Thus the slaves were very useful out of doors; they accompanied their masters, created a good opinion of him, and contributed to his importance; but what was to be done with them in the house? There were too many for occupation to be found for all in an ordinary household, and in order to give them something to do each had his particular office. “I use my slaves,” said a Greek, “like my limbs, one for each thing.” From this arose the extreme division of labour in ancient houses; it was never carried farther than at Rome. There were slaves to open the door to a visitor, others to bring him in, others to lift up before him the heavy draperies, and others to announce him. There were some to carry the dishes to the table, others to carve, some to taste them before the guests, and others to offer them. “These unhappy creatures,” says Seneca, “live only to carve the poultry well.” Each portion of a woman’s toilet was given to a different slave.

The slave who had charge of the clothes was not the same as the one who looked after the jewels or the purple. There were special artists for hairdressing and for perfuming. The tomb has even been discovered of an unhappy man whose sole function in life was to paint the aged Livia. Thus the master as soon as he returns home finds a crowd of servitors who are on the lookout for his wants and anticipate his orders. “I sit down,” says a character in a comedy, “my slaves run up to me and take off my shoes, others hasten to arrange the couches and to prepare the repasts. They all take as much trouble as possible.” What is the result? That by force of being surrounded and waited upon the master contracts the habit of doing absolutely nothing. All these people who gather around him, and to whom he is so grateful, render him the worst service possible; they take from him the necessity of doing anything for himself. The Roman of the early days of the republic, who had hardly more than one personal servant and who waited upon himself, was active and energetic; he conquered the world. The Roman of the empire, continually surrounded by a troop of slaves, became cowardly, effeminate, and a dreamer. Of all the furniture in his house, his couch is the one he is most ready to use. He lies down to sleep, to eat, to read, and to think. His servants divide amongst themselves all the functions of life, and all is minutely calculated to give him nothing to do. But this regularity which he admires so much is full of danger. Physical activity cannot be relaxed without moral activity suffering as well, and he who ceases to act ends by ceasing to have any will. This race of men who had given up exercising their bodies and keeping themselves in condition, also allowed their souls to become enervated. It is therefore a true saying that the large number of slaves which the Romans kept up contributed in no small measure to render themselves the slaves of the cæsars.

Roman Fish Hooks

(In the British Museum)

Let us suppose the newly purchased slave thrown amidst the multitude of servants that fills the Roman house; his first thought is naturally for his new master. He tries anxiously to know him, that he will see what he may expect from him, and how he will be treated. Let us do like him, and let us ask first of all to what treatment he will be subjected, and what will be the relations between master and slave. The answer to this question is not easy; the lot of the slave may be conceived of in different ways, and, for instance, it entirely changes its aspect according to whether we study it from the laws or from the facts. Until the days of the Antonines, the law in relation to him is terribly hard. It abandons him wholly to his master, whose property he is as much as a field or a flock of sheep. He has the right to use him or abuse him according to his fancy. He is free to inflict upon him all kinds of insults and dishonour; he can beat and kill him. We are therefore forced to admit that according to the laws there has never been a worse condition than that of a Roman slave; but it must be remembered that human institutions never do all the good or harm of which they are capable. In public morals and in the general feeling there exist obstacles which cannot be surmounted. Laws may be excellent or detestable; man, who is little capable of perfection and who is instinctively averse to barbarism, corrects their exaggeration in practice; as a rule he only carries them out in so far as they are not opposed to the mediocrity of his nature. We are therefore liable to mistake, if we judge the social condition of a nation according to its legislation. The first thing to discover is in what manner it was actually applied. There is reason to think that in Rome, even at the time when manners were most barbaric, the terrible rights that the law gave to the masters were rarely taken advantage of. Cato might say that it is wise to sell a slave when he is old and can be of no further use; custom might allow him to be abandoned without mercy when he was ill and left in the island of the Tiber near the temple of Æsculapius, in order that he might recover or die without any expense; but it is probable that, in generous souls, nature has always revolted against such cowardly desertion. There are several reasons for thinking that even in Cato’s time the slave was as a rule humanely treated, that he lived on familiar terms with his master, and that he nearly always grew old in his master’s house. After the battle of Cannæ, Rome having no more soldiers did not hesitate to arm eight thousand slaves. They fought bravely side by side with the legions, and deserved their liberty. Would they have exposed themselves to die for masters whom they detested?

All slaves, however, were not treated alike, and distinctions must be made between them. They were as a rule less well treated in the country than in the town. The agriculturists, in describing the stock of a farm and the instruments of cultivation, have no hesitation in classing the slave in the same category with the oxen. In reality the master does not make much difference between him and the cattle. At night he is shut up in a species of stables or underground prisons (ergastula), with narrow windows, at such a distance above ground that he cannot reach them with his hand. During the day, if he is to work alone, irons are put on his feet in case the fresh air and open field should suggest to him the idea of escape. This is certainly rigorous treatment, and nevertheless the slave seems to support it with no great difficulty. A comic author makes him say, “When one’s work is in a distant field, where the master rarely comes, one is not a servitor but master.”

When a day of festival comes round and work is suspended, he celebrates it with such noisy joy that “those in the neighbourhood can hardly support his outbursts of delight.” It would have been difficult to imagine—seeing him after the harvest or the vintage, amusing himself with such good will, laughing and singing at the games of the cross-ways (compitalia) or jumping gaily over the straw fires at the Palilia—that he was so harshly treated the rest of the year. What proves that on the whole this lot was not thought so wretched is that the town slave sometimes envied his country brother. Horace had at Rome a slave of an unstable disposition who asked his master as a favour to send him to his Sabine farm. It is true he soon repented this.

As a rule the slave was sent to the fields only as a punishment when he had given dissatisfaction. It is certain that he was better treated and happier in town. Placed near his master he might have to suffer more from his caprice, but he also reaped advantage from it. He had the best chance of obtaining his liberty and making his fortune. There were some whose situations were even brilliant and envied, namely the imperial slaves. To belong to Cæsar’s household was to be somebody, and the great lords who esteemed themselves happy to be known by the porter of Sejanus bought the good graces of the stewards of Tiberius by presents and degrading acts. Even before being liberated these slaves often filled real public offices; they were officers of the mint, the finances, and the commissariat of Rome. They had also a sense of their own importance. They were proud and insolent and thought they were under an obligation to see that the dignity of the emperor was respected in their own persons. After these we should naturally place the slaves belonging to the towns, the temples, and the different civil and religious bodies. When authority is thus divided and when nobody takes the entire burden, not only is the servitor not under control but in reality it is he who dominates. Thus the slaves of this class appear as a rule to be rich and contented with their lot. Some there are who make large donations to the societies which have bought them, giving themselves the piquant pleasure of being the benefactors of their masters.

Nor are those belonging to some great houses much to be pitied. If they attain high functions in the establishment they make good profit. Sometimes the steward of a rich man found the position so lucrative that he preferred to remain a slave, rather than give it up. The most fortunate were those who happened to fall to a master who prided himself upon being humane and enlightened, who cultivated literature and practised the lessons of the philosophers. Pliny the Younger treated his dependents with the greatest kindness. Not only did he forbid irons to be put on them when they were tilling his fields, but he did not allow them to be crowded together in narrow cells or dark prisons. In his house at Laurentum the accommodation was so good that he could put guests there. He looked after them whenever they were ill, he allowed them to make wills and leave their small possessions to their friends; his humanity went so far that he wept at losing them. In the service of a rich and wise man like Pliny the slave is not really very unhappy. It is when he is with humbler people that his lot is harder. As he shares the fortune of the house, with the poor he is of course poor, and he may chance to fall into the hands of a master in very wretched circumstances. Everybody, even the workmen and soldiers, had slaves in those days. Even the peasant of the Moretum whose worldly wealth consists of a little garden, and who gets up so early to prepare his dish of garlic, cheese, and salt, is not alone in his hut; he has for maidservant a negress, whom the poet describes to us with such striking realism: “Her hair is woolly, her lips thick, her skin black; her body badly made, her legs lank, and nature has given her a foot which spreads at ease” (spatiosa prodiga planta). In the poor houses little money was made and life was hard.