The Roman Guide to Slave Management (28 page)

Freed slaves did not leave their former masters for a life of pure freedom. They were expected to display deference to the man who was now known as their patron, and, as his clients, they were obliged to carry out certain services for his benefit. The provision of such services could be enforced through the courts if the client failed to deliver them. Legally the master could no longer punish the slave physically but there is one example of a judge throwing out a complaint from a freedman who had suffered such an indignity at the hands of his patron. Cicero’s letters to his intelligent former slave, Tiro, contain a number of joking references to how he will have to give him a good beating for failing to reply to his letters. It seems that masters continued to use a certain way of speaking to their freedmen, which they no doubt thought was hilarious but we can imagine was less so for those on the receiving end of it. See Mary Beard’s article ‘Ciceronian Correspondences: Making a Book out of Letters’, In T. P. Wiseman (ed.),
Classics in Progress: Essays on Ancient Greece and Rome
,
pp. 103
–
44
.

Once freed from servitude, many former slaves worked hard to achieve what they had been unable to as slaves. Their pride at their achievements is best seen in the many tombstones that survive showing them in their togas, which they could wear only once they had become citizens. Numbers of them attained extraordinary wealth and power. Of course, these lucky few represent only the tip of the iceberg. But there were also
countless more who managed to inch their way up the social ladder and improve their quality of life and that of their families to some small degree.

It was this kind of social mobility that distinguished Roman from Athenian slavery, where the citizen body was more fixed and less porous. By manumitting large numbers of slaves, Roman society was able to assimilate many new citizens. But that does not mean that their social success did not cause resentment. One document that is full of mockery for what it sees as these social upstarts is Petronius’s
Satyricon
. Written in the mid-first century ad, the novel describes the misadventures of a man called Encolpius and his sixteen-year-old boyfriend, Giton. A long section of the work deals with a dinner they attend at the house of a fabulously wealthy freedman called Trimalchio. The meal is a catalogue of over-the-top extravagance and vulgarity, with the freedman making every effort to impress his guests through sheer ostentation. The text maintains a mocking sneer at such behaviour as well as ridiculing the lower-class speech and attitudes of Trimalchio and his circle of freedmen friends. But the
Satyricon
is a work of fiction; everything is deliberately exaggerated in order to make it funnier. Yet it is probably fair to see in it a reflection, albeit in grossly embellished form, of the resentment that high Roman society had towards those who managed to move up its social hierarchy.

Not all freedmen were the same, just as not all slaves were. Some had positions of great influence, such as those in the imperial household. Their proximity to the centre of power meant that they were treated as a special
case in law. Others were gifted scholars and writers who achieved literary success. Most were nowhere near as successful as Trimalchio. Nor should we assume that there was a natural hostility between freedmen and their former masters. Many mention their gratitude towards their former owners for helping them in their later careers. Or they took advantage of the privilege to be buried in the tombs of their patron’s family.

The legal rights of patrons can be found in
Digest
37.14. On the different legal treatment of imperial freedmen see the
Theodosian Code
4.12. The story of Acilius Sthenelus is in Pliny the Elder
Natural History
14.5. For the accusations of magic against Furius Chresimus see Pliny the Elder
Natural History
18.8.41–3. The slave Maximus who became quaestor is in Dio Cassius 48.34, and the slave Barbarius Philippus who was illegally elected as praetor at Rome is mentioned in
Digest
1.14.3. The feast of Trimalchio is to be found in Petronius
Satyricon
26–78.

   
CHAPTER XI
   

I
T IS AN UNFORTUNATE FACT
of the world we now live in that there is an ever-growing number of Christians. This wicked superstition was once held in check by the vigorous actions of emperors such as Nero, who killed many of them for their hatred of humanity. But the evil again broke out in Judaea and soon found its way back to Rome, where all things hideous and shameful seem to find a home and become popular. I felt I should add some final comments upon this strange sect in case any of you barbarian readers have been so foolish as to fall under its thrall.

It is a superstition that appeals to slaves, with its talk of the meek inheriting the earth. I can assure you that the only thing my slaves will inherit when I die is a modest sum and perhaps their freedom if they deserve it! Christians want to see themselves as slaves, for some inexplicable reason. They say they are the slaves of their Christ and they call their god ‘master’. But for all their talk of charity and alms-giving you should not imagine
that Christians treat their slaves much differently to us worshippers of the true pagan gods.

Indeed, every wealthy Christian I have ever come across owns slaves in just the same way as a normal Roman of the same status would. Their church also owns slaves just as municipal councils do. And do not imagine that Christians let their slaves run riot. They tell slaves to obey their masters. And if they do not, then they beat them just as hard. I heard of one Christian woman who actually went so far as to beat her slave girl to death. Her punishment from the church authorities was to be excommunicated for five years, seven if it could be established that she carried out the act deliberately. Christians also accept the obligation to return a runaway slave to his owner. One of their leaders, a man called Paul, sent a fleeing slave who had come to him back to his owner Philemon. I believe that Paul sought to persuade the slave’s legitimate owner to treat him gently (whether or not he did I have no idea and is, in any case, an irrelevance), but the important point to realise is that Paul fulfilled his legal obligation not to harbour a fugitive.

Christians share our low opinion of slaves. Those Christians who see themselves as intellectuals are always attacking the alleged vices of the wealthy members of their sect. They say they are acting as badly as their slaves do; that they show the same typical vices of their slaves, who are often thieves and runaways, or are completely dominated by their appetites and by greed. They take it as read that slaves are bad, just as we Romans tend to do. They share our understanding of how morally inferior slaves, almost by definition, must be. Of course, they also
share our view that it is possible for even the basest and grubbiest individual to act virtuously. But these acts are exceptions that prove the rule, not anything more.

Christians are, in truth, often slaves themselves. Or they come from a servile background. Even one of their supreme leaders, whom they call pope, was once nothing more than a fraudulent slave. Apparently, there was a certain slave called Callistus, who happened to be the slave of a wealthy man called Carpophorus. Carpophorus was a Christian believer but also belonged to the emperor’s household, to which he owed his fortune. One day he handed over a large sum of money to Callistus, since he believed him to be a reliable person. He instructed him to set up in business as a banker in the public fish market. Before long, various Christians had deposited substantial deposits with him, since he was backed by the financial might of the emperor’s associate Carpophorus. But Callistus secretly spent it all, and, having no money of his own, found himself in a dreadful fix.

But someone found out and told Carpophorus, who came to Callistus and demanded that he present his accounts for inspection. Callistus, seeing the danger he was in, was terrified and so decided to run away by escaping across the sea. He found a ship at Portus ready to set sail and went on board happy to go wherever the ship was heading. But someone spotted him and told Carpophorus what had happened. Carpophorus hurried down to the harbour and tried to board the ship. Fearing the dreadful punishments that would await him if he were recaptured, Callistus threw himself into the sea to kill himself. But everybody on the shore started shouting
and the sailors jumped into their small boats and pulled him out reluctantly. He was handed back to his rightful owner and carted off to Rome.

Furious at his fraudulent incompetence, his master put him to work on the treadmill. But after a while some fellow Christians approached Carpophorus and pleaded with him to release the runaway from his punishment. A kindly man, he eventually relented and released him on condition that Callistus pay back the money he had lost. But Callistus had no money and since he was unable to escape again, as he was being kept under guard, he decided again to try to kill himself. Or rather he decided to get himself executed. So one Saturday he went to the synagogue where the Jews assemble and started causing a commotion. The Jews were upset by his behaviour and started insulting and beating him. Then they dragged him off to the urban prefect Fuscianus, complaining that this Christian had caused a public disturbance. The judge was furious but, again, someone told Carpophorus, who came to the court and informed the judge that the slave was simply a fraudster who wanted to get himself killed because he had stolen a lot of money. But the Jews assumed that this was a trick on the part of Carpophorus to have his slave released. So they appealed to the prefect in an even more hostile manner. He gave in to them, had Callistus whipped and sentenced to be sent to the mines in Sardinia.

Even here this slave’s tricks did not stop. There were other Christians in the mines, who had high connections in the imperial household. Callistus managed to get in with them and they all got their freedom. But the bishop
of Rome, who had arranged the release, was so embarrassed when he discovered that he had unwittingly freed a known criminal that he sent Callistus off to Antium with a monthly allowance. And they say crime doesn’t pay! In the end, this wicked and deceitful slave became an administrator in the Christian church and finally the pope himself. This is the kind of person who leads the Christians: a man of the lowest social rank, matched only by the baseness of his morals.