Ancient Rome

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The World of The Dragon: Genesis – Part II – The Cursus Honorum in Ancient Rome

Salvete, history-lovers!

Welcome back to The World of The Dragon: Genesis, the blog series in which we’re taking a look at the research that went into our latest Eagles and Dragons series release.

In the previous post in this blog series we looked at the Antonine Wall, the construction and the history behind it. If you missed that post, you can check it out HERE.

In Part II, we’re going to be taking a look at the prestigious career path sought by most men with political aspirations in ancient Rome – the cursus honorum.

What was the cursus honorum?

Literally, it meant ‘the course of honours’, and it referred to the sequence of official offices in the career of a Roman politician.

Late in the sixth century B.C., when Rome became a Republic, it was run (some might say ‘ruled’) by various magistrates who would form the members of the senate of Rome.

With the rise and rule of military commanders such as Sulla, Pompey, and Caesar, the magistracies of the Roman Republic became less effective, but they remained a prestigious goal for most.

From the third century B.C., there developed a specific track for a senatorial career – the cursus honorum.

In 180 B.C. a law was proposed by the tribune of the Plebs, Lucius Villius Annalis, which set down the rules and age limitations for the cursus honorum and, to an extent, perhaps sought to curb the ambitious young men of Rome.

In Tacitus’ Annals, we see reference to the law and the changes that had occurred within the cursus honorum:

With our ancestors, office had been the prize of merit, and all citizens who had confidence in their qualities could legitimately seek a magistracy; nor was there even a distinction of age, to preclude entrance upon a consulate or dictatorship in early youth. The quaestorship itself was instituted while the kings still reigned, as shown by the renewal of the curiate law by Lucius Brutus; and the power of selection remained with the consuls, until this office, with the rest, passed into the bestowal of the people. The first election, sixty-three years after the expulsion of the Tarquins, was that of Valerius Potitus and Aemilius Mamercus, as finance officials attached to the army in the field. Then, as their responsibilities grew, two were added to take duty at Rome; and before long, with Italy now contributory and revenues accruing from the provinces, the number was again doubled. Later still, by a law of Sulla, twenty were appointed with a view to supplementing the senate, to the members of which he had transferred the jurisdiction in the criminal courts; and, even when that jurisdiction had been reassumed by the knights, the quaestorship was still granted without fee, in accordance with the dignity of the candidates or by the indulgence of the electors, until by the proposition of Dolabella it was virtually put up to auction. (Tacitus, Annals, Book XI)

Marcus Tullius Cicero (106 – 43 B.C.)

But the proposed law, the Lex Villia Annalis, was not without its opponents, and over time, more and more young men opposed the restrictions it imposed on the cursus honorum. Many disregarded its precepts and found ways around it. Some of the men who did this were Scipio Aemilianus, Gaius Marius, Pompey, and perhaps one of the most famous men to rise along the cursus honorum, Marcus Tullius Cicero, who is supposed to have achieved each level at the youngest possible age.

But what exactly did the cursus honorum entail? What was its purpose, and how did things work?

It is actually quite complex in the details, but we will now seek to look briefly at these questions to gain a better understanding.

General representation of the steps along the cursus honorum during the Republican and Imperial periods. (image: Eagles and Dragons Publishing)

The cursus honorum gave men with political aspirations a chance to work and prove themselves at various levels of government after their general military service. Because it evolved over time, there was a difference between the cursus honorum in the Republic versus the Principate (Imperial Age).

During the Roman Republic, the cursus honorum was a path open to men of the senatorial class. After one’s military service, the positions in order of ascendency were as follows:

Quaestor: twenty financial and administrative officials in charge of public records and the treasury (aerarium). They were also paymasters for the army, accompanying generals on campaign. This was a required post for those seeking to enter the Senate. The minimum age was 30 years.

Aedile: there were four patrician aediles who administered the temple of Ceres, and later were placed in charge of public buildings, archives, and later, public games. The minimum age was 37 years.

Tribune: ten tribunes were elected from the plebeian class, and their role early on was to protect this class from the patricians. They were directly responsible to the people’s assembly and had similar duties to other magistracies. They had a veto power in the city of Rome. The minimum age was 37 years.

Painting of a young Julius Caesar, eager to climb the cursus honorum

Praetor: the praetors of Rome were the men who originally replaced the king. There were eight of these, and their role was to administer the law at Rome. They were, at first, the supreme civil judges. Later, they were to deal with legal cases with foreigners, and as Rome acquired more territories, more praetors were required. The minimum age was 40 years.

Consul: with the abolishment of the kings in 509 B.C., there were two magistrates at a time who were elected to this position. They had the duties of the king, but did not have supreme power. At first, they were only of the patrician class, but in 367 B.C., plebeians could stand for the office. Elections were held on the Ides of March (the 15th). The minimum age was 43.

Lastly, and not strictly a post required for the cursus honorum, the role of dictator was one that was granted by the Senate, through the consuls, during times of emergency. The dictator had supreme military and judicial authority, but other magistrates retained their offices during a dictatorship. It was usually granted for six months. After Julius Caesar’s murder on the Ides of March in 44 B.C., the office of dictator was abolished.

Ruins of the Basilica Julia (right of centre), one of the main public buildings, in the Forum Romanum

Now that we have looked briefly at the cursus honorum during the Republic, let us look at the course of honours during the Empire.

During the early imperial period, the cursus honorum was extended with a series of new posts being inserted between the offices of quaestor, aedile, praetor, and consul, which were retained. The role of senators was diminished, and they came to take on a more administrative role beneath the emperor. It is also important to note that the age requirements for posts were reduced, reflecting previous opposition to the old restrictions.

Here are the main positions along the cursus honorum during the Empire:

Vigintivir: there were twenty vigintiviri and these were minor magistrates who worked on various portfolios such as the mint for which perhaps only three of them would have charge of at a time. This position was the new stepping stone to get onto the cursus honorum path. The minimum age was 18 years.

Tribunus Angusticlavius: the role of tribune during the Empire took on a more military role, with the emperors assuming the previous tribunician powers wielded by the tribunes of the Plebs during the Republic. This was one open to Equestrians (more on this class shortly), and there were five of these junior tribunes assigned to each Roman legion. The position remained until the fifth century A.D., and was another important step on the cursus honorum. The minimum age for a military tribune was 20 years.

Officers of the Imperial Roman Legions (illustration by Ron Embleton)

Quaestor: during the Empire, the number of quaestors increased as the empire itself grew in size, and though their functions might have been slightly reduced, it was still a qualifying magistracy for entry to the Senate. Minimum age was 25 years.

Aedile: this position remained during the Empire, but it was not an essential part of the cursus honorum. However, as it served an important, elected, local role across the Empire’s domains, it provided the wealthy possessors of this position with an opportunity to gain publicity for their political careers and to accumulate voters. One of their roles was to stage expensive games for the people. And we know the Romans loved their games! The minimum age was 27.

Tribunus Laticlavius: this position was reserved for Patricians who served as the senior tribune in a Roman legion. These were not usually career soldiers, but rather would-be politicians on their way up the cursus honorum. The minimum age was 27 years.

Praetor: a praetorship was an important role during the Empire, and the duties of praetorswere actually increased as opposed to other positions. They were responsible for games and festivals, and propraetors (‘in place of praetors’) were chosen for military command as governors in some senatorial provinces. This was also one of the promagistracies during the Empire. A propraetorship extended the powers and time of one in that position. The minimum age was 30 years.

Praefectus: the role of prefect was an addition to the cursus honorum during the Empire. This was normally reserved for men of the Equestrian class, and served a variety of functions from being in charge of the grain supply (praefectus annonae) to the prefect of auxiliary forces in the army, or to the high position of Praetorian Prefect. Prefects gradually took over the roles of aediles. The minimum age was 30 years. However, the minimum age for the role of urban prefect was 32 years.

Legatus Legionis: there was great power to be had with the command of a legion, and the legionary legate was at the top of the chain of military command, beneath the emperor of course. Every legion across the empire had a commanding legate. The minimum age was 30 years.

Consul: during the Empire, the consuls lost all responsibility for military campaigns. It was more of an honorary position assigned (or assumed) by the emperors, and held for just two to four months. This meant that there could be up to twelve senators in this position in a given year. As an honourary position, the consuls were permitted to go around with a bodyguard of twelve lictors, and to wear a purple-bordered toga, a colour normally reserved for emperors. There were also proconsuls at this level. The minimum age was 32 years.

A Roman magistrate followed by lictors

At this point, it is perhaps important to highlight the concepts of imperium and potestas. These were the types or classes of power held by some of the positions on the cursus honorum.

Imperium was supreme authority in matters of command in war, interpretation and execution of the law, as well as the passing of sentences of death as punishment. The positions that held imperium on the cursus honorum were consuls, praetors, the master of horse, and during the Republic, dictators. This was, perhaps, one of the great goals of the cursus honorum – to attain a position with imperium.

Potestas, on the other hand, was a general form of power held by all magistrates that allowed them to enforce the law according to the powers specific to their office.

Senate scene from the movie Fall of the Roman Empire (1964)

There is no doubt that the cursus honorum could be a complicated route, especially with the changes, exceptions and dispensations over time between the Republic and the Empire. But, it remained an important tradition in Roman public life for the upper classes.

This was further complicated by the creation and inclusion of another class in Roman society – the Equestrian class.

In The Dragon: Genesis, one of the main characters seeking to climb the cursus honorum is of the equestrian class.

During the Republic, equestrians were below the senatorial class, but that changed over time and the two classes became more closely allied, so much so that the equestrians became the second level of the elite in Rome.

Emperor Augustus attempted to recast the equestrians as a military class, but this motion did not pass and, instead, around the year A.D. 69, equestrians became a sort of bureaucratic elite behind the senatorial governors of the provinces.

2nd century Roman cavalry auxiliaries (illustrated by Kawaleria Rzymska)

Because they posed less of a threat than the senatorial class, emperors like Commodus and Septimius Severus began to reward and rely more upon equestrians than ever before, even going so far as the grant them command of legions!

Equestrians were permitted to wear a narrow purple stripe on their togas, whereas men of the senatorial class wore a broad stripe.

For equestrians, the cursus honorum was a combination of military and administrative posts.

There were three commands for an equestrian officer in the military: a prefect of auxiliary infantry, a tribunus angusticlavius (on the cursus honorum), and a prefect of an auxiliary cavalry ala. The latter was one of the most prestigious positions available to equestrians. Equestrians could also become admiral of the navy, or a commander or prefect of the vigiles, Rome’s police and fire-fighting force.

As far as administrative positions for equestrians on the cursus honorum, they could be procurators in the provinces (such as a chief financial officer), or a prefect such as one in charge of the all-important grain supply.

As mentioned, perhaps the highest rank that could be granted to an equestrian during the Empire was one of the two positions of Prefect of the Praetorian Guard.

Praetorian Guard officers

Whereas in the past, especially during the Republic, the path along the cursus honorum was clear, the later path for equestrians was not as stringent.

Though military service was expected, it came to be less of a requirement for equestrians and others.

Many did in fact seek to be career military officers without climbing the cursus honorum. The main character is The Dragon: Genesis is such a person.

However, those men with recognizable skills could receive special dispensation from military service, granted by the emperor, so that they could work in the law courts or imperial government. Emperor Hadrian did this, as did subsequent rulers.

Christopher Plummer as the Emperor Commodus flanked by lictors and the Praetorian Prefect (Fall of the Roman Empire – 1964)

The Roman Empire was vast, and there were any number of public positions up for grabs. Times changed, as did the requirements for public office. But Romans loved their traditions, and though the magistracies of the Republic were diminished in power over time, the cursus honorum was a path that was still respected and sought after.

The course of honours could be complex, and perhaps perilous, but then again, that it seemed to have been life in the world of Roman politics.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this second part in The World of The Dragon: Genesis.

The book is not for sale anywhere, but if you are interested in reading it, you can get a copy for FREE by clicking HERE, or by clicking on the book cover image above.

Stay tuned for Part III of The World of The Dragon: Genesis, when we will be looking at the creation of the three Dacias in the Roman Empire.

Thank you for reading.

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Roman Ghosts – Roots of Death and the Imperial Spectre

Salvete, History-lovers!

It’s been several months now since our last Roman Ghosts blog post and, seeing as we are in the dark days of winter, I thought it was a good time for a new one that you can read by the light of a warm fire.

If you missed the previous post about the ghostly accounts of Pliny the Younger, you can read it by CLICKING HERE.

Guess who!

I was doing some research on ghost sightings in the city of Rome when I came across this fascinating story about the only known haunting by a Roman emperor.

Who was this purple-robed spectre?

Why, it was none other than Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, otherwise known as Emperor Nero (A.D. 54-68).

There are numerous stories and much gossip about Emperor Nero, the last of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. It is said he believed he was an actor and artist, more than anything else. He allegedly fiddled his way through the burning of Rome, and subsequently blamed the Christian community for doing it. His torture of the Christians after that has become the stuff of horrible legend.

Another of the labels applied to this young megalomaniac was that of a ‘matricide’, for Nero was supposed to have made three attempts on the life of his overbearing mother, Agrippina the Younger. He tried drowning her, and crushing her in a planned ‘accident’, and when neither of those worked, he had his men slay her.

Emperor Nero and Agrippina the Younger. Is she fixing his corona for him? Oh, Mother!

However, when the deed was done, Nero was haunted by the ghost of his mother for the rest of his days, so much so that he supposedly engaged the services of magicians and necromancers to help rid him of the Furies he believed to be harassing him, and to conjure the ghost of his mother so that he could ask her to leave him alone.

I guess it never was easy for a young Roman man to be completely rid of his mother!

Needless to say, Emperor Nero was a tortured soul.

But we are not here to determine whether the rumours about Nero were true or not. We are here to talk about the story of what happened after his death.

It seems that after he departed the mortal world, the shade of Nero lingered in Rome, and his is the only known imperial ghost on record.

Antiquarian print of Nero’s tomb after it was dug up.

You see, after his suicide, Nero was buried in the tomb of the Domitii Ahenobarbi, the family tomb at the foot of the Pincian hill. This was located near a grove of poplar trees in what is now the Borghese Gardens near Piazza del Popolo.

Legend has it that in the place where the tomb of Nero was located, adjacent to the Porta Flaminia, a sort of nut tree sprouted, and this tree was filled with black crows.

It was said that about the tree, or in it, Emperor Nero’s ghost continued his lavish feasts, except now he dined alongside demons and witches!

Over the centuries, Romans living in the area of the Pincian hill, near the Porta Flaminia, reported feelings of terror, possessions, beatings and injuries, inexplicable strangulations and killings. Hundreds of years later, in 1099, Nero’s ghost and his wicked dinner companions were still bothering the living.

Frightened Romans complained to Pope Pasquale II about the spectre and the terrible goings on around the tree at the foot of the Pincian hill. The pope stepped up and performed an exorcism in the area which ended with him striking the tree itself. When the pope did this, a series of loud screams apparently rent the air.

Pasquale II ordered the tree torn down then, and when it was removed, they found Nero’s tomb buried beneath it, among the tangled roots. The pope ordered the tomb and its contents to be thrown into the Tiber, and ordered a church built on the site, the altar of which was placed overtop of the spot where the tree had been.

Chiesa de Santa Maria di Popolo, built on the site of Nero’s tomb.

In 1475, Pope Sixtus IV enlarged the church that Pasquale built, and it was re-consecrated as the Chiesa de Santa Maria di Popolo.

Apparently, the hauntings of Nero did stop after the original chapel was built in 1099, however, it is said that some people still report supernatural activity there.

Who knows for certain…

What we can be pretty sure of, if one believes in such things, is that in a city as ancient and populated as Rome, there were plenty of ghosts to go around. But there was only one imperial ghost…the ghost of Nero!

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Guest Post: Archaeology and Living History: A Tasty Look at the Life of a Roman Re-enactor

Salvete, history lovers!

This week on the blog, I’m thrilled to invite archaeologist, Roman history re-enactor, and owner of Apicius Sauces Ltd., Rita Roberts, to share her story about her wonderful experiences with living history and how, through a bit of serendipity and creativity, she was able to launch a successful (and tasty!) enterprise with a little help from the famous gastronome of ancient Rome, Apicius.

Get ready for a fascinating look at the life of a Roman re-enactor. Be sure to read all the way to the end for an amazing recipe!

Take it away, Rita!

Living History

While working as an archaeologist at the Hereford and Worcestershire Archaeology Section in England, analyzing ancient pottery, I had the opportunity to travel around schools of the area. At this particular time, the Roman period was entered in the school curriculum. This meant that on occasion I was able to talk to the children in a class whose age varied between eight and twelve years old about the Roman pottery which I had been working on.

At this age children are very receptive and were eager to learn, besides the fact I had the original roman pots for them to see and handle. I was delighted at their reaction and soon realized that the living history, and hands on the objects, I was demonstrating was likely to be a real boost for education purposes.

Roman re-enactor of Legio Vlll Augusta

Once teachers heard of my enterprise I was called to some of the schools regularly, especially to review the homework I gave the children once I had finished talking about the different types of Roman pottery. I was amazed as the teacher had made them draw the different shapes of the vessels.

One of the children wanted to know what kind of food was cooked, and in which vessel it was cooked in. It was from this little girl’s question I decided that on my next visit to a school, I would take along with me a Roman mortarium and mix the sauce which would have been served with chicken.  Their teacher had already agreed on my return visit to demonstrate this to the class. Upon my arrival, and with the ingredients needed to make the sauce, I found the history teacher was waiting with the children who were all dressed up in Roman style outfits.

A Roman ‘mortarium’ (Wikimedia Commons)

This seemed to make the children even more excited because after all, it was a living history lesson and they were eager for me to proceed. But first I needed to explain about the Roman cook Apicius.

Gaius Apicius lived during the reign of Emperor Tiberius in the 1stcentury A.D. The cookery books which he wrote were published some three hundred years later and are the main source of our knowledge of Roman food.

Apicius was able to buy a large selection of herbs and spices from Roman and Greek traders who travelled to the spice markets of South Asia. These were then offered for sale in the markets of Rome. Some of the sauces made by Apicius were flavoured with up to twelve different herbs and spices. Many spices such as pepper, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves came from India, Sri Lanka and China.

The highly flavoured sauces made by Apicius were often used to mask food which may have become stale or rancid because of over-storing. The most commonly-used seasoning was called liquamen. Apicius became a very wealthy man, but it is believed he committed suicide by poisoning himself. As a result of his buying so many expensive foods from every part of the known world, he realized that he had only about ten million sesterces left and he did not consider this enough to maintain his high standard of living.

Rita always displayed this Living History leaflet on the stall at each historical venue she attended.

Procedure for Making Apicius Sauce

Once I had the ingredients displayed on the table in front of the class, the children interacted by passing the herbs and taking turns in grinding them in a Roman mortarium, after which the  liquids were added. The sauce was then ready for tasting. Mr Townsend, the history teacher, had the first sample. Then one by one the pupils very gingerly came forward to taste. There were many different comments such as ‘it’s quite nice really’, or ‘better than I expected’. Some of them did not like it at all. Another said it tasted a bit like curry.

However, Mr. Townsend was quite impressed, saying it had a unique flavour and that I should market it. I thought about this but knowing there would be a lot involved such as adhering to the Trading Standards and Health and Safety regulations. But first I thought about a trial period where I could sell my produce from a stall at The Woman’s Institute, and also The Woman’s Guild, which held events all year round. This proved successful, so after passing all exams needed for Trading Standards and Health and Safety Regulations,  Apicius Sauces Ltd., was launched.

I had approached many museums, historical houses, English Heritage and The National Trust who all agreed to sell Apicius Sauces in their gift shops.  We were also producing a variety of sauces from other historical times by request, ranging from the Medieval to the Stuart and Tudor times. Also, we were invited to join the Re-enactors Societies with the offer of a special stall with which to trade from. Below are some photographs taken at Kirby Hall.

Rita with an Indian Scout outside a re-enactor’s stall.

Re-enactor outside a stall at Tewkesbury.

Rita at her stall. The jars displayed in the dish were for people to sample. The taste surprise always led them to purchase not only for themselves, but to take home for friends who could not attend the re-enactment show.

Our product proved a positive success for almost fifteen years.  We then retired to the island of Crete Greece.

The following is my recipe for ‘Sauce Apicius’ adapted for the modern kitchen and to be used with chicken. This recipe is for just one serving.

Ingredients for Sauce Apicius

A pinch each of   –  Pepper, cumin, thyme, fennel seeds, mint and rue.

A drop of asafoetida essence – obtained from a pharmacy and used sparingly

2 tablespoons of vinegar

4 oz of stoned dates

1 tablespoon of honey

1 tablespoon of olive oil

1 teaspoon of anchovy essence. This is to replace the roman liquamen or garum as anchovy was one of the ingredients used by the Roman cook to make the liquamen.

Method

First mince the dates then pound all the herbs in a mortar and moisten with the asafoetida essence. Add the vinegar and minced dates and pound until well blended. Stir in the honey, olive oil and anchovy essence. The mixture will then become a little sticky. Stir again until a smooth consistency is formed.  Of course this is much easier with modern equipment. Serve with your favourite poultry warm or cold. You can also spread a little over the chicken once cooked and pop it back in the oven for about 5-10 mins giving it a nice crispy coating.

It took many hours, in fact days, to work out the quantities of herbs and the liquids needed to make a large mix of the sauce, for an order of about 96 of each variety for the British Museum. This was their usual order per month. Besides other people’s orders we had to meet.

Although referred to as a sauce I prefer to use it as a relish but if you require it as a pouring sauce just add a little more of the liquids to your liking.

Try the sauce with turkey, ham, or even pork pie.

My book Toffee Apples & Togas can be obtained from Amazon Books.

I’d like to thank Rita for taking the time to tell us her story. It really was fascinating, and I can’t wait to try out that sauce recipe!

Having worked as an historical re-enactor myself in museums, I can stress enough how effective living history is in getting people interested in history, especially children who always love to see history come to life. It’s so much more interesting than being lectured to!

Living history demonstrations and re-enactors also do a lot to further our knowledge of the ancient world, so it is thanks to people like Rita, who have a passion for history, that we are able to sample a bit of the ancient world.

Be sure to check out Rita’s book, Toffee Apples and Togas, for a more in-depth look at her life and the journey she has taken. You can get a copy by CLICKING HERE.

If you have any questions for Rita, be sure to leave a comment a the bottom of the blog.

Thank you again to Rita, and as ever, thank you to all of you for reading.

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Io Saturnalia! – Celebrating ‘The best of days’ in Ancient Rome

Happy Saturnalia, everyone! Or, as the Romans said, Io Saturnalia!

December 17th was the official start of Saturnalia in the Roman Empire, and for seven days the Roman world, and especially Rome itself, experienced what can only be described as a carnival atmosphere.

Just as Christmas is a time of year that many people look forward to, so too was Saturnalia for Romans, free and slave.

Today we’re going to take a brief look at some of the customs that surrounded this ‘the best of days,” as the poet Catullus called it.

The God Saturn

Saturnalia was basically a winter solstice festival in honour of the god Saturn, the chthonic (of the earth) Roman god of seed sowing, who was often equated with the Greek god Cronus. As an agricultural deity, his symbol was a scythe.

The primary temple for this Roman deity was at the foot of the Capitoline Hill, across from the Rostra, the Temple of Concord, and the arch of Septimius Severus.

The festival of Saturnalia was originally a single day, but eventually ran from December 17th to December 23rd, ending on the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, or the birthday of the Unconquerable Sun. The three days from December 17th to the 19th were considered to be legal holidays on which no work was done. Schools, gymnasia and courts were closed, and no war was waged.

The Temple of Saturn (centre)in the Forum Romanum, Rome

Saturnalia was a sacred time of year in the Roman calendar, but oddly enough, there is no single, full description of the festival. What we know comes from various references in ancient sources, mainly Macrobius whose work on Roman religious lore is set during the festival.

So, what do we know about the festival of Saturnalia, and what traditions did people keep at that time of year?

A bit of public gambling during Saturnalia!

In ancient Rome, we know that the festivities began on December 17th with a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn in the Forum, in which the priest performed the ceremony in the Greek fashion, ritus Graecus, with his head uncovered. In the temple, the feet of Saturn’s statue were normally bound up with wool, but for Saturnalia, the wool was removed, and some believe this symbolized the liberation that many felt during the festival.

After the sacrifice, which may have been a suckling pig, there followed a grand public banquet, or convivium publicum, which was paid for by the state. A statue of Saturn was placed upon a couch for this event so that the god could preside over the festivities.

Candles, or cerei were a big part of Saturnalia

As a festival of light, or the solstice, wax candles, or cerei, were lit everywhere and given as gifts. The light may also have been considered a symbol of the quest for knowledge and truth, something to go along with this season of hope for many in the dark days of winter.

Another symbol of the season was holly, which was considered sacred to Saturn. Sprigs of this were also given as token gifts. Many other gifts were given at this time of year, mainly on December 19th, which was the day of the sigillaria, the day of gift-giving.

Holly was sacred to Saturn

In addition to wax candles, gifts could include pottery, writing tablets, dice, knucklebones, combs, toothpicks, hats, knives, lamps, balls, perfumes, and toys for children. If you were among the rich, exotic animals or slaves might even be given!

Figurines were also a gift that was given, and these have something of an interesting history. One thought is that this particular gift stemmed from the giving of toys to children. However, another, darker possibility for the giving of figurines is that they were intended as substitutes for the human blood offerings that may have originally been offered to the earth god Saturn, in the early days of Rome, perhaps in the form of gladiatorial combat to the death.

Some sigillaria were similar to the gifts we get in Christmas crackers today, but they could be much more elaborate too.

In addition to the public celebrations of Saturnalia, the festivities continued at home.

On December 18th and 19th, domestic rituals of the family were observed, such as bathing, and the common sacrifice of a suckling pig to Saturn.

Gifts were given among the family on the day of the sigillaria, but also in the days to come.

One interesting tradition was that the usual clothes worn by Romans, such as the toga or plain tunica, were discarded during Saturnalia in favour of colourful clothes known as synthesis, which were a mish-mash of patterns and colours. They were the Roman party clothes of Saturnalia! Along with the synthesis, Roman men also wore a felt or leather conical cap known as a pileus.

The pileus was a conical felt or leather cap worn by men during Saturnalia

Saturnalia was a time of role reversal, a time when the opposite of normal was acceptable.

For instance, during Saturnalia gambling was permitted in public, with the stakes being either coins or, oddly enough, nuts!

Overeating and drunkenness were common, as was guising, which was the wearing of masks or costumes to take on another persona.

Thou knowest not what evening may bring.
(Macrobius. Saturnalia)

However, perhaps the most commonly known tradition of Saturnalia was the role reversal of masters and slaves. Traditionally, masters would serve their slaves a meal of the sort that they would usually enjoy, sigillaria would be given, and the slaves were even at liberty to insult their masters without fear of retribution.

Citizens or slaves might even be elected the ‘King of Saturnalia’ at the banquet at which time they could give absurd orders that had to be obeyed.

Guising and the wearing of masks occurred during Saturnalia

If this seems like a hectic summary with myriad different traditions and goings on, you’d be right. Just as with Christmas today, everyone likely had their own unique take on the traditions of the season. Roman religion was highly customizable!

You’d also be correct in assuming that some of the traditions of Saturnalia feel very familiar. At Christmastime, people eat and drink more than is usual (if they are so fortunate), there are a couple of days off work, gifts are given, holly (and perhaps ivy) is hung, candles are lit, and more.

Around the winter solstice, it seems that many cultures and religions find cause to celebrate.

So, from December 17th this year and in the run-up to Christmas, spare a thought for the Romans who certainly knew how to throw a good party this time of year.

Thank you for reading, and Io Saturnalia!

Io Saturnalia!

For those of you who are fans of historical fantasy set in ancient Rome, you may want to check out one of Eagles and Dragons Publishing’s latest releases, Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome.

Much of the research for this post was done for the writing of this new book, so if you would like to see many of these ancient traditions come to life, you’ll want to check it out by CLICKING HERE.

Lastly, and for a bit of fun at this festive time of year, check out this hilarious video and song by the Ashmolean Latin Inscriptions Project and members of Oxford’s Faculty of Classics:

 

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Ancient Everyday – Food and Dining in Ancient Rome – Part II

Welcome back, Romanophiles!

In part one of this two-part series on food and dining in ancient Rome, we looked at the various foods that would have appeared on the tables of average Romans and how this varied depending on economic status or geographical region. If you missed that post CLICK HERE to read it.

This week, in part two, we’re going to take a brief look at the eating habits and formalities of dining in ancient Rome.

When it comes to eating, we seem to have inherited some of our modern-day habits from the Romans.

They normally ate one large, main meal a day, along with two smaller ones. However, the ientaculum, that is, breakfast, to the Romans, was not the most important meal of the day as we are sometimes told. In fact, Romans might have skipped this altogether before heading down to the Forum or visiting with clients or benefactors.

Breakfast in ancient Rome was light, and most likely involved puls, a sort of porridge, or some bread, perhaps dipped in honey or olive oil. They didn’t attack the day with a lumberjack breakfast in their stomachs!

In the early days, the midday meal or lunch, known as the cena, was the main, large meal of the day. This would perhaps have coincided with the sexta, the sixth hour of daylight or siesta time of day. For more about the Roman siesta, CLICK HERE.

Lastly, the Romans would have enjoyed a lighter evening meal called the vesperna, perhaps involving bread and cheese, or some fruit.

Sensible eating for those early Romans!

Over time, however, the midday lunch became a lighter meal known as the prandium, and the cena, the main meal, was moved to the evening.

For the poor, most meals would have consisted of puls or bread, sometimes with some sort of meat, or vegetables if they were available. There was certainly less variety among the different meals of the day if one was not wealthy or at least well-off.

For the rich and well-to-do, things were different. As the cena was the large meal of the day it would have included three courses of food.

The first course was the gustatio or promulsis, and this would have involved appetizers of olives, eggs, raw vegetables, and simple fish or shell fish.

The second, or main course, the prima mensa, often included cooked vegetables and meats, the types and amounts varying greatly, depending on the occasion and wealth of the family or individual.

And lastly came the sweet course, the secunda mensa. This is when fruit and sweet pastries would have been served.

Fresco of eggs, wine, and songbirds. The makings of a cena, perhaps?

But what about the etiquette of dining? What was the etiquette? How did they sit? Did the Romans just move from course to course, gobbling up all that was placed before them?

Not exactly. In fact, there was a rigid system of seating, or placement. Contrary to modern views, most Romans ate while sitting, but when it came to the wealthy, they tended to recline on couches, especially at dinner parties.

At a banquet, or convivium, there would also have been entertainment between courses, perhaps by clowns, dancers, or readings by poets.

Food was eaten with fingers, and cut with knives. Spoons were also used, but forks were not.

Hypothetical triclinium visualisation (created by Martin Blazeby)

Today, when one attends a dinner, there are sometimes places assigned to guests. There might even be name cards, and some hosts might distance themselves from their least favourite guests at the table.

Well, this was also true in ancient Rome!

I want you to imagine you’re invited to an evening cenaat a senator’s home. You’re greeted in the atrium and led through the house to the dining room, the triclinium, just off of the peristyle garden. It’s dark out, and the scent of lemon blossoms and jasmine are on the night air. After a cup of watered wine, you’re shown into the triclinium by one of the well-dressed slaves who shows you to the couch known as the lectus medius, the middle couch of three, the couch of honour.

At this point, you’re very happy, for your host, seated with his wife on the lectus imus, the low couch, has honoured you above all other guests. The other guests behind you grin and bear it as they are shown to the high couch. From where you are, you have a wondrous view of the night garden and all of the other guests, and conversation comes easily, for you do not have to twist and turn.

Sound like a good evening? It could be. But the Romans took seating of this sort very seriously.

Horace (65 B.C. – 8 B.C.), in Satire VIII presents us with a scene depicting the seating arrangements and the trials of being a host in ancient Rome:

‘I was there at the head, and next to me Viscus

From Thurii, and below him Varius if I

Remember correctly: then Servilius Balatro

And Vibidius, Maecenas’ shadows, whom he brought

With him. Above our host was Nomentanus, below

Porcius, that jester, gulping whole cakes at a time:

Nomentanus was by to point out with his finger

Anything that escaped our attention: since the rest

Of the crew, that’s us I mean, were eating oysters,

Fish and fowl, hiding far different flavours than usual:

Soon obvious for instance when he offered me

Fillets of plaice and turbot cooked in ways new to me.

Then he taught me that sweet apples were red when picked

By the light of a waning moon. What difference that makes

You’d be better asking him. Then Vibidius said

To Balatro: “We’ll die unavenged if we don’t drink him

Bankrupt”, and called for larger glasses. Then the host’s face

Went white, fearing nothing so much as hard drinkers,

Who abuse each other too freely, while fiery wines

Dull the palate’s sensitivity. Vibidius

And Balatro were tipping whole jugs full of wine

Into goblets from Allifae, the rest followed suit,

Only the guests on the lowest couch sparing the drink.’

Horace (by Giacomo Di Chirico) Is he writing about the banquet he attended the night before?

Seems like Horace had a lot of fun with this, and his satires are certainly good for a laugh! I do feel for that host.

But what was all this ‘status seating’ about?

In a relatively well-off Roman household, three couches in a triclinium were standard. These were arranged around a low table, or mensa, and these couches had specific names and purposes.

The lectus medius, the middle couch, was the couch of honour, and was where important guests were placed. Because of its position, guests seated here were able to talk easily with other guests and had the best view, whether onto a peristyle garden or some sort of rural landscape.

The lectus imus, the low couch, was reserved for the hosts. It allowed them to speak with the high status guests on the lectus medius, and also the guests sitting directly across on the lectus summus.

Last and least, the lectus summus, or the high couch. This was not like the high table at a wedding today. No. The lectus summus in ancient Rome was the opposite. It was reserved for the lower status guests, maybe even for children if they were permitted to attend. This couch possessed less of a view, though still allowed its occupants the chance to participate in the conversation, though they might have had to turn awkwardly to do so. If you were shown to the lectus summus, then it seems you knew your place at the gathering.

If it was a rather large banquet, we can assume that the farther from the hosts and guest of honour you were on lectus summus side of the triclinium, the less important you were considered, or at least less influential.

Plan of typical Roman couch placement in a triclinium (from Reclining and Dining (and Drinking) in Ancient Rome by Shelby Brown; The Iris – Behind the Scenes at the Getty)

I hope you’ve enjoyed this two-part blog series on food and dining in ancient Rome.

In researching this for the books Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome, and the forthcoming title Isle of the Blessed, I found that some of the modern perceptions we have about Roman banquets are indeed true, while others are clearly not. If one was eating in a tenement in the Suburra, you were not reclining on a couch eating grapes and drinking wine. It was a table and chair for you.

The food consumed, as well as the eating and dining habits of the poor and the rich were often separated by a wide gulf. Nevertheless, the wonderful colour and variety of the world of ancient Rome never ceases to delight me!

More Ancient Everyday posts will be along in the future, but in the meantime, may your winter dining be pleasant.

Thank you for reading.

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Ancient Everyday – Food and Dining in Ancient Rome – Part I

Salvete history-lovers!

The holiday season has begun for many of us whom Fortuna has blessed, and even if you might not be one for the orgy of buying and selling presents that usually occurs at this time of year, you no doubt think of food, drink, and friendly gatherings.

And so, I thought it was time for a new, two-part Ancient Everyday series on food and dining in ancient Rome.

Recreation of Roman foods

In this first blog, we’re going to touch briefly on food, what the average Roman diet entailed, and cooking. This is a vast topic, so we’re taking a general look at this subject, a little something to whet your appetite.

In the Roman Empire, diet, and the food that made up that diet, changed according to geographic region and the economic situation of the folk you are talking about. It wasn’t like today where we can just head down the street and buy a pineapple at any time of year. As a rule, there was no mass, global transportation of foods. Romans ate local for the most part, unless you were talking about wine, olive oil, olives and specialty items like garum. We’ll talk about those later.

First off, we need to dismiss the perception that Romans always ate elaborate meals with trays of songbirds, dormice, buckets of wine, and mountains of exotic fruits. This was not a usual occurrence, and when it did happen, it was usually the super-rich or imperial family who ate like that, and then, only once in a while.

The truth is that the Roman diet was rather simple and, dare I say it, probably pretty healthy. Think Mediterranean diet.

Generally, the staples were various grains, often used in a sort of porridge known as puls, and breads made from a species of wheat known as frumentum. There was no such thing as pasta in ancient Rome! Panem et pulswere the go-tos! Beans and lentils were also staples, and research has shown that these, rather than meat, were the breakfast of champions for gladiators!

To hear more about various types of grains from Pliny the Elder, CLICK HERE.

Fruits such as figs, grapes, and olives (yes, olives are technically, a fruit!) were eaten when available, as were a large variety of vegetables that made up the Roman diet. They did not have tomatoes or potatoes in ancient Rome, but they did eat a lot of cabbage, onions, garlic, parsnips, marrows, radishes, lettuce (not Caesar salad BTW!), asparagus, beets, and celery.

Mosaic depicting asparagus

When it came to meats, these were usually consumed as part of the main meal of the day, however that was not as likely or often for the poor. Sausages and domestic fowl were relatively common, as was pork, the latter being a special feature of certain festivals such as Saturnalia. Oysters and fish were very popular in ancient Rome, but there was the constant challenge of keeping them fresh when being delivered from the seaside to the city. It has been suggested that these were transported live, in barrels, to the places where they were to be consumed.

Needless to say, food poisoning may have been a common occurrence in ancient Rome, especially if one had a taste for oyster and other shell fish.

But let’s not think that there was nothing exotic on the Roman dining table. Well-to-do Romans would have consumed game such as venison or wild boar, snails and dormice (yes, little mice!) that were especially bred for the purpose of consumption, as well as small, wild birds or songbirds. If one attended a really fancy convivium, or banquet, one might even have had the chance to eat some peacock or swan.

Mosaic depicting typical Roman foods

With all of the foods mentioned above, I would be remiss if I did not make mention of the wide variety of fresh herbs and spices (too many to name here!) that Romans put on their food.

Romans liked their food highly spiced and cooked in sauces. Garum, a fermented fish sauce, was among the most popular. You can read more about garum, by CLICKING HERE.

And there were desserts too! But these were not sweetened with sugar as we know it, but rather with honey. Romans, when they did have sweets, had a variety of cakes, pastries and tarts all sweetened with sticky goodness from our buzzing apian friends.

Lastly, what Roman shopping list would be complete without the two greatest liquid staples in the Empire? I am, of course, talking about wine and olive oil. These were both common in any household and came in varying qualities, depending on one’s income.

Amphorae that would have been used to transport and store wine and olive oil.

So how and where were all of these foods prepared?

Once again, this depended on the means of the household. Some kitchens were bigger than others, the same as today. In the case of tenement apartments in the Suburra, for instance, they did not have kitchens or cooking spaces which would have taken up much-needed space and been a severe fire-risk in the building.

In the case of tenement dwellers without kitchens of their own, there were communal ovens that were used, as well as plenty of food stalls where meals could be purchased – ancient Rome’s answer to take-out curry!

For those homes that did have kitchens (indoor or outdoor) the space often consisted of a round, or domed oven where a cook-fire was kindled with wood or charcoal. Cauldrons were also suspended over fires, as were frying pans or skillets.

When meat was cooked, it was more often boiled with a sauce, rather than roasted or grilled, although skewered roast meats were available, likely sold street-side.

I tell you, souvlaki has been around a long time!

Preservation of food was also important in ancient Rome, and so the curing and smoking of meats was common, as was the use of salt and pickling in vinegar for preservation.

What some archaeologists believe to be a sort of ancient souvlaki rack

Now we come to it, however, the nectar of the gods – wine!

Eight glasses of water a day?

Not in ancient Rome.

The most common drink in ancient Rome was wine. It was usually watered down, as it was considered barbaric to drink it undiluted, which is a shame if you ask me. But watered wine is not so bad. Go on, give it a try!

Just as with olive oil and garum, there were varying qualities of wines made at home and outside of the Italian peninsula.

Wine and bread? Yes please!

In addition to the fine Falernian and Chian vintages that might have graced the tables of the wealthy, there was also a wine concentrate that had to be diluted in water.

Among the poor, the drink of choice was posca, a sort of watered down acetumakin to wine vinegar. It might have had a bite, but perhaps it helped to keep one’s innards clean?

I prefer medieval Chianti Classico myself.

In Rome, beer and mead were not widely available and were much more common in the northern provinces.

And milk? Not so much. It was considered uncivilized to drink, the preferred use of dairy being to make cheeses, which were central to the Roman diet.

What’s available in the market today?

As mentioned, we have only scratched the surface of the topic of food in ancient Rome, but I hope this has given you an idea as to the day-to-day flavour of what might have graced the tables of Romans rich and poor.

If you would like to read more about specific recipes, the surviving go-to text for cooking in ancient Rome is by gourmand of the rich and well-to-do of Rome, Apicius.

You can read more about him and try out his recipe for Roman hamburgers by CLICKING HERE.

Apicius’ Roman hamburgers

That concludes part one of this short series on food and dining in ancient Rome.

Stay tuned for part two in which we will be looking at the eating habits of the rich and poor, as well as some of the formalities of dining itself.

Cheers, and thank you for reading!

What Roman food surprises you? If you’ve come across a particularly surprising dish in your own reading or research, please share it with us in the comments below.

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A New Release from Eagles and Dragons Publishing!

Salvete, historical fantasy lovers, and Romanophiles!

We have a very special announcement here on Writing the Past.

This week, we’re launching the newest title in the Eagles and Dragons Publishing catalogue, and we can’t wait to share it with you.

Are you ready?

It’s called…

Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome

We’re very excited about this novel. Here is the wonderful cover, designed by the incredibly-talented Laura Wright LaRoche at LLPix Designs…

So, what is Saturnalia all about?

Here is some background.

Every year before Christmas, I like to read an original, unabridged version of A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. CLICK HERE for a free download of the e-book.

Most people are familiar with this classic tale, and for me, as a reader and author, I think it is perhaps one of the most perfectly executed and moving stories ever written.

I never tire of reading it, and every time I do read it, I take something new away with me.

Dickens’ tale of Ebenezer Scrooge is also one that has been told and retold myriad times over the years in fiction, musicals, theatre, and film. Even Matthew McConaughey and Barbie have their own versions of this story!

Which leads me to Saturnalia.

The last couple of times I read A Christmas Carol, I found myself thinking that this story, or something akin to it, would be amazing set in the world of ancient Rome, not during Christmas, but during Saturnalia, one of the most glorious festivals of ancient Rome.

So, inspired by the Republican era bust of Cato the Elder, I set out to write my own version of the story.

Cato the Elder

With Saturnalia, however, I didn’t just want to retell the story verbatim, but rather use the framework of Dickens’ tale to guide me as a sort of story architecture. It was important to me that I make my own, unique mark on the story. It was important to me that I set it firmly in the world and traditions of ancient Rome from a historically-accurate point of view, but also from the point of view of ancient belief and religious practices.

And I’m quite thrilled with the results!

Here is the full synopsis of Saturnalia: A Tale of Wickedness and Redemption in Ancient Rome…

Long before Ebenezer Scrooge, there was Catus Pompilius, the meanest man in Rome.

It is the time of Saturnalia, the most highly-anticipated festival across the whole of the Roman Empire.

In the ancient city of Rome, citizens and slaves are preparing to honour the gods and to enjoy a time of freedom and revelry among family and friends. Saturnalia truly is the best of days for all!

That is, for all except the wickedest landlord in Rome: Catus Pompilius.

With a blatant disregard for gods and men alike, Catus Pompilius moves through the streets of Rome spreading misery wherever he can, dousing the Saturnalian light of the world around him.

However, this Saturnalia, the gods have decided that Catus’ time has come. Judgment is upon him!

Will Catus Pompilius be able to redeem himself and prevail upon the gods’ mercy? Or will their divine wrath hurl him into the darkest depths of Tartarus for all eternity?

 Read this dark tale of gods and men, wickedness and redemption, to find out!

Saturnalia isn’t just a tale for the holiday season, something to read by the side of a cozy fire. This story is something that fans of ancient Rome will, I hope, enjoy anytime of year.

And for fans of the Eagles and Dragons series, the time period and city of Rome will feel very familiar to you.

The book is available for pre-order in some stores now, but the official launch is on November 1st, 2018, and there will be special notice for Eagles and Dragons Publishing subscribers.

So, dear friends, do stay tuned and watch your in-boxes!

Thank you for reading, and we do hope that you enjoy this new and exciting journey into the world of ancient Rome!

 

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Ancient Everyday – Marriage and Divorce in Ancient Rome

Salvete, history-lovers!

Are you married? Are you divorced? Do you have children? Have you remarried?

These questions are normal enough today, as they were in ancient Rome. Marriage and divorce were common in the ancient world. We’ve inherited them from our ancient ancestors, but with some tweaks to how they are perceived, their sanctity, and the laws surrounding them.

As ever, the Romans did things a little differently than we do today.

On this edition of Ancient Everyday, we’re going to take a brief look at marriage and divorce in ancient Rome.

Marriage scene from a 4th century sarcophagus

With respect to character or soul one should expect that it be habituated to self-control and justice, and in a word, naturally disposed to virtue. These qualities should be present in both man and wife. For without sympathy of mind and character between husband and wife, what marriage can be good, what partnership advantageous? How could two human beings who are base have sympathy of spirit one with the other? Or how could one that is good be in harmony with one that is bad? (Gaius Musonius Rufus)

When it comes to ancient Rome, more is known to us about the families of the upper classes regarding marriage and divorce.

Marriage was central to Roman life, and at the heart of Roman virtues. At one point, as we’ll see, it was even a legal duty!

As in ancient Greece, Roman marriages were always monogamous. That’s not to say Roman men did not have mistresses, slaves or prostitutes, but they were only permitted one wife.

Also, a full Roman marriage was possible only if both parties were Roman citizens, or if they had been granted a conubium, permission to marry.

Officially, men were permitted to marry from fourteen years of age, and women from the age of twelve. This seems inconceivable to us, and it may also have been so for Romans since in actual practice, marriage did not usually take place until after twenty years of age.

Fresco of a husband and new bride c. 19 B.C.

Before a marriage could take place, there was a formal betrothal known as a sponsalia. This could take place, especially among the upper classes, when the children were young, and was arranged by the father of each family, the paterfamilias. To read more about the paterfamilias in ancient Rome, CLICK HERE.

Before about 445 B.C. Patricians were not permitted to marry Plebeians, and a free person could not marry a freedman or freedwoman, although this last point was altered by the legal changes instituted by Emperor Augustus – except for senators! More on the changes Augustus made shortly.

When we think of marriage in ancient Rome, we often have a perception of marriage only for political reasons or some other gain. This was certainly true among the nobles of Rome.

However, marriage was in fact a private act most of the time. It required the following: the consent of bother partners (though still dictated by the paterfamilias of each family), the living together of the man and woman with the intention of forming a lasting union, and sometimes a dos, or dowry.

Whereas today, when a man and woman get married, they sign a registry along with their witnesses, there was no prescribed formula or written contract in Roman weddings, except in the instance where a dowry was offered.

Furthermore, the marriage ceremonies had no legal status. They only indicated that a marriage now existed, the same as a dowry. Both were moral, rather than legal, requirements.

When a woman got married in the early days of Rome, she was supposed to go from her father’s house, under his control, to her husband’s house and control, in manu mariti. However, by the end of the Roman Republic, a woman, though married, remained in the control of her father, sine manu, for as long as her father lived.

A Roman woman was not absorbed into a husband’s family.

Changes were certainly afoot in ancient Rome when it came to marriage, and by the reign of Augustus and the beginning of the Empire, marriage became unpopular and birth rates dropped.

This crisis of the Roman population is what led Augustus to create reforms around marriage laws.

Augustus decreed that all men between the ages 25 and 60, and women between 20 and 50, had to marry and have children.

The emperor also instituted the ius trium liberorum, the right of three children, which instituted privileges for parents of three or more children. Some of these privileges included being excused from some civil duties, or being permitted to receive inheritances intended for their children.

Augustus as Pontifex Maximus

 So what did a Roman wedding look like?

Weddings were more religious than legal in ancient Rome. They had to take place on an auspicious day, and not on the Kalends, Nones, or Ides of any month, nor during the months of May and February. June was the preferred month for marriages.

A conferatiowedding ceremony was the most serious, oldest, and most solemn of Roman weddings. It was attended by the Flamen Dialis (High Priest of Jupiter), and the Pontifex Maxiums (High Priest of the College of Pontifs), and during the ceremony the sacred panis farreus, or spelt bread, was shared. It was nearly impossible to become divorced if you were married in conferatio.

But the average Roman wedding ceremony was of a less severe nature.

At the average Roman wedding, the auspices were taken to ensure it could proceed with the gods’ blessing. There was a sacrifice of an animal, such as a pig, and then there was a banquet, or convivium. Afterward, the bride and groom might exchange gifts.

There were roughly three stages to the ceremony. First, there would be a ceremony in the home of the bride. Then, there would be a procession of both families to the home of the groom where a banquet would be served at the husband’s expense.

The Roman Wedding – Emilio Vasarri

Marriage was all well and good for the Romans, but what happened when things soured? How did they deal with divorce?

Well, as it turns out, the Romans had a much more relaxed view when it came to divorce than we do today. We actually know a bit more about Roman divorce than we do about marriage.

Unlike certain faiths today, especially since the Middle Ages, there was no religious ban on divorce in ancient Rome.

Perhaps more importantly, there was no social stigma attached to it, or to a divorced spouse.

In the early days of the Republic, a man could divorce his wife on the grounds of adultery, but the same did not go for the woman. In ancient Rome, it was accepted that men would have mistresses, concubines, and frequent the brothel, or lupanar.

A man could also divorce his wife if she was thought to be infertile. This was obviously long before thinking around lazy sperm or sterility in men!

However, the women of Rome must have rejoiced in part when, during the late Republic, men and women could initiate divorce without having to give a reason!

Men who do not like to see their wives eat in their company are thus teaching them to stuff themselves when alone. So those who are not cheerful in the company of their wives, nor join with them in sportiveness and laughter, are thus teaching them to seek their own pleasures apart from their husbands. (Plutarch)

In ancient Rome, divorce was actually common, especially among the upper classes who often used marriage as a way to solidify political alliances, depending on which way the wind was blowing.

It is estimated that 1 in 6 Roman marriages ended in divorce in the first ten years, and that 1 in 6 marriages ended through the death of a spouse.

The good news for Roman women was that upon divorce, a woman’s dowry was to be returned.

But what happened after divorce?

Well, as often happens today, people did remarry. It was a frequent occurrence, but sadly, it appears to have been more socially acceptable for men who could remarry with ease, whereas it was more difficult for a woman to remarry after a divorce.

If one was a widow, it was actually made law by Augustus’ reforms that you were required to remarry!

Mourners beside a Roman funeral couch

We’ve only really scratched the surface of marriage and divorce in ancient Rome here, but I hope it has given you an idea of that part of the ancient everyday lives of Romans.

We’ve focussed more on the ceremonial and standard practices around weddings, as well as the laws around marriage and divorce. However, one thing we have not looked at is the human element.

It’s all fine and good to have the laws or rules for such things jotted down on a piece of papyrus, or upon the surface of a wax tablet, but at the end of the day, the strengths and weaknesses, personalities and passions, of the individuals involved would have made marriage and divorce in ancient Rome as vast, varied and confusing as it is today. Perhaps more so?

This was just another look at how the everyday life of Romans was similar, but at the same time, different, to our own.

Thank you for reading.

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Roman Ghosts – Pliny and the Spectral Haircut

Hello History-Lovers!

It’s been a while since the last post in the Roman Ghosts blog series. Something I was working on recently (a secret to be unleashed this autumn!) made me think of hauntings, and so, here we are.

I’ve also waited because, of all the tips we’ve received about Roman ghost sightings, there were none that took place outside of the UK. The Roman Empire was, of course, vast, and so I found it difficult to believe that there were no accounts outside of Britannia.

So, I did some digging and found one story which I will share with you today.

Statue of Pliny the Younger on the Duomo of Como – Giovanni Rodari, 1480 (Wikimedia Commons)

I am extremely desirous therefore to know whether you believe in the existence of ghosts, and that they have a real form, and are sorts of divinities, or only the visionary impressions of a terrified imagination. (Pliny the Younger, LXXXIII. To Sura)

As it happens, this particular story is not of modern sightings of a ghost, but rather is an ancient ghost story relayed by none other than Pliny the Younger in a letter to Senator Lucius Licinius Sura, from Hispania.

It seems that Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, known to us as Pliny the Younger (c. A.D. 61 – 113), had ghosts on his mind.

Mosaic of Gorgon head, symbol of horror and dread, from Sousse Tunisia

Being an educated and inquisitive person like his uncle, Pliny the Elder, he wrote to his friend Sura to see what he thought about ghosts.

Now, we don’t really know why Pliny the Younger had ghosts on his mind, apart from the tales he relays as examples in his letter to Sura.

There are three tales, or examples, of ghost sightings that Pliny relays in his letter. The first is of an apparition that warned the senator, Curtius Rufus, of his rise to power, and also of his death in Africa.

The second story Pliny writes to Sura about is of the Greek philosopher, Athenodorus, who wanted to rent an apartment in Athens but wondered why it was so inexpensive. Apparently, the ghost of an old man kept harassing the occupants of the flat, and so, like an ancient world Ghostbuster, Athenodorus spent the night there to see what happened. The ghost appeared while Athenodorus was working, and insisted that the philosopher follow it to a spot nearby. The next day, Athenodorus asked that a hole be dug there and, sure enough, a putrefied body lay chained within. The remains were reburied with the proper rituals, and the ghost was not seen again.

Print of Athenodorus confronting the ghost in the story told by Pliny to Sura

These first two stories in Pliny’s letter are fascinating, but it is the third story that interests me, because it comes perhaps to the crux of the matter for Pliny – an experience beneath his own roof! Here it is in his words:

I have a freedman named Marcus, who is by no means illiterate. One night, as he and his younger brother were lying together, he fancied he saw somebody upon his bed, who took out a pair of scissors, and cut off the hair from the top part of his own head, and in the morning, it appeared his hair was actually cut, and the clippings lay scattered about the floor. A short time after this, an event of a similar nature contributed to give credit to the former story. A young lad of my family was sleeping in his apartment with the rest of his companions, when two persons clad in white came in, as he says, through the windows, cut off his hair as he lay, and then returned the same way they entered. The next morning it was found that this boy had been served just as the other, and there was the hair again, spread about the room. (Pliny the Younger, LXXXIII. To Sura)

I don’t know about you, but if I woke up to a Roman ghost cutting my hair, I would not be quiet about it!

Obviously, Pliny did not witness the ghost himself, but he does say that “This story I believe upon the credit of others [the previous tale]; what I am going to mention [the current tale], I give you upon my own.”

Roman burial with shackled skeleton

What would drive Pliny the Younger – an educated and well-respected man and member of Roman society – to believe this tale and even to seek the advice of Senator Sura?

Of course we don’t know what topics of discussion passed previously between Pliny and Sura, what they might have discussed over dinner in times gone by.

We should bear in mind that Pliny, who was eighteen at the time, bore witness to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and the deaths of thousands, including his own uncle.

The ruins of Pompeii with Mount Vesuvius in the background

You could hear the shrieks of women, the wailing of infants, and the shouting of men; some were calling their parents, others their children or their wives, trying to recognize them by their voices. People bewailed their own fate or that of their relatives, and there were some who prayed for death in their terror of dying. Many besought the aid of the gods, but still more imagined there were no gods left, and that the universe was plunged into eternal darkness for evermore. (Pliny the Younger, Letter to Tacitus)

Years later, were the ghosts of Pompeii on his mind? Was Pliny haunted by that event, and did he worry about the dead? Perhaps his questions to Sura masked his own fears of the dead? Maybe he felt a great guilt at surviving the cataclysm of Pompeii?

Your guess is as good as mine.

One thing does seem certain from Pliny’s letter to Sura: the respectable Roman was beset by ghosts, or thoughts of them. Why, we can’t be sure, but it is a great Roman Ghost story!

If you would like to read the full text of Pliny the Younger’s letter to Sura, you can do so by CLICKING HERE.

Thank you for reading.

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Ancient Everyday – The Siesta

Salvete, dear readers!

I hope you’re all having a brilliant summer so far, or winter if you’re in the southern hemisphere!

The extreme heat that’s been hitting much of the world has not by-passed Toronto either. The air has been thick and humid on several occasions, causing folks to drag their feet and stay indoors if they can, or to seek out the nearest body of water to cool off.

It’s amazing how the heat can drain one’s energy!

So, that got me to thinking about a new Ancient Everyday! If you missed the last post on pets, you can check it out HERE.

Today, we’re going to take a brief look at the siesta!

Taking it easy on an ancient afternoon…

The idea of the siesta was not something I grew up with. Few people do in North America. You get up, you work through the day, or go to school, and then you come home, eat and sleep.

Most people associate the siesta with Spain or other Spanish-speaking countries, but I first came across the siesta when visiting Greece years ago. As ever, I was out doing the tourist thing, baking myself among the ruins of various archaeological sites, when the world seemed to grow quiet around 2 p.m. or so.

It was midday, but everyone seemed to have retreated. Businesses closed and restaurants emptied (except in the very touristy locations like the Plaka of Athens). There seemed to be a general hush over the world.

It was surreal. It felt like I was in some apocalyptic movie, the only person left in the world!

Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you get the picture. Things grew very quiet.

On subsequent, longer visits to Greece, my family and friends would come home from work for lunch around 1 p.m. or so, they would eat a big lunch, sleep for an hour or two, and then they would go back to work until about 8 p.m. in the evening.

My thinking was, why would they go back to work? You’ve already been!

Greek dentist and pharmacy signs showing siesta gap in business hours (Wikimedia Commons)

Enter the siesta!

But this habit of breaking up the day and resting during the hottest hours or mid-way point is not a modern invention.

Though many ancient cultures likely took time out in the middle of the day, it was the Romans who gave it the name we are now familiar with.

The word ‘siesta’ is actually derived from the Latin word sexta, which refers to the sixth hour of daylight. This is approximately 1 p.m. in winter, and 3 p.m. in summer. If you want to know all about Roman time-keeping, you can check out the Ancient Everyday mini-series on that topic by CLICKING HERE.

A ‘peristylium’ in a Roman house – excellent place for a siesta!

In ancient Rome, the siestatime of day, the time of sexta, was actually a time to eat and rest, to gather oneself for the second half of the day, whatever that might involve, be it business in the forum, opening your shop for the evening clientele, or loading up a shipment to go to the docks in Ostia. This tradition of day-rest seems to have spread to other cultures across the Roman Empire, including Hispania where it really caught on.

People today might think that the idea of eating a big meal and then taking a long nap in the middle of the working day is ridiculous, but I wouldn’t be too hasty to judge.

There have been plenty of studies to show that midday rest, or naps, are good for productivity and physical and mental performance, they alleviate stress, and are good for the immune system, and of great benefit to cardiovascular and mental health.

Indeed some famous nappers in history were Aristotle, Leonardo da Vinci, Beethoven, Napoleon, Salvador Dali, Einstein, Winston Churchill, and Margaret Thatcher. Whether you like these people and their work or not, you can’t argue that they didn’t get a lot done or have big ideas!

‘The School of Athens’ – bet there are some expert ‘nappers’ here!

The Romans were certainly a productive lot, and one has to wonder if one of the reasons they conquered so much of the world was because they knew how to take time out. Who knows? It’s possible!

Just another thing the Romans gave to the world. Perhaps it’s time we brought back the siesta in force.

Think about it…

And while you do that, I’m going to take a nap…

Thank you for reading.

 

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