Inscriptions
Inscriptions left on permanent materials (generally stone or bronze), many of which turned up in the course of archaeological excavations, provide a second crucial source from material culture. Some inscriptions offer information about the practice of politics in Rome and Italy: electoral graffiti on the walls of Pompeii gives glimpses into the ways in which political campaigns were waged. Similarly, two town charters apparently drawn up by Julius Caesar and published shortly after his death offer insight into government structures, from magistrates to the grain dole. One of the most famous Republican inscriptions, the so-called Senatorial decree de Bacchanalibus (“on the Bacchanalians”) (Figure 1.5) is of interest not only for information about certain religious behaviors but also because it was found in southern Italy and so can tell us something about the relationship of the Roman Senate to the cities of Italy. In addition, the fasti, Roman calendars inscribed on stone, not only help us order the Roman year with its festivals and other holidays but also provide chronological information about magistrates and triumphs. As with any source, we need to ask questions about why a given document was published: why did the Roman state feel the need to tell everyone in Italy about their treatment of a particular religious practice? Why was it felt necessary to start posting calendars in different towns across Italy? However, these documents are invaluable because they provide direct evidence for contemporary Roman behavior.
Figure 1.5 Bronze tablet recording the Senatorial decree on the worship of Bacchus, 186 BCE. Kunsthistorisches Museum Vienna.
Just as with archaeology, the less impressive inscriptions often have a greater impact on our understanding of Roman society. Two types in particular stand out: dedications (usually to one or more divinities) and burial epitaphs, both of which give us insight into the behavior of the non-elites that would otherwise be missing. Dedications can help us understand actual rather than idealized religious behavior, showing us to which gods people expressed their gratitude and for what purposes. On occasion they present a picture that never would have been evident from the literary sources. For instance, the literary sources pay little attention to the god Faunus, but his popularity is attested by numerous dedications far beyond anything we would have imagined from the literary evidence. That discovery forces us to ask both what made Faunus so popular, and with whom, and why he did not attract the attention of the elites. It thus raises new questions for the historian: a history of religious behavior at Rome simply cannot be written without inscriptional evidence.
In a similar fashion burial epitaphs can tell us a great deal about Roman life among both the elite and non-elite. We are fortunate to possess some epitaphs of famous Romans known from the literary sources, such as members of the Scipiones who conquered Carthage. These materials not only deepen the understanding gained from the literary sources but also allow us to see how the family members wished to be perceived. Ordinary Romans also wanted to be commemorated after death and we can look at their tombstones to compare their practices to the elite and ask in what ways they shared in a common understanding of death, the afterlife, or even family relationships. In addition to these monuments, we have large numbers of simpler tombstones bearing minimal text but which attest to the desire of the lower classes to leave a memorial behind even with their limited resources. The large number of tombstones allows us to ask questions about which members felt a duty to erect a monument and which family members they felt they needed to remember. We can also explore the language and images used on these tombstones to understand the nature of relationships within the family or the values that ordinary Romans held dear. These inscriptions often offer an intimate look into the lives of Romans that cannot be matched by other sources.
Coins
Coins provide a third type of primary source, an object that was actually used by the people of the Roman world. In terms of sheer volume of evidence, coins are the most numerous of any surviving source. The Romans began minting coins in the third century BCE; already one might ask why the Romans did not start minting coins before this point: coins were in use in other parts of the Mediterranean long before. What did they use in the marketplace before this time and why did they start now? Once the Romans start minting, coinage contributes greatly to our understanding of Roman economic history, but coins in the ancient world served other functions beyond just a medium of exchange. While the Roman state guaranteed the value of the coinage minted under its authority, it provided no standard imagery. Rather, it delegated the physical task of minting coins to individuals, sometimes to relatively minor functionaries, and so coinage design thus might change according to a variety of factors: historical events or family ties could play a large role. We might think of how designs on postage stamps today reflect the values and interests of the countries that produce them: a stamp with Elvis on it can tell us about the importance of rock-and-roll in the United States. In Rome, some minters placed designs intended to further their own political ambitions or those of a political ally, while other coins revealed the shared values of the Romans (Figure 1.6). Because of their large number and the fact that they can usually be dated with great precision, coins provide a chronological means to understand both the Roman economy and a range of political and social issues.
Figure 1.6 Silver denarius, minted 43 or 42 BCE.
Political Issues: Using Coins to Tell Your Story
In 2011, a Roman coin, similar to the one shown in Figure 1.6, sold for over $500,000 at auction in Long Beach, California. What could make an old chunk of silver so valuable?
This coin provides a unique view into the debate among Roman politicians in the years following the death of Julius Caesar in 44 BCE. When Brutus and Cassius led a group of senators to kill Caesar in the Senate house, was it an act of unwarranted murder or the legitimate removal of a would-be tyrant? Did it undermine the foundations of a civil society or was it necessary to protect the Roman state? The coin reveals the argument for the latter.
On the obverse, or front of the coin, we find the head of Brutus, identified by the abbreviation BRUT IMP, or Brutus Imperator. Around the lower left side of the coin we find the name L. (for Lucius) Plaetorius Cestianus. This coin was thus minted by Plaetorius, a middling Roman politician who clearly supported Brutus, whom he identifies as a successful military general; at this point in Roman history imperator had not yet come to mean “emperor.” The family of Plaetorius is known to have minted coins during this period, and here Plaetorius uses his position to advocate for a political cause.
The reverse, or back of the coin, depicts two daggers along with the inscription EID MAR; specifying the Ides of March makes clear that the daggers are meant to symbolize the weapons used to kill Caesar. Between the daggers is an image of a cap, known to the Romans as a pileus. In Roman society, when an enslaved person was given their freedom, a part of the ceremony involved placing this cap on the head of the newly freed citizen. The coin thus suggests that by killing Caesar with the daggers, the entire Roman state had been freed from slavery. Brutus was killed in battle in 42 BCE, so we can date this coin with precision between 44 and 42 BCE. Because Brutus’ side lost the war, we do not have many sources offering their viewpoint in Caesar’s death; in fact we have very few of these coins because the victors melted down all the ones they could find, which explains why a single coin could be worth a half million dollars. The coin is valuable both to historians and to collectors.
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