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Private Lives of Pompeii

Introduction | New research | Status
Patronage and business |
The household | Pleasures of the flesh
Core values | Find out more

Status

In Pompeii – indeed, in Roman society as a whole – money was less important than one's birthright. Even the wealthiest freed slave could never aspire to the positions open to free-born citizens. However, the quest for status remained the defining feature of Roman life.

The imperial cult stood at the heart of religious and cultural life. This represented its founder – the emperor Augustus (ruled 27 BC-AD 14) – as a semi-divine father of the people. Pompeii at this time was characterised by accelerated social mobility and the social and cultural tensions to which it gave rise. Augustus had shown great foresight by allowing freedmen to hold minor office in his cult. This became a safety valve for the frustrations of a growing and ambitious group.

Public office
It was public service – both civic and religious – that conferred status. Holding public office brought with it certain perks, the greatest of which were those that allowed the office-holder to display his status. However, holding public office was subject to quite a number of restrictions. The most important of these were financial, to ensure that the office holder could afford to fulfil his onerous duties as a civic benefactor.

You might assume that restrictions on who could stand for public office would perpetuate social divisions. In fact, the weight of financial responsibilities, especially in Pompeii after the earthquake, opened up new possibilities for successful freedmen. They could lend money to potential office-holders and so gain power over those who ostensibly ruled them. Or endow funds for the construction of buildings that would bear inscriptions to their patron – or even the patron's son.

Home as stage
Status was all. Even 'home' wasn't the private retreat we are familiar with, but a public space, projecting the owner's identity or public persona. One of the major findings of the new research is that the villas of Pompeii were laid out and decorated like stage sets, to reinforce the image of their owners' status. According to historian Mary Beard ...

By carefully matching up surviving architecture with different styles of wall decoration, by thinking afresh about such simple problems as what you could actually see when you walked through the front door of a house, and by comparing what remains with Vitruvius' 1st-century handbook On Architecture, archaeologists have put 'domestic space' back at the centre of Roman social and political history. The housing of the Roman élite, so this new orthodoxy goes, was not 'private', in the sense of hiding the inmates from public view, but a key extension of the owner's political persona, a stage specifically designed to be a backdrop to his public role as patron and magistrate.

Although some Roman authors famously declaimed against conspicuous expenditure on the home, Pompeians did not see luxury as a senseless waste. Rather, it was a social necessity in a highly competitive society. Pompeii's upper classes spent huge amounts of money on their houses because they had to – their neighbours and clients were watching.

Finally, how a man was memorialised after death was also of great importance. The living revered their ancestors in regular rituals, and a dead man's status was reflected on his descendants.

The patrician's son
Gaius Terentius Sabinus is the only son of a patrician father, from a family that was influential on the political scene in the past but has fallen from prominence in the last few years.

A weak man who has been indulged throughout his life, Gaius suddenly finds himself having to justify his existence. An ambitious freedman has latched on to his slightly senile father and is convincing him to name him as his heir rather than the wastrel son. Gaius’s father gives his son an ultimatum: make your family proud by winning office in the forthcoming election or be disinherited. Reluctantly Gaius agrees.

Married with two small children, both Gaius and his wife are notorious libertines, with appetites for drink and lovers of both sexes. The challenge of making himself respectable enough to win public office is daunting.

To stand a chance of winning the election for duumvir (colonial magistrate), Gaius must mix with those he has always disdained. Only with the financial backing of men like Scaurus, the arriviste freedman (see box in Patronage and business), can Gaius afford to fulfil the promises of public works that are a requirement for an electoral candidate. Ingratiating himself with the lower classes is distasteful to Gaius – how far is he prepared to swallow his pride to win financial security?

The sudden collapse of his father into senile dementia at exactly the moment when Gaius finally achieves the public position that was always expected of him is deeply ironic. Laden with responsibility and unable now to share in the kind of pleasure-seeking that his wife continues to enjoy, Gaius finds himself with the need to defend his inheritance removed yet with none of the rewards of parental approval.

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