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WOMAN

VOLUME II

In All Ages and in All Countries

ROMAN WOMEN

by

Rev. ALFRED BRITTAIN







Philadelphia
George Barrie & Sons, Publishers

Copyright, 1907 by George Barrie & Sons
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London




[Illustration 1:
TULLIA, DAUGHTER OF SERVIUS
_After the painting by E. Hildebrand_

_We have had the good queen, now we encounter the
bad..... Tullia was of that type of which Shakespeare
has given a picture in Lady Macbeth.....
Lucius, her husband, with an armed band, repaired  to the
Senate and seated himself on the throne. King Servius
appeared, but no one thought it worth while to hinder
Lucius from throwing the aged ruler down the steps of
the Senate house; which me manfully did.

Tullia was the instigator of this_ coup d'etat; _and
impatient to learn its success, drove to the Forum, and,
calling her husband from the Senate chamber, was the
first to hail him as king. But Lucius commanded her
to return home; and the tradition runs that as she was
going thither her chariot wheels passed over the dead
body of her royal father._]




PREFACE

The student of history does not proceed far in his researches before he
discovers that human nature is a fixed quality. Other lands, other
manners; other times, other customs. But the man behind the manner is
essentially the same; the woman under the changed custom is not thereby
rendered essentially different, any more than she is by a varying of
costume. The women of ancient Rome exemplified the same virtues, and
were impelled by the same foibles as are the women of to-day. And the
difference in environment, the vanished conditions of Roman life, gain
large scientific interest from the fact that they did not result in any
dissimilarity of fundamental character. If, by the most violent exercise
of the imagination, it were possible to transport a female infant of the
twentieth century, and cause her to be reared among the women of the
Augustan age, she would fit as naturally into her surroundings as she
would into the present society of London or of New York. Her legal
status would be different; her moral conceptions would be unlike those
of the present age; her duties, pleasures, privileges, and limitations
would combine to make the accidents of life very different. But
underneath all this, the same humanity, the same femininity, the same
habits of mind are revealed. Herein is the chief use of history--above
that of gratifying natural curiosity--the ascertaining how human nature
will comport itself under varying conditions. The author hopes that the
following pages, wherein the Roman woman is taken as an illustration,
will be found of use to the student of the science of humanity, and not
uninteresting to the reader inquisitive as to the manner of the ancient
civilization.

                                                      ALFRED BRITTAIN.




I

THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME

The conditions which governed the life of woman in the earliest days of
Roman history are too far removed from the searchlight of historical
investigation for us to essay to indicate them with any degree of
fulness and accuracy of detail. While it is true that the ancient
writers have bequeathed to us records of historic events from the very
founding of their nation, the source of their information is very
questionable and its authenticity extremely doubtful. Rome did not
cultivate literature until very late in her history; she was too greatly
preoccupied in her role of conquering the world. At a time when every
Greek was acquainted with the noblest poetry produced by his gifted
race, Rome had not produced a single writer whose name has been
preserved. And if at that time she had possessed any men of letters, it
is quite certain that there were few of her citizens who would have been
able to read their works. Hence, when the first attempt was made to
write her history, the authors depended principally for their material
on traditions and legends which, as is the case with all such lore, had
gained greatly in marvellousness at the expense of historical value. In
addition to these sources, it is probable that during the early
centuries annals were kept of the principal happenings in the State.
According to Cicero, they were written at the end of each year by the
high priest. These records were used by the first historians; and it is
likely that the latter were not so greatly restrained, by their literary
conscience, from enlarging on the material, as they were tempted,
according to the power of their imagination, to present a picture both
interesting and satisfactory to the national pride. In many cases, as
where the exact words of their characters are reported, the ancient
historians evidently deemed that any deficiencies in the matter of proof
were abundantly atoned for by the explicitness of the information given.

As to the historical value of legends, that is a question upon which
modern writers are inclined to disagree. Since the inauguration of the
higher criticism, it has been the fashion for extremists entirely to
disown any belief in the _dramatis personae_ of ancient traditions. They
claim that the names and the actions thus celebrated usually represent
natural forces and historic evolutions; though, to the ordinary student,
this would seem to require a remarkable amount of poetic inventiveness
on the part of an undeveloped people. Moreover, it is not, perhaps,
without reason that the student often looks upon the manner in which
modern scholars reject the traditional contributions of the old
historians as being a little arbitrary. What traveller has not found his
patience sorely tried, while viewing with reverence the reputed site of
some heroic or sacred occurrence of far-off days, as he recalled to
memory the fact that the latest authorities hold that, while the thing
might have taken place a few miles to the east or a short distance to
the north, it, for certain erudite but unconvincing reasons, could not
possibly have occurred on the spot where it has been located by the
continuous belief of centuries?

The story of Rome from its founding to the end of the regal period, as
it is told in the ancient classics, is no longer accepted as history. It
is, for the most part, classified with those mythical creations with
which an uncultured people endeavor to account for the origin and the
evolution and revolutions of their race. Yet, passing over the
marvellous and the manifestly impossible, why may we not at least claim
the right to believe the compilers of these ancient legends, when they
tell us of certain names that were great in the beginning of their
nation? Modern criticism may be right in asserting that it is not likely
that the city on the Tiber was called Roma because a man named Romulus
selected an uninhabited site and built upon it. Yet why may we not be
allowed to believe that in those early times there was one hero so
strong and masterful that he came to be known as preeminently the "Man
of Rome"? The character may have been a real one, even though the city
gave him his name, instead of the reverse, as later generations
surmised. And inasmuch as there is an Alexandria, not to speak of
innumerable modern "villes" with well-known surnames for prefixes, it
need not be thought a thing entirely incredible that the ancient city
was really called after the man who established its importance.

It is the habit of modern historians to look with suspicion upon stories
such as those which form our sole material for any personal illustration
in this present chapter, because they are of a kind so generally found
in the legends of all nations. But may not the multiplication of these
long-lived narratives, instead of disproving the intrinsic truth of any
given one, simply serve to illustrate the fact that, human nature being
a permanent factor, the doings of men under similar circumstances, in
any age or locality, will be marked by a uniformity of character? For
our present purpose, however, if in such twilight as is given by
long-preserved monuments and ancient relics, we choose to fancy that we
perceive, moving about in their daily life, the feminine forms of
traditional lore, the combination will only serve to form a more human,
and really not less accurate, picture.

The limits of our subject do not require that we should go back so far
as the epoch of Aeneas, the hero of Troy; nor need we take into
consideration the part which he and Lavinia, his wife, may have played
upon the Latin shores. Their traditional coming to Italy simply serves
to indicate the fact that nearly all the tribes which inhabited the
country at the commencement of Roman history were of the same branch of
the great Aryan race as the Greeks. The Romans were the brothers of the
Greeks. The former were of that same lithe, supple-bodied,
straight-featured type which the wonderful art of the latter has
enthroned, for all the ages, as the noblest realization of ideal
physical beauty.

But when we consider the rude conditions under which life was passed, it
is probable that the highest examples of feminine grace would, in many
respects, be open to severe criticism from the civilized and artificial
taste which has prevailed in after ages. Those were the days of Arcadian
simplicity, which poetry has peopled with sweet and enticing Phyllises
and Chloes, whose only occupation was to listen to the pipings of
languishing shepherds. But, in reality, though life was simple and wants
were few, the women, as in all semi-civilized communities, gave an
overplus of labor in return for the special exertions of the men in the
chase and the combat. Hence, though the poetic conception may be
alluring, we are compelled to believe that the reality possessed but few
advantages that could arouse the envy of a modern village maiden. The
woman of earliest Rome was wholly a product of nature, endowed only
with the unfailing charms of femininity, which were solely reinforced
with the perfect health and vigor which come from a simple life.

Of such a type we may imagine Rhea Sylvia, the legendary mother of
Romulus and Remus. She was the daughter of a king, but one who was not a
monarch in the later significance of the title. Of kings there were many
in the Latium of those days. The title meant merely the patriarch of a
clan, or the head man of a small city. The regal abode was probably a
small, round structure, built of wood and roofed with straw. It may have
consisted of only one room, with a hole in the ceiling to admit light
and allow the smoke to escape. Of furniture there was little more than
rude tables and grass or leaf covered couches, together with the Lares,
or household gods. But though life conditioned by such meagre
accessories was simple, it was by no means idle, and there existed no
such contempt for labor and handicraft among the Latin tribesmen as grew
up in later times. The king himself followed the plow, while his wife
and daughters were busy with the distaff and spindle, the hand loom and
the needle. It was the duty of the women to spin the wool and to make
all the clothing for the household. Education consisted solely of the
training in the requirements of this simple life, and was provided by no
school other than the daily experience which the boys and girls gathered
among their elders. The art of writing was in the earliest days not
entirely unknown, though, during long years of slow development, it was
employed only in painting public records on leaves and skins; or, if
greater permanence was required, the records were scratched upon tablets
of wood. The amusements of the people consisted mainly of the festivals
and athletic games which were held in honor of the gods. If it might
only be believed that this life was as pleasant as it is pictured by
Virgil, it would be easy to sympathize with the poet when he declares
that he pined for such an existence himself. "The husbandman cleaves the
earth with the crooked plow.... Winter comes: the Sicyonian berry is
pounded in the oil presses; and the autumn lays down its various
productions.... Meanwhile, the sweet babes twine around their parents'
necks; his chaste family maintain their purity. The swain himself
celebrates festal days; and extended on the grass, where a fire is in
the middle, and where his companions crown the bowl, invokes thee, O
Lanaeus, making libation. On an elm is set forth to the masters of the
flock prizes to be contended for with the winged javelin; and they strip
their rustic bodies for the friendly struggle." Elsewhere the poet
describes a home scene, where the man is working by the light of the
winter fire: "Meanwhile, his spouse, cheering by song her tedious labor,
runs over the webs with the shrill shuttle; or over the fire boils down
the liquor of the luscious must, and skims with leaves the tide of the
trembling cauldron. This life of old the ancient Sabines followed; this,
Remus and his brother strictly observed; thus Etruria grew in strength;
and thus too did Rome become the glory and beauty of the world."

Unlike their sisters of Greece, the women of Rome were never secluded;
yet their duties and responsibilities were strictly confined to domestic
bounds. Here, however, while the husband was master, the wife was
mistress. She took equal part with him in the worship of the family
Lares, which worship was a prominent feature in every Roman household;
and if he were a priest, she, by her marriage to him, became a
priestess. But, except in certain religious institutions, she had not
the slightest active connection with State or public affairs. That is,
she had no such connection in theory and according to law; but it was in
Rome as it has been in all ages and in all countries: there were no laws
or customs that could prevent a woman who possessed gifts of mind and
cherished ambitious projects from gaining some tool by means of whom her
hand might turn the affairs of State to her will.

To this strenuous class of women, however, Rhea Sylvia did not belong.
Her euphonious name has been preserved, not because of any active
influence which she wielded over the destinies of men, but because,
through the simple function of motherhood, she introduced into the
history of the world a strong man. She was the daughter of Numitor, to
whom his father had bequeathed the kingdom of the Sylvian clan. But
Amulius, another son, had driven his brother into exile, and, in order
to secure himself in his usurpation, had put all his nephews to death.
Rhea was spared, probably on account of the fact that the law did not
allow women to reign, and hence her existence held no threat.
Nevertheless, since of the women of princely houses are born possible
claimants to thrones. Amulius deemed it best that some preventive
measure should be taken. He evidently did not wish to commit unnecessary
barbarities; and he also liked, if possible, to cover his
self-protective actions with a gloss of seeming generosity. Rhea Sylvia
should be the priestess of Vesta. Hers should be the honorable duty of
guarding the perpetual fire which burned on the sacred hearth of the
city. Thus she, as was befitting the daughter of Numitor, would be held
in as high regard among the people as the queen herself. Incidentally,
this would also preclude the possibility of any grandson appearing to
claim the throne of the exiled Numitor; for the Vestals were most
rigidly pledged to a life of constant virginity. But how often have the
gods, and sometimes even Nature herself, thwarted the most cunningly
devised schemes of men! Upon this truism Amulius must have reflected,
when, without any previous declaration of her intention, Rhea Sylvia
introduced to the community a sturdy pair of twins. She declared that
Mars was the father of her offspring; either, as Livy discreetly
remarks, because she believed it to be so, or because a god seemed the
most creditable author of her offence. In those times, the possibility
and the frequent occurrence of such matches were devoutly believed, and
the first historians freely availed themselves of this belief to enhance
the glory of their race, or of a powerful family, by establishing for it
the reputation of a divine origin. The idea of superhuman parentage was
also a convenient means by which to account for, and sometimes excuse,
the unusual character and extraordinary deeds of ancient heroes. In
those days, when men's faith was simple and uncritical, belief in divine
incarnation presented no serious difficulty.

It is evident, however, that Amulius was not greatly impressed with a
sense of the sacredness of the children of the warrior-god. He threw the
mother into prison, and ordered her sons to be drowned in the Tiber.
But, as is usually and fortunately the case in legendary history, this
order was intrusted to one who was either too pitiful or too careless to
give it thorough execution. The infants, in their cradle or upon a rude
raft, were set afloat on the river, which was at that time in flood; the
waters, however, quickly subsided, and the boys were left alive on dry
ground. Their cries attracted a shepherd named Faustulus, and by him
they were carried to his home, where they were reared by his wife
Laurentia. This woman is given a bad name by the ancients. They say
that she was also called Lupa; and Lupa being the name applied to a
woman of unchaste character, as well as the term used to designate a
she-wolf, in this manner the sceptics accounted for the marvellous story
of the sons of Rhea being suckled by a wolf. But whatever may have been
the failings of Laurent