common to almost all literary sources from antiquity: they give us a slice of life for the upper class only. The texts we have usually emerged from elite society, the top 1% of the Roman world, and we have no historical texts authored by a woman, restricting us to one-half of that 1%. Compounding the problem, the elite tended not to be interested in the lives and concerns of the non-elite and so rarely wrote about them. Cicero’s correspondents are almost entirely other members of the elite; in the surviving collection are only four letters to his wife and four letters to his secretary Tiro. One challenge we will have to take up in this book is how to make the silence speak: how to learn something about the lives of women and the other 99% of Rome’s inhabitants despite the nature of our sources.
One way that modern historians try to fill the gaps in our picture is through comparative history. While recognizing that every society is unique in its details, anthropologists and other specialists have often been able to identify features that can be found in multiple societies. For instance Rome, as we will see, was a heavily agrarian society, dependent on farming for the majority of its economic output. As such, it likely shared certain features with other agrarian societies, such as the seasonal nature of the cycle of work: manufacturing societies are less dependent on the sun and rain for survival. Similarly, almost all pre-modern societies, because they lacked modern medical knowledge and equipment, suffered from very high infant mortality rates and shorter life spans than today. By looking to other societies and considering the ways in which they might compare to Rome, a Roman historian can get a better overall picture of Roman society, even if that picture remains fuzzy around the edges.
Another tool that Roman historians use to get around the problem of sources is to consider a much wider collection of texts than are normally considered “historical”. To some extent, all literary creations might be considered historical. Even if they were not written for the purpose of recounting historical events, they reveal critical elements of their society. Think of movies in our own society: the story may be fictional, but the movie shows us how people dressed at the time, what cars they drove, and how they lived. Sometimes a movie can tell us something of the values of the people at the time: how men and women related to each other or to their jobs. Theater played this role for the Romans. Among the earliest written Latin texts are comedies by Plautus (c. 250–184 BCE) and Terence (c. 190–160 BCE), both of whom came from outside the elite class. The depiction of women and enslaved persons upon the stage provides some useful material, even if the representations may be exaggerated or distorted for comic effect. In a later period, the love poetry of poets such as Catullus (87–54 BCE), Propertius (c. 50–16 BCE), and Ovid (43 BCE–17 CE) can suggest something of how Roman men conceived of relationships and how they expected women to behave. These texts, which drew on Greek predecessors, are also an essential resource for understanding how the Romans responded to Greek culture, which in turn helps us understand how the Romans thought about their own place in the world. For that reason, we will return repeatedly to the Roman response to Greek culture in learning about the Roman Republic.
Not only did the Romans have to respond to Greek culture, but the Greeks eventually had to learn to live in a world dominated by Roman power, and several Greeks left us valuable sources. Chief among these is the historian Polybius (c. 200–120 BCE). Polybius was an aristocratic Greek who was sent to Rome to serve as a hostage to ensure the good behavior of the defeated Greeks following a Roman military victory in 167 BCE. As an upper-class Greek, Polybius was accepted into Roman aristocratic circles. Far from being angry at the Romans for their treatment of him, Polybius grew to respect and admire the Romans, to the extent that he chose to stay in Rome even when the Romans allowed him and the other hostages to return home. Polybius took advantage of his time in Rome and of his connections to compose a history of the rise of Roman power, with an eye toward explaining to his countrymen how this upstart city to the west had become the dominant power in the Mediterranean.
Polybius’ account strikes most readers as evenhanded, but his dependence on some Roman families forces us to examine in each incident how far Polybius might have been attempting to flatter particular individuals. As we have already discussed, Polybius’ purpose in writing is also critical to understanding his text, and he tells us the following in that regard:
to discover, in the first place, the words actually spoken, whatever they were, and next to ascertain the reason why what was done or spoken led to failure or success. For the mere statement of a fact may interest us but is of no benefit to us: but when we add the cause of it, study of history becomes fruitful (Histories, 12.25).
Historians trained in North America and Europe have mostly adopted these principles – to understand causes and not just list facts – so Polybius is often held in high regard today.
Polybius’ greatest value to the social and cultural historian may actually lie in the fact that he often appears as what we might call a cultural anthropologist. As a Greek living in Rome, Polybius found himself confronted with customs and behaviors that seemed strange to him. In his concern to explain the Romans to his countrymen, he took the time to describe things that Roman authors took for granted. For instance, our best description of a Roman funeral comes from Polybius, and he also left us a detailed discussion of the Roman government. We still need to ask questions of Polybius; as a Greek, he often used his Greek experience to understand Roman customs, and on occasion seems to have misunderstood Roman behavior because of that perspective. However, he often provides us with crucial data missing from Roman sources, and the fact that he was present in Rome during a crucial period in Rome’s expansion makes him an invaluable resource.
Another Greek deserves mention in this regard: the biographer and moralist Plutarch (45–127 CE). Although he wrote substantially later than the people he described, Plutarch was able to draw upon many sources contemporary with those individuals that no longer survive for us. Among his numerous writings, Plutarch wrote a series of Parallel Lives, matching a figure from Roman history with one from Greece. Perhaps the greatest value for our study lies in the fact that he included many details about the private or personal lives of the people involved, allowing us to learn something of the practices of the Roman upper class. At the same time, we need again to ask about Plutarch’s purpose in writing: in most cases he aimed to provide a moral lesson from these lives and he explicitly matched his pairs in order to draw moral comparisons between the Greek and the Roman.
Plutarch’s treatment of Romulus provides an example of his method and a good contrast to Livy. Plutarch’s version of the fateful clash between Romulus and Remus states that Romulus lied about the number of birds that he saw. It was this deceit that led Remus to make fun of the walls and jump over them, which is when Romulus killed him. Plutarch’s story thus presents Romulus in a much less flattering light than Livy does. Indeed, Greek texts are often less sympathetic to the Romans, perhaps because they had no interest in celebrating Roman greatness.
Working with Sources
Vae Victis!
In 390 BCE, a tribe of Gauls (modern France) made their way south across the Alps toward Rome. They put the Romans to flight at the River Allia, 11 miles from Rome, and laid siege to the city. The Romans sent their women, children, and religious items out of the city for safekeeping, while the men of military age took up a position on the Capitoline hill, the highest and most easily defended of Rome’s seven hills. Eventually the defenders ran short on food and negotiated surrender terms with the Gauls: in exchange for an agreed sum of gold, the Gauls would depart from the city.
To add insult to injury, the Gauls used unequal weights as the gold was being measured, so that the Romans would end up paying more than the agreed sum. When the Romans objected, the Gallic leader threw his sword on the weights, making the Romans add extra gold to cover its weight as well. As he did so, he uttered the words “Vae victis (Woe to the conquered)!” reminding the Romans that those defeated in war have no bargaining power.
Livy describes what happened next:
By good fortune it happened that before the infamous ransom was completed and all the gold weighed out, the Dictator [Camillus] appeared on the scene and ordered