The Historians' History of the World 06 [The Early Roman Empire]

And though the expense was small, it is impossible that the great number of superfluous slaves could have failed to be a general nuisance. Why did people have them? Why did the middle classes impose upon themselves a burden which weighed heavily on the rich? The answer is easy—they desired to make a show. Everybody wished to dazzle the eyes by an imposing retinue. The great personages, when they went to the Forum, trailed after them a whole army of clients and friends. They required hundreds of servitors or of freedmen whenever they left Rome. This is why they had to turn their country or town houses into veritable barracks.

Under Nero the prefect of Rome, Pedanius Secundus, having been assassinated by one of his slaves, all those that had that night slept under his roof were arrested as accomplices. There were four hundred of them. The man who walked out alone had to defy prejudice, as Horace did. A magistrate who went out with only five servants, was pointed at in the streets. The people had even begun to measure their esteem for a man according to the number of servants who accompanied him. An advocate was not considered eloquent if he did not have at least eight servitors behind his litter. When he was not rich enough to buy them he hired them, this being the only way by which he could get causes to plead and be listened to when he spoke. Women also made use of them to attract public attention. Juvenal says that Ogulnia took good care not to go to the theatre alone; who would have turned round to look at her? She hired female attendants and a fair-haired damsel, to whom she pretended to give frequent orders. She carried display to such an extent that she was always accompanied by a respectable nurse and some female friends of good appearance. In this way Ogulnia was sure to create a sensation wherever she went.

Thus the slaves were very useful out of doors; they accompanied their masters, created a good opinion of him, and contributed to his importance; but what was to be done with them in the house? There were too many for occupation to be found for all in an ordinary household, and in order to give them something to do each had his particular office. “I use my slaves,” said a Greek, “like my limbs, one for each thing.” From this arose the extreme division of labour in ancient houses; it was never carried farther than at Rome. There were slaves to open the door to a visitor, others to bring him in, others to lift up before him the heavy draperies, and others to announce him. There were some to carry the dishes to the table, others to carve, some to taste them before the guests, and others to offer them. “These unhappy creatures,” says Seneca, “live only to carve the poultry well.” Each portion of a woman’s toilet was given to a different slave.

The slave who had charge of the clothes was not the same as the one who looked after the jewels or the purple. There were special artists for hairdressing and for perfuming. The tomb has even been discovered of an unhappy man whose sole function in life was to paint the aged Livia. Thus the master as soon as he returns home finds a crowd of servitors who are on the lookout for his wants and anticipate his orders. “I sit down,” says a character in a comedy, “my slaves run up to me and take off my shoes, others hasten to arrange the couches and to prepare the repasts. They all take as much trouble as possible.” What is the result? That by force of being surrounded and waited upon the master contracts the habit of doing absolutely nothing. All these people who gather around him, and to whom he is so grateful, render him the worst service possible; they take from him the necessity of doing anything for himself. The Roman of the early days of the republic, who had hardly more than one personal servant and who waited upon himself, was active and energetic; he conquered the world. The Roman of the empire, continually surrounded by a troop of slaves, became cowardly, effeminate, and a dreamer. Of all the furniture in his house, his couch is the one he is most ready to use. He lies down to sleep, to eat, to read, and to think. His servants divide amongst themselves all the functions of life, and all is minutely calculated to give him nothing to do. But this regularity which he admires so much is full of danger. Physical activity cannot be relaxed without moral activity suffering as well, and he who ceases to act ends by ceasing to have any will. This race of men who had given up exercising their bodies and keeping themselves in condition, also allowed their souls to become enervated. It is therefore a true saying that the large number of slaves which the Romans kept up contributed in no small measure to render themselves the slaves of the cæsars.