripened dates,

Shower from an unseen palm.

Not stormy Hyas drenches Earth

Nor the Pleiades with such showers

As rattled down on the Latian theatre

Like bursts of hail from a clear sky.

Let Jupiter cloud the whole world

Threaten to deluge the open fields,

So long as our Jove brings such rain.

Look, along the aisles comes another

Crowd, handsome and finely dressed,

No less in number than those seated!

These bring bread-baskets and white

Napkins, and elegant delicacies to eat,

Those pour out mellow wine freely:

So many cupbearers down from Ida.

The fourteen rows, now virtuous, sober,

Are fed, with the people wearing gowns;

And since you nourish so many, Lord,

Annona, the price of corn’s, outweighed.

Ages, compare now, if it’s your wish,

Old Saturn’s centuries, golden days:

Never flowed wine so, even then,

Nor did harvest anticipate new year.

Every order eats here at the one table:

Women, children, knights, plebs, Senate:

Freedom has set aside reverence.

Why you yourself (which of the gods

Issues and accepts his own invitation?)

Have come to the feast along with us.

Now all, now whoever, rich or poor

Can boast of dining with our leader.

Amid the din, and rich novelties,

The pleasant spectacle flickers by.

The unskilled sex, unused to swords,

Take position in warlike combat.

They seem like troops of Amazons

In heat, by Tanais or wild Phasis.

Here’s a line of audacious midgets,

Whom Nature suddenly left off making,

And tied forever in spherical knots.

They deal wounds and ply their fists

And threaten each other with death!

Mars and blood-stained Courage laugh

While cranes swoop at their errant prey

Wondering at their pigmy pugnacity.

Now as the shades of night gather,

A scattering of riches provokes tumult!

The girls enter, now readily bought,

Here’s whatever delights the stalls,

Pleasing forms, or established skill.

Here, the fat Lydian ladies applaud,

There are cymbals, jingling Spaniards,

And there, the troops of noisy Syrians.

Here’s the theatre-mob, and those who

Barter common sulphur for broken glass.

Meanwhile vast flocks of birds suddenly

Swoop like clouds from among the stars,

Flamingos, pheasants and guinea fowl,

That Nile, Phasis and Numidia capture.

Too many to seize; the folds of gowns

Are happily filled with new-won prizes.

Countless voices, that rise to the stars,

Proclaim the Emperor’s Saturnalia,

Acclaim him leader with fond applause.

Here’s the only licence Caesar banned:

Barely had darkness cloaked the world,

When a fiery ball from the arena’s midst

Shone as it rose through the dense gloom,

Exceeding the light of the Cretan crown.

The sky was bright with flame, permitting

No licence at all to night’s dark shadows.

At the sight of it, idle Silence and Sleep

Must take themselves off to other cities.

Who could sing the free jests, the shows,

The banquets, the home-grown foodstuffs,

Those lavishly flowing rivers of wine?

Now my strength ebbs, and your liquor

Drags me tipsily towards needful slumber.

To what distant ages shall this day travel?

Sacred, undiminished, through the years.

Whilst Latium’s hills, by Father Tiber,

And Rome, still stand, and its Capitol,

That you restore to Earth: it shall remain.

(Statius, Silvae 1.6)

I do love this poem by Statius, for it seems to envelop all the religious beliefs, traditions, chaos and revelry of Saturnalia. It paints of picture of life in ancient Rome like no other.

It may not have been enjoyed by all, but it was, perhaps, the most universally celebrated festival across all classes of Romans, something to be looked forward to and shared, something to be honoured.

And with that, I say to you, dear reader, Io Saturnalia!

I hope you enjoyed this post about what ancient Romans thought of Saturnalia.

This ancient festival is a wonderful subject to research and write about, for it brings the world of ancient Rome to colourful and vivid life!

If you would like to experience ancient Rome during Saturnalia, you will want to check out Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome. 

Many of the sources mentioned above helped to inform the research for this book which is also a sort of homage to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and our own holiday traditions.

You can get Saturnalia from all major bookstores and on-line retailers in e-book or paperback, from your local public library through OverDrive, as well as directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

For a taste of the book, see the video below in which I read an excerpt.

From all of us at Eagles and Dragons Publishing, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Solstice, and Io Saturnalia!

 

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Mythologia: Exploring the World of Gods, Goddesses and Heroes

Greetings Readers and History-Lovers!

After a long Summer break, we’re finally back on the blog to bring you more entertaining information, topics of conversation and, of course, more books!

I hope that this post finds you all happy and safe, despite the ongoing crises plaguing our world.

During the past several months, I’ve been busy delving into worlds of gods, goddesses and heroes. What better way to get a respite from the modern world and its troubles than to explore Greek and Roman mythology?

And what an escape it has been! 

I’ve always enjoyed mythology, and as I’ve grown older and begun to write my own stories, I’ve realized that it would be wonderful to retell many of these fabulous myths in a way that would allow us to get to know these gods, goddesses, and heroes on a more personal level. 

The goal with the Mythologia series from Eagles and Dragons Publishing is to re-create a mythical world in which the reader can suspend all disbelief and experience these epic tales in a new and exciting way, right alongside the immortals and demigods whom we have read and heard about for ages. 

This series is also a lot of fun for me to write, because anything goes. I don’t need to be constrained by historical timelines or detail as much as with other series, though I always make an effort to set the stories in their known, geographical locations. You can’t keep a good historian down! I get ideas from the seeds and scattered mentions by ancient authors in various texts, and then let my imagination run wild.

The Council of the Gods by Raphael, c.1517, Villa Farnesina, Rome

Why mythology, and why now?

That’s a tricky question. I suppose that in the last year, during this modern plague, I’ve found comfort in mythology, a resonance in the stories that has helped me to get through in some way.

This series was always intended to be an escape, an exercise in the suspension of disbelief. This past year seemed like the perfect time for that.

However, it is also worth mentioning that even though myth is comprised mostly of stories of gods, goddesses, and heroes, those stories deal with very human feelings and trials which we all face in one form or another. They are stories of love and loss, of hope and of deep fear. They are stories of jealousy, of curiosity, of wanting to belong and of wanting to be better than ourselves.

The Gods know we’ve all faced our share of challenges in the last year and a half or so. That is part of the reason for which I have gone back to the Mythologia series. It has comforted and inspired me.

I also just love mythology as a religious and storytelling tradition that has spanned ancient Greek and Roman culture. It’s the very foundation of epic storytelling in the West.

The Mythologia series can be read in any order, but the first book, Chariot of the Son, deals with the Phaethon myth.

The Fall of Phaethon (Sebastiano Ricci 1659-1734)

He [Zeus] recalled the Fate [Moira] foretold a time when sea and land and heaven’s high palaces in sweeping flames should burn, and down should fall the beleaguered bastions of the universe.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses 1. 252)

Why the Phaethon myth?

I forget what I was researching at the time, but I came across a description of one version of the tale and remember being really saddened by it. I felt strongly that this was a story that I could tell, a story that would be extremely moving for readers of all ages. 

There are a few versions of the Phaethon myth, including Hesiod’s Theogeny of the 8th or 7th century B.C., and versions by Apollodorus and Pausanias in the second century A.D. In these, Phaethon is often the son of Eos and Kephalos.

The version that touched me the most is by the Roman poet Ovid (43 BC – AD 17/18) from Book II of his work, Metamorphoses. This work is a continuous narrative of myths in fifteen books which has shaped much of our view of mythology to this day.

You can download a free version of Ovid’s Metamorphoses on the Project Gutenberg website HERE.

With Chariot of the Son, I wanted get to know the people who, unbeknownst to Phaethon, make up the family – Clymene and Helios, his parents, an Oceanid and a Titan; his sisters, the Heliades; the Titan Prometheus, and others.

Also, knowing that the story has a tragic end, I wanted to get inside this young god’s heart and mind to try and experience the reasons why he wanted so much to drive the Sun’s chariot across the heavens. 

As I thought about his burning chariot and the scorching of the world that created the Sahara desert, it occurred to me that this story has some very human themes such as wanting to belong, the need for love and approval, and the urge to prove oneself.

It is also a myth that is not often explored, and so I set out to tell it as I saw it. I hope I have done this tragic tale justice.

We are, after all, reminded of Helios and Phaethon when we look up at the sun in the daytime sky, or see a picture of the burning expanse of the Sahara desert.

The Sahara Desert – Created by the burning of the world when Phaethon drove his father’s chariot

Perhaps what I love most about the myths is that they enable us to feel and see our world and history with wonder, and that is a precious thing.

I love this book and writing it was, quite literally, a dream-like experience.

Stepping into such an ancient world where these mythic characters experience things on a very human scale has been a wonderful experience that I hope you will enjoy.

Though the books in the Mythologia series are labelled in a specific order, they can all be read individually as stand-alone stories.

Chariot of the Son is, of course, the first book in the Mythologia series, and it is available for 0.99.

Just go to the book’s page on the website HERE. You can also go to the Buy Direct page on the Eagles and Dragons Publishing website to get your copy.

Stay tuned for the next post on Greek mythology in which we will take a brief look at the myth of Pelops and Hippodameia.

Thank you for reading.

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The World of The Blood Road – Part VI – Pastoral Idyll: A Brief Look at Roman Etruria

Salvete Romanophiles!

Welcome back to The World of The Blood Road!

If you missed Part V in the this blog series, in which we looked briefly at the history of Carthago Nova, you can read about it right HERE.

Today, in Part VI, we’re going to be taking a look a region that has a very ancient history, but that also means a lot to me personally. We’re going to be taking a brief look at Roman Etruria, the place most know today as Tuscany. I hope you enjoy…

Today, when one thinks of Tuscany, one inevitably has a picture of an idyllic pastoral setting dotted with vineyards overlooked by fortified medieval farmhouses, and medieval cities adorned with some of the greatest examples of western art that we can imagine. The Renaissance is often the age we conjure when we think of Tuscany. I know I do!

I love Tuscany. I’ve visited there for pleasure and research, and it is always on my list of places to return to. You can read one of my posts about visiting Tuscany by CLICKING HERE.

There is no doubt at all that Tuscany is extremely rich in history, but that history is not exclusively Medieval. On the contrary, the history of Tuscany goes much farther back than the Middle Ages and the era of the Medici.

Etruscan funerary monument with man and woman dining together

Of course, the name of Tuscany comes from the Etruscans, those people who inhabited that beautiful land and from which the kings of Rome originated. Etruscan culture and religion was extremely rich, and it is the Etruscans who were largely responsible for the import of Greek culture and religion to Italy, including wine making and olive growing.

But we’re not here to talk about the Etruscans today. If you would like to read about the Etruscans, I urge you to read my previous post on The Elusive Etruscans HERE.

Today we’re going to be taking a brief look at Etruria during the Roman period. What was Roman Etruria like? What role did it play in the broader Italian peninsula and the Empire itself?

Ancient Etruria (Wikimedia Commons)

During the period of Etruscan hegemony, the cities of Tuscany with which we are familiar today were not necessarily the primary settlements. The settlements of Veia (Veii), Velsna (Volsinii), Tarchina (Tarquinii), Perusana (Perusia), Aritium (Aretium), Clusium (Cortona) and a few others were more active.

The settlements that tourists are attracted to today, such as Florentia (Florence), Luca (Lucca), Pisae, and Saena Iulia (Siena) thrived more under the Romans, and then reached their peaks during the Middle Ages. To read about the origins of Roman Florence, CLICK HERE.

If you can ignore some of the ‘modern’ architecture and passing cars of today’s Tuscany, however, you can catch a glimpse of what ancient Etruria was like. It was, of course, a place rich in art and religion under the Etruscans, but after the fall of the kings especially, Rome began to put its mark on Etruria.

Vineyards in Tuscany

Roman roads such as the via Aurelia, the via Clodia, the via Cassia, and the via Flaminia were extended through the land, aqueducts and sewers were built, and there were more public and private construction projects.

Etruscan culture was not, however, erased by Rome. It was assimilated and adopted, especially when it came to religious arts such as augury and haruspicy. Haruspicy, the art of divining the will of the Gods through the examination of entrails after sacrifices (ex. the liver), and the reading of omens, prodigies and portents was a uniquely Etruscan skill that was adopted by Rome. Both the Senate and the army used haruspices who were trained in Etruria.

Etruscan bronze liver that may have served as an instructional model for a haruspex (Wikimedia Commons)

When it came to Roman Etruria though, agriculture was the order of the day, not only as a means of food production, but also as a civilized pastime for the Roman elite.

Roman Etruria was by and large a villa economy of latifundia, agricultural estates, of which the villas were the centre.

But the Romans considered farming not only as a means for income and food production, but also as a civilized retreat from the stresses of life too. Writers such as Cato the Elder, Varro and Columella write extensively about the agricultural life.

There was a certain moral superiority in farming, with a stress on learning and proper estate management.

One who devotes himself to agriculture should understand that he must call to his assistance these most fundamental resources: knowledge of the subject, means for defraying the expenses, and the will to do the work. For in the end, as Tremelius remarks, he will have the best-tilled lands who has the knowledge, the wherewithal, and the will to cultivate them. For the knowledge and willingness will not suffice anyone without the means which the tasks require; on the other hand, the will to do or the ability to make the outlay will be of no use without knowledge of the art, since the main thing in every enterprise is to know what has to be done — and especially so in agriculture, where willingness and means, without knowledge, frequently bring great loss to owners when work which has been done in ignorance brings to naught the expense incurred. Accordingly, an attentive head of a household, whose heart is set on pursuing a sure method of increasing his fortune from the tillage of his land, will take especial pains to consult on every point the most experienced farmers of his own time; he should study zealously the manuals of the ancients, gauging the opinions and teachings of each of them, to see whether the records handed down by his forefathers are suited in their entirety to the husbandry of his day or are out of keeping in some respects.

(Columella, De Re Rustica, 1.1)

Mosaic depicting Roman country life and activities.

When we think of Tuscany today, one of the first things that comes to mind is wine. Chianti is certainly my favourite nectar! The wine trade in Etruria was begun by the Etruscans through their contact with the Greeks in about the 6th century B.C., but during the Roman period, Etrurian wine was imported throughout the Empire.

This wine trade was eventually overtaken by production in Hispania and Gaul in the 1st century B.C. but wine production did continue as an important part of the villa economy in Etruria.

The other main crops in Roman Etruria were olives and olive oil production, which continues to this day in the region, alongside wine-making. 

The villa rustica was at the heart of this world, and even as you drive around today, you will see villas and farmhouses at the centre of grape and  olive crops amongst those unmistakable Tuscan hills.

Tuscan farm

Other activities on latifundia were the rearing of various poultry, bees, boar, fruit trees which required a knowledge of grafting, fresh water fish ponds, hare warrens, and even such things as that most Roman of delicacies, dormice.

Farming was socially acceptable to elite Romans, but it was also frowned upon to have a lavish villa that did not produce. It was considered poor form to neglect agriculture. Cato the Elder certainly had his opinions about what constituted a good estate:

When you are thinking of acquiring a farm, keep in mind these points: that you be not over-eager in buying nor spare your pains in examining, and that you consider it not sufficient to go over it once. However often you go, a good piece of land will please you more at each visit. Notice how the neighbours keep up their places; if the district is good, they should be well kept. Go in and keep your eyes open, so that you may be able to find your way out. It should have a good climate, not subject to storms; the soil should be good, and naturally strong. If possible, it should lie at the foot of a mountain and face south; the situation should be healthful, there should be a good supply of labourers, it should be well watered, and near it there should be a flourishing town, or the sea, or a navigable stream, or a good and much travelled road. It should lie among those farms which do not often change owners; where those who have sold farms are sorry to have done so. It should be well furnished with buildings. Do not be hasty in despising the methods of management adopted by others. It will be better to purchase from an owner who is a good farmer and a good builder. When you reach the steading, observe whether there are numerous oil presses and wine vats; if there are not, you may infer that the amount of the yield is in proportion. The farm should be one of no great equipment, but should be well situated. See that it be equipped as economically as possible, and that the land be not extravagant. Remember that a farm is like a man — however great the income, if there is extravagance but little is left. If you ask me what is the best kind of farm, I should say: a hundred iugera of land, comprising all sorts of soils, and in a good situation; a vineyard comes first if it produces bountifully wine of a good quality; second, a watered garden; third, an osier-bed; fourth, an oliveyard; fifth, a meadow; sixth, grain land; seventh, a wood lot; eighth, an arbustum; ninth, a mast grove.

(Cato the Elder, De Agricultura, Book I)

The Villa Poppaea is an ancient luxurious Roman seaside villa (villa maritima) near Naples. (Wikimedia Commons)

Villa rusticae with successful and efficient farming production were considered appropriate and the most profitable in Roman Etruria, but we must also remember that Etruria had a long coastline.

Apart from the villa rustica, the villa maritima also played a role in the Etrurian economy. The primary focus of these estates was fish breeding, though this was not as prestigious a past-time as farming to some Romans.

Though Roman Etruria did have larger settlements such as Florentia, Veii, Volterrae and Clusium, the overall picture we have of Roman Etruria is one of agriculture, much as it is to this day. As the empire expanded, Etrurian production of things such as wine and oil would have been overtaken by other provinces, but it would still would have been a place where elite Romans escaped the trials of life, but also enabled them to make an income from their lands, that is, if they ran them well.

If you are familiar with the Eagles and Dragons series, you will recognize the Metellus family villa in Etruria as a villa rustica, handed down from one generation to the next. It makes an appearance in The Blood Road.

Early sketch of the Metellus villa in the Eagles and Dragons series. An example of a ‘villa rustica’.

The fictional Metellus villa came about as an amalgam of various sites I’ve visited in Tuscany over the years, and each time I’ve returned to it in fiction, I feel a familiar sense of awe at the beauty of that ancient landscape. It is quite unlike anywhere else in the world.

In a way, despite the changes in architecture and technology, Tuscany today is not too dissimilar to the Etruria of yesterday. You just need to know where to look.

Stay tuned for Part VII in The World of The Blood Road when we will be journeying to Delphi for a visit with the oracle of the god Apollo.

Thank you for reading.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

 

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The World of The Blood Road – Part V – Carthago Nova: From Punic Outpost to Center of Roman Trade

Salvete history-lovers!

We’re at the half-way point in this blog series about The World of The Blood Road. I hope you’ve enjoyed it thus far. A lot of research goes into every Eagles and Dragons novel, and I’m thrilled to share it with you!

If you missed Part IV on the Praetorian Guard and the Castra Praetoria at Rome, you can read that post by CLICKING HERE.

Roman Spain, with Carthago Nova at the bottom right, on the Mediterranean coast

In Part V of this blog series we’re going to be taking a look at one of the locations visited by the main characters: the Iberian city of Carthago Nova, or, ‘New Carthage’.

One of the joys of writing historical fiction in the Roman Empire is that you have myriad options for setting open to you. The Roman world was vast and varied. It never gets boring. Like the people inhabiting it, the terrain and settlements are all different. The Roman Empire is perhaps the most diverse, multi-cultural civilization in ancient human history.

Carthago Nova, modern Cartagena in southern Spain, is no exception, and its history and development are fascinating. In this post, we’re going to take a very brief look at this ancient settlement.

Remains of Punic walls of Qart Hadasht

It [Carthago Nova] stands about half-way down the coast of Iberia in a gulf which faces south-west, running about twenty stades inland, and about ten stades broad at its entrance. The whole gulf is made a harbour by the fact that an island lies at its mouth and thus makes the entrance channels on each side of it exceedingly narrow. It breaks the force of the waves also, and the whole gulf has thus smooth water, except when south-west winds setting down the two channels raise a surf: with all other winds it is perfectly calm, from being so nearly landlocked. In the recess of the gulf a mountain juts out in the form of a chersonese, and it is on this mountain that the city stands, surrounded by the sea on the east and south, and on the west by a lagoon extending so far northward that the remaining space to the sea on the other side, to connect it with the continent, is not more than two stades. The city itself has a deep depression in its centre, presenting on its south side a level approach from the sea; while the rest of it is hemmed in by hills, two of them mountainous and rough, three others much lower, but rocky and difficult of ascent; the largest of which lies on the east of the town running out into the sea, on which stands a temple of Asclepius. Exactly opposite this lies the western mountain in a closely-corresponding position, on which a palace had been erected at great cost, which it is said was built by Hasdrubal when he was aiming at establishing royal power. The remaining three lesser elevations bound it on the north, of which the westernmost is called the hill of Hephaestus, the next to it that of Aletes,—who is believed to have attained divine honours from having been the discoverer of the silver mines,—and the third is called the hill of Cronus. The lagoon has been connected with the adjoining sea artificially for the sake of the maritime folk; and over the channel thus cut between it and the sea a bridge has been built, for beasts of burden and carts to bring in provisions from the country.

(Polybius, Histories, 10.10)

Coin showing image of Hasdrubal the Fair

Originally, Carthago Nova, which is its later Roman name, may have been a Phoenician trading centre named ‘Mastia’. However, the settlement really took off and began to flourish under Carthage as Qart Hadasht (meaning ‘New City’) which was founded by the Carthaginian general Hasdrubal the Fair, the son-in-law of Hamilcar Barca, in 228 B.C.

After Carthage took the Iberian peninsula, Qart Hadasht became the seat of Punic power there. It thrived as a trade centre, but also as a supply station and base of operations from which, during the Second Punic War, Hannibal would strike out for northern Italy.

Qart Hadasht thrived because of trade, the excellent port, and the nearby silver mines. But success was a double-edged gladius. All the success the city enjoyed angered other trading centres, especially Massilia, an allied Roman city.

And Massilia complained to Rome.

Bust of Scipio Africanus

By the time the second Punic war came about, Rome was taking a closer look at the problem of Qart Hadasht. Actually, it was one Roman in particular: Publius Cornelius Scipio.

He [Scipio] therefore rejected that idea altogether: but being informed that New Carthage was the most important source of supplies to the enemy and of damage to the Romans in the present war, he had taken the trouble to make minute inquiries about it during the winter from those who were well informed. He learnt that it was nearly the only town in Iberia which possessed a harbour suitable for a fleet and naval force; that it lay very conveniently for the Carthaginians to make the sea passage from Libya; that they in fact had the bulk of their money and war material in it, as well as their hostages from the whole of Iberia; that, most important of all, the number of fighting men garrisoning the citadel only amounted to a thousand,—because no one would ever suppose that, while the Carthaginians commanded nearly the whole of Iberia, any one would conceive the idea of assaulting this town; that the other inhabitants were exceedingly numerous, but all consisted of craftsmen, mechanics, and fisher-folk, as far as possible removed from any knowledge of warfare. All this he regarded as being fatal to the town, in case of the sudden appearance of an enemy. Nor did he moreover fail to acquaint himself with the topography of New Carthage, or the nature of its defences, or the lie of the lagoon: but by means of certain fishermen who had worked there he had ascertained that the lagoon was quite shallow and fordable at most points; and that, generally speaking, the water ebbed every day towards evening sufficiently to secure this. These considerations convinced him that, if he could accomplish his purpose, he would not only damage his opponents, but gain a considerable advantage for himself; and that, if on the other hand he failed in effecting it, he would yet be able to secure the safety of his men owing to his command of the sea, provided he had once made his camp secure,—and this was easy, because of the wide dispersion of the enemy’s forces. He had therefore, during his residence in winter quarters, devoted himself to preparing for this operation to the exclusion of every other: and in spite of the magnitude of the idea which he had conceived, and in spite of his youth…

(Polybius, Histories, 10.8)

As we know, Scipio (later known as ‘Africanus’ after his victory over Hannibal), was a smart general. He did his research before attacking Qart Hadasht while Hannibal was attacking Italy.

As a result, the Iberian city was taken by Scipio in 209 B.C. and became known as ‘Cathago Nova’, which literally means ‘New New City’.

Digital reconstruction of Roman Carthago Nova

Carthago Nova, or ‘Colonia Urbs Julia Nova Carthago’, played an important role in Rome’s economy over the years. It was one of Rome’s major centres of trade and one of the main suppliers of the silver which was so important to pay Rome’s legions.

From Carthago Nova, Iberian goods were shipped to Italy and all over the Empire, including silver, salt, fish for garum, grain, and esparto grass which was used for rope making and basket weaving.

Under Roman rule, it was a safe city, and was the third major city in Iberia after Tarraco and Corduba.

In 44 B.C. it was made a colonia by Julius Caesar in recompense for the city’s help in his civil war against Pompey and, as a result, all free-born men of Carthago Nova were made Roman citizens.

Augustus showed further favour to the city by giving it new streets, a theatre, a proper forum, various monuments, an ‘Augusteum’, temples and a college.

Remains of the Roman theatre of Carthago Nova (today’s Cartagena)

By the mid-third century, after the period in which The Blood Road takes place, Carthago Nova fell on hard times with the disruption of the silver mining operations, and the abandonment of the eastern part of the city.

Emperor Diocletian tried to help the city by making it the capital of his newly-created province of Hispania Cathaginensis in around A.D. 298, but the respite only lasted for a short time.

In A.D. 409, the Vandals took the city, and it subsequently fell into the hands of the Visigoths in A.D. 425. From then on, it seemed Carthago Nova was destined to be ruled through a revolving door with power passing to the Byzantines, the Moors, and then into Christian hands during the Spanish Reconquista of the late Middle Ages.

This is the fascinating thing about ancient cities; no matter which one you choose to look at, you will find a long, rich history, marked by ups and downs. The fortunes of these cities ebbed and flowed like the sea itself, but more often than not, when you research them, you will find that Rome was there.

I hope that you’ve enjoyed this brief post on the history of Carthago Nova.

Stay tuned for Part VI of The World of The Blood Road when we will take a look at one of my favourite places in the world: Etruria.

Thank you for reading.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

 

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The World of The Blood Road – Part IV – Position of Power: The Praetorian Guard and the Castra Praetoria of Rome

Salvete Romanophiles!

We’re back for another post in The World of The Blood Road blog series in which we look at the history, people and places that are involved in the latest Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy novel.

If you missed the previous post on the Constitutio Antoniniana, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part IV, we’re going to be taking a brief look at what may have been the most elite fighting force in the history of the Roman Empire: the Praetorian Guard.

Hope you enjoy!

Praetorian Guard officers

Throughout the Eagles and Dragons series, members of the Praetorian Guard and their prefects play a key role in what is happening in the empire, and are often involved in the court intrigues that accompany the imperial entourage. However, this is not just the case in fiction.

The Praetorian prefects and their troops were often at the heart of imperial affairs, wielding tremendous power and influence. They had the ability to make or break emperors.

When we hear the word ‘Praetorian’, it’s difficult not to think on some of the most infamous prefects in history such as Lucius Aelius Sejanus who conspired against Emperor Tiberius, or Quintus Naevius Sutorius Macro, who may have ordered the death of Tiberius and then put Caligula on the throne. Or how about Pescennius Niger, who made his play for the throne against Septimius Severus and lost after being prefect for a year under Commodus? There were also some prefects who went on to even greater heights such as Titus Flavius Vespasianus, the future Emperor Titus, who served as prefect under his father Vespasian.

In the Eagles and Dragons series which takes place during the reigns of Septimius Severus and Caracalla, we see how powerful and dangerous Gaius Fulvius Plautianus and Marcus Opellius Macrinus were, and how influential the jurists Papinianus and Ulpianus were.

There is a long list of Praetorian prefects throughout the history of the Roman Empire, some excellent and loyal, others power hungry and willing to do whatever it took to consolidate the great power and wealth to which they had access.

But who exactly were the Praetorian Guard and how were they organized? We’ll take a brief look at their history next.

Emperor Augusts

The name of the Praetorian Guard comes from the small group of men who, during the Republic, would accompany magistrates, or praetors, on campaign.

After the murder of Julius Caesar in March of 44 B.C., Marcus Antonius created a personal Praetorian guard detail for himself made up of six thousand legionaries.

But it was Emperor Augustus who really formalized the Praetorian Guard around 27 B.C. when he adapted this idea to create an Imperial Guard. The Praetorians were mainly charged with ensuring the ruler’s security, but there were other duties as well.

The Praetorians and their prefects were also responsible for sentry duty at the palace, and escorting the emperor and his family members. They acted as a sort of riot police in Rome, standing guard over events such as at the Circus Maximus, the Colosseum and the theatre. They operated the city prison and carried out executions in Rome, especially of high status prisoners. The Praetorians were also a sort of political and secret police.

One might think that the Praetorians had it easy compared with legionaries who were constantly fighting on the front lines of the Empire, and you would be right. But they could also fight, and sometimes they did when the emperor went on campaign. They excelled at this too.

The Praetorian Guard were the elite of Rome’s military might.

The Praetorian Guard (Illustration by Peter Dennis)

When the Praetorians were first formed, the men had to be Italian, from Latium, Etruria, and Umbria, and later also from Cisalpine Gaul and other territories. Men were recruited between 15 and 32 years of age.

In Rome especially, the Praetorians were seen as a military force that was used to enforce the will of the emperor upon others. They discouraged plotting and rebellion, that is, unless they were doing it themselves. And because they could create or destroy emperors and were, at times, the true power in Rome, the post of Praetorian Prefect naturally attracted power-hungry men such as some of those named above.

There are several instances where the Praetorians went too far, one being the auctioning of the imperial throne after the death of Commodus.

When Septimius Severus emerged the victor after the subsequent civil war, he made sure to replace the entire Praetorian Guard with men from his own legions, men whose loyalty could be relied upon. His one mistake was, as other emperors had also done, trusting the wrong person in the position of Praetorian Prefect.

Model of ancient Rome with the Circus Maximus in the foreground

In spite of the air of corruption, or perhaps because of it, many men aspired to be a part of the Praetorian ranks. Apart from the power, there are other reasons why the Guard attracted men. It was just a better gig!

First of all, Praetorians had a shorter term of service before they could retire. They served for 16 years, whereas legionaries had to serve for a minimum of 20. They received much better pay as well. For example, in about A.D. 14, a Praetorian guardsman would have received 720 denarii per annum, compared with a legionary’s 225 denarii. Upon retirement, Praetorians received a bonus of 20,000 sestercii, and legionaries received 12,000 sestercii.

One reason that has been suggested for the difference in pay is that Praetorians probably had fewer opportunities to loot since they were not on campaign as much as regular legionaries. Whether or not this is true, it seems like being a Praetorian was just a more desirable deal, and many legionaries were jealous of their lot.

The Castra Praetoria and ancient Rome (Wikimedia Commons)

Despite their differences, however, the Praetorian Guard had a similar makeup to the legions.

There were nine cohorts, each led by a tribune and six centurions. The tribunes reported to the Praetorian Prefect. There was also a princeps castrorum, or ‘camp prefect’, and a head centurion, or trecenarius, who was equal in status to the tribunes, and who commanded 300 speculatores, who served as cavalry scouts or Praetorian spies.

There has been some disagreement among scholars about the number of troops in the Praetorian cohorts. Some believe it was 500, and others 1000. But during the reign of Severus, the number of troops in a Praetorian cohort was 1000 men.

Originally, there were two Praetorian prefects at a time who supervised the Guard, but during the reign of Tiberius, the emperor appointed just one, Sejanus, and he became very powerful indeed. Severus made the same mistake with Plautianus.

It was around A.D. 20-23 that Emperor Tiberius and Sejanus really solidified the power of the Praetorians, and gave the Guard a power base from which it could operate: the Castra Praetoria.

Until the reign of Severus, who stationed his II Parthica legion at Albanum, the Praetorian Guard was the only military unit permitted by law to be stationed in Italy itself.

The Castra Praetoria at Rome was their fortress.

This 17 hectare (40 acre) fortress, with a training ground beside it, was built around A.D. 23 by Tiberius and Sejanus. It was originally located outside of the Servian walls of Rome on the Viminal hill, which included the Esquiline plateau. Much of the walls still stand today, and house a modern garrison of the Italian army.

The Castra Praetoria was smaller than a full legionary castrum, but it is believed that with the presence of barracks around the walls, and of two-storey barrack blocks within, the capacity may have been as much as 12,000 troops!

That is quite a force of men within Rome!

The walls were of concrete and brick and at first measured 3.5 meters high. They were heightened by the Praetorian prefect, Macrinus, during the reign of Caracalla (A.D. 211-217). In A.D. 271, Emperor Aurelian built new walls around the city of Rome and at that time incorporated the Castra Praetoria into them, again raising the height of the fortress walls, and also adding towers and battlements.

In A.D. 310, Maxentius raised the walls even more to prepare for the coming confrontation with Constantine.

The Castra Praetoria today (Wikimedia Commons)

Because the Praetorians had been at the heart of so many conspiracies and plays for power over the years, emperors such as Severus sought to punish them severely or replace the Guard altogether.

After Constantine the Great defeated Maxentius at the battle of the Milvian Bridge in A.D. 312, Constantine went one step further to finally put an end to the machinations of this powerful and often corrupt military force. He demolished the inner wall of the Castra Praetoria, and dissolved the Praetorian Guard for good. From that time on, the role of Praetorian prefect became a purely administrative role.

Arch of Constantine, Rome

The history of the Praetorian Guard is fascinating, as is the behaviour of the Praetorian prefects who held the post over the roughly 300 year history of the Guard.

In the Eagles and Dragons series, which takes place during the reigns of Severus and Caracalla, the power and influence of the Praetorians and their prefects is at the centre of the political intrigues behind-the-scenes.

This post has but scratched the surface, but I hope that you have learned a bit more about this force of Rome’s elite soldiers at the heart of the Empire.

Keep a lookout for Part V in The World of The Blood Road blog series when we will be taking a look at the Iberian city of Carthago Nova.

Thank you for reading.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

 

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The World of The Blood Road – Part III – Communis Patria: The Constitutio Antoniniana

Welcome back to The World of The Blood Road! 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this blog series so far. If you missed Part II on travel and transportation in the Roman Empire, you can read that by CLICKING HERE.

In Part III, we’re going to take a brief look at one of the more unique acts of Emperor Caracalla: The Constitutio Antoninia.

As we shall see, this act had pros and cons, and it’s effects on the Roman world were far-reaching.

When we think about Emperor Caracalla, it’s hard to think of anything but blood and violence. After all, he may have begun his reign with a massacre in York, and then committed fratricide and ordered mass executions when he returned to Rome from Britannia.

The beginning of his reign was also punctuated by another act that has caused some debate among scholars over the years.

In A.D. 212, shortly after murdering his brother, Caracalla created an edict named the Constitutio Antoniniana which was, according to eminent historian, Michael Grant, “one of the outstanding features of the period, although whether it seemed the same to contemporaries is uncertain.”

So, what was the Constitutio Antoniniana? Why was it created? And what were the effects of this curious piece of legislation?

Let’s take each of these questions in turn.

Giessen Papyrus 40 of the Constitutio Antoniniana

Basically, the Constitutio Antoniniana was an edict that granted citizenship to all freeborn men and women within the Roman Empire.

Think about that for a moment… 

Whereas before, Roman citizenship had been primarily held by few, namely those who were from Italy itself, it was now held by every free man and woman across the whole of the Roman world. The only ones who appear to have been excluded were a group known as the dediticii, thought to be tribesman beyond the Danube and Euphrates frontiers who had recently been conquered by Rome.

This act had far-reaching impacts which we will look at shortly, but why was it created, and why at that particular moment in time?

There are a few possibilities.

Map of the Roman Empire at its greatest extent (Oxford Research Encyclopedias)

During the reign of Septimius Severus, Caracalla’s father, it is important to remember there there was a general shift happening, a more egalitarian movement in policy-making that sought to embrace all inhabitants of the Empire. Severus had previously, made drastic changes within the army itself by allowing legionaries to marry and by making it possible for men of equestrian status to move higher in the ranks into positions normally reserved for the senatorial class. This was the case for Lucius Metellus Anguis in the Eagles and Dragons series.

It is possible that Caracalla’s Constitutio Antoniniana was a next step in what was already his father’s policy-making direction. Let’s remember that Severus himself had been from Leptis Magna in Africa Proconsularis.

It is also important to remember that after the fall of the Praetorian prefect, Gaius Fulvius Plautianus, Septimius Severus appointed the legal jurists, Papinianus and Ulpianus as joint Praetorian prefects, clearly with a view to using their skills in drafting legislation. Of course, Papinianus perished during Caracalla’s proscriptions at the outset of his reign, but Ulpianus almost certainly had a hand in drafting the Constitutio Antoniniana.

It was a major step in the creation of the first, Roman Communis Patria, a commonwealth in which provincials and Italians were now on equal footing. This would have appealed to Caracalla as well, for he was obsessed with Alexander the Great who had sought to create a grand, pan-Hellenic world. Caracalla sought to emulate Alexander, and this may have been an extension of that obsession. 

Apart from being in line with Severus’ policies, however, it is quite possible that one of the main reasons Caracalla issued this edict at that time was to distract the world from the murder of his brother, Geta.

As discussed in Part I of this series, fratricide was frowned upon, even though Rome’s founding was based on such an act (poor Remus!). 

The She-Wolf suckling the brothers, Romulus and Remus

But we would be doing ourselves a disservice if we explained the creation of this important legislation by saying it was merely a distraction from murder. It had other uses.

As we know, after his brother’s murder, Caracalla needed to secure his position, and so he emptied the imperial coffers in order to bribe the Praetorian Guard and give more money to the legions. His father had always taught him that ensuring the loyalty of the military was of utmost importance, and this is exactly what Caracalla did. But it left him with few funds.

So, by granting citizenship to all freeborn men and women across the Empire, he instantly increased the tax revenues many times over. Citizens had to pay manumission and inheritance taxes to the state, and his tax collectors no doubt set about their work.

Roman Re-enactors on the March

Another important aspect of the Constitutio Antoniniana is that by greatly increasing the citizenry, many more men could enlist in Rome’s legions. To be a legionary, one had to be a Roman citizen, and previously, anyone not a citizen could only join the army as an auxiliary. It is possible that with his military goals in Germania, and perhaps for other campaigns to come, Caracalla was seeking to bolster Rome’s military, though his father had done that to a large extent already.

Lastly, we cannot ignore the possibility that the Constitutio Antoniniana may partly have been a play for popularity by Caracalla. With rumours of his brother’s murder circulating, he needed to win some popular appeal, and so this grand gesture of granting citizenship would have – he probably hoped – ingratiated him to those outside of Italy, while perhaps the increased tax revenues might have won him some support within the Italian peninsula.

Even people on the edge of the Empire were affected by the Constitutio Antoniniana.

Strangely enough, there is not much mention of the Constitutio Antoniniana, no great commemoration of the event. Why is that?

One reason may be that Caracalla was simply not liked. Certainly, contemporaries such as Cassius Dio, our main source for the period, did not like him and would never sing his praises.

Another possibility for the silence around the creation of the Constitutio Antoniniana could be that its effects upon the Empire left a lot to be desired.

What then were the effects of this important legislation on the Roman world?

Certainly for many, Roman citizenship would have been a boon, for it had always been a prized possession. For a provincial being granted equal status to an Italian, it would have seemed a good thing on the surface. Certainly, it had a levelling effect in the law courts where the law treated citizens differently to non-citizens.

Increased taxation, however, would have been a bitter pill to swallow for anyone, and this would not have been welcomed.

A relief thought to portray Roman tax collectors

When it comes to the military which Caracalla and his father so relied upon, the Constitution Antoniniana did increase the pool from which Caracalla could recruit legionaries, but there was a negative side to this as well.

It now became harder to attract ambitious people into the army, because now all soldiers were citizens. The non-citizen auxiliaries that made up the important cavalry alae, forces of archers, slingers and others, now ceased to exist. There were still native formations of numeri, but the army was permanently changed and now, being open to all, the desirability of being a Roman legionary was fast dwindling.

Lastly, by granting citizenship to all freeborn people across the whole of the Empire, Roman citizenship itself was now cheapened by the Severans’ equalizing tendencies. Citizenship had its privileges, including access to higher civilian and military offices. Now, however, this was greatly watered down, and the few who previously possessed citizenship would now have to compete with many more for prized positions.

This is perhaps one of the greatest impacts of the Constitutio Antoniniana. With the loss in status of citizenship over the following years after A.D. 212, a new elite began to evolve. It was no longer about citizens and non-citizens, or Romans vs. provincials. Rather, class distinction came to the forefront across the Empire with the formation of the honestiores and humiliores classes. Eventually, this class distinction became law, and where honestiores enjoyed legal privileges, the humiliores suffered more severe punishments. It is almost as if the entire Empire was regressing to the time when there was division among Patricians and Plebeians in Republican Rome.

When one reads this, it is hard not to wonder whether such class distinctions are a natural human state or tendency, but that’s a debate for another time.

Debate in the Senate over the Constitutio Antoniniana must have been furious. (Senate scene from the movie Fall of the Roman Empire, 1964)

I can’t help but admire – in an idealistic, and perhaps naive way – the equalizing goals of the Constitutio Antoniniana. After all, isn’t that something we are still striving for today? It is often at the heart of many modern political debates.

However, it is difficult for us – as it was, I suspect, for Caracalla’s contemporaries – to get past the man that Emperor Caracalla was, and the actions he had taken at the outset of his reign. He had proved himself to be cruel and spiteful. He was not a good emperor. And so, it is possible that anything ‘good’ that he might have attempted was probably lost behind a scrim of blood.

Despite its strong democratic note, the Constitutio Antoniniana is also believed, by some, to be one of the causes for the degeneration of the Roman Empire.

What do you think? Let us know in the comments below.

Tune in for Part IV in The World of The Blood Road when we will be looking briefly at the Praetorian Guard and the Castra Praetoria, in Rome.

Thank you for reading.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also purchase directly from Eagles and Dragons Publishing HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

 

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The World of The Blood Road – Part I – Caracalla: Emperor and Murderer

Salvete, Readers and Romanophiles!

Welcome to this first post in our exciting new blog series The World of The Blood Road! In this nine-part series, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the history, people, and places that appear and provide the settings for this sixth book in the #1 best selling Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series.

If you’re a fan of the series, and don’t want any spoilers at all (such as where the story will lead you across the Empire), then you may wish to hold off until you’ve read the book.

However, if you just want to get stuck into the history and research that went into this novel, read on! We hope you enjoy it!

Emperor Caracalla

When we look at lists of Rome’s emperors, inevitably there are a few names that jump out at us because of their infamy and the brutality of their deeds. Emperors such as Caligula or Commodus might stand out to some. But, the beginning of the 3rd century A.D. is no less marred by the presence of another such Roman Emperor: Caracalla.

Fans of the Eagles and Dragons series will already be familiar with the bloody deeds which Caracalla may have perpetrated in Eburacum after the death of his father, Septimius Severus. If you missed the post on mass murder in Roman York, you can read that by CLICKING HERE. 

After the death of Severus, Caracalla and his brother, Geta, became co-emperors, and each of them hurried back to Rome separately to establish their own power at the heart of the Empire.

This tumultuous beginning to their reign is where The Blood Road begins.

Septimius Severus

It could be said that Caracalla and Geta’s father, Septimius Severus, was the only great emperor of the Severan dynasty. However, even good emperors can have major flaws and, like Marcus Aurelius before him, Severus’ greatest flaw was, perhaps, that he trusted in his sons far too much.

One theory about the Caledonian campaign is that Severus saw it as a way to force his sons to mend their troubled ways and end their squabbling. But this did not have the intended outcome. As soon as Severus died, people braced themselves for the inevitable quarrel between the two brothers. Cassius Dio describes the scene in Rome when the two emperors returned from Caledonia:

As for his own brother, Antoninus had wished to slay him even while his father was yet alive, but had been unable to do so at the time because of Severus, or later, on the march, because of the legions; for the troops felt very kindly toward the younger brother, especially as he resembled his father very closely in appearance. But when Antoninus got back to Rome, he made away with him also. The two pretended to love and commend each other, but in all that they did they were diametrically opposed, and anyone could see that something terrible was bound to result from the situation. This was foreseen even before they reached Rome. For when the senate had voted that sacrifices should be offered on behalf of their concord both to the other gods and to Concord herself, and the assistants had got ready the victim to be sacrificed to Concord and the consul had arrived to superintend the sacrifice, neither he could find them nor they him, but they spent nearly the entire night in searching for one another, so that the sacrifice could not be performed then.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, LXXVIII-1)

Rare bust of Geta in the Louvre (Wikimedia Commons)

There was even talk of ill-omens within the city, specifically one mentioned by Cassius Dio in which “two wolves went up on the Capitol, but were chased away from there; one of them was found and slain somewhere in the Forum and the other was killed later outside the pomerium. This incident also had reference to the brothers.”

In the middle of the tense stand-off between the two brothers was their mother, Julia Domna, who was constantly seeking to reconcile her sons, just as her husband had.

Julia Domna

When, according to Herodian, the brothers devised a pretence of dividing up the Empire that their father had worked so tirelessly to unite, Julia Domna pleaded with them:

As the brothers were now completely at odds in even the most trivial matters, their mother undertook to effect a reconciliation.

And at that time they concluded that it was best to divide the empire, to avoid remaining in Rome and continuing their intrigues. Summoning the advisers appointed by their father, with their mother present too, they decided to partition the empire: Caracalla to have all Europe, and Geta all the lands lying opposite Europe, the region known as Asia.

For, they said, the two continents were separated by the Propontic Gulf as if by divine foresight. It was agreed that Caracalla establish his headquarters at Byzantium, with Geta’s at Chalcedon in Bithynia; the two stations, on opposite sides of the straits, would guard each empire and prevent any crossings at that point. They decided too that it was best that the European senators remain in Rome, and those from the Asiatic regions accompany Geta.

For his capital city, Geta said that either Antioch or Alexandria would be suitable, since, in his opinion, neither city was much inferior in size to Rome. Of the Southern provinces, the lands of the Moors, the Numidians, and the adjacent Libyans were given to Caracalla, and the regions east of these peoples were allotted to Geta.

While they were engaged in cleaving the empire, all the rest kept their eyes fixed on the ground, but Julia cried out: “Earth and sea, my children, you have found a way to divide, and, as you say, the Propontic Gulf separates the continents. But your mother, how would you parcel her? How am I, unhappy,  wretched – how am I to be torn and ripped asunder for the pair of you? Kill me first, and after you have claimed your share, let each one perform the funeral rites for his portion. Thus would I, too, together with earth and sea, be partitioned between you.”

After saying this, amid tears and lamentations, Julia stretched out her hands and, clasping them both in her arms, tried to reconcile them. And with all pitying her, the meeting adjourned and the project was abandoned. Each youth returned to his half of the imperial palace.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.3)

Sadly, it seems the Goddess Concord turned her back on the situation, just as Caracalla and Geta had turned their backs on her. Rome’s ‘wolves’ were determined to destroy each other, and each was aware of plots against him. They both became obsessed and paranoid (perhaps rightly so) and as Herodian tells us: “They tried every sort of intrigue; each, for example, attempted to persuade the other’s cooks and cupbearers to administer some deadly poison. It was not easy for either one to succeed in these attempts, however: both were exceedingly careful and took many precautions. Finally, unable to endure the situation any longer and maddened by the desire for sole power, Caracalla decided to act…”

Palace of Septimius Severus, Palatine Hill, Rome (photo by Lasse Lofstrom; Trek Earth)

Throughout the history of Rome, there have been many heinous acts perpetrated by emperors, but what happened next is perhaps near the top of the list.

Frustrated by another failed attempt upon Geta’s life at Saturnalia in A.D. 211, Caracalla decided enough was enough:

Antoninus [Caracalla] induced his mother to summon them both, unattended, to her apartment, with a view to reconciling them. Thus Geta was persuaded, and went in with him; but when they were inside, some centurions, previously instructed by Antoninus, rushed in a body and struck down Geta, who at sight of them had run to his mother, hung about her neck and clung to her bosom and breasts, lamenting and crying: “Mother that didst bear me, mother that didst bear me, help! I am being murdered.” And so she, tricked in this way, saw her son perishing in the most impious fashion in her arms, and received him at his death into the very womb, as it were, whence he had been born; for she was all covered with his blood, so that she took no note of the wound she had received on her hand. But she was not permitted to mourn or weep for her son, though he had met so miserable an end before his time…she alone, the Augusta, wife of the emperor and mother of the emperors, was not permitted to shed tears even in private over so great a sorrow.

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, LXXVIII-2)

Geta Dying in his Mother’s Arms by Jacques-Augustin-Catherine Pajou, Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart, Germany (Wikimedia Commons)

Dio tells us that Caracalla ordered the centurions to murder Geta, and Herodian says that Caracalla did the deed himself. Either way, it seems that Geta bled to death in his mother’s arms.

Fratricide was highly frowned upon, and Caracalla knew that Geta had a lot of supporters among the people, the senators, and in the legions. Herodian tells us that he fled, under guard, to the Praetorian camp where he explained to the troops that he had escaped a plot against his life, and that the Gods had chosen him as sole emperor.

In gratitude for his deliverance and in return for the sole rule, he promised each soldier 2,500 denarii and increased their ration allowance by one-half. He ordered the praetorians to go immediately and take the money from the temple depositories and the treasuries. In a single day he recklessly distributed all the money which Severus had collected and hoarded from the calamities of others over a period of eighteen years.

When they heard about this vast amount of money, although they were aware of what had actually occurred, the murder having been made common knowledge by fugitives from the palace, the praetorians at once proclaimed Caracalla emperor and called Geta enemy.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.4)

After this bloody act, when he emerged from the protection of the Castra Praetoria with his guard, Caracalla set about securing his position as sole emperor with further acts of blood.

In a long series of proscriptions, with the legions and Praetorian Guard behind him, safely purchased with all of the funds he could muster, Caracalla set about eliminating anyone who could pose a potential threat, or even whisper a word against him:

Of the imperial freedmen and soldiers who had been with Geta he immediately put to death some twenty thousand, men and women alike, wherever in the palace any of them happened to be; and he slew various distinguished men…

(Cassius Dio, The Roman History, LXXVIII-4)

Many perished with the beginning of Caracalla’s sole rule as emperor, and one wonders if he ever lived that down. His father’s past advice about securing the loyalty of the legions was, it seemed, the only thing that saved him, at least for a time. No matter one’s station, anyone with a passing connection to Geta was slain, and the list is a lengthy one, according to Herodian:

Geta’s friends and associates were immediately butchered, together with those who lived in his half of the imperial palace. All his attendants were put to death too; not a single one was spared because of his age, not even the infants. Their bodies, after first being dragged about and subjected to every form of indignity, were placed in carts and taken out of the city; there they were piled up and burned or simply thrown in the ditch.

No one who had the slightest acquaintance with Geta was spared: athletes, charioteers, and singers and dancers of every type were killed. Everything that Geta kept around him to delight eye and ear was destroyed. Senators distinguished because of ancestry or wealth were put to death as friends of Geta upon the slightest unsupported charge of an unidentified accuser.

He killed Commodus’ sister [Cornificia], then an old woman, who as the daughter of Marcus had been treated with honour by all the emperors. Caracalla offered as his reason for murdering her the fact that she had wept with his mother over the death of Geta. His wife [Plautilla], the daughter of Plautianus, who was then in Sicily; his first cousin Severus; the son of Pertinax; the son of Lucilla, Commodus’ sister [Pompeianus]; in fact, anyone who belonged to the imperial family and any senator of distinguished ancestry, all were cut down to the last one. 

Then, sending his assassins to the provinces, he put to death the governors and procurators friendly to Geta. Each night saw the murder of men in every walk of life. He burned Vestal Virgins alive because they were unchaste. Finally, the emperor did something that had never been done before; while he was watching a chariot race, the crowd insulted the charioteer he favoured. Believing this to be a personal attack, Caracalla ordered the Praetorian Guard to attack the crowd and lead off and kill those shouting insults at his driver.

The praetorians, given authority to use force and to rob, but no longer able to identify those who had shouted so recklessly (it was impossible to find them in so large a mob, since no one admitted his guilt), took out those they managed to catch and either killed them or, after taking whatever they had as ransom, spared their lives, but reluctantly.

(Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, 4.6)

Despite the bloodbath, Caracalla was not yet finished with his brother, and what he did next was, perhaps, indicative of the extreme hatred he had for Geta.

Caracalla now sought to fully erase his brother Geta’s very existence from the historical record in an act that has come to be called, in modern times, damnatio memoriae, the ‘condemnation of memory’.

All across the empire Geta’s name was ordered to be struck from documents and his image erased or destroyed in paintings, statuary, upon monuments, and coinage. Anywhere Geta appeared, he was to be erased.

Portrait of the Severan family with Geta’s face erased.

Due to the bloody start to his reign, Emperor Caracalla’s infamy was now solidified. His survival was due mainly to the loyalty of the troops, but as we shall see later in this blog series, even that would last for a finite amount of time. Caracalla was not his father, Septimius Severus, and he would prove that to the world he was so desperate to rule. It would only be a matter of time before his enemies caught up with him.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this first post in The World of The Blood Road blog series. Stayed tuned for Part II in which we will look at travel and transportation in the Roman Empire.

The Blood Road is available on-line now in e-book and paperback at major retailers. CLICK HERE to get your copy. You can also buy direct from Eagles and Dragons Publishing for any device HERE.

If you are new to the Eagles and Dragons historical fantasy series, you can check out the #1 best selling prequel, A Dragon among the Eagles for just 1.99 HERE.

Thank you for reading.

 

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Ambition in the Roman Republic – A guest post by A. David Singh

Salvete Romanophiles!

We have a special guest post on Writing the Past this week!

Author, A David Singh is here to talk to us about the idea of ambition in Roman society. We may not be surprised by the fact that Romans were ambitious – one doesn’t build an empire without ambition – but ambition took different forms for people at all levels of Roman society. David has done an excellent job of outlining this, so be sure to keep reading!

If you haven’t read David’s previous guest post about slavery in ancient Rome, then you should also read that by clicking HERE.

For now, it’s time to learn all about Roman ambition!

Ambition in the Roman Republic

By A. David Singh

As some of history’s pre-eminent over-achievers, ancient Romans championed a quality that transformed their city-state to the foremost civilization of antiquity: ambition!   

At its core lay the desire for wealth, power, and prestige. In that respect it was no different from ambition as seen in today’s world. 

Let’s start by looking at this need to create a better life among those at the lowest rung of the Roman strata.

Slaves

Slaves were not citizens of Rome. Not only were they denied statehood, they were also stripped of personhood. Roman society considered them as mere objects or possessions—with no more agency than a piece of furniture or cattle.

Given these circumstances, one might be tempted to imagine slaves as men and women devoid of ambition, with no hope for rising above their lot in life. But that was hardly the case.

Most slaves harboured one viable ambition—to break free from the shackles of slavery and become Roman citizens. 

The Slave Market – oil painting by Gustave Boulanger, 1886 (Wikimedia Commons)

If a slave showed the “right” attitude toward his servitude and discharged his duties satisfactorily—these attributes being open to interpretation by the masters—the slave could be set free by appearing before a magistrate. Once the magistrate had confirmed that the slave was a freedman, the master would slap the slave as a final insult before he started his new life.

Quite often, masters bequeathed freedom to their slaves in their wills. Rarely, slaves could earn their own freedom if they were able to raise enough coin to buy themselves out of slavery. 

The process of becoming freedmen and freedwomen was called manumission.

Because house slaves worked in direct contact with their masters, they could endear themselves to those who held power over them. As a result, house slaves had a better chance of getting manumitted compared to those working on country estates and in mines.

Once manumitted, the slaves transitioned into freedmen/freedwomen, and became citizens of the great city of Rome. Now they were deemed human, and not objects anymore—a significant upgrade in their station.

Freedmen and freedwomen

As citizens, freedmen and freedwomen were entitled to all the civil rights in Rome. However, they were not entirely free of their former masters. Those masters exercised some degree of hold over them by becoming their patrons. 

As patrons, the former masters helped them make strides within the Roman society—by opening doors and helping them both financially and professionally. In return, the clients (freedmen and freedwomen) had to provide services to their patrons, most of which involved either making the patrons wealthier, or by extending their patrons’ prestige further into Roman society. 

Freedmen could not hold political office. So they endeavoured to make a better life for themselves through other means. The easiest avenue was to acquire wealth from business ventures.  

Rome was filled with waves of such newly manumitted freedmen eager to make their mark. Blacksmiths, butchers, barbers, cloth-merchants, and tradesmen dotted the over-populated city, with a singular goal in their minds: make more coin! 

Some even amassed their own slaves—the more slaves a man had, the more prestigious he was considered. This was their way to prove their “equality” to the society that had once enslaved them.

Over time, rich freedmen started marrying into traditional but impoverished Roman families. This became a cultural norm, as it proved to be of mutual benefit—the old Roman families became richer, thanks to the nouveau riche, while the freedmen elevated their prestige and circle of influence.

Even though the freedmen and freedwomen (or children born to them before manumission) could not hold political office, that was not the case for children born to them after they’d gained freedom. Many freedmen and freedwomen encouraged these children to hold political office, thereby vicariously fulfilling their own ambition through their children.

Lastly, the option to join the Roman legions was readily available. Rome was an ever-expanding war machine, eager to recruit men younger than forty-five years. As a legionary, a young freedman could travel the Roman world, earn coin, and even rise to become a centurion. All in all, that was a good plan, unless one was unlucky enough to feel the pointy end of a barbarian’s sword.

The Roman legions

Legionaries—or the foot-soldiers—were the lowest rank in the Roman legion. They fell into several categories, although these categories did not have official standing. 

If a legionary held a modicum of ambition, he’d aspire to become an immunis—or a legionary with special skills, like carpentry or weapon-making. It was even better if he could read and write. He could then become a clerk and be responsible for communications and record-keeping. 

Becoming an immunis allowed one to leave the common herd behind, along with all the menial tasks like latrine duty and heavy-lifting. Though this was only a minor step-up in prestige, it was not an unattractive one by any standard. 

A legionary with no aptitude for special skills aspired to become a principalis. Examples include a tesserarius, who was responsible for sentry duty, and an optio—who was the second-in-command of a century.

Though the salary of a legionary did not increase with these step-ups, any legionary mindful of his dignity and prestige aimed to climb this unofficial hierarchy. His reputation and influence within the legion played a critical role in his ascent. 

Roman legionaries marching in uniform, re-enactment (courtesy Pixabay)

The first official non-legionary rank was a centurion. Principales stood the best chance of becoming centurions. 

Centurions were the backbone of the legion. They were responsible for the day-to-day activities of their legionaries, escorting prisoners, and conducting diplomatic missions. During battle, centurions led the charge alongside their men.

Interestingly enough, not all centurions in a legion were equal (or, to borrow from Animal Farm, some were more equal than others). The centurion of the 1st century, 1st cohort (Primus Pilus) was the senior-most, while the centurion of the 6th century, 10th cohort ranked the lowest. Among other privileges, this gradation determined who got the best seat in a tavern, and who was the last to conduct a fatigue party in the rain. 

That’s prestige on raw display, isn’t it?

The annual salary of a legionary was 1,200 sesterces, and a centurion’s was 20,000 sesterces. The Primus Pilus commanded a whopping 100,000 sesterces (during the 1st & 2nd centuries CE).

While a legionary—upon becoming a centurion—might feel satisfied with his progress up the ladder, that was likely to be the last stop in his career. The ranks above a centurion were populated by men of senatorial classes.

The only exception was the Camp Prefect, or Praefectus castrorum, who outranked the military tribunes (we’ll meet them shortly). The camp prefect was chosen from long-standing centurions of a legion, and would have likely been a Primus Pilus in the past. As the third senior-most officer in a legion—outranked only by the Legatus and Tribunus laticlavius—he was responsible for training and equipment, and held the command of his legion in his superiors’ absence.

And that brings us to the senatorial classes.

Senators and the Path of Honours

During the early republican period, senators were a group of unelected men who advised the magistrates. From the 3rd century BCE onwards, the senate increased its power, and virtually functioned as the government of Rome by exercising control over the assemblies and the magistrates.

Education in rhetoric and experience in law were considered essential preparations for political life. And boys from prominent families were groomed from an early age in these disciplines.

Young men harbouring senatorial aspirations might even join the legions as military tribunes. They were responsible for the administrative duties of their legions. Military tribunes outranked the centurions, but were below the camp prefect.

Their military competence varied (some may have had prior experience in auxiliary units), but what remained constant was their shark-like determination to ascend the Path of Honours.

The Path of Honours (Cursus Honorum) as in the time of Julius Caesar – 1st century BCE (courtesy C. K. Ruppelt – Wikimedia Commons)

Elected officials in the republic were called magistrates. Once a man was elected to his first magistracy, he was automatically admitted to the Senate. 

Quaestores were the lowest magistrates, responsible for the state and military treasuries. They were stationed in Rome and its provinces, and were also embedded in the legions. 

On the next rung were aediles, who supervised public works—repair of temples, streets, sewers, public buildings, and aqueducts. They were in charge of markets (weights and measures, and distribution of grain). Lastly, the aediles organized festivals and public games. Ambitious aediles spent prodigious amounts of coin to attract publicity and vote-catching, to advance their political careers even further.

Tribune of the Plebs: This office was formed in the early republican days to protect plebeians from patricians, when patricians held all public offices. As the title suggests, only plebeians could hold this office. Though technically not magistrates, they functioned very much like the magistrates of the Roman state; they could propose legislation and summon the senate. An important function of the plebeian tribunes was to veto decisions by the consuls and other magistrates, thus protecting the interests of the plebeians.

Praetors were magistrates responsible for the Roman judiciary. They acted as chief judges and at times as deputies to the Consuls. By 80 BCE, Sulla increased the number of Praetors to eight: two were responsible for civil matters, and six for criminal.

Two consuls were elected each year. They were the joint heads of the Roman state and commanders-in-chief of the legions. Consuls presided over Senate meetings and implemented its decisions. Both plebeians (from 367 BCE onwards) and patricians could become consuls. Interestingly, years were named after the Consuls, e.g. what we call 63 BCE was known as the “Year of the Consulship of Cicero and Hybrida”.

In times of crisis, a Dictator could be appointed. His term could be no longer than six months. But during his time in office, he possessed supreme military and judicial authority. An exception was Julius Caesar, who was proclaimed Dictator for life.

Partial view of the Roman Forum. The Curia Julia (or Senate House) is seen in the centre (courtesy Pixabay).

Governors of the Roman Provinces were selected from former praetors and consuls. Accordingly, they were named pro-praetors, or pro-consuls. They also held military command when directed by the Senate.

Governorship of the provinces gave these men free rein over the provinces, and this position was vastly abused to accumulate enormous amounts of wealth. However, most governors considered this their right, since they were not paid a salary during their decades as senators.

The ascent from military tribune to consul (and beyond) brought incremental prestige and influence to the men. No wonder, the senatorial classes aggressively engaged in the pursuit of political power for themselves, and for their family and friends. 

Volatile alliances, political factions, bribery, corruption, one-upmanship, and even marriages and divorces formed the backdrop against which the lives of senators unfolded.

In the Roman republic, senatorship and the Path of Honours remained the sole domain of men. Women could not vote, become senators, or hold any political office. 

So, what did women do to quench their ambition in a male-dominated Rome?

Women and ambition

Roman women lived under the guardianship of the primary male member of their family—the paterfamilias. Fathers played this role during their childhood, and the responsibility was handed over to husbands at marriage. Thus, the social identity of women was defined by being someone’s daughter, and later, by being someone’s wife.

Although there was no shortage of loving marriages in Rome, by today’s standards those women lived in relative submission and obscurity. Therefore, their avenues of ambition have to be understood within the context of their societal limitations.

Trades were open to free born women and freedwomen—both married and unmarried. Plebeians took on vocations like midwifery, hair-dressing, basket-weaving, and cooking, among others. Even patrician women were expected to sew and weave.

On the home front, wives of prominent families would co-host banquets with their husbands and preside over religious activities of the household. Many were well read in Greek and Latin literature.

The last decades of the republic saw the emergence of independent women—especially among the patrician families—who were unwilling to live within the sphere of traditional female virtues like modesty, devotion, and frugality. 

Although women could not vote in elections or hold office, the political milieu of the 1st century BCE was not impervious to women’s influence. 

Graffiti found on the walls in Pompeii indicate that women frequently endorsed candidates for political office. It is quite likely that women attended rallies and canvassed for their candidates.

Some even played a robust role in Roman politics, e.g. Servilia, who—because of her proximity to Julius Caesar—was a figure to reckon with.

Rome was steeped in religion. Priesthood conferred prestige and special privileges upon women, that others did not enjoy. 

Vestal priestesses belonging to the cult of goddess Vesta were considered fundamental to the continuance and security of Rome. 

They could free slaves and criminals by touching them; they had a reserved place of honour to watch games and spectacles; they could own property, and give evidence without anyone doubting their word, and were even entrusted with the safe-keeping of important wills and state documents. 

Vestal priestesses fulfilled their duties for a period of thirty years, after which they would command marital alliances in prestigious Roman families. 

Although Roman ambition came in many flavours, the core drive was to excel and elevate as a collective whole. That ancient model still shines a light for today’s world, nudging us to strive for a better tomorrow. Thank you for your kind attention.    

Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BCE) – Roman senator, lawyer, scholar, and consul (63 BCE) (courtesy Pixabay).

Author Bio

A neurosurgeon by profession, A. David Singh operated on brains invaded by tumors, aneurysms, and other vile maladies. Funnily, after turning a couple (or more) gray hairs, a rather strange affliction invaded his own brain. Characters from a parallel universe besieged his brain cells and refused to leave, unless David transcribed their lives onto paper. At first, he resisted the assault on his cerebral faculties, but these denizens of the Magical Rome Universe kept prodding his gray cells with their antics, forcing him to write their story.

You can enter the Magical Rome Universe through the novel Dead Boy’s Game and the Broken Vow. 

In Magical Rome, three Romans strive to become senators—each to satisfy their unique and diverse ambitions. Villius is a senator’s apprentice, Julius is a victorious centurion, and Calpurnia…well, Calpurnia is a woman living in a man’s world.

To read this story, please visit   https://MagicalRome.com 

I’d like to thank David for writing such an interesting post about ambition. It’s fascinating how ambition plays a part at every level of society. 

Be sure to check out David’s website and his new book in the Magical Rome Universe.

And if you have any questions about ambition in Roman society, be sure to ask your questions in the comments below so that David can answer them.

Thank you again to A. David Singh, and thank you to all of you for reading!

 

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Ancient Everyday: Government in Ancient Rome – Part II

Welcome back Readers and History-Lovers!

Previously, in Part I of this two-part series on government in ancient Rome. we looked briefly at the popular assemblies which gave all male Roman citizens a measure of decision-making power when it came to their city and growing empire. If you missed that post, you can read it HERE.

In Part II, we’re going to be taking a brief look at what was arguably the real power behind Roman government during the Republican era: the Senate.

SPQR. Senatus Populusque Romanus. The Senate and People of Rome.

For a very long time, the initials SPQR stood for power, civilization, democracy and a government that spoke and worked for the people.

We’ve already taken a look at the ‘People’ portion, so now let us take a very brief look at the Senate of ancient Rome.

The Senate was really the ruling body behind Roman government. It was made up of a group of unelected men, and in the early Republican era, those men were only Patricians. It was later that Plebeians were permitted to join the ranks of the Senate.

Debate In The Early Roman Senate (by Severino Baraldi)

In the mid to late Republic, if a man was elected to a magistracy by the comitia, the popular assemblies we spoke of last time, he was automatically admitted to the Senate for life. The only way a senator could be expelled was if he was found guilty of some sort of severe misconduct.

Originally, there were one hundred members of the Senate. Then, this was increased to three hundred, and then in 80 B.C. to six hundred. Under Julius Caesar, when he was padding the Senate with his own supporters, the number reached nine hundred!

But what was the purpose of the Senate?

Originally, the Senate was a body of noble men who were to advise Rome’s elected magistrates and put forward laws, or leges, which the comitia could vote on. From the third century B.C., with the advent of the second Punic War and the great threat posed by Hannibal, the Senate’s powers were increased greatly.

Not only did the Senate prepare legislation to be voted on by the comitia, it also administered Rome’s finances, was in charge for foreign relations, and oversaw state religion. By the second and first centuries B.C., the Senate was pretty well the government of Rome, largely controlling the comitia and the elected magistrates.

The Senate of Rome in session in the Curia Julia (screen shot from the 1964 film The Fall of the Roman Empire)

Early on, the Senate could not make laws – those had to be voted on by the comitia – but it could issue decrees or decreta, also known as senatus consulta.

There was a lot of power and influence up for grabs when one was a Senator, but other than being an elected magistrate, what were the other criteria for joining the Senate?

To be a senator, one had to have a private income. There was no salary involved.

For Patricians in ancient Rome, becoming a Senator was another a part of the pursuit of power for themselves, for their families, and their friends. The education of Patrician or Senatorial class men was preparation for politics, for to the nobles of Rome, politics was everything, and it influenced friendships, marriages and divorces.

But this was a small percentage of Rome’s population, and there were intense rivalries. There were divisions, of course.

Senators included a group whose ancestors had held curule magistracies and consulships, and these men were known as nobiles, or ‘well-knowns’, and they could be Patrician or Plebeian.

Another group that later emerged in the ranks of the Senate was the novus homo, or ‘new man’. A novus homo was the first man in a family to hold a curule magistracy. The most famous such ‘new man’ is perhaps Cicero.

For an excellent novel on the rise of Cicero, you may wish to check out Robert Harris’ Cicero trilogy, beginning with Imperium.

Cicero

Meetings of the Senate were only attended by senators and the Flamen Dialis, the high priest of Jupiter. But the public could gather at the open doors in the vestibule of the Senate.

The meetings were originally held in the Curia Hostilia in the northwest corner of the Forum Romanum, but in actuality they could take place in any consecrated, public place within 1.6 kilometres of Rome. There was no fixed order for seating.

But what happened to the Senate under Rome’s emperors? Did it still have the power and sway that it used to?

The simple answer is no, not really.

However, in ancient Rome, tradition itself was a powerful thing, and the Senate was central to Rome’s traditions. For the sake of tradition, and perhaps popular opinion, no emperor tried to abolish the Senate, but they did impede its powers.

The Senate House, or ‘Curia’. This is the Curia Julia, built by Caesar and finished by Augustus after the previous two – the Curia Hostilia and the Curia Cornelia – were destroyed.

Under Augustus, the Senate was granting increasing powers to the emperor and, as a result, its own power was greatly reduced. However, by Augustus’ reign, there were over one thousand senators. Rome’s first emperor reduced that number to six hundred and also imposed a property qualification of one million sesterces for being admitted to the Senate.

Because Rome’s empire was expanding greatly, the Senate began to fill with men from noble families from the provinces.

What the Senate still did was control the state treasury, the aerarium, and create laws as a legislative body.

For better or for worse, perhaps depending on the type of emperor upon the throne, the power of the Roman Senate was gradually waning, and in A.D. 359, Emperor Constantine created another senate in his new capital of Constantinople, thereby creating two senates in the empire. 

By A.D. 384, each senate had about two thousand members, and though it continued as a legislative body, it would never be the same.

The last mention of the Roman Senate was in A.D. 603 around a declaration of new statues of Emperor Phocas and Empress Leontia.

Constantine the Great (c.272 – 337) – Statue outside York Minster

 We’ve only barely scraped the surface on the subject of the Senate of ancient Rome. This is a massive and fascinating subject. Hopefully this short post has given you an idea as to how the Senate fit into the government and workings of ancient Rome.

The slow death of tradition is not an easy thing. We are loathe to let go of our traditions. One can imagine the hardcore republicans during the time of Caesar and Augustus experiencing many a sleepless night at what they probably knew was coming.

Of course, they managed to stop Caesar, but by the time Augustus was on his imperial throne, the damage to the Senate had already been done, the gradual process of waning power was underway.

Forum Romanum reconstruction (The Roman Forum: A Reconstruction and Architectural Guide – Cambridge University Press)

Would Rome have been better off controlled by the Senate, and People, as it was in the early Republican era, come as it might with all of the corruption and politicking of senators and magistrates? Or was Rome better off with an emperor in place who could curb the Senate’s power and be a father to the Empire and its citizens?

Those are massive questions that have been debated for a long time, and will continue to be so. Of course, it would depend on the emperor at the time. Would you prefer to be in Rome during the height of the Republic or, say, during the reign of Emperor Antoninus Pius?

The answer might not be as easy as one thinks.

Tell us what you think in the comments below. If you could choose any period in Rome’s history in which to live, which would it be and why?

Whatever the period, there is no doubt that life in Rome was never dull, and we will always find the everyday world of that ancient city interesting and entertaining.

Thank you for reading.

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Ancient Everyday: Government in Ancient Rome – Part I

Salvete Readers and History-Lovers!

It’s been a while since our last blog on Religious Rites in Ancient Rome, and in that span of time a lot has happened abroad and at home.

Despite the lingering presence of COVID-19 in many countries around the world, some have started to risk staged re-openings, including our beloved Greece and Italy where summers would be incomplete without ancient sites and the sense-tickling blues of sea and sky. Eating al fresco is still a risky business, but people are trying things out.

I wonder if ‘re-openings’ were similar in the terrible wake of the Antonine Plague of the second century? Then, as now, the theatres and games must have been the last to open.

It has been an eventful period for myself as well. During this time of plague, my family and I decided to quit Rome for the quiet and less crowded countryside of Etruria. Well…in truth, we’ve completed our long-planned move from Toronto to Stratford, Ontario, home of the famous Shakespeare festival (yes, named after the English one!). Once again, as happened in ancient Rome or Elizabethan England, the theatres are dark due to plague. But they will re-open again!

But now for this week’s blog post…

During this pandemic, we have been hearing a lot about governments, how they have been dealing with this pestilence, how they have been trying to keep the populace safe, how they have developed economic plans for support and recovery at various levels and for various sectors etc.

So, I thought it would be a good time for a short, two-part blog series on government in ancient Rome.

What did government look like in the world of ancient Rome? How were decisions made? What did it look like in the Republic versus the Principate? What was the difference between the Popular Assemblies and the Senate?

In Part I of this series, we’re going to be taking a very brief look at the Popular Assemblies during the Republican era.

For a long time, Roman citizenship was something of value, something to be cherished for many reasons, not least of which was the ability to have a say in who was elected to political office, but also which legislation was passed in the growing empire that was Rome. Roman citizenship, for free men that is, was something to be proud of. It offered protection, commanded respect, and so much more.

All male citizens of Rome could vote on legislation and in the election of government officials, and this voting was done in the Popular Assemblies, or comitia. All male citizens were automatically members of a comitium, of which there were four.

The important thing to keep in mind is that these comitia met only to vote, not to discuss or initiate action.

Legislation, laws, or a proposed action (ex. to go to war against an enemy) was initiated by an elected magistrate and discussed by the Senate of Rome. This happened before being taken to the Popular Assemblies, or comitia, for a vote. In this way, the senators of Rome controlled the nature of legislation.

Denarius with image of a voter casting a ballot (Wikimedia Commons)

Laws were known as leges (singular, ‘lex’), and laws passed by the Plebeian assembly were known as plebiscita.

There was no discussion during assemblies, but there could be informal discussions known as contiones before a vote which male and female citizens, slaves and foreigners could attend, hence the importance of public opinion and the favour of ‘the mob’ in ancient Rome if you were a senator or magistrate who wanted something to be passed by the Popular Assemblies.

As Rome’s empire grew, many citizens could not vote because they were far from Rome where the voting took place.

To Romans, Rome really was the centre of the world.

Ancient Rome (image from Ancient History Magazine)

There were four types of comitia in ancient Rome during the Republican era, and the first group were the comitia curiata.

In ancient Rome, there were thirty wards or curiae, ten wards for each of the three original tribes (Ramnes, Tities, and Luceres) of Rome. Just as we do today, people voted in their respective wards.

However, little is known of the comitia curiata. What we do know is that the comitia centuriata grew out of it, and that by the late Republic the comitia curiata met only formally to confer imperium on consuls and praetors.

The next popular assembly we are going to take a look at is the comitia centuriata. This is the assembly that decided between War and Peace in ancient Rome, so you can imagine them meeting quite often as Rome’s empire expanded. They also elected higher magistrates and were the court of appeal for death sentences.

The comitia centuriata could only be summoned by a magistrate with imperium. They met on the Campus Martius (the Field of Mars) at Rome, and the voters of this assembly were divided into units called centuries, of which there were 373 in total. These centuries were based on male citizens’ ages and property asset values, the latter meaning that the poor had fewer votes. It was the rich who ran Rome.

Will it be War or Peace?

The third group of comitia we’re going to take a look are the comitia tributa or ‘assembly of the tribes’.

These comitia met in the Forum Romanum and the voters were divided into their thirty-five tribes, including the three original Roman tribes. They were summoned by consuls, praetors or tribunes for the purposes of electing lesser magistrates or to act as a court of appeal. They also voted on bills which the magistrates put before them.

Lastly, there was the concilium plebis, or Plebeian Assembly.

This assembly consisted of Plebeians only and met in the Forum Romanum. The citizens were divided into the thirty-five Plebeian tribes whose duty is was to elect tribunes and plebeian aediles. After 287 B.C., their resolutions or ‘plebiscita’ were binding on all citizens of Rome.

Gaius Gracchus, tribune of the people, presiding over the Plebeian Council (Wikimedia Commons)

So, there you have it: a very brief outline of the Popular Assemblies in ancient Rome.

Even though it appears that the rich – ie. the senators – controlled Rome, the popular assemblies were important in that they are what gave the people their say. Yes, the system could be corrupted, votes surely bought, but it was a say and every male citizen of Rome had his duty to vote. No vote, no say.

For those of you who are interested, the novel ROMA, by Steven Saylor, delves into the early government of ancient Rome. It’s a fantastic read and I highly recommend it.

But it is true that during the Republic, the Senate was perhaps the true power behind Rome’s growing empire.

Next week, in Part II of this blog series on government in ancient Rome, we’ll be taking a brief look at the senate, and its powers and duties.

Thank you for reading.

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