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OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
1
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
3
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OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
Preface
I did not mean to write this book. Its protagonist is a woman whose male kin
belonged to the senatorial order, a patrician of the established nobility, who
played a leading role in the politics and society of the last years of the Roman
Republic. Her name was Servilia. Because that name only tells us the clan to
which she belonged, a Roman would often have identified her as Servilia, the
daughter of Caepio, which would give his hearers her father’s surname, or
Servilia, the wife of M. Brutus or (later) of D. Silanus, which would narrow the
field a little more. Cornelius Nepos, a near contemporary, identifies her as the
mother of Brutus.¹ Suetonius, in describing her long love affair with Iulius
Caesar, finds it convenient to identify her as the mother of M. Brutus, meaning
the famous Brutus.² But for Cicero in his letters she is the only important
contemporary Servilia and needs no identification as the apanage of a male.³
Like her approximate contemporaries Clodia (the wife of a Metellus) and
Fulvia (whose first husband was that Clodia’s brother, P. Clodius) she had an
independent personality which emerges from our limited and partial sources.
This book had its beginnings in an invitation from Professor Dame
Hermione Lee, President of Wolfson College, Oxford, to give the college’s
2009 lecture in honour of Sir Ronald Syme. I chose to search for a topic related
to Syme’s own work and to my own interest in Roman women. I ruled out the
various women of the imperial family on whom Syme and subsequently others
had written so perceptively. Servilia, Fulvia (wife in succession to Clodius,
Curio, and Mark Antony), and Sempronia (who supposedly played some part
in a conspiracy) were the chief republican women whom Syme mentioned
repeatedly. So I spoke on ‘Syme and Servilia’, in the hope that the topic might
have entertained him. In the event, the paper was made memorable by the
Dragon School’s fireworks, celebrating Guy Fawkes Day, which punctuated
my remarks.
¹ Att. 11.4.
² DJ 50.2. The bronze statue allegedly erected by the ‘common people’ to Cornelia (a daughter
of Scipio Africanus) named her as mother of the Gracchi (Pliny NH 34.31, Plut. CGr. 4.3, cf.
statue base found in 1878 in the porticus of Octavia: CIL 1². p. 201 = 6.10043b = 6.31610 = ILS
68 = ILLRP 336: Corneliae Africani f. Gracchorum [sc. matri], a method also adopted for
identification by VM 4.4. pr., Sen. Cons. Marc. 16.3, Pliny NH 7.57, 7.69 (Gracchorum mater),
Juv. 6.167–8 (mater Gracchorum). Cf. Pliny NH 7.71 (Agrippina, wife of Domitius and mother of
Nero), Tac. Dial. 28.6 (Atia, mother of Augustus). On the statue see Filippo Coarelli, ‘La statue de
Cornélie mère des Gracques et la crise politique à Rome au temps de Saturninus’ in Hubert
Zehnacker ed., Le dernier siècle de la République romaine et l’époque augustéenne (Strasbourg,
1978) 13–28.
³ E.g. A 97/5.4.3, Beneventum 12 May 51, 115/6.1.10, Laodicea 20 Feb. 50.
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
viii Preface
I have personal debts to Syme, not only for his writings and lectures, but
because, as Camden Professor, he suggested my research topic in 1962 (not
one in which he would have been interested himself, since it concerned the
lower classes) and subsequently supported publication of the thesis as Roman
freedmen during the late Republic. Later still I understand he was one of a
triumvirate (along with my former tutor and my supervisor) who recom-
mended me for a Visiting Fellowship at Brasenose, the college where he had
held the Camden Chair. We used to meet on various occasions in the United
States and in Oxford.
I only intended to produce a lecture. It did not occur to me then that the
evidence on Servilia would support a book. It is notoriously impossible to
write a full-scale biography of any Roman of the classical period, except
perhaps Cicero. Even for great men like Caesar or Pompey the sources are
inadequate. We usually lack diaries, personal or business letters, memoirs
(written by the subject or others), documents such as wills, marriage contracts
and estate records, portraits, all the detailed written and visual evidence that
makes biographies of modern men and women so comprehensive and illumin-
ating. The problem is much worse for Roman women. What evidence we have is
not written by them but by men. Their memoirs and letters failed to survive.⁴
Biography is in any case difficult.
Biography attempts the simulation, in words, of a man’s [sic] life, from what is
known about that life, from the paper trail, the enigmatic footprint. Thus it differs
from other literary arts. They seek to evoke reality from illusion; biography hopes
to fasten illusion upon reality, to elicit, from the coldness of paper, the warmth of
a life being lived.⁵
Even if the subject left diaries, letters, or an autobiography, how many people
can give a truthful, accurate, and full account?⁶ How many understand
themselves? How many contemporaries can assess them fairly and objectively
or understand the workings of their mind and feelings? Is any true under-
standing possible of an inconsistent, fallible, emotional being who may change
according to circumstances and over a lifetime? On reading a good biography,
we may think we understand much better than before a personality and a life,
⁴ Almost all that women wrote in the classical period (from Caerellia’s correspondence with
Cicero to the memoirs of the younger Agrippina) was lost. As we build up a picture of Atticus
(whose correspondence similarly does not survive) from Cicero’s replies to his letters, so we get
some sense of Terentia from Cicero’s letters to her. (There are no surviving letters to his daughter
alone, though it is sometimes implied that she would read his letters to Terentia.) On the
problems of scholars who write on Roman women see e.g. Suzanne Dixon, Reading Roman
women (London, 2001) 7–25, Cornelia (London, 2007) xi–xii.
⁵ Paul Murray Kendall, The Art of biography (New York, 1985) 28.
⁶ Kenneth Dover, Marginal comment (London: 1994) 1–4 gives an illuminating discussion of
some of the problems in writing autobiography.
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
Preface ix
but we cannot possibly understand all. Only a novelist can be omniscient,
creating the inner life of his or her characters.
A historian cannot in any case hope to recreate the past in all its complexity.
We see it from between blinkers made by our own background, experiences,
sympathies, prejudices, and imagination or the lack of it. In what follows the
reader will repeatedly see expressions such as ‘must have’, ‘would have’,
‘probably’, ‘presumably’, and ‘possibly’ as I attempt to fill in details of Servilia’s
life from what we know of other Roman women of her class or guess at what
she might have thought or felt. It is important that the reader should know
how limited and patchy our firm knowledge is. As Keith Bradley has said
about attempts to write the biography of Hadrian—and some emperors, of
course, are much better documented than most Roman men and any Roman
woman—we have to realize how shaky is the ground on which we stand:
My initial question of how the past can be recovered is both banal and profound.
It has no satisfactory answer, other than to affirm Syme’s pronouncement that
historians come in ‘many types and many tribes’. The main points I have wanted
to illustrate are that conventional history, by nature a fictive enterprise, is often
more fictional than it seems and is always provisional in its findings; that fictional
history in the form of the historical novel or the imaginative reconstruction may
sometimes succeed as well as or even surpass conventional history—texture and
emotion are as important to history as chronography and geography—and that
the past might sometimes be successfully evoked through methods that push facts
to the limit.⁷
Syme disapproved to some extent of biography: ‘ . . . biographies of emperors
are a menace and an impediment to the understanding of history in its
structure and processes’.⁸ But he could give this view more nuance:
Biography is of plain service for conveying historical instruction painlessly.
It is not to be despised, for it furnishes a framework and a chronological sequence.
But biography is also the enemy of history. It is prone to fable and legend, it exalts
the individual unduly, at the expense of social history, the long trends, and the
facts of power in the world.⁹
But he could not have worked on the themes he chose without studying the
lives and careers of hundreds of individuals, the method we call prosopo-
graphy. He studied the nature and workings of a class, the Roman oligarchy,
by building up a composite picture from individuals. In focusing on an
individual, one reverses the process, looking at him or her against the back-
ground of the class to which he or she belongs.
x Preface
I came to think that it was worth undertaking a detailed examination of
Servilia’s family and background, the determinable events of her life, and the
limited evidence on her personality and desires. My debt to Syme consequently
increased as I struggled with late republican prosopography.
‘Women have their uses for historians.’¹⁰ In The Augustan aristocracy Syme
deliberately chose words that by 1986 were politically incorrect. He made this
pithy and magisterial and, to my mind, humorous remark (one I can imagine
accompanied by a mischievous sideways glance at any woman who heard it) at
the beginning of a chapter called ‘Princesses and court ladies’. It was typical of
his work from The Roman revolution onwards to pay attention to upper-class
women. I wonder if he is here echoing Lord Chesterfield’s advice to his son,
the future diplomat, ‘Here women may be put to some use. A king’s mistress,
or a minister’s wife or mistress, may give great and useful informations. . . .’¹¹
Although Syme, unlike ancient writers, could not listen to what Roman
women had to say or read what they had written, he could study them for
the light they cast on society and politics. He goes on:
They offer relief from warfare, legislation, and the history of ideas; and they
enrich the central theme of social history, if and when enough evidence is
available. Ladies of rank under the first imperial dynasty are a seductive topic.
In the first place, betrothal and marriage, adultery and divorce. Next, licence and
luxury, kinship and discord. Finally, the enormous wealth accruing to a widow or
a daughter in families ancient or recent that had benefited from civil war and the
bounty of the victor: the palaces at Rome, the villas in the Italian countryside, the
wide estates, the hordes of slaves.
Irony and humour are again evident. But so is a genuine interest in the lives of
upper-class women. When he speaks of ‘the historian’, Syme thinks especially
of Tacitus—and of himself. Much of this paragraph can be applied to the
preceding period, the late Republic.
In all his work from the late 1930s on, Syme was alert to the importance of
women in history and life. His own mother, Florence, and his sister, Geraldine,
must have influenced him. Although he never married, he was at one time
engaged and throughout his life had close women friends and women
¹⁰ Syme, AA 168. I cited this in Roman marriage (Oxford, 1991) 397 as an epigraph and in
‘Conventions and conduct among upper-class Romans in the choice of a marriage-partner’,
International Journal of Moral and Social Studies 6.3 (1991) 187–215 at 188. Pelling, ‘Rhetoric’
215 aptly calls it ‘a remark that has not aged well’. Judith P. Hallett, ‘Heeding our native
informants: the uses of Latin literary texts in recovering elite Roman attitudes towards age,
gender and social status’, EMC/CV ns 11 (1992) 332–55 at 351 rebuked me, if I interpret her
correctly, for being amused by the irony. Women undergraduates of the 1950s who might have
heard Syme lecture tended to be inured to mild humour of this sort.
¹¹ Letters to his son on the fine art of becoming a man of the world and a gentleman (London:
1774) 66, Letter 52 ad fin.
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
Preface xi
colleagues with whom he was on dining terms.¹² Perhaps some of the great
ladies of academic society in Oxford, the wives of dons when he was young,
some of whom were successful matchmakers, helped form his picture of
Roman mothers and wives.¹³ He was also an expert on the eighteenth-century
French princesses, noblewomen, and royal mistresses.
In his examination of the workings of Roman politics and the structures of
the governing classes Syme deployed the evidence on a host of major and
minor figures. In The Roman revolution and after, the names of Sempronia,¹⁴
Servilia,¹⁵ and Fulvia¹⁶ often recur. Sempronia is known only for her alleged
participation in the Catilinarian conspiracy and for a vivid pen portrait left us
by Sallust. Fulvia, who married in succession three men of political import-
ance, took a prominent part in politics, and ended up as the wife of Mark
Antony, got a bad press in antiquity for usurping a male role, for profiteering,
and for fomenting civil war. Servilia stands as a paradigm for skilful and
successful use of her position in a male-dominated world, a precursor of
Augustus’s wife Livia.¹⁷
The early twenty-first-century HBO/BBC/RAI television series Rome
featured monstrous female protagonists. Most of the doings of Servilia repre-
sented in it are completely fictitious—and incredible. Like Robert Graves’s
Livia, she is memorable, but false to history.¹⁸ The real Servilia deserves
attention, though much of what we would want to find out is hidden by the
¹² His mother, née Florence Mabel Sellers, ‘acquired a reputation as a keen horsewoman, and
she was the first woman in the town to drive a car’ (Glen W. Bowersock, ‘Ronald Syme
1903–1989’, Proceedings of the British Academy. Lectures and memoirs 84 (1993) 539–63 at
540). On 25 June 1926 Syme’s engagement to Dr Vera Reader was announced in New Zealand.
Bowersock comments (544–5): ‘Dr Reader seems to have been the first in a series of remarkably
intelligent and sophisticated women with whom Syme formed attachments.’ Cf. Miriam Griffin,
‘Sir Ronald Syme’ xiii: ‘He had a natural sympathy and liking for women, treating them socially
with old-fashioned courtesy, and finding no difficulty in taking them seriously as scholars
according to their merits.’
¹³ E.g. Lady Lindsay, wife of the Master of Balliol, Mrs Munro, wife of the Rector of Lincoln,
Mrs A. L. Smith, whose daughters made excellent marriages (private communication from
Professor D. A. Russell). See Noel Annan, The Dons (London, 1999) 319, Carola Oman, An
Oxford childhood (London, 1976) 93.
¹⁴ E.g. Ronald Syme, The Roman revolution (Oxford, 1939) 384–5, Sallust (Berkeley, 1964)
25–6, 133–5 (perhaps Fulvia’s aunt), AA 26, 1981–99, RP 3.1371–2. ‘The gay Sempronia’, which
was probably written when Syme was preparing Sallust, has now been published in Ronald Syme,
Approaching the Roman revolution, edited by Federico Santangelo (Oxford, 2016) 173–81. See
also the editor’s addenda, 363–6.
¹⁵ E.g. RR 12, 23–4, 69, 384–5, 414, 491, Sallust 25, AA 189, 198, RP 3.1371.
¹⁶ E.g. RR 191, 208, 210, Sallust 134–5, AA 26, 198, Roman papers (Oxford, 1979–91) 3.1371,
Approaching the Roman revolution 182–5. Cf. Suzanne Dixon, ‘A family business: women’s role
in patronage and politics at Rome 80–44 B.C.’, Classica et Mediaevalia 34 (1983) 91–112.
¹⁷ E.g. Syme, AA 40 n. 45: ‘To adduce a resemblance in active ambition to Servilia, the niece of
Livius Drusus, one does not need the family affinity’, 55: ‘a worthy successor’. Barbara Levick,
Tiberius the politician (London, 1976) 153 also draws a parallel between Servilia and Scribonia,
Livia, the Iuliae.
¹⁸ A great deal of information about the series is available on the Web.
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
xii Preface
fragmentary state of our evidence. The success—within the limitations of what
we can know—of several recent biographies of Roman women of the late
Republic and early Principate suggests it is worth the attempt.¹⁹
Since Syme’s retirement to Wolfson in 1970, advances have been made in
our understanding of the socio-legal context, in the collection and analysis of
data on individuals, and in an even more critical approach to the literary
sources. How much of what we are told about women’s characters and
influence is rhetorical, invented, or embroidered by orators and historians
who wanted to diminish other men? We must certainly be sceptical about the
portrayal of Clodia or Fulvia or, later, Tacitus’s portrait of Livia.²⁰
Happily, the sources on Servilia are different.²¹ She is not the victim of a
contemporary defence counsel nor adduced by a later moralist or historian.
Instead, she is mentioned by Cicero in his letters, where facts are likely to be
accurate, though his interpretation may be questionable. His perspective will
differ when he writes to his close friend Atticus from what it is when he writes
to her son Brutus. Servilia occurs also in later biographies of her male
contemporaries by Plutarch and Suetonius. In Plutarch the main deformation
is caused by the pre-existing tradition of idealization of her son Brutus and her
brother Cato.
My aim in this book is to see what we may know about Servilia, in the
context of her family and times. In my previous attempt to portray late
republican women, Terentia, Tullia and Publilia, published in a series aimed
at a broad audience, including students, I was working under restrictions of
space.²² Here I have footnoted more heavily. While the text is, I hope, easily
intelligible to the general reader, in the notes I have quoted a good deal of Latin
to aid the scholar and have indicated modern writing which I hope will help
the reader to understand the fuller context or to find out about other points of
view. I have tried to avoid multiplying bibliography. But because so many
areas of study affect the life of one woman, I have tried to point the curious
reader towards scholarship which might interest him or her, especially what
I have found helpful.
¹⁹ See e.g. Nikos Kokkinos, Antonia Augusta. Portrait of a great Roman lady (London, 1992),
Anthony A. Barrett: Agrippina (London, 1996), Livia (New Haven, 2002), Elaine Fantham, Julia
Augusti (London, 2006), Suzanne Dixon, Cornelia (London, 2007), Marilyn B. Skinner, Clodia
Metelli (Oxford and New York, 2011). There are also biographies of women of a later period.
²⁰ T. W. Hillard, ‘Republican politics: women and the evidence’, Helios 16 (1989) 165–82,
Dixon, ‘Family business’. Cf. Nicholas Purcell, ‘Livia and the womanhood of Rome’, PCPS 212
(1986) 78–105, Barrett, Livia ix–x.
²¹ For a general overview of evidence for Roman social history and of ancient authors who
treat this period cf. Treggiari, Roman social history (London, 2002) 14–41.
²² London, 2007.
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
Preface xiii
Inevitably, because he is the main and most trustworthy source, Cicero’s
letters and his preoccupations obtrude more than I would wish.²³ His works
are cited without the author’s name. As everyone who works on Cicero must
be, I am particularly indebted to D. R. Shackleton Bailey for his magisterial
commentaries,²⁴ translations,²⁵ and onomastica,²⁶ as well as his essays. In
citing a letter I give Shackleton Bailey’s number first, followed by the trad-
itional book and number. I believe this is more convenient for readers, at least
in the English-speaking world, especially as they will often wish to consult his
commentary. I normally add date and place (when reasonably certain, some-
times modified according to Shackleton Bailey’s later revisions), unless it
seems unnecessary. I have kept the numbering of the correspondence with
Brutus which Shackleton Bailey gives in the Cambridge edition, not that which
he gives in his translation.
Translations are my own, except where indicated. I have tried to make clear
what the texts say for the Latinless reader. I have occasionally transliterated
Greek words. Greek authors are normally cited from the Loeb editions, with
Loeb numbering.
The identifying numbers given to individuals documented in RE are inserted
only if the reader might have difficulty finding them. MRR consistently gives RE
numbers for senators.
All dates are BC, unless otherwise indicated.
The Web has revolutionized word searches. I am especially grateful to the
Packard Humanities Institute for the website on classical Latin authors (http://
latin.packhum.org).
Research support in past years has meant a lifelong debt to the Social
Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the American Council
of Learned Societies, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the
John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, as well as to the University of
Ottawa and Stanford University. The Sackler and Bodleian Libraries have
provided the books I needed, help when I asked, and an atmosphere conducive
to work. The Faculty of Classics at Oxford has provided technical support.
I am also grateful for the unstinting hospitality of Brasenose College and All
Souls College, Oxford, where I have been privileged to hold visiting
²³ On the letters see e.g. G. O. Hutchinson, Cicero’s correspondence (Oxford, 1998), Peter
White, Cicero in letters (New York, 2010), Jon Hall, Politeness and politics in Cicero’s letters
(Oxford, 2009).
²⁴ Cicero’s Letters to Atticus (Cambridge, 1965–70), Cicero: Epistulae ad familiares (Cambridge,
1977), Cicero: Epistulae ad Quintum fratrem et M. Brutum (Cambridge, 1980).
²⁵ Cicero’s Letters to Atticus, Cicero’s letters to his friends (Atlanta, 1978), Cicero Letters to
Atticus (Cambridge, MA, 1999), Cicero Letters to friends (Cambridge, MA, 2001), Cicero Letters
to Quintus and Brutus. Letter fragments. Letter to Octavian. Invectives. Handbook of electioneering
(Cambridge, MA, 2002).
²⁶ Onomasticon to Cicero’s speeches (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1992), Onomasticon to Cicero’s letters
(Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1995), Onomasticon to Cicero’s treatises (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1996).
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
xiv Preface
fellowships, and of Lady Margaret Hall, my original college, where I am now
an honorary fellow. By keeping me on as a member of Common Room,
Brasenose has helped me stay in touch with scholars of all ages and disciplines.
Thanks are due to the audiences who have asked interesting questions when
I have lectured on Servilia. I have warm memories of Wolfson College, of the
University of Vienna, and of the Ancient World Breakfast Club at Godolphin
and Latymer School.
I am grateful to all the scholars whose meticulous work on republican
prosopography and social and political history makes this type of study
possible. In particular I am indebted to those who taught me and those
whom I would like to claim as friends. I will name here only those whose
kindness, encouragement, and help I can no longer enjoy: David Stockton (my
tutor), Peter Brunt (my supervisor), Dacre Balsdon, my Ottawa colleague Colin
Wells, David Daube, ‘Tom Brown’ (C. E.) Stevens (an Ottawa colleague for a
term), my Stanford colleagues Michael Jameson and Toni Raubitschek, Bob
Broughton, Elaine Fantham, Miriam Griffin, Beryl Rawson, Elizabeth Rawson,
and Syme himself.
I had the good fortune in 2016 to be asked to examine the thesis of Patrick
Tansey, ‘A selective prosopographical study of marriage in the Roman élite
in the second and first centuries B.C.: revisiting the evidence’ (PhD thesis,
Macquarie University, 2016), which enabled me to correct my conclusion on a
notorious crux. He subsequently was generous in sharing with me the results
of his full and meticulous collection of attested marriages, which marks a
major advance, not only for prosopography but for our understanding of
marriage and politics in the late Republic.
I thank Ramsay MacMullen for his kind encouragement of this and other
projects over many years and for his keen critical eye. I am grateful for
permission to quote Peter Green’s incomparable translation of Juvenal on
page 76.²⁷
Keith Bradley of the University of Notre Dame and the University of
Victoria read the entire typescript at a late stage and sent me detailed and
critical suggestions. There could be no more acute, sympathetic, and percep-
tive reader. Both by precept and example, he has always encouraged me to aim
higher. He has helped me to improve almost every page of this book. He is not
to blame for the imperfections, errors, and failures of insight which remain.
I am heavily indebted to the anonymous readers for the Oxford University
Press, who wrote erudite and perceptive reports which helped me with
revisions which have, I hope, made the book more accessible, convincing,
and comprehensive.
²⁷ Ten lines from Juvenal: The Sixteen Satires, tr. Peter Green (Penguin Classics 1967, rev. edn
1974), copyright © Peter Green 1967, 1974.
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
Preface xv
Charlotte Loveridge, the Classics Editor at the Press, has been an unfailing
source of encouragement and good advice. Georgina Leighton, the Assistant
Commissioning Editor, has answered all queries with promptitude and
aplomb. Céline Louasli, the Editorial Assistant, Megan Betts, the Production
Editor, and Gayathri Manoharan of SPi Global have all been considerate and
efficient. Neil Morris, the copy editor, and Timothy Beck, the proofreader,
were meticulous and sympathetic in preparing the book for the press.
Finally, as always, I thank my family, for making the selfish pleasure
of research and writing possible, and particularly my husband, Arnaldo
Treggiari, for the organizational and practical support and especially skills in
driving and cookery which are an essential and pleasurable part of our life. As
Servilia, who experienced public and personal upheavals far more dramatic
than mine, would, I think, have recognized, the love and support of family and
friends are among the greatest happinesses which make a life worth living.
S. M. T.
Headington
August 2018
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 14/12/2018, SPi
Contents
Abbreviations xix
Stemmata xxiii
1. Servilia’s World 1
2. Family 23
3. Childhood (c.100–c.88) 47
4. Adolescence and Marriage to Brutus (c.88–78) 70
5. The Wife of Silanus (77–60) 88
6. Home and Forum (59–50) 120
7. The Iuniae (?c.75–49) 131
8. Brutus (85–49) 145
9. Under the Domination of Caesar (49–44) 161
10. The Ides and the Aftermath (44–) 183
11. Servilia’s Place in Society 217
12. Interactions 251
Appendices
1. Laelia 283
2. Servilia, Wife of L. Lucullus cos. 74 287
3. The Cassii 289
4. Mid-First-Century Servilii and Caepiones 291
5. Women in the British Political Class 292
6. Servilia in Some Modern English Novels 298
Glossary 313
Chronology of Servilia’s Lifetime 317
Bibliography 321
Index of Persons 345
Index of Subjects 363
Index of Principal Textual Sources 374
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Abbreviations
Texts
Abbreviations for authors and works are in general standard ones. (cf. e.g.
Oxford Latin Dictionary.)
Works of Cicero are cited by abbreviated title alone. Note especially:
A Cicero ad Atticum
Ad Brut. Cicero ad M. Brutum
C after a (page) number (in citations of Asconius) refers to A. C. Clark,
Q. Asconii Pediani orationum Ciceronis quinque enarratio (Oxford, 1907)
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xx Abbreviations
F Cicero Ad familiares
frr. ep. Cicero Fragmenta epistularum (see Shackleton Bailey, M. Tulli Ciceronis
Epistulae ad Q. fratrem . . . [1988] or TP 6.346–73)
QF Cicero Ad Quintum fratrem
SBA D. R. Shackleton Bailey ed., Cicero’s letters to Atticus (Cambridge, 1965–70)
7 vols.
SBF D. R. Shackleton Bailey ed., Cicero: Epistulae ad familiares (Cambridge,
1977) 2 vols.
SBQF D. R. Shackleton Bailey ed., Cicero: Epistulae ad Quintum fratrem et
M. Brutum (Cambridge, 1980)
SCPP Senatus consultum de Cn. Pisone patre
St after a page number refers to Thomas Stangl, Ciceronis orationum
scholiastae (Hildesheim, 1964; first pub. 1912)
TP Louis Claude Purser and Robert Yelverton Tyrrell eds., The correspondence
of M. Tullius Cicero arranged according to its chronological order (Dublin &
London, 1904–33)
Abbreviations xxi
New Pauly Brill’s New Pauly. Encyclopedia of the Ancient World (Leiden: Brill,
2011–)
OCD⁴ S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth eds., Oxford Classical Dictionary⁴
(Oxford, 2012)
ODNB Oxford Dictionary of National Biography³
OLD Oxford Latin Dictionary
ORF³ H. Malcovati ed., Oratorum Romanorum fragmenta³ (Turin, 1953)
RE A. Fr. von Pauly and G. Wissowa eds., Real-Encyclopädie der
classichen Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart, 1894–)
RRC M. H. Crawford, Roman republican coinage (Cambridge, 1974)
Stemmata
M. Drusus
Claudianus
Q. Caepio Servilia M. Cato m. 1. Atilia Porcia
d. 67 c.100– 95–46 2. Marcia
Servilia
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M. Iunius
Brutus Iunia Iunia Iunia
85–42 pr. 44 m. 1. Claudia m. Isauricus m. Lepidus m. Cassius
2. Porcia
Servilia m. Lepidus
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Servilia’s World
It may be helpful to some readers if I give a sketch of the world into which
Servilia was born in about 100 BC.¹ Being only a sketch, this will oversimplify
and leave many questions unanswered. It will be full of generalizations which
ought to be documented in a full-scale essay. The focus is on the first century BC.
We will concentrate on what affected the upper classes, looking from the top
down. Servilia’s family on both sides belonged to the Roman ruling class.
Although expectation of life at birth in the Roman world may only have been
25–30 years (which means that about half the children born would be dead
before reaching the age of 10) and disease was always a threat, the upper
classes could achieve a reasonable level of nutrition, health, and length of life.²
SETTING
³ P. A. Brunt, Social conflicts in the Roman Republic (London, 1971) 13–17, Italian man-
power 225 B.C.—A.D. 14 (Oxford, 1971) esp. ch. 22, William V. Harris, War and imperialism in
republican Rome 327–70 B.C. (Oxford, 1979) esp. ch. 1, Keith Hopkins, Conquerors and slaves
(Cambridge, 1978) 29–35, Ramsay MacMullen, ‘Roman elite motivation: three questions’, Past &
Present 88 (1980) 3–16 at 8–9.
⁴ John S. Richardson, ‘Imperium Romanum between Republic and Empire’ in Lukas de Blois
et al. eds., The representation and perception of Roman imperial power (Amsterdam, 2003)
137–47, The language of empire (Cambridge, 2008).
⁵ Brunt, Roman imperial themes (Oxford, 1990) 288–323. ⁶ Polyb. 1.1.5.
⁷ Rep. 3.24, Sall. BC 51.42, Livy pr. 4. ⁸ Imp. 53, 56, Sest. 67, Rep. 3.35, De or. 1.14.
⁹ Sest. 53, Har. resp. 19, Prov. cons. 34, Mil. 83, Phil. 6.19. ¹⁰ Rep. 3.24.
¹¹ Imp. 60, Leg. ag. 1.5, Cat. 4.21, Mur. 58.
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Servilia’s World 3
expanded the opportunities for competition between members of the élite. It
gave them confidence in what, to some at least, appeared a divine mission.
Although idealists saw working for the happiness of the empire’s subjects as
their duty, unscrupulous public servants and businessmen took empire as a
splendid opportunity for financial gain and self-aggrandizement.
The frontiers of that empire were always changing. A Roman governor was
given a sphere of operations, provincia, rather than a geographically defined
unit to rule. Most governors would aspire to increase the territory under their
control and earn a triumph, a public thanksgiving for their success. This would
entitle them to wear triumphal dress on certain occasions ever after.¹²
For the upper classes in particular, honour, which meant the honour conferred
by the outside world, not the individual’s conscience, was of vital import-
ance.¹³ Reputation had constantly to be earned, conceded by superiors, peers,
and inferiors. Anyone who put himself forward for the honour of a public
office (honos) was originally expected to have completed ten years of military
service.¹⁴ This rule had lapsed by the first century. A man who embarked on a
public career had normally served as a military tribune, a cavalry officer who,
with one colleague, would be joint commander of a legion for two months at a
time. There were only six tribunes in each legion. The tribunes of the first four
legions had to undergo election.
The man who aimed at becoming a senator might also hold minor
civilian posts. There were a significant number of these, filled by election.¹⁵
Then he would seek election to more important offices. The three main stages
were the quaestorship, praetorship, and consulship. As quaestor, a financial
specialist, he might be working for a general. The next office, the aedileship,
was concerned with civil affairs in Rome. There were two pairs of aediles,
plebeian (in origin assistants to the tribunes) and curule. Patricians could only
stand for the curule aedileship; plebeians could hold either office in our period.
¹² See on this and other types of distinctive dress Jonathan Edmondson, ‘Public dress and
social control in late republican and early imperial Rome’ in Edmondson and A. Keith, Roman
dress and the fabrics of Roman culture (Toronto, 2008) 21–46.
¹³ This is not to deny that Romans had a concept of the individual conscience. On the
competition for honour see e.g. MacMullen, ‘Roman elite motivation’, T. P. Wiseman,
‘Competition and co-operation’ in Wiseman ed., Roman political life 90 B.C.—A.D. 69 (Exeter,
1985) 3–19 at 3–7, J. E. Lendon, Empire of honour (Oxford, 1997) 30–51.
¹⁴ On constitutional matters see Andrew Lintott, The constitution of the Roman Republic
(Oxford, 1999).
¹⁵ Lintott, Constitution 137–44.
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¹⁶ Caesar is a good exemplar. On his skill in arms, riding, and swimming, his toughness and
endurance, his courage, daring, swift decision-making, handling and discipline of his men, and
the devotion of his troops see Suet. DJ 57–70. At Munda he risked his life rallying his men (Plut.
Caes. 56.2–3).
¹⁷ Mur. 19–24, esp. 22: qui potest dubitari quin ad consulatum adipiscendum multo plus
adferat dignitatis rei militaris quam iuris civilis gloria? . . . rei militaris virtus praestat ceteris
omnibus (How can it be doubted that for achieving the consulship glory in the military sphere
brings much more prestige than glory in civil law? Virtue in the military sphere surpasses all
others). Cf. Harris, War and imperialism 17–34.
¹⁸ Planc. 61–2.
¹⁹ AA 4. See T. J. Cornell, The beginnings of Rome (London, 1995) 245–6, 251–2. Bibliography
in OCD⁴ (Momigliano, Cornell).
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Servilia’s World 5
Those who were elected to the highest offices (in our period the consulate),
whether patrician or plebeian, became nobiles (noun or adjective: notables,
known men, known) and conferred that adjective on their descendants.²⁰ In
practice, the most effective qualification in a man seeking office was this
‘nobility’. ‘New men’, novi homines, those without ancestors known to the
People, were at a disadvantage when they sought office. So Rome had an
aristocracy of office, not a hereditary aristocracy. Distinction was conferred by
the electorate, in theory all adult male citizens. A man had to live up to his
noble ancestors. If he failed in his political career or lost his fortune, his
descendants would have a hard job getting back up. Being patrician had
snob value. A patrician would find it easier to get elected. But many patrician
families (as we shall see for the Servilii Caepiones) were finding it difficult to
produce, bring up, and finance the right number of sons to maintain their
position.²¹ Some families died out in the male line; some dropped out of sight.
Those who remained faced fierce competition for status, dignitas. The com-
petition for the consulate was particularly intense, because only two men could
win this annual office, and only one of those could be a patrician.
It should be noted that patricians and plebeians intermarried freely in the
historic period. The children of a patrician father were patrician. It did not
matter if the mother was plebeian. The children of a plebeian father were
plebeian. It did not affect their legal status if the mother was patrician, though
it enhanced their social position. In the first century, descent on both sides of
the family counted.²² A number of plebeian families, for instance the Caecilii
Metelli, were almost as distinguished as patricians. A candidate would be
helped by having a father or ancestors who had risen high and done famous
deeds. Cicero concedes that election might come more easily to his son,
because his father had won the consulship, than to himself, who had started
out from equestrian rank.²³
The career structure, the cursus honorum (‘course of honours’), after Sulla’s
reforms of the late 80s featured these offices: quaestorship (for which a man
could stand at 30), praetorship (minimum age 39), consulship (minimum age 42).
(The structure had not changed much since the similar law of L. Villius of
180.) Holding an aedileship (and giving impressive games) and/or a tribunate
(and perhaps sponsoring popular legislation) might boost one’s chances. The
three essential offices gave access to jobs in the provinces, sometimes in the year
of office, but also in subsequent years, when a man would act as proquaestor,
propraetor, or proconsul (deputizing for quaestor, praetor, or consul), with
²⁴ Lucr. 2.11–13: . . . certare ingenio, contendere nobilitate,/noctes atque dies niti praestante
labore/ad summas emergere opes rerumque potiri.
²⁵ Odes 1.1.7–8: . . . hunc, si mobilium turba Quiritium/certat tergeminis tollere honoribus. . . .
²⁶ The same noun is used for their office.
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Servilia’s World 7
The censorship was open to former consuls and might crown a career.
Two censors (at least one of them a plebeian) worked together for up to
eighteen months. They held a census, controlling lists of citizens, equites,
and senators. When the task was finished, one of them performed a ritual of
purification. They ratified manumissions and allotted contracts for public
works. They were theoretically elected every five years, but there were
serious gaps in the late Republic. The census was held only in Rome.
Citizens from anywhere in the empire had to present themselves in person
in order to be listed. Fathers of families would appear and declare their
children and whether they were married. Widows and divorced women
would also have to attend. It was necessary for the state to know about
men of military age and those who would exercise a vote and what their
property qualification was. It also needed to know about property in the
hands of unattached women and orphans. After 168, Romans no longer paid
tribute regularly, but viduae (widows and divorcees) and fatherless children
in guardianship (pupilli/pupillae) were liable to a special tax, so they needed
to be entered on a separate list.²⁷
In emergencies a dictator would be chosen (usually nominated by
a consul) for a limited term, supported by a Master of the Horse. His
function was military. After the second Punic War, there were no dictators
until Sulla, having won a civil war, got himself made dictator to set the state
in order.
Consuls and praetors went out to the provinces as governors. Their power
was extended when their year of office ended. This was called prorogation and
meant they now had the title of proconsul or propraetor.²⁸ They had troops at
their command and sole responsibility for good government within their
province and for the conduct of war. Their power was not limited to a year
and there was no colleague to check them.
Public cults were also in the hands of this élite, as magistrates and as
priests. In the historic period, both patricians and plebeians served as priests.
Originally they were co-opted or chosen by the Pontifex Maximus (High
Priest), but in the late Republic some were elected by seventeen of the thirty-
five tribes. It was a great honour to be chosen to join a board of priests.
Nobles sometimes achieved it at a young age.²⁹ Priesthoods were held
for life.³⁰
THE S ENATE
The consuls were backed by a council (consilium), the Senate, which they
consulted, just as heads of households, patresfamilias, consulted friends and
relations.³¹ The Senate was enrolled by the censors, who would normally (before
Sulla) recruit from those who had held elected office. The censors could also
remove members for disgraceful behaviour. Tribunes did not obtain the right of
sitting in the Senate until the late second century. From Sulla onwards, quaestors
automatically became members. In the second century the Senate numbered
around 300, after Sulla around 500. Within the Senate, the senior men, the
consulars (ex-consuls), naturally wielded most influence. The Senate supervised
Italy, the provinces, and finance. Normally, once he was a member, a man would
remain for life. So the Senate was the repository of experience in running
the affairs of Rome and its empire. It was recruited from equites, including the
sons of senators, the men who could afford to stand for election. Along with
the Roman People itself, the Senate comprised the state: Senatus Populusque
Romanus, SPQR, the emblem carried by the legions’ standard-bearers. The
senators enjoyed distinctions which set them apart: ‘position, authority, splen-
dour at home, name and influence among foreign nations, the toga praetexta,
the curule chair, insignia, the fasces, armies, commands, provinces’.³² They also
wore special shoes, a gold ring, and a broad purple stripe on their tunics.
POPULU S R OMANUS
The Roman People included all Roman citizens, men and women. Although
women did not have the franchise, they were subject to Roman law and had
the private rights of citizens. They took an important part in religion and
public events. Within the empire, the citizen had a privileged position. He was
protected (in theory) from arbitrary punishment, having a right to a fair trial.
He was not subject to demeaning capital punishment, such as crucifixion. He
could go anywhere in the empire and expect help from Roman officials.
Citizenship was marked by nomenclature.³³ Men had a personal first name,
for instance Quintus. Upper-class male citizens at this time typically had
³¹ See John Crook, Consilium principis (Cambridge, 1955) 4–7, Harriet Flower, ‘Servilia’s
consilium, rhetoric and politics in a family setting’ in H. van der Blom et al. eds., Institutions and
ideology in republican Rome (Cambridge, 2018) 252–64.
³² Clu. 154: locus, auctoritas, domi splendor, apud exteras nationes nomen et gratia, toga
praetexta, sella curulis, insignia, fasces, exercitus, imperia, provinciae. Curule aediles, consuls,
praetors, and censors had an ivory, ‘curule’ stool.
³³ Benet Salway ‘What’s in a name? A survey of Roman onomastic practice from c.700 B.C. to
A.D. 700’, JRS 84 (1994) 124–45 at 124–8.
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Servilia’s World 9
three names. (Lower-class men at this date usually had only a first and
second name.³⁴ Some senators also lacked a cognomen, e.g. Q. Sertorius.) The
clan-name, descending in the male line, is indicated by the name (nomen),
the family by a surname (cognomen). Freeborn citizen women usually used
only a nomen, such as Servilia or Livia.³⁵ Men of aristocratic families usually
had a cognomen, for instance Caepio or Drusus. In the formal nomenclature of
men, their father and grandfather may be identified, e.g. M(arcus) Aemilius
M(arci) f(ilius) M(arci) n(epos) Lepidus = Marcus Aemilius, son of Marcus,
grandson of Marcus, Lepidus. Freed slaves took the nomen of the male or
female citizen who had freed them and used their slave name as cognomen.
If male, they took the praenomen of their male manumitter. Because they had
no legal father, they indicated the manumitter: M. Tullius M(arci) l(ibertus)
Tiro = Marcus Tullius, freedman of Marcus, Tiro. A female manumitter, since
she did not normally bear a praenomen, was identified by a reversed C, standing
for Gaiae (as a generic name in the genitive case to indicate a woman). A woman
may be identified by mentioning her husband in the genitive case, e.g. Iunia
Lepidi = Iunia of Lepidus. As married citizen women were distinguishable by
their special dress, the stola, so citizen men and children were recognizable
because they wore the toga as an outdoor garment on formal occasions.
Senators were at the summit of the social pyramid. Next came the equites,
originally a restricted group of cavalrymen, but in our period a large class of
propertied men who provided a pool from which army officers and, from 123,
panels of judges were recruited. In socio-economic terms they were similar to
senators.³⁶ Friendship and marriage crossed the status boundary. Some equites
were richer than some senators. They were marked out from the plebs by
wearing a narrow purple stripe on their tunics and a gold ring. Below that,
there were the plebs in general, running the gamut from prosperous farmers,
tradesmen, and artisans to labourers and the very poor.
The Roman class system was based on rank and also on wealth. The
economy rested on natural resources.³⁷ The élite owned extensive tracts of
land, which could be cultivated for grapes, olives, grain, fruit, and vegetables.
Poultry and pigs could be fattened in woods of oak, chestnuts, and beech.
Meadows could be grazed and cut for hay for livestock. Land might also
include mines, clay-pits, quarries, timber (for metals, tiles, bricks, pottery,
and building), copses to produce charcoal, osier beds to produce withies.
³⁸ Ag. 1.7.
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Servilia’s World 11
In the Tribal Assembly (Comitia Tributa), formed in the fourth century on
the model of the Council of the Plebs, the citizens were again grouped according
to tribes. This assembly was convened by consuls, praetors, and curule aediles
and elected curule aediles and quaestors. Like the Centuriate Assembly, the
Tribal Assembly passed laws of the Roman People, leges populi Romani.
The People was sovereign. The state belonged to it. It was res publica, the
commonwealth, or res populi, ‘the thing of the People’. Adult male citizens met
in three different assemblies. They met in various outdoor locations at Rome,
where they stood to hear speeches by the presiding magistrate or those
politicians he chose to call. Then a proposal was put to them and, from the
late second century on, they voted by secret ballot. They voted similarly at
elections. Only a limited number of the electorate could actually represent the
People in legislation or elections in the period at which we are looking. The
Roman People was theoretically sovereign, but the size of the citizen body
and its procedures meant that the man in the street did not participate as
fully in decision-making and post-holding as the Athenians had done. The
time when all Roman citizens lived in the City or within a morning’s walk
of the City was long gone. It was impossible for more than a fraction of
the whole citizen body to squeeze into the Forum to vote on laws.³⁹ Those
with money and time at their disposal might come from distant regions of
Italy, though not often. Propertied men might come for consular elections
(held in the Campus Martius, which was relatively spacious) or legislation
which concerned them closely. The inhabitants of the City and its environs
would be disproportionately represented most of the time, especially in the
Council of the Plebs and Tribal Assembly. This would include poor citizens.
Indeed, day labourers who had not found a job might be more inclined to
come than self-employed shopkeepers. The make-up of an assembly would
vary from day to day. Despite the antiquated machinery of the constitution,
the titular ‘People’ who voted at elections and in legislative assemblies had
real power.⁴⁰
The tribes were important: a boy when he reached his majority was pre-
sented to his father’s tribe; a citizen in giving his name formally might list his
tribe; politicians would entertain their fellow tribesmen; there were organizers
in the tribe.⁴¹
³⁹ Ramsay MacMullen, ‘How many Romans voted?’, Ath. 68 (1980) 454–7. Other voting
spaces were also restricted.
⁴⁰ See especially Fergus Millar, The crowd in Rome in the late Republic (Ann Arbor, 1998).
Debate on his thesis continues unabated (T. P. Wiseman, ‘Politics and the People: what counts as
evidence?’, BICS 60.1 [2017] 16–33, esp. 16–17 for bibliography).
⁴¹ E.g. CIL 1².1263 = 6.2247 = ILLRP 159 (Rome): . . . T. Porcius T. f. Col(lina).
Maxsimus . . . Q. Lolius Q. [f. H]or(atia) Rufus; Comm. Pet. 44, Mur. 72–3; Comm. Pet. 57, A
16/1.16.12, Rome early July 61, Planc. 38, Suet. DA 3.1, cf. Lily Ross Taylor, The voting districts of
the Roman Republic (Rome, 1960) 15, 122, 264.
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Servilia’s World 13
sovereignty of the Roman People and worked for the welfare of the poorer
classes were called populares. These were not anything like political parties in
the (comparatively recent) modern sense. There would normally be many
optimates in the Senate, but they had no policy except conserving what they
regarded as the status quo.⁴⁵ Populares emerged from time to time to put
through a programme. They were invariably men with the wealth and status
which enabled them to stand for office. Some held a tribunate and proceeded
no further with a public career. Others, like P. Clodius Pulcher, established a
network of supporters which gave them continuing influence. Many, like
Servilia’s uncle, Drusus, were checkmated by murder.
WO MEN
⁴⁵ The locus classicus (tendentious), Sest. 96–8, claims that optimate views were widespread in
all classes: senators, their followers, equites, men from the country and towns, businessmen,
freedmen. Such people, Cicero says, supported the practice of religion, the auspices, the powers
of magistrates, the authority of the Senate, the laws, the custom of the ancestors, the courts,
jurisdiction, good faith, the provinces, the allies, the glory of the empire, the military set-up, and
the treasury.
⁴⁶ OCD⁴ (Nicholas and Treggiari).
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Servilia’s World 15
Financial agreements accompanied the wedding. It was usual for a woman
or her family to give her husband a dowry. In the Augustan era when senators
had to possess a fortune of at least a million sesterces, the same amount was
regarded as a suitable dowry for their daughters. The dowry belonged to the
husband for the duration of the marriage and was intended to be used for joint
expenses and for the eventual benefit of children. A married woman could also
hold a considerable private property of her own, and use it and bequeath it
as she wished. It was expected that she would pass it on to her children.
Daughters’ share of their parents’ estates could be equal to that of sons, as
it would have been on the intestacy of a paterfamilias. If the father made a
will, he might take into account what he had already given to his daughter
in dowry (or to his son in election expenses and so on) in arriving at ‘fair
shares’ in what he would leave on his death. Testators in the top property
class were forbidden, in the Voconian Law of 169, to make a woman their
heir. But they could leave her a substantial legacy. It was also possible to get
round the law by leaving property in trust. In the late Republic, because the
census was held irregularly, people could not always be identified as being in
the top class.⁵²
A woman who had only one husband in her lifetime, sometimes described
in epitaphs as univira or univiria, was fortunate and admired.⁵³ The availability
of divorce initiated by husband, wife, or both and the strong possibility that
the husband would die before his wife meant that many women would marry
more than once. Remarriage was socially acceptable. Women were to marry as
soon as possible after puberty in order to maximize their childbearing. Upper-
class men wanted children to perpetuate their family name. Upper-class women
passed on the prestige of their families to their sons and daughters.
By about 100, it was unusual for a woman to enter manus. It became
possible for her to divorce her husband by withdrawing her consent to be
married to him or, if she were in her father’s power, he might bring about the
divorce. She could hold substantial property in her own right. Developments
in the law, though they were not created as a means of improving the
legal status of women, often had a favourable effect. Women had a degree of
independence, especially when they had fortunes of their own.
⁵² Jane F. Gardner, Women in Roman law and society (London, 1986) 170–8.
⁵³ E.g. VM 2.1.3, SHA 24.32.5, CIL 6.2318, 3604, 25392, 31711, 14.418, Treggiari, RM 233–5.
The adjective and its synonyms are practically confined to inscriptions. Literary sources use
periphrases such as uni nuptam ad quem virgo deducta sit (married to one man to whom she had
been led as a virgin, Livy 10.23.5, cf. Prop. 4.11.36) or quae semel nupserunt (who have married
once, Fest. 242, cf. 245). Being only once married qualified a woman for certain ritual roles as an
individual (e.g. acting as pronuba [a married woman who escorted the bride to bed] at a
wedding). The status was provisional until the woman died without marrying again. Even on
epitaphs to young brides the adjective is not common (Jory’s computer indices to the inscriptions
of Rome in CIL 6 give eight examples).
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MATRONAE
⁵⁴ The word is derived from mater, mother, since it was assumed they were or would become
mothers. Especially in the plural it usually in our period denotes married women in relation to
the state, while coniuges or uxores would be used for women in relation to husbands, just as
libertini/ae denotes freed slaves in relation to society, while liberti/ae is used for them in relation
to their manumitter. Their proper dress was the long, concealing stola (Paul. Fest. 125M/112L,
cf. Hor. Sat. 1.2.94–5). Their sacred character demanded respect (Afran. com. 326, Cael. 32, VM
2.1.5). Their special virtue was chastity (Publ. Sent. C9), so that they are commonly contrasted
with prostitutes (e.g. Plaut. Cas. 585–6, Most. 190, Ter. Eun. 37, Fin. 2.12, Laber. 48, Hor. Epp.
1.18.3–4). Citizen women of good repute in any state, including Rome, are matronae or virgines
(e.g. Sulla 19, Hor. Odes 3.2.7–8; texts fail to mention viduae [widows and divorcees] in this
context). See especially Purcell, ‘Livia’ 81–5, also Treggiari, RM 7, 35, Celia Schulz, Women’s
religious activity in the Roman Republic (Chapel Hill, 2006) 158 n. 7, Emily A. Hemelrijk,
Matrona docta (London, 1999) 14–16, Kathryn Welch, ‘Velleius and Livia: making a portrait’
in E. Cowan ed., Velleius Paterculus (Swansea, 2011) 309–34 at 313–14.
⁵⁵ A procuress in comedy tells a girl that their order in society (the prostitutes) ought to
emulate well-born, upper-class matrons who cultivate friendship among themselves (Plaut. Cist.
21–8). See, esp. on the third and second centuries, Alessandra Valentini, Matronae tra novitas e
mos maiorum (Venice, 2012).
⁵⁶ 5.25.8: . . . matronae coetibus ad eam rem consultandam habitis communi decreto pollicitae
tribunis militum aurum et omnia ornamenta sua, in aerarium detulerunt (The matrons held
meetings to discuss this matter and passed a common decree, promising gold and all their
ornaments to the military tribunes: these they took to the treasury).
⁵⁷ 5.2.1. ⁵⁸ 8.3.3.
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Servilia’s World 17
the younger Seneca’s De remediis fortuitorum, where he refers to matronalis
ordo (‘the order of matrons’).⁵⁹ Here the discussion is about wives in general,
not just an upper-class group. The idea that married women formed an order
in society is also implied by texts comparing them with other orders.⁶⁰ Orders
or ranks among male citizens had defined membership and/or functions.
Members of the Senate could be said to form an order, as did the equites,
the scribae (high-ranking civil servants), or freedmen. In principle, there
would be official lists of members.⁶¹ In practice, there could be problems in
establishing claims to, for instance, equestrian status. Although manumissions
were ratified by the state, freedmen did not operate as a group. So it is not
surprising that it is difficult to pin down ‘the order of matrons’. Did it have any
ongoing formal existence? Did it include the married women of the upper
class only?⁶²
Whether or not there was any formal organization or register, married
women of the upper classes acted together to perform religious duties, sub-
scribe to the foundation of temples, make offerings, subsidize the state in a
crisis, go into public mourning, and so on.⁶³ They certainly had gatherings.⁶⁴
On particular occasions, they had accepted leaders, women of high rank and
authority. Purcell has commented on ‘the way in which the women were used
to behaving in ways analogous to the male political world’.⁶⁵
MO RA LS AN D MORES
Legal structures and economic circumstances do not give us the full context
of women’s lives. Male nobles and the new men who sought election were
competing to establish their reputation for virtus, the special manly quality
which originally meant manliness, courage, and prowess as a soldier, but later
⁵⁹ 16.3: Quam multae inter probra matronalis ordinis esse coeperunt inter exempla nomina-
tarum! (How many began to be among the scandals of the order of matrons after being named as
role models!).
⁶⁰ Livy 34.7.1: ‘omnes alii ordines, omnes homines mutationem in meliorem statum rei
publicae sentient: ad coniuges tantum nostra pacis et tranquillitatis publicae fructus non perve-
niet?’ (‘All the other orders, all human beings will perceive the commonwealth’s change to a
better state. Shall the fruit of our peace and tranquillity fail to reach our wives alone?’),
Hemelrijk, Matrona docta 225 n. 21.
⁶¹ We cannot here go into the complexities. Brief account in CAH² 10.875–7 (Treggiari).
⁶² This concept is supported by Livy 10.23.10: nec matronis solum sed omnis ordinis feminis,
if this means ‘not only (sc. upper-class) matronae but women of all ranks in society’ rather than
‘but women who were not matronae (being either divorced or not yet married)’ (Oakley).
Cf. Livy 22.1.18 (distinguishing matronae from libertinae).
⁶³ E.g. Livy 2.7.4, 2.16.7, 5.31.3, 21.62.8, 22.1.18, VM 1.1.15, 1.8.4, 5.6.8, Schulz, Women’s
religious activity 30–44.
⁶⁴ Fin. 2.12: matronarum coetum (a meeting of matrons). ⁶⁵ ‘Livia’ 81.
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⁶⁶ E.g. F 377/10.12.5 to Plancus, Rome 11 Apr. 43: virtute . . . quae maxime illustratur magnis
in rem publicam meritis (virtue . . . which is chiefly demonstrated by great services to the
commonwealth).
⁶⁷ CIL 1² 6–7 = ILS 1 = ILLRP 309 = Courtney, Musa Lapidaria 10. Cf. CIL 1² 11 = ILS 7 =
ILLRP 312 = Courtney, Musa Lapidaria 12.
⁶⁸ See e.g. Donald Earl, The moral and political tradition of Rome (London, 1967) 20–43,
T. P. Wiseman, New Men in the Roman Senate 139 B.C.—A.D. 14 (Oxford, 1971) 107–16,
Treggiari, ‘Ancestral virtues and vices: Cicero on nature, nurture and presentation’ in D. Braund
and C. Gill eds., Myth, history and culture in republican Rome (Exeter, 2003) 139–64, Myles
McDonnell, Roman manliness (Cambridge, 2006).
⁶⁹ Sest. 51.
⁷⁰ CIL 1² 8–9 = ILS 2–3 = ILLRP 310 = Courtney, Musa Lapidaria 9: honc oino(m) ploirume(i)
cosentiont R[omai]/duonoro(m) optumo(m) fuise uiro(m) . . . (Many agree that this one man was
the best of good men at Rome . . . ), with Courtney’s parallels.
⁷¹ E.g. praestare (to be superior, excel), vincere (to beat), excellere (to excel), superare (to
overcome) (e.g. Imp. 39, Mur. 30, Sest. 12, Cael. 34, Planc. 60, Deiot. 12). Superlative adjectives
are commonly used.
⁷² E.g. Red. Sen. 5, Phil. 13.30.
⁷³ E.g. Red. Sen. 1.5, Red. Pop. 25, Dom. 4–7, 57, Sest. 48, 129.
⁷⁴ Caes. BC 1.7, Pollio ap. Suet. DJ 30.4.
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Servilia’s World 19
A man’s prestige was under continuous assessment. It might reflect credit
on his ancestors, maiores.⁷⁵ Or it might disgrace them.⁷⁶ Conversely, corrupt
ancestors could pass on their tainted blood to descendants. Piso allegedly
inherited avarice from his maternal grandfather and his father.⁷⁷ A man’s
descendants were affected by his reputation. If a man died bravely in battle, it
consoled his family for their loss: his children had a family model of virtus.⁷⁸
Disgrace incurred by condemnation on a capital charge was severely felt by
a family.⁷⁹
As Elizabeth Rawson wrote, ‘ . . . where aristocratic families are concerned,
one must always bear in mind the pressure to emulate one’s maiores, often in
quite specific ways’.⁸⁰ Children were brought up in the traditions of their
family.⁸¹ They were to imitate and emulate the virtues of their forebears.
Nature and nurture might operate. The young child would unconsciously
absorb the assumptions of his or her class. The world of the great families
was shaped by masculine values.⁸²
Women too could seek a reputation for virtus. According to Seneca, writing
in the mid-first century AD and using members of Servilia’s family as examples,
they could equal the triumphs of men in public service:
Men are made illustrious by consulships, eloquence raises them to immortal fame,
military glory and triumph over a new tribe hallow them; there are many things
which ennoble outstanding abilities. The peculiar virtue of women is pudicitia. This
made Lucretia the equal of Brutus or perhaps put her above him, since it was from a
woman that Brutus learnt to be incapable of being a slave. This made Cornelia the
equal of Gracchus and Porcia of the second Brutus.⁸³
Pudicitia is conventionally translated as ‘chastity’ or ‘sexual purity’.⁸⁴ Like the
use of ‘virtue’ in English with reference to women, it includes chastity. But
its scope is larger than that of continence and it does not imply abstinence
from sexual intercourse within marriage. It is the conscience which keeps a
person (usually a woman) from shameful actions.⁸⁵ It connotes loyalty and
⁷⁵ CIL 1² 10, 15 = ILS 4, 6 = ILLRP 311, 316 = Courtney, Musa Lapidaria 11, 13.
⁷⁶ Rhet. Her. 3.13, Pis. 1, 62. ⁷⁷ Pis. fr. 11, 86–90. ⁷⁸ Font. 48, Phil. 14.34.
⁷⁹ Sulla 88, Font. 48.
⁸⁰ Intellectual life in the late Roman Republic (London, 1985) 89–90.
⁸¹ Treggiari, ‘Ancestral virtues’ 152–62.
⁸² Elizabeth Rawson, Roman culture and society (Oxford, 1991) 17: ‘It is likely that a number
of the activities of the younger Cato, and of the patrician Claudii of Cicero’s time, can be partly
explained by consideration of their family traditions.’ MacMullen, ‘Roman elite motivation’ 3 is
alert to the impact on women.
⁸³ Quoted by Jerome adversus Iovinianum 1.49 = 319C–320.
⁸⁴ The adjective, pudicus/a, connotes sexual virtue, but could often be translated as ‘moral’.
⁸⁵ It derives ultimately from a verb used impersonally: pudet, ‘it makes (a person) ashamed’.
In reference to a man it is likely to mean refraining from the passive role in homosexual
intercourse and not seducing social equals (Cael. 42, Mil. 9).
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But Dr. Evans had been "told" what was not correct when he
sought to dignify drones with the office of "nursing fathers,"—that
task is undertaken by the younger of the working-bees. No
occupation falls to the lot of the drones in gathering honey, nor have
they the means provided them by nature for assisting in the labours
of the hive. The drones are the progenitors of working bees, and
nothing more; so far as is known, that is the only purpose of their
short existence.
In a well-populated hive the number of drones is computed at
from one to two thousand. "Naturalists," says Huber, "have been
extremely embarrassed to account for the number of males in most
hives, and which seem only a burden to the community, since they
appear to fulfil no function. But we now begin to discern the object of
nature in multiplying them to such an extent. As fecundation cannot
be accomplished within the hive, and as the queen is obliged to
traverse the expanse of the atmosphere, it is requisite that the males
should be numerous, that she may have the chance of meeting
some one of them in her flight. Were only two or three in each hive,
there would be little probability of their departure at the same instant
with the queen, or that they would meet her in their excursions; and
most of the females might thus remain sterile." It is important for the
safety of the queen-bee that her stay in the air should be as brief as
possible: her large size, and the slowness of her flight, render her an
easy prey to birds. It is not now thought that the queen always pairs
with a drone of the same hive, as Huber seems to have supposed.
Once impregnated,—as is the case with most insects,—the queen-
bee continues productive during the remainder of her existence. It
has, however, been found that though old queens cease to lay
worker eggs, they may continue to lay those of drones. The
swarming season being over, that is about the end of July, a general
massacre of the "lazy fathers" takes place. Dr. Bevan, in the "Honey
Bee," observes on this point, "the work of the drones being now
completed, they are regarded as useless consumers of the fruits of
others' labour, love is at once converted into hate, and a general
proscription takes place. The unfortunate victims evidently perceive
their danger, for they are never, at this time, seen resting in one
place, but darting in and out of the hive with the utmost precipitation,
as if in fear of being seized."
Their destruction is thought, by some, to be caused by their being
harassed until they quit the hive; but Huber says he ascertained that
the death of the drones was caused by the stings of the workers.
Supposing the drones come forth in May, which is the average
period of their being hatched, their destruction takes place
somewhere about the commencement of August, so that three
months is the usual extent of their existence; but should it so happen
that the usual development of the queen has been retarded, or that
the hive has in any case been deprived of her, the massacre of the
drones is deferred. But in any case, the natural term of the life of
drone bees does not exceed four months, so that they are all dead
before the winter, and are not allowed to be useless consumers of
the general store.
The Worker Bee.—The working bees form, by far, the most
numerous class of the three kinds contained in the hive, and least of
all require description. They are the smallest of the bees, are dark
brown in colour or nearly black, and much more active on the wing
than are either drones or queens. The usual number in a healthy
hive varies from twelve to thirty thousand; and, previous to
swarming, exceeds the larger number. The worker-bee is of the
same sex as the queen, but is only partially developed. Any egg of a
worker-bee,—by the cell being enlarged, as already described, and
the "royal jelly" being supplied to the larva,—may be hatched into a
mature and perfect queen. This, one of the most curious facts
connected with the natural history of bees, may be verified in any
apiary by most interesting experiments, which may be turned to
important use. With regard to the supposed distinctions between
"nursing" and working bees, it is now agreed that it only consists in a
division of labour,—the young workers staying at home to feed the
larvæ until they are themselves vigorous enough to range the fields
in quest of supplies. But, for many details of unfailing interest, we
must again refer our readers to the standard works on bees that
have already been named.
The Eggs of Bees.—It is necessary that some explanation
should be given as to the existence of the bee before it emerges
from the cell.
The eggs of all the three kinds of bees when first deposited are of
an oval shape, and of a bluish-white colour. In four or five days the
egg changes to a worm, and in this stage is known by the names of
larva or grub, in which state it remains four to six days more; during
this period it is fed by the nurse-bees with a mixture of farina and
honey, a constant supply of which is given to it: the next
transformation is to the nymph or pupa form; the nurse-bees now
seal up the cell with a preparation similar to wax; and then the pupa
spins round itself a film or cocoon, just as a silkworm does in its
chrysalis state. The microscope shows that this cradle-curtain is
perforated with very minute holes, through which the baby-bee is
duly supplied with air. No further attention on the part of the bees is
now requisite except a proper degree of heat, which they take care
to keep up, a position for the breeding cells being selected in the
centre of the hive where the temperature is likely to be most
congenial.
Twenty-one days after the egg is first laid (unless cold weather
should have retarded it) the bee quits the pupa state, and nibbling its
way through the waxen covering that has enclosed it, comes forth a
winged insect. In the Unicomb Observatory Hive, the young bees
may distinctly be seen as they literally fight their way into the world,
for the other bees do not take the slightest notice, nor afford them
any assistance. We have frequently been amused in watching the
eager little new-comer, now obtruding its head, and anon compelled
to withdraw into the cell, to escape being trampled on by the
apparently unfeeling throng, until at last it has succeeded in making
its exit. The little grey creature, after brushing and shaking itself,
enters upon its duties in the hive, and in a day or two may be seen
gathering honey in the fields—some say on the day of its birth,—thus
early illustrating that character for industry, which has been
proverbial, at least, since the days of Aristotle, and which has in our
day been rendered familiar even to infant minds through the nursery
rhymes of Dr. Watts.
Increase of Bees.—Every one is familiar with the natural
process of "swarming," by which bees provide themselves with fresh
space and seek to plant colonies to absorb their increase of
population. But the object of the bee-master is to train and educate
his bees, and in so doing he avoids much of the risk and trouble
which is incurred by allowing the busy folk to follow their own
devices. The various methods for this end adopted by apiarians all
come under the term of the "depriving" system; and they form part of
the great object of humane and economical bee-keeping, which is to
save the bees alive instead of slaughtering them as under the old
clumsy system. A very natural question is often asked,—how it is
that upon the depriving system, where our object is to prevent
swarming, the increase of numbers is not so great as upon the old
plan? It will be seen that the laying of eggs is performed by the
queen only, and that there is but one queen to each hive; so that
where swarming is prevented, there remains only one hive or stock,
as the superfluous princesses are not allowed to come to maturity.
Our plan of giving additional store-room will, generally speaking,
prevent swarming; this stay-at-home policy, we contend, is an
advantage, for instead of the loss of time consequent upon a swarm
hanging out preparatory to flight, all the bees are engaged in
collecting honey, and that at a time when the weather is most
favourable and the food most abundant. Upon the old system, the
swarm leaves the hive simply because the dwelling has not been
enlarged at the time when the bees are increasing. The emigrants
are always led off by the old queen, leaving either young or embryo
queens to lead off after swarms, and to furnish a mistress for the old
stock, and carry on the multiplication of the species. Upon the
antiquated and inhuman plan where so great a destruction takes
place by the brimstone match, breeding must, of course, be allowed
to go on to its full extent to make up for such sacrifices. Our chief
object under the new system is to obtain honey free from all
extraneous matter. Pure honey cannot be gathered from combs
where storing and breeding are performed in the same compartment.
For fuller explanations on this point, we refer to the various
descriptions of our improved hives in a subsequent section of this
work.
There can now be scarcely two opinions as to the uselessness of
the rustic plan of immolating the poor bees after they have striven
through the summer so to "improve each shining hour." The ancients
in Greece and Italy took the surplus honey and spared the bees, and
now for every intelligent bee-keeper there are ample appliances
wherewith to attain the same results. Mr. Langstroth quotes from the
German the following epitaph which, he says, "might be properly
placed over every pit of brimstoned bees:"—
Here Rests,
CUT OFF FROM USEFUL LABOUR,
A COLONY OF
INDUSTRIOUS BEES,
BASELY MURDERED
BY ITS
UNGRATEFUL AND IGNORANT
OWNER.
And Thomson, the poet of "The Seasons," has recorded an
eloquent poetic protest against the barbarous practice, for which,
however, in his day there was no alternative:—
SWARMING.
The spring is the best period at which to open an apiary, and
swarming-time is a good starting point for the new bee-keeper. The
period known as the swarming season is during the months of May
and June. With a very forward stock, and in exceedingly fine
weather, bees do occasionally swarm in April. The earlier the swarm
the greater is its value. If bees swarm in July, they seldom gather
sufficient to sustain themselves through the winter; though, by
careful feeding, they may easily be kept alive, if hived early in the
month.
The cause of a swarm leaving the stock-hive is, that the
population has grown too large for it. Swarming is a provision of
nature for remedying the inconvenience of overcrowding, and is the
method whereby the bees seek for space in which to increase their
stores. By putting on "super hives," the required relief may, in many
cases, be given to them; but should the multiplication of stocks be
desired, the bee-keeper will defer increasing the space until the
swarm has issued forth. In May, when the spring has been fine, the
queen-bee is very active in laying eggs, and the increase in a strong
healthy hive is so prodigious that emigration is necessary, or the
bees would cease to work.
It is now a well established fact that the old queen goes forth with
the first swarm, preparation having been made to supply her place
as soon as the bees determine upon the necessity of a division of
their commonwealth. Thus the sovereignty of the old hive, after the
first swarm has issued, devolves upon a young queen.
As soon as the swarm builds combs in its new abode, the
emigrant-queen, being impregnated and her ovaries full, begins
laying eggs in the cells, and thereby speedily multiplies the labourers
of the new colony. Although there is now amongst apiarians no doubt
that the old queen quits her home, there is no rule as to the
composition of the swarm—old and young alike depart. Some show
unmistakable signs of age by their ragged wings, others their
extreme youth by their lighter colour; how they determine which shall
stay and which shall go has not yet been ascertained. In preparation
for flight, bees commence filling their honey bags, taking sufficient, it
is said, for three days' sustenance. This store is needful, not only for
food, but to enable the bees to commence the secretion of wax and
the building of combs in their new domicile.
On the day of emigration the weather must be fine, warm, and
clear, with but little wind stirring; for the old queen, like a prudent
matron, will not venture out unless the day is in every way favorable.
Whilst her majesty hesitates, either for the reasons we have
mentioned, or because the internal arrangements are not sufficiently
matured, the bees will often fly about or hang in clusters at the
entrance of the hive for two or three days and nights together, all
labour meanwhile being suspended. The agitation of the little folk is
well described by Evans:—
But when all is ready, a scene of the most violent agitation takes
place; the bees rush out in vast numbers, forming quite a dark cloud
as they traverse the air.
The time selected for the departure of the emigrants is generally
between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m.; most swarms come off within an hour
of noon. It is a very general remark that bees choose a Sunday for
swarming, and probably this is because then greater stillness reigns
around. It will not be difficult to imagine that the careful bee-keeper is
anxious to keep a strict watch, lest he should lose such a treasure
when once it takes wing. The exciting scene at a bee-swarming has
been well described by the apiarian laureate:—