Slave soldiers or free men?

I have been reading what would now be classed as “an old book” — it was published in 1981 —, though it has never been superseded and appears still to be considered the last word on its subject: Die germanische Leibwache der römischen Kaiser des julisch-claudischen Hauses by the late Heinz Bellen.

The subject is the Germani corporis custodes, or “German bodyguards”, who appear to have provided close personal security for the Julio-Claudian dynasty; that is, the five emperors from Augustus to Nero, from 27 BC (though Augustus seems to have owned them already before he became emperor) until AD 68.

A quick bibliographic search revealed that few authors have revisited the subject since 1981. Besides Lawrence Keppie’s enthusiastically welcoming review (in The Journal of Roman Studies 72, 1982) and Michael P. Speidel’s generally positive assessment (in Germania 62, 1984), almost no scholars have addressed the subject in English, although Alexandra Busch includes a discussion of the bodyguard in her Militär in Rom (Wiesbaden 2011) and Maria Carmen D’Onza published a beautifully illustrated article on “Germanische Bodyguards” in Antike Welt 4 (2016).

One aspect in all of their discussions surprised me, as I have always agreed with Mommsen that the Germani were slaves owned by the emperor. All of the above-named scholars go through various contortions to try and deny this. Bellen even suggests that they had taken slave names to blend in at Rome! Others have been content to state that the Germani were free foreigners who adopted a Greek or Latin name because their own name was difficult to pronounce. On the contrary, as far as I am concerned, the proof stares at us from their gravestones.

Let us consider the gravestone of Phoebus (CIL VI, 8808 = ILS 1728 = Bellen No. 21), illustrated above. Although it is a little more verbose than most of the other 20-odd examples, nevertheless, the first four lines conform to the standard pattern adopted by the bodyguards: Phoebus / Neronis Claud(i) / Caesaris Aug(usti) / corp(oris) cust(os) (“Phoebus, (property) of the emperor Nero Claudius Caesar, a bodyguard”).

The important points to note are (a) the man’s single name, and (b) the statement of imperial ownership. Free men typically included a statement of paternity, like the tombstone of Verzo (AE 1990, 205), an exotically-named sailor on the liburnian Triton in the Ravenna fleet, which gives his father’s name as Themus. No free man would ever be referred to by a single name only.

By contrast, slaves are always referred to by a single name, followed by a statement of imperial ownership. The tombstone of Fronto (CIL V, 2386) is typical, in this respect: Fronto / Ti(beri) Claudi Caesaris / Aug(usti) Germanici / dispe(n)sator / lintianus (“Fronto, (property) of the emperor Tiberius Claudius Caesar Germanicus, a linen-weaving superintendent” — reading lintianus as an error for lintiarius).

Whatever else they might have been (and our evidence is severely limited), the Germani corporis custodes were imperial slaves belonging to the household of the reigning emperor. As such, they served until they died or until their master chose to grant them freedom, when they could return home.

Roman spelling again

There are several Roman inscriptions that mention the Ninth Legion. I was able to include images of a few of them in my book The Fate of the Ninth. But one — a rather beautiful metre-wide marble slab — remained unavailable to me. This is the memorial set up by Gaius Julius Erucianus Crispus “to his excellent friend” Lucius Aemilius Karus.

The inscription (shown above) has long been known, and appeared in the usual epigraphic compendiums as far back as Gruter (1603). It is most conveniently consulted in Dessau’s Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae (1892) as no. 1077.

One vitriolic Amazon reviewer has written, “PS It’s Carus not Karus, the Romans didn’t use Ks — a rather unprofessional mistake”. Perhaps if he’s looking in on my “pretty nasty blog site” (another quote from his rather bitter review), he’ll see that he was wrong, because it’s perfectly clear from the above image that this particular Roman preferred to spell his cognomen Karus, not Carus (on the first line).

Nor was he alone. For example, a grave-marker from Ostia carries the name of Publius Nonius Karus, who lived for only 8 years, 9 months, and a few days (AE 1971, 70). There are other instances of the same spelling and the same distinctive letter-shape.

No Roman was ever called Caius

I have been reading Robert Harris’ Cicero trilogy with great enjoyment. However, one thing jars. Men whose praenomen (“first name”) was Gaius are routinely called “Caius”. For example, in Lustrum (the book that I’m currently reading), Cicero’s consular colleague in 63 BC is named “Caius Antonius Hybrida”.
Of course, this problem does not belong exclusively to Harris. Other authors are in the habit of rendering the praenomen Gaius as “Caius”. The reason is a simple misunderstanding.

The Latin language derived from Etruscan, which had no letter B, D, or G. For example, the word magistratus (“magistrate”) is rendered as macistratus on early Roman inscriptions (e.g. CIL IX, 782 = Dessau, ILS 4912; or CIL VI, 1300 = ILS 65, pictured below — note also “Cartacinienses” for the people of Carthage on line 9).

Consequently, the praenomen Gaius had to be represented as “Caius” and was abbreviated with the letter C. This rule persisted down through the ages, so that, even with the introduction of the Latin alphabet (with its B, D, and G), the letter C was retained as the abbreviation for Gaius. Similarly, Cn. remained the abbreviation for Gnaeus.

The problem has perhaps been exacerbated by the epigraphic convention that calls for the expansion of the abbreviation C. in Roman inscriptions as “C(aius)”, instead of pointing out that it simply stands for the praenomen Gaius.

In fact, the historian A.R. Birley once suggested that epigraphers should employ the convention “C. (Gaius)” to indicate this (L’Antiquité classique Vol. 70, 2001). He called for the banishment of “Caius” and “Cnaeus”, and pointed out, quite correctly, that the Greek writers of the Roman era employed the word Γαίος (not Καίος) for Gaius (thus indicating the correct pronunciation).

So let us have no more Caiuses and Cnaeuses! No Roman was ever called by those names.