The slaves in a large Roman house sprang from two different origins: either they had been bought or they were born in the house of a slave father and a slave mother. These latter were called vernæ, and were more esteemed than the others. It is to them that their masters refer in the inscriptions with the greatest respect and tenderness. They were supposed to be attached to the family in which they had been born. Besides, they had not been branded by the humiliation of a public sale, and this meant a great deal. The bought slave had appeared in the market-place, his feet marked with white and a label round his neck, on which his merits and defects were inscribed; he had been set on a platform and had been made to jump, turn a somersault, walk, run, laugh, and talk. The slave born in the house had at least escaped this ignominious ordeal. It was as though his dignity as a man had been less entirely lost, and as though he must be more capable of noble feeling. The man himself was so proud of this title of verna that in some instances it was retained even after liberation, and the freedman caused it to be inscribed on his tomb.
Roman Slave working in the Fields
The number of slaves which these two sources of servitude, birth and purchase, introduced into Rome must have been very considerable. The Syrian or Numidian whom the steward of a great noble had bought in the street of the Subura or near the temple of Castor, for the purpose of making use of him as runner or cook, was sure, on entering the palace of his new master, to find himself in a numerous company. The moralists complain that in the great houses the servitors were counted by thousands, and here they cannot be accused of exaggerating. Tacitus and Pliny say the same. In a satire by Petronius, Trimalchio, who does not know the tenth part of the slaves he possesses, is informed every morning of the number of them born during the night on his domain. This is not, as might be supposed, an imaginary scene, and history confirms the fable. Seneca tells us nearly the same thing of one of Pompey’s freedmen. Even this freedman had legions of slaves; and according to the custom of good generals who keep a reckoning of the number of their soldiers, a secretary was ordered to inform him every day of the changes that birth, sales, or death had made in this army since the day before.
At the present time wealth is more equally distributed, life has become more simple, and we have some difficulty in forming a conception of the households of the great nobles of ancient Rome. Let us imagine one of those rich patricians or knights who possessed four or five thousand slaves, like that Cæcilius of whom Pliny the Elder speaks. This multitude, crowded together in the palaces or scattered amongst the farms, belong to different nations and speak different tongues. Besides, each nation has its specialty. Greece furnishes chiefly grammarians and scholars; the Asiatics are musicians or cooks; from Egypt come the beautiful children whose chatter amuses their masters; the Africans run in front of the litter to clear the way. As for the Germans, with their huge bodies and their heads perched none knows where (caput necio ubi impositum), their only use is to get killed in the arena for the greater diversion of the Roman people. Some order must be established in this confusion: they are classed according to their nation, and are known by the colour of their skin (per nationes et colores) or, which is oftener the case, they are divided into groups of ten, or decuries, with a decurion to command them. Above the decurions are placed, in the country the farmers (villici), in the town the stewards (dispensatores).
It is easy to see that to feed all these people was no easy matter, and it is a rule that in a well-regulated establishment the master buys nothing outside, but has enough on his own estates to supply his whole household. His domains supply him with every kind of commodity, his town houses contain workmen of every trade. To guard against failure of supplies he lays up stores of every kind in huge storehouses, whose riches he does not always know. It is related that during the time when, as at the present day, the theatre sought to attract the crowd by the brilliancy of the mise-en-scène, a manager who had to provide dresses for a large number of the chorus, and did not want to go to this expense, went to Lucullus and asked him to lend him one hundred tunics. “A hundred tunics,” answered the rich Roman, “where do you expect me to find them? Nevertheless I will see.” The next day he sent five thousand. The management of these huge fortunes must have given a great deal of trouble, and consequently the master often excused himself from attending to it. Given up entirely to pleasure, he left all his affairs in the hands of stewards, who robbed him. When he consented to manage his business himself the laborious task was not without profit. It has been said with reason that if the Roman nobles had for many centuries a keen political sense, and if they showed themselves capable of ruling the world, this was because each one could undergo in his own domains an apprenticeship in the art of governing. The working of these vast estates, the millions of sesterces to be handled, the nations of slaves to be managed, rendered the great nobles administrators and financiers from their youth up.
It is the rule that everyone imitates those above him, and it is the custom for the inferior classes to follow as much as possible the examples set them by the aristocracy. We have seen that the nobles of Rome displayed their wealth by the number of their slaves; the middle class did likewise. Perhaps, even, this great number of servitors is still more striking in a modest house, so little does it seem to correspond with the owner’s means. Marcus Scaurus, who afterwards became a great personage, began by being very poor. He said in his memoirs that his father only left him thirty-seven thousand sesterces [£296 or $1,480], and ten slaves. Certainly at the present day no one who possessed only £296 in the world would have ten servants. The poet Horace was not very rich either: he lived on the liberality of Mæcenas, who gave him ease rather than riches. And yet he tells us that when he returned home in the evening he had three slaves ready to serve his dinner. He gives us the bill of fare of this dinner; there are leeks, chick peas, and a few cakes. It would seem that three waiters are a great many for such a poor dinner, and that the repast is not in keeping with the service.
And though the expense was small, it is impossible that the great number of superfluous slaves could have failed to be a general nuisance. Why did people have them? Why did the middle classes impose upon themselves a burden which weighed heavily on the rich? The answer is easy—they desired to make a show. Everybody wished to dazzle the eyes by an imposing retinue. The great personages, when they went to the Forum, trailed after them a whole army of clients and friends. They required hundreds of servitors or of freedmen whenever they left Rome. This is why they had to turn their country or town houses into veritable barracks.
Under Nero the prefect of Rome, Pedanius Secundus, having been assassinated by one of his slaves, all those that had that night slept under his roof were arrested as accomplices. There were four hundred of them. The man who walked out alone had to defy prejudice, as Horace did. A magistrate who went out with only five servants, was pointed at in the streets. The people had even begun to measure their esteem for a man according to the number of servants who accompanied him. An advocate was not considered eloquent if he did not have at least eight servitors behind his litter. When he was not rich enough to buy them he hired them, this being the only way by which he could get causes to plead and be listened to when he spoke. Women also made use of them to attract public attention. Juvenal says that Ogulnia took good care not to go to the theatre alone; who would have turned round to look at her? She hired female attendants and a fair-haired damsel, to whom she pretended to give frequent orders. She carried display to such an extent that she was always accompanied by a respectable nurse and some female friends of good appearance. In this way Ogulnia was sure to create a sensation wherever she went.