In Praise of Martial By LJ Trafford

Author's own pumpkin carving effort.

Alas the month of October has passed. October is a great month, it is the bridge between autumn and winter, the final resting point before the shops decide it’s Christmas and force the festival season down our throats until we surrender and start humming Slade’s Merry Christmas Everyone and having nightmares about undercooked/overcooked turkeys. There’s also this thing called Halloween at the end of October which bloggers feel compelled to write about.

My History Girls slot is pretty darn close to the 31st October but I’ll spare you the Halloween blog post because the Romans didn’t have Halloween. They did have ghosts and ghost stories and festivals connected to the dead but I am not going to make any tenuous links between anything they believed in and children dressed up as tiny Harry Potters escorted door to door collecting sweets.

No what I want to write about is #Classicstober ! #Classicstober as you’ll gather from the # is a Twitter, (or as it is now known X) event, it is a whole month dedicated to promoting ancient Greek and Roman history run by @GreekMythComix and @DrCoraBeth. Each day of October was dedicated to a different man or woman from antiquity offering up the opportunity for Classicists and enthusiasts alike to big them up for the education of the wider X audience. I was flattered to be asked to nominate an individual for the 24th October and as Pliny the Elder had already been nabbed I went for the poet Martial. Because I think he’s brilliant and by the end of this article you’ll think so too.

The Man

Author's own, heavily index stickered,  copy of The Epigrams by Martial.

Marcus Valerius Martialis was born probably in the late 30’s/maybe 40 CE or it could have been 41 CE and died possibly around 102/103/104 CE depending on what short bio you are reading on him. We certainly know he was alive during the 80s and 90s CE because he makes reference to Emperors Titus and Domitian and events under their reigns like the grand opening of the Colosseum in 80 CE. Yes really, Martial was there.

We also know that he was Spanish by birth, a Roman citizen who moved to the big city at some point in his life and attempted to make it big as a poet. Which he did. And that is about all we know about him. We could try to deduce his personality from his work but how much of that is truth and how much does he dish up to us simply because it makes a good gag? I like to think the latter because Martial as depicted by himself is not always a sympathetic character, in fact he’s often a bit of a git.

Why do I think Martial is brilliant? I’ll fess up and admit that a large part of his appeal is that he writes a form of poetry known as epigrams. An epigram according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary is ‘concise poem dealing pointedly and often satirically with a single thought or event and often ending with an ingenious turn of thought.’
Sssh, don’t tell the Classics lot but I’m not a big fan of epic poetry as written by Homer and Virgil. Epic poetry is well epic, and that means long, very long. Epigrams are much shorter, deliciously so. Some of Martial’s epigrams are only two lines, such as this one: 

‘If from the baths you hear a round of applause, 

Maron’s prick is bound to be the cause.’ 8.88.

Which means you can happily digest Martial’s views on a wide variety of topics in the same number of lines that Homer dedicates to listing the ships that made up the Greek forces battling Troy.

So, yes my own lack of attention is a part of why I enjoy reading Martial but there are many other reasons too, such as his versatility as a poet. I have written three non-fiction books on ancient Rome: How to Survive in Ancient Rome which was a general introduction to the city in the year 95 CE, Sex and Sexuality in Ancient Rome an in-depth look at that topic and Ancient Rome’s Worst Emperors. Three very different books to which Martial was a key source for all. Let me explain.

Do as the Romans do.
When ancient Rome is portrayed in film or on TV there is a leaning towards certain topics and these topics generally are soldiers, gladiators and sexually depraved crazed Roman Emperors. None of which I disapprove of, I hardly could when I’ve personally contributed to it through my own books. However, Ancient Rome was brim full of people who weren’t soldiers – so didn’t have to worry about them pesky British tribes, nor gladiators – so no need to worry about an imminent and bloody death and who weren’t emperors – so didn’t live in luxury beyond our wildest imaginations. No, it was full of men like Martial whose concerns in life were let us saw charitably somewhat more trivial.

A great many of Martial’s epigrams are dedicated to dinner parties, such as not getting invited to one:

'Our dinner invitations are one-sided. When I ask you, you usually come, yet you never ask me. I shouldn't mind provided you asked nobody else. However you do. Neither one of us, Gallus, comes out blameless. [] I'm stupid & you're shameless.’ 3.27.

Then there’s the growing suspicion and paranoia about why he’s not on the party list, is it because he has not reduced himself to bribery?

‘How has it so suddenly come to pass, that, after so many pledges of affection on my part, and after the lapse of so many years, I, old friend as I am, am not included in your invitations. But I know the reason; I have not sent you a pound of refined silver, or a fine toga, or a warm cloak.’ 7.86

Or is it because his penis is too small?

‘You invite no one, Cotta except those whom you meet at the bath; and the bath alone supplies you with guests. I used to wonder why you had never asked me, Cotta I know now that my appearance in a state of nature was unpleasing in your eyes.’ 1.23

When he does secure an invitation he is not at all grateful and whisks off epigrams that are uncannily like the end of Come Dine with Me when that night's host is cruelly critiqued. '

Last night, Fabullus, I admit you gave your guests some exquisite perfume

 - but not one slice of meat.'. 3.12

'You drink the best yet serve us third-rate wine. I'd rather sniff your cup then swill from mine.'

Although to be fair to Martial some of the dinners he attends do sound absolutely dreadful.

‘The reason you ask us to dinner, Ligurinus, is no other than this, that you may recite your verses. I have just put off my shoes, when forthwith in comes an immense volume among the lettuces and sharp-sauce. Another is handed, while the first course is lingering on the table: then comes a third, before even the second course is served. During a fourth course you recite; and again during a fifth. Why, a boar, if so often placed upon table, is unsavoury. If you do not hand over your accursed poems to the mackerel-sellers, Ligurinus, you will soon dine alone.’3.50

The picture of Rome that Martial paints is one we don’t often get to see, a Rome of battling dinner party hosts, of an overcrowded city ‘Novius is so close a neighbour I could stand at my window and touch him with a hand’ 1.86, of gossips ‘Marius’ earhole smells. Does that surprise you Nestor? The scandal that you tells enough to make it fester’ 3.28 and bad hair ‘You’ve dyed your hair to mimic youth, Laetinus. Not so long ago you were a swan, now you’re a crow. You can’t fool everyone.’ 3.48

As you can tell Martial is delightfully candid and unafraid of causing offensive. This is as true when he tackles the subject of sex.


Martial on Sex
When I was researching my book Sex and Sexuality in Ancient Rome, I would stumble across references to certain Martial epigrams only to track them down and discover that there was no officially published English translation of them. When I finally managed to locate an English version I quickly realised why; because they are pure filth.

As an example I give you an extract from poem 11.21, translation courtesy of sententiae antiquae who you will find on X. Martial's issue is with Lydia's vagina which he finds too wide, he then proceeds to compare it with a series of other roomy objects.
Lydia is as wide as the ass of a bronze rider’s horse,
[] Or the old trousers of a British pauper,
Or the foul throat of a Revennian Pelican.
I am reputed to have fucked her in a salty fishpond.
I am not sure: I think I fucked the fishpond

It’s not often you read a poet complaining his girlfriends vagina is too big. But Martial is not done complaining about vaginas, oh no he’s also plagued by noisy ones.

'Galla, you have a fault which is not altogether trifling. Whenever I came to you and we were moved about with mingling groins, you were silent – but your vagina wasn’t. Oh, would that the gods would make you speak and it stay silent! I am offended by your vagina’s loquacity. 7.18

The poem continues with Martial wondering if sodomy with Galla would have been a better option. This does make it surprising that Martial alongside such filth also wrote poems for the Emperor Domitian. Like I said, Martial is versatile.



Poet to An Emperor
The Emperor Domitian ruled from 81-96 CE, 15 whole years which counts as a bloody long reign for a Roman emperor. In the 3rd century the average reign of an emperor was a measly 2.3 years. There’s not a lot you can do as a leader in 2.3 years but there’s plenty you can do in 15 years and Domitian did, including introducing new morality laws which were placed stricter penalties on things like divorce. That Martial should end up as a poet to an emperor who cared deeply about public morals borders on the staggering.

The Emperor Domitian. Claude, Buste Vatican, James Anderson, silver print.. Digital image courtesy of Getty’s Open Content Program

Well maybe not so surprising because it wasn’t as if Domitian turned to his nearest lackey and requested he bring forth that poet who wrote that thing he liked about women with noisy lady parts. Martial desired the emperor’s attention, he wanted to get his poetry in front of Domitian and he petitioned to do so through his work in a poem aimed directly at one of Domitian's chief lackies, his chamberlain Parthenius.

‘You know the times when our Jove is at ease, when he beams on us with his own benignant countenance, with which he is wont to refuse nothing to suppliants. You have no reason to fear that our request is extravagant; a book which is decorated with cedar and purple, and swells proudly with dark bosses, never makes too great or inconvenient demands. Yet do not put these compositions too forward; but hold them as if you were offering and contemplating nothing. If I know the votary of the nine sisters, he will of his own accord ask for the purple-covered book.’ 5.6

Parthenius helped out, perhaps buttered up by poems Martial wrote for him, including one for the Chamberlain’s son Burrus on the occasion of his birthday.

Sooooo what type of poetry did Martial, the author of a poem about his girlfriend’s noisy vagina and a friend’s bad hair dye write for the emperor? The answering is exactly what was required of him. Sucking up poetry of the highest order, and my god when Martial does suck up he really gets on board with it.

‘The Rhine now knows that you have arrived in your own city; for he too hears the acclamations of your people. Even the Sarmatian tribes, and the Danube, and the Getae, have been startled by the loudness of our recent exultations. While the prolonged expressions of joy in the sacred circus greeted you, no one perceived that the horses had started and run four times. 

No ruler, Caesar, has Rome ever so loved before, and she could not love you more, even were she to desire it. 8.11

 There is this one on the palace that Domitian had built on the Palatine Hill.

Smile, Caesar at the miraculous pyramids of Egyptian kings; let barbarian Memphis now be silent concerning her eastern monuments. 

How insignificant are the labours of Egypt compared to the Parrhasian palace! The god of day looks upon nothing in the whole world more splendid. 8.36

Domitian's palace on the Palatine. Photo By Scott Rowland

This is a radically different style of poetry to that which Martial had otherwise produced. There’s no gag at the end, no caustic put down. Martial’s poetry for Domitian has a saccharine punchline..

O ye gods, but such as are due to earth; since for so great a god as Caesar what prayers can be extravagant? 4.1

When you do not wear it, Caesar it may be called a breast-plate; when it sits upon your sacred breast, it will be an aegis. 7.1 

 An aegis being a shield that was carried by the gods Jupiter and Minerva

Caesar, the barbarian is as much delighted as awed. 7.5

Come on, it’s impressive. The art of praise, of positivity is something we play down in our society. We think the caustic and the sarcastic the product of a cleverer mind. That Martial can do both, be offensively sardonic and flamboyant praise is testament to his talent.
Talking about talent, could you produce a poem on the niche topic of the Emperor Domitian’s recently introduced anti castration legislation? No? Martial can.

'It used to be a common sport to violate the sacred rites of marriage; a common sport to mutilate innocent males. You now forbid both, Caesar and promote future generations, whom you desire to be born without illegitimacy. 

Henceforth, under your rule, there will be no such thing as a eunuch or an adulterer; while before, oh sad state of morals! the two were combined in one. 6.2

He’s brilliant, isn’t he?
And if you don’t agree with me I leave you with my all time favourite Martial poem which encompasses everything that is brilliant about him: it’s short, to the point, offending and funny.

‘You ask me what I get out of my country place, 

the profit gross or net, is never seeing your face.’ 2.38

LJ Trafford writes books about Ancient Rome. You can find some of them for sale here

A Dark Plot by L.J. Trafford

Death of an Emperor

On the 18th of September in the year 96 CE, a young Imperial slave boy was attending to the shrine to the Lares, the gods of the household, that resided in the bedchamber of the emperor Domitian. Domitian paid very serious attention to religion and proper adherence to it. He favoured the god Jupiter and goddess Minerva, rebuilding the temple of the former after it had been burnt to the ground and holding a special festival at his Alban villa for the latter. Elsewhere in his now 15-year reign he had overseen the trial of a Vestal Virgin accused of breaking her sacred chastity. Found guilty he had her entombed alive as both the law and the gods insisted upon.

The Emperor Domitian. Getty Open Content.

 
As the boy went about his job, no doubt anxious that the notoriously short-tempered Domitian might find fault with his work, word was brought to the emperor that outside the chamber there was a man named Stephanus who sought an urgent audience with him. What could possibly be so urgent as to disturb the emperor in his private bedchamber? A conspiracy, Stephanus was claiming, a grievous conspiracy to murder the emperor and what’s more he had the proof of it.


That was all Domitian needed to hear, he told his guards to let Stephanus in. It was unlikely that the emperor recognised the man who now entered his most private of rooms. Although, an Imperial freedman, Stephanus was new to the palace. He’d previously worked as a steward in the household of Domitian’s niece, Domitilla but had been absorbed into the emperor’s own household after Domitilla had been banished by her uncle. He stood in front of the emperor with the scroll clasped in his right hand that he claimed named these conspirators. As he handed over the scroll to the eager emperor, perhaps Domitian noticed that Stephanus’ left arm was heavily bandaged. Perhaps he did not. The chance to remove yet more men wanting to murder him was of more importance than how some random slave’s injury came about.


As Domitian unfurled the scroll Stephanus ripped off his bandages and pulled out the dagger he’d concealed beneath them. Then he stabbed the emperor in the groin. Domitian getting to his feet yelled to the slave boy to fetch him his dagger that he always kept under his pillow. The slave boy diving onto the bed, lifted the pillow and found nothing underneath. As the emperor grappled with Stephanus, he shouted again for the boy to get help. Running to a door the boy found it to be locked, as were all the other doors to the emperor’s chamber.


Domitian continued to fight his assailant, lacerating his fingers trying to grab the dagger off the steward. Both hit the floor, with Domitian on top of Stephanus and attempting to gouge out his eyes. This was when the doors finally opened and in ran other members of the Imperial household: Clodianus, Maximus, Satur and an unnamed gladiator from the imperial training school.


However, these four were not there to help or at least not help Domitian, they were plan b and they set about their allocated task, unsheathing their own weapons and adding seven more blows to the ones Stephanus had already inflicted upon Domitian. Although he had made good work of fighting off Stephanus, Domitian could not fight off five of them. The emperor was dead. Every detail we know about the killing of Domitian comes from that one terrified slave boy. Although none of the historians who use his story ever bothers to give him a name.

The Aftermath

Domitian’s death had been a brutal, sustained attack, a noisy one too what with the emperor yelling for his dagger and for help. him and Stephanus rolling on the floor crashing into the furniture amd perhaps the little slave boy screaming in terror. Help came too late to save the emperor, but it was in time to catch the murderers bloody handed standing over their victim. We are told Stephanus was killed ‘when those who had not shared in the conspiracy made a concerted rush upon him’.Cassius Dio. I think we can assume that Clodianus, Maximus, Satur and that unnamed gladiator were also run down by the still loyal servants of the emperor.

The palace that Domitian built but was also murdered in. 
Photo by Scott Rowland

The emperor was dead, his assassins were also dead. However, this was potentially a combustible situation, for the childless Domitian had left no heir. In 41 CE after the Emperor Caligula had been brutally stabbed to death in a corridor there had been a clash of intentions as the Senate declared the restoration of the Republic at the exact same time the Praetorian Guard had found Caligula’s uncle Claudius cowering behind a curtain and proclaimed him emperor. The Guards being the ones with swords they easily won the argument that day.

In 68 CE when the similarly childless Nero had committed suicide a brutal civil war had been unleashed as four men: Galba, Otho, Vitellius and Domitian’s father, Vespasian battled each other to become emperor. People still remembered 69 CE, the year of those four emperors, and they feared a bloody sequel to it. But that didn’t happen. There was no clash of intentions between the different power brokers in Rome, there were no battles between competing would be emperors because by the end of the day, the very same day that Domitian was killed there was already a new emperor in place. His name was Nerva and he was the first of what Edward Gibbon, author of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, christened the Five Good Emperors.

Anyone who knows anything about the assassination of Roman emperors has probably just spat out a mouth of coffee and half a masticated hobnob across their lounge. Because the aftermath of Domitian’s death, the ease at which we move from one dynasty to another is quite unusual in the ancient Roman political sphere. I’d go as far as to say it is unprecedented.

The most violent act that follows Domitian’s assassination is dished out by the Senatorial class on the many images of the now dead emperor that littered the city. ‘It was our delight to dash those proud faces to the ground, to smite them with the sword and savage them with the axe as if blood and agony could follow from every blow. Our transports of joy – so long deferred – were unrestrained; all sought a form of vengeance in beholding those bodies mutilated, limbs hacked in pieces, and finally that baleful, fearsome visage cast into fire, to be melted down, so that from such menacing terror something for man’s use and enjoyment should rise out of the flames.’ So says a rather surprising vandal, the lawyer and prolific letter writer, Pliny the Younger.


There is a reason for this orderly transition of rule. There had been a plan. A well thought out plan that considered the before, the during and both the immediate aftermath and the longer-term implications of murdering the emperor.
Stephanus, Maximus, Clodianus, Satur and the gladiator may have undisputably stabbed Domitian to death, but they weren’t the ones who’d set in motion the plan.
The instigators of this most successful of plots, the hatchers of the conspiracy, the planners of the assassination were clever men who’d kept well out of the way of the bloody murder they’d set up, avoiding the fate of Stephanus and co. Their names were Entellus and Parthenius and they were a Chamberlain and Head of Petitions, the highest ranking, most trusted of all of Domitian’s staff.

The men who really killed Domitian

The lives of imperial slaves and ex-slaves are generally of no interest to Roman historians who all hail from the elite classes of Rome. Snobbery likely plays a part in this omission no doubt, a distaste for the stench of slavery on the now freed. But also jealousy probably played a part too. Imperial freedmen had unique access to the emperor far beyond any Senator had, they were thus first in line to receive the material benefits of the emperor’s pleasure and certainly many palace freedman became enormously wealthy as a result.

Freedmen could also control access to the emperor, which was bound to put Senatorial noses out of joint. The Senate had never disabused itself of the notion that it was the most important and wisest body of men in the whole empire and was so owed oodles of respect, even from the emperor. That many emperors chose to rely on slaves who lacked a family tree that went all the way back to Romulus was an eternal mystery to them.
That such powerful and influential men in their own time as Imperial freedmen go largely unrecognised and un-noted demonstrates just how deeply Roman class divisions went. However, we do know a little about the brains behind Domitian’s murder from an unlikely source: the poet Martial.

Martial is the author of what is my all-time favourite poem from ancient times. ‘You ask what I get out of my country place. The profit gross or net, is never seeing your face’
Glorious, isn’t it? Martial paints a unique portrait of Rome through his poems as crowded, smelly and overwhelmed with people he found grievously annoying.
However, Martial had a clear ambition to be more than a scribbler of scurrilous slander. He fancied being a court poet with all the fame and fortune that came with the post (if you were any good at it).

This wasn’t a job you could simply apply for, you needed a way in, a contact on the inside who could convince the emperor that he really very much needed another poet in his entourage. Martial’s contact on the inside was Parthenius, Domitian’s chamberlain.

We see how Martial seeks his influence from his own work. There are several of his poems that feature Parthenius; a verse written for Parthenius’ son Burrus’ fifth birthday, a thank you for a snow-white toga gifted to the poet by the chamberlain ‘You surpass in whiteness the lily, the budding flower of the privet, and the ivory which glistens on the hill of Tivoli. The swan of Sparta and the doves of Paphos must yield to you; and even the pearl fished from the Indian seas.’ Gushes Martial.


This flattery in friendship has a point, as becomes apparent in later poems, Martial wants Parthenius to put his poems in front of the emperor.

The Senate House. Photo by Scott Rowland.

 
Whither, my book, whither are you going so much at your ease, clad in a holiday dress of fine linen? Is it to see Parthenius? certainly. Go, then, and return unopened; for he does not read books, but only memorials; nor has he time for the muses, or he would have time for his own.’

‘And if by chance (but for this we must scarcely hope) he shall have a moment to spare, beg him to present with his own hands our verses to the emperor; and to recommend this little book, so humble and so small, with merely four words: "This your Rome reads."

Evidently this nagging by poetry worked for Martial does end up praising the emperor and his many wonderful actions in verse form. Credit to Martial for managing to make a poem out the mundane subject of Domitian widening of the pavements and his anti-castration legislation.

To you, chaste prince, mighty conqueror of the Rhine, and father of the world, cities present their thanks: they will henceforth have population; it is now no longer a crime to bring infants into the world. The boy is no longer mutilated by the art of the greedy dealer, to mourn the loss of his manly rights.
Err quite.

As well as forming a useful connection in Parthenius, Martial was also buttering up or at the very least taking a paid commission from Parthenius’ fellow Imperial freedman, Entellus. Who it appeared had a very nice garden.
‘He who has seen the orchards of the king of Corcyra, will prefer the garden of your country-house, Entellus. That the malicious frost mar not nip the purple clusters, and the icy cold destroy the gifts of Bacchus, the vintage lives protected under transparent stone; carefully covered, yet not concealed. Thus does female beauty shine through silken folds; thus are pebbles visible in the pellucid waters. What is not nature willing to grant to genius? Barren winter is forced to produce the fruits of autumn.

So there we have it, two ex-Imperial slaves who have spent decades no doubt working their way up the palace staff lists to positions of such height and influence that poets are banging at their doors seeking their patronage. One man who once gifted the poet a beautiful toga and another who was so proud of his garden he sought to have it immoratlised in verse. And then they both involve themselves in a conspiracy to brutally murder their boss. Jarring doesn’t cover it. What on earth had happened to propel these two men to that point?

The Darkness

Cameo of Domitian by Josiah Wedgwood
Metropolitan Museum of Art

Reading any book about Domitian you will come across the fact that he fell out with the Senate big time and that his treatment of them veered towards the cruel. And although many scholars try to argue that Domitian’s reign of terror wasn’t nearly as terrible as the reigns of terror other emperors inflicted upon that class, it still wasn’t a great time to be a Senator. We know this because we have two eye witness accounts of what it was like to serve Domitian from lawyer and letter writer Pliny and the Roman historian, Tacitus.

‘The worst of our torments under Domitian was to see him with his eyes fixed upon us. Every sigh was registered against us; and when we all turned pale, he did not scruple to make us marked men by a glance of his savage countenance.’ So says Tacitus.
Pliny makes several references to Domitian’s rages ‘Domitian was besides himself with fury’ he says, ‘he was infuriated by the hatred he had incurred for his cruelty and injustice.’

Domitian was an intimidating boss. He knew it and he capitalised on it, most notably in the tale of the black banquet to which he invited the foremost senators and equestrians. This is what the party guests arrived to find: ‘He prepared a room that was pitch black on every side, ceiling, walls and floor, and had made ready bare couches of the same colour resting on the uncovered floor; then he invited in his guests alone at night without their attendants.  And first he set beside each of them a slab shaped like a gravestone, bearing the guest's name and also a small lamp, such as hang in tombs. Next comely naked boys, likewise painted black, entered like phantoms, and after encircling the guests in an awe-inspiring dance took up their stations at their feet.’

Having made it home alive after such a terrifying evening, the party guests must have thanked the gods profusely, at least until there came a knock at the door and a messenger from the emperor was announced. The messenger had come with a gift from the emperor, but his real mission was to further mess with their minds. No wonder those senators smashed Domitian’s statues to pieces when he died.

Alongside a general mental terrorising of the Senatorial class, there were also arrests, trials and executions. At which point you may be wondering what indeed my point is. How does Domitian’s treatment of the Senate impact on the actions of Parthenius and Entellus? It doesn’t. But I think it raises a revealing point, if this was what the emperor was inflicting upon the elite class of Rome, men with means, money, influence and connections that might be of some use to them (Pliny and Tacitus make it through the entirety of Domitian’s reign mentally scarred, true but also higher in rank than they started it) what might he be inflicting on his household of slaves and ex-slaves who had nothing to protect them and no one to write down their tales of suffering. They were constantly at the emperor’s side, unlike the Senators who at least had homes to escape to and breathe a sigh of relief they weren’t for the chop that day.

If Domitian could create such an oppressive atmosphere during a standard meeting with his Senatorial advisors, what was the atmosphere like for those living at the palace with the increasingly paranoid emperor. ‘He used to say that the lot of princes was most unhappy, since when they discovered a conspiracy, no one believed them unless they had been killed.’ Suetonius.
In fear of the conspiracies he could not prove Domitian had the palace floor polished so that he could see any would be assassin reflected as he snuck up on him. He had executed Epaphroditus, a now elderly Imperial freedman, because twenty-five years previously Epaphroditus had been present with Nero when that emperor had committed suicide. In Domitian’s head Epaphroditus had allowed the death of his master, an emperor no less. Epaphroditus’ own death was to serve as a warning to Domitian’s own staff.

Coin depicting Emperor Nerva
Metropolitan Museum of Art

Jupiter knows how many of the imperial slaves found themselves summarily executed for similar imagined crimes in the emperor’s head. How many found themselves, like Tacitus and Pliny, terrorised by the emperor’s rages. We shall never know. But it had to be darker than the black banquet up there at the palace. So dark that two freedmen who were friends to a poet, one of whom had a nice garden and the other a giver of snow-white togas saw no other way but to set up a conspiracy to murder the emperor that they had both prospered under.

They very nearly got away with it too. With Stephanus and the others slain there was no one to point the finger at Parthenius and Entellus as ever having been involved. Except there clearly was because nearly two years after Domitian’s death the palace was overrun with soldiers demanding that Nerva hand over the culprits. A sword pressed against his throat, Nerva felt he had no choice but to give into the guards’ demands. We know not what happened to Entellus. We do know what happened to Parthenius. The Guards sliced off his testicles and shoved them in his mouth, suffocating him.
Nerva, who owed his position to Parthenius, was allowed to die of natural causes a few months later.

L.J. Trafford is the author of several books on Ancient Rome including Ancient Rome's Worst Emperors

and Sex and Sexuality in Ancient Rome

The Art of Flattery by L.J. Trafford

Statue of Domitian in Ephesus Museum.
Photo by Carole Raddato

Working on my current book I have been researching and reading an awful lot of Roman panegyric poetry, in particular Martial and Statius, who wrote under the emperor Domitian. Panegyric means to praise and both poets do not stint on the praising of the emperor. In fact it’s fair to say they dive right into a pool of swirling, queasily obsequious emperor adulation. However, I have a confession to make.. don’t tell anyone... please.... but I’m really starting to enjoy it as an art form. 

I’m now going to hide under a cushion with embarrassment. But before I do that, let me tell you the reasons I have begun to appreciate the court poet.

Opening Lines 

Every poem needs a hook and the court poets does not fall shy of this:

“What’s that imposing mass dominating the Latian Forum, the

colossus on its back rendering it twice the size?” Statius

I don’t know, Statius. What is it? I need to know? Tell me NOW!

“Go, locks if hair go swiftly over favourable seas”

You what? Flying hair. I must know more. Tell me NOW!

“What vast cacophony, of tough flings and solid steel, filled stony App is on

 the side that borders on the sea” 

It’s yet another riddle from Statius. I give up please tell me in extensive verse, NOW!

Martial on the overhand goes straight in with the compliment for a poem dedicated to the emperor's birthday.

If Domitian had a birthday cake he might choose
one with Vitellius on.

“O auspicious birth-day of Caesar, more sacred than that on which the conscious Ida witnessed the birth of Diotaean Jupiter, come, I pray, and prolong your duration beyond the age of Pylian Nestor, and shine ever with your present aspect or with increased brilliancy. “ 

I think he just got the attention of Emperor Domitian. Let’s face it it’s better than having happy birthday sung at you distinctly out of tune.
Here’s the opening line for a poem dedicated to hopes for an heir to Domitian: 

“Spring into light O child promised to the Trojan Iulus true scion of the gods spring into light illustrious child!” 

Martial likes to drop in the emperor's held titles into his first line. Like this one mentioning the post of censor that Domitian held. 

“Most mighty censor Prince of princes” 

Or a reminder of the name Germanicus that Domitian had adopted after triumphs in Germany

“Crete gave a great name Africa a greater to their conquerors, Metellus and Scipio, a still nobler name did Germany confer on you.” 

One can imagine (if you’re me) Domitian nodded sagely and appreciatively at these first lines. He’s totally going to listen to the rest of this poem now.
Which brings me to my second thing I secretly love about panegyric poetry. The use of florid and vastly over the top compliments.


Complimenting the Emperor 

Domitian - Face of a million flattering words

An Emperor as an absolute ruler is used to fair amount of fawning and simpering. I think we can all agree that should we become a vastly powerful and rich ruler it is the very first thing we’d insist upon. Frankly I’m not even going to respond to anyone who doesn’t first address me as The Tremendous Trafford.
I’ve spent so much time not being Emperor to waste not enjoying every aspect of it. The same was true of Domitian who had watched both his father and brother be emperor before he got the chance.
Therefore the court poets really have to work to find new and original ways of flattering a man who is flattered on an hourly basis.
See if you can hold onto your breakfast/lunch/dinner whilst reading these queasily toadying lines

“With visage calm, its radiance tempered 

By tranquil majesty; he, modestly lowering the banner 

Of his good fortune, yet a concealed beauty still shining 

In his face. So might barbarian emissaries, or unknown 

Peoples, recognise him by the sight. “ 

Statius 

Rome is already indebted to you for so many triumphs, so many temples, new or rebuilt, so many spectacles, so many gods, so many cities, she owes you a still greater debt in owing to you her chastity. 

Martial

No ruler, Caesar, has Rome ever so loved before, and she could not love you more, even were she to desire it. 

Martial 

Then all the gods opened wide their shrines, issuing joyful 

Portents from heaven, and Jupiter promised you, our great 

Leader, long days of youth, and as many years as his own. 

Statius 

If two messengers were to invite me to dine in different heavens, the one in that of Caesar, the other in that of Jupiter, I should, even if the stars were nearer, and the palace at the greater distance, return this answer: "Seek some other who would prefer to be the guest of the Thunderer; my own Jupiter detains me upon earth." 

Martial 

Put your 21st century scorning of politicians aside for a moment. Imagine you are the recipient of these verses. Imagine you are the Emperor Domitian. That’s nice isn’t it? Being told how special you are. Poets taking time and effort in composing such sentiment of your wonderfulness. Being Emperor after all can be pretty awful. Yes you get wonderful palaces, hold all the best parties and employ thousands of people dedicated to providing for your comfort/desires. But there is a downside: all those people trying to kill you or plotting to kill you or thinking about plotting to kill you. Not to forget those people who aren’t trying to kill you, plotting to kill you or thinking about plotting to kill you but might do so in future. And thus need removing. That’s got to bring the mood down. What better to lift it again than a lovely poem saying how great you are. It’s like the best appraisal you’ve ever had plus a 50% bonus. It’s bound to encourage you in your emperoring, if only to secure more impressive poems next year.


Domitian ruled for 15 years. That’s an awful lot of poetry to produce to cheer him up. That pulls on all the ingenuity of the court poet to produce new subjects worthy of praising.
This is my third reason for appreciating panegyric poems.



Inventive tackling of subject matter 

If you’re a love poet there’s an ample amount of objects/goddesses/seasons you can compare your love too. Similarly, epic poets have all of mythology to choose from with its grand themes, tortured heroes and awesome battles.
However, your court poet is faced with challenges of gargantuan scale. We’ve already seen how both Martial and Statius out do each other in new ways to praise, to flatter, to compliment the emperor.
But now we get into very tricky territory. You are to write a poem praising a new imitative of the emperor. He’s built a new palace on the Palatine Hill? No problem.

Domitian's lovely new palace
Image by Matthias Kabal

“The gods rejoice to see you installed in a palace equalling 

Their own (hasten not to ascend to the heights of the sky); 

So wide are its foundations, such is the extent of its halls, 

Wider than a spreading plain, embracing much of heaven 

Within its roof; you fill the house and weight it with your

Great genius. “ 

Statius 

“Smile, Caesar, at the miraculous pyramids of Egyptian kings; let barbarian Memphis now be silent concerning her eastern monuments. How insignificant are the labours of Egypt compared to the Parrhasian palace! “ 

Martial

There’s a new statue depicting the emperor on a horse? Easy peasey.

Your chest is wide enough to bear the world’s cares, 

Temese gave all from her exhausted mines to forge it. 

A cloak hangs at your back, a broad sword protects 

Your flank, large as that blade with which Orion 

Threatens on wintry nights, and terrifies the stars. 

While your charger, matching its master’s thoughts 

And gaze, lifts its head and threatens a fierce ride, 

Mane bristling at its neck, life pulsing through its 

Shoulders, its broad flanks readied for the spur. 

Statius

Domitian ordering a new shield in the fashion of the goddess Minerva’s. Hold my stuffed dormouse while I whip this one out:

Breastplate of our lord and master, impenetrable to the arrows of the Sarmatians, and a greater defence than the hide worn by Mars among the Getae; breastplate formed of the polished hoofs of innumerable wild boars, which defies the blows even of an Aetolian spear; happy is your lot, to be permitted to touch that sacred breast, and to be warmed with the genius of our god. Go, accompany him, and may you, uninjured, earn noble triumphs, and soon restore our leader to the palm-decked toga. 

Martial 

But what about more mundane actions of the emperors, such as Domitian’s morality laws which tackled amongst other abuses: adultery and the castration of free born boys. Surely there’s not much of a poem in that?!?
Well stand back because Martial has it covered:

It used to be a common sport to violate the sacred rites of marriage; a common sport to mutilate innocent males. You now forbid both, Caesar, and promote future generations, whom you desire to be born without illegitimacy. Henceforth, under your rule, there will be no such thing as a eunuch or an adulterer; while before, oh sad state of morals! the two were combined in one. 

And again:

To you, chaste prince, mighty conqueror of the Rhine, and father of the world, cities present their thanks: they will henceforth have population; it is now no longer a crime to bring infants into the world. The boy is no longer mutilated by the art of the greedy dealer, to mourn the loss of his manly rights. 

And err yes again:

The father of Italy, who but recently brought help to tender adolescence, to prevent savage lust from condemning it to a manhood of sterility, could not endure such horrors. Before this, Caesar, you were loved by boys, and youths, and old men; now infants also love you. 

What about the construction of a new road? There’s nothing august and majestic about roads. Nothing! Well maybe you couldn’t write a poem about a road, but Statius can. He gets over 1,000 words out of the subject.

Here the slow traveller gripped the swaying 

Pole of his two-wheeled cart as malignant 

Ground sucked at his wheels, here Latian 

Folk feared their journey through the plain. 

No swift passage; glutinous ruts slowed 

Tardy travel, while weary beasts crawled 

Along, under the weight of their high yoke, 

And baulked at their over-heavy burdens. 

Yet now a task, that wore away a whole 

Day, scarcely takes a couple of hours. 

He even spends time on the actual construction of the road:

The first labour was to mark out trenches, 

Carve out the sides, and by deep excavation 

Remove the earth inside. Then they filled 

The empty trenches with other matter, 

And prepared a base for the raised spine, 

So the soil was firm, lest an unstable floor 

Make a shifting bed for the paving stones; 

Then laid the road with close-set blocks 

All round, wedges densely interspersed. 

O what a host of hands work together! 

Before moving onto marvelling at improved journey times

Come then, all you peoples of the East, 

Who owe allegiance to Rome’s Emperor, 

Flow along in your unimpeded journey, 

Arrive more swiftly, you Oriental laurels! 

Nothing obstructs your wish, no delays. 

Let whoever leaves Tivoli at daybreak 

Sail the Lucrine Lake in early evening. 

A Roman Road -phwoarr look at the flagstones on that!
Image MM

Other impressive subjects covered by Statius and Martial  include:

• That time Domitian went somewhere else for a bit and then came back. 
• The Emperor’s lovely winter roses 
• A measure that widened the paths in Rome which Martial very much appreciates. 
• Domitian banning the Equestrian class from appearing on the stage. 
• Domitian reintroducing boxing as a sport “Valour contends with the natural weapon, the hand. “ Martial.
• That time at the Games when it snowed and the snow fell on Domitian’s face 
• The time Statius sat near Domitian at a banquet and was just a bit excited about it: "I seem to sit with Jove among the stars, and I seem to sip Immortal nectar offered me by Trojan Ganymede’s hand. The years behind were barren; this is the first day of my Mortal span; behold, here is the true threshold of my life. Is it you I gaze at, as I sit here, sovereign of all the lands, Great father of a world conquered, dear to the gods, hope Of all mankind? Is it given to me, indeed, to look on your Face nearby at wine and board, allowed to remain seated? 
• And a whole series on how wonderful every single one of Domitian’s staff are: "So sweet are the tempers of your courtiers, so considerate are they towards us, so much of quiet good-feeling do thev display, and so much modesty is there in their bearing. Indeed, no servant of Caesar (such is the influence of a powerful court) wears his own character----but that of his master." Martial.

Come on! It’s impressive, isn’t it? 

Embrace the panegyric. You know you want to.

You're wonderful.

You look wonderful.

Everything you do is wonderful.

Every photo of you displays your wonderfulness.

Everyone around you is wonderful because of you and your wonderfulness.

Did I mention you're wonderful?

Trafford

You feel better already, don't you?

L.J. Trafford is the author of the Four Emperors Series of books.

Available here

What to Bring to a Saturnalia Feast

Our Saturnalia host, Steve Cockings

by Caroline Lawrence

For many years, my motive for studying Classics and writing historical fiction has been an intense desire to know what it would really have been like in the ancient world of Greece and Rome. So when I was invited to a Saturnalia banquet in Bedford around this time last year, I jumped at the chance. 

Steve Cockings is a re-enactor who loves to collect real and replica artefacts. He is a stickler for detail and has read several early drafts of my books, always coming back with valuable corrections.

Alisa, Simon, Caroline and Elizabeth

Alisa fights in many countries

There were five of us in all. Steve, his wife, gladiatrix Alisa and her husband Simon, also a re-enactor. We all dressed up in Roman garb. Although we didn't recline and there were no frescoes on the walls, we ate recipes from Apicius off real Samian plates with antique Roman spoons to the flickering light of oil-lamps. Roman music played softly in the background and Steve had prepared Saturnalia gifts for each of us: epigrams of the poet Martial, translated into English, written on papyrus, wrapped around a candle and tied with a thin strip of red-dyed leather.  

hard boiled eggs in sauce

The three course meal consisted of:
1) Gustatio (Starter)
• Hard boiled eggs in a sauce of honey, fish sauce, ground pepper, celery seed and chopped almonds.
2) Mensa Prima (Main Course)
• Chicken in Thyme (chicken, ground pepper, thyme, cumin, fennel, mint, rosemary, wine vinegar chopped dates, honey and olive oil)
• Leeks with Celery in a pepper honey sauce.  
• Mushrooms with a Rich Sauce of honey, olive oil, ground pepper and celery seed.
3) Mensa Secunda (Dessert)
• Poached Pears in a sauce of cinnamon, cumin, honey, sweet white wine, olive oil, egg yolks and nutmeg
• Walnut Cake
• Figs, grapes and apples

pears poached in sauce of honey, wine, olive oil and spices

The experience was illuminating in many ways. 

I saw what felt right. 

I saw what was very un-Roman.

I saw what might have been improved. 

It is traditional to give gifts on the Saturnalia. Next time I attend such a dinner I’ll know what gifts to bring. 

a thirsty bronze double-flame oil-lamp

I. Olive oil 
Oil-lamps guzzle oil and need to be refilled fairly often. I took one of my own replica oil-lamps one with a chariot design bought from the British Museum gift shop perhaps a decade ago. I had a piece of twine in it but Steve said it should be plaited linen. The thicker the wick, the brighter the flame. At one point I tried to ‘trim the wick’ with a tiny pair of real Roman tweezers and sent a shower of angry embers onto the linen tablecloth. 

linen wicks

II. Linen wicks
I should have brought some proper linen wicks. You can order them on Amazon, mainly in cotton. They are intended for use with kerosene lamps. 

III. A fan 
Every time a wick was replaced or oil replenished I got a lungful of smoke. A papyrus or silk fan would have discreetly dispersed the offending miasma.  

A loom woven linen napkin from Naples

IV. A napkin
Even using my dual-purpose Roman spoon (one end pointy, one end spoonish), my fingers quickly became very sticky. Most ancient Romans carried a napkin down the front of their tunics. This multi-purpose item can be spread over your clothes to avoid stains, used to wipe mouth and fingers, as a handkerchief for a runny nose and as a personal doggy bag. 

real and replica glass vessels

V. Wine
You need wine to wash down those strange Roman dishes. I bought the cheapest, blackest wine I could find: a £4 bottle of Australian Shiraz from my local Co-op. It was fabulous. 

VI. A replica beaker or jug  
In Roman times it was considered barbaric to drink wine neat. What with watering down the wine, you need as many beakers and jugs as possible. 

Saturnalia scene from The Roman Mysteries TV series

VII. Pillei 
Professor Llewelyn Morgan, an illustrious Oxford Latinist, saw my tweets and asked, ‘Where are your pillei?!’ And he’s right. We should be wearing the conical hats that show we are free from the usual restrictions. A real pilleum would have been made of coloured wool or felt. For a cheap one buy a Santa hat at Poundland and take off the fake fur trim. After all, the origin of Santa hats are the Saturnalia. 

clay figurines of girls dicing

VIII. Dice
I should have brought dice. They can make everything fun. Roll the dice to see who gets the real Samian ware plate. Roll the dice to see who gets the antique Roman spoon. Roll the dice to see who gets the last poached pear in a sauce of honey, cinnamon and olive oil. 

CD of Roman Music

IX. Music
Ideally a live performance of lyre, tambourine, pan-pipes and aulos. But re-imagined Roman music will do nicely. Our host was playing the very well-researched CD Musica Romana Pugnate on a vintage boom box hidden behind a tapestry. But you could play tunes curated by Armand D'Angour as well, easily found on YouTube. 

X. Epigrams of Martial 
It is my personal theory that these were the origins of the mottoes in Christmas crackers. A little two-line poem that also served as a gift tag. Ideally on papyrus in both Latin and English.

Epigram of Martial on papyrus

And speaking of Martial, here is one of his Saturnalia poems: 

Unctis falciferi senis diebus
regnator quibus imperat fritillus
versu ludere non laborioso
permittis, puto, pilleata Roma. 

In these well-oiled days of scythe-bearing Saturn
When the dice box is king of all
I pray that all you cap-wearing Romans
Will permit me some playful poems... 

(Martial XI.6)