Old Age in Ancient Rome

Rome held an empire stretching across one-sixth of the surface of the globe, with a population of some 60 million - an achievement equalled by the Chinese empire in the east and only surpassed by Russia and the United States in the nineteenth century. Its capital, Rome, was the first ever metropolis, containing one million people and an urban culture that included architectural achievements unsurpassed until the modern period. This picture of an almost modern nation masks another of massive inequality, alongside sickness and disease that have not been experienced in the West for generations. Life expectancy at birth was short: on average roughly twenty-five to thirty years, with 50 per cent of those born not passing the age of ten. In other words, the demographic regime was not unlike that experienced in countries today such as Botswana through the causes of AIDS, international debt, poverty and inequality - a far cry from the modern Western world where average life expectancy becomes ever-higher and runs well into the seventies. A key question for understanding Rome is  how society viewed those few people who survived into old age and experienced a life-span not unlike our own today.

There was a strong distinction between the elderly and others in Roman society. The old man was the opposite of the young man, whereas the man in his thirties or forties combined the better qualities of old and young. Such thinking, developed in Greece and in Alexandria, was incorporated into Roman society with an emphasis on a set sequence of stages of life from birth until old age. Varro (writing at the end of the last century bc) gave the framework along chronological lines: puerita, up to age fifteen; adulscentia, from fifteen to thirty; iuventus, from thirty to forty-five; seniores, from forty-five to sixty; senectus, from sixty until death. Other writers, such as Horace, gave a biological and social dimension to such stages: infancy was associated with a lack of teeth and therefore an inability to communicate; childhood with the ability to speak but needing control; youth with the inability to grow a beard and the potential for wild behaviour and excessive spending; the adult strove for consistency of behaviour, sought wealth and friendship; the old man suffered mental and physical degeneration and was capable only of criticising those younger than himself.

   These expositions of the stages of life highlight two points: that the adult stage was clearly the prime of life from which old age was seen as a period of decline; that the female life course did not fit this model. Women had a childhood which ended with marriage at somewhere between the ages of fifteen to eighteen. They thus entered adulthood when their brothers were ending 'adolescence'. Men did not normally marry until between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. Women were  'adult' until they reached the age of menopause, about fifty. Within this stage they might move into different social personae: wife, mother, widow. After the age of fifty, once they were considered past childbearing, they entered 'old age'. The female life course was thus much more defined by the biology of reproduction and any social dimension was defined in relation to parents, husband or children.

The Romans had, and voiced - particularly as they got older - ideas about the role of the elderly in society. A concept of retirement from office-holding into a life of well-deserved but intellectually and physically active leisure (otium) existed alongside a fear of being 'put out to grass'. We have some amusing and instructive images of how to spend a productive old age in the works of Cicero and Pliny the Younger - men attempting to negotiate space for themselves in the social and political world of their time. There was no official 'retirement' age as such but there was a consenus among ancient writers that after the age of sixty a man could, if he so chose, retire honourably from public life. At this age men entered the category of senex. There was an expression, sexagenarios de ponte (sixty-year olds over the bridge), which, while it has been given a variety of meanings, most likely referred to the fact that once an individual had reached sixty he was no longer required to vote - the pontes supposedly being the narrow gangways into the voting enclosures. After the age of sixty men were freed from the duty of attending the Senate or their local council and were exempt from the penalties and disadvantages exacted by the law that promoted marriage - if single and unmarried.

In short, once a man had reached the chronological age of sixty, he could step down from his formal obligations as a citizen and lead a life of leisure. This departure from public life was double-edged: it could be seen as a lifestyle that was characterised as productive (or indulgent) leisure but it could also mean social marginalisation. Moving out of public life in effect led to a loss of social power and status in the eyes of those still in power. Retiring from public life was no easier for individuals in the Roman period than it is for some today - many of whom continue to work after their sixty-fifth birthday. Despite this, and the fact that there was no social marker, no rite of transition to mark this phase, there was pressure for older men to stand down in favour of younger.

The portraits and statues of the first century bc reflect an ideology that venerated maturity of age and experience in politicians and generals. Images of this period are dubbed 'veristic' because they reflect the gravitas of leaders in their mature, lined, wrinkled, and even scarred, realistic faces. There is an almost generic portrait bust type from this period that shows the individual with receding hair, furrowed brow and deeply incised lines around the mouth. A life spent in loyalty to the state was encapsulated in the image of the careworn individual. The essential male attributes of virtue and gravity were depicted in the lines of the mature adult face. These images reflected an ideology that held older men in high esteem and assumed respect and honour to increase as individuals aged. This ideology assumed respect for the older male in society and was underpinned by the institution of paternal power, which gave authority to fathers (the elderly) over their sons and was a defining feature of Roman society. The eldest male in a family held legal power over all those within his household, except his wife. All children remained legally, socially and financially dependent on their father unless freed from these legal obligations by him. In an extreme case, a son aged fifty could still not make independent decisions about his own finances, could not inherit, marry or transact business without the approval of his father. Such a situation was uncommon, as many male children experienced the death of their father before adulthood and most men were unlikely in middle age to still have their father alive.

The characteristic expression of the relationship between sons and their fathers was one of piety and the performance of a reciprocal duty of care and loyalty between parents and children - specifically an obligation on children to repay the care given them in their infancy by providing for their parents in old age. This social idea that the older generation deserved increasing respect and honour as they aged was also expressed in the political cursus honorum (career ladder) which ring-fenced higher offices and honours for those of the upper age groups.

A series of laws stipulated minimum ages for holding particular political offices. As an individual aged he could expect to hold increasingly senior posts: the quaestorship at twenty-seven, praetorship in his late thirties and the consulship at forty-two. There was great competition for the highest offices. Individuals like Cicero were very proud of the fact that they held the office 'in their year', that is, at the earliest legally acceptable age.

There was increasing tension between those who followed the traditional age rankings and order of office holding of the cursus honorum and those who either leap-frogged offices or held them at an apparently very young age. This upset traditional notions of age-related behaviour and hierarchies of respect. This can be seen in the relationship between Cicero and the young Octavian after the murder of his father by adoption - Julius Caesar. When Octavian arrived in Rome to claim his inheritance, he was only nineteen. Cicero clearly regarded him as a youth who could be manipulated, but he seriously misjudged 'this boy'.

The outcome of the events that followed the death of Julius Caesar in 44 bc were to challenge the assumptions of the age restrictions and, indeed, of the age structure of power holding. When the Roman world emerged from a long series of civil wars it found itself with a leader who had held power since the age of nineteen. Octavian was still only thirty-four when he changed his name to Augustus and assumed the title of Princeps to mask the establishment of the new monarchy in Rome in 27 bc. The portraits of Augustus reflect this change in the representation of power. He is shown as a young man consistently youthful throughout his life - he died aged seventy-seven. Not surprisingly, his youthful wisdom and ability to defeat his enemies as a young man were simply signs that he was a god on earth - death brought deification.

It is no coincidence that Cicero wrote a philosophical dialogue on the nature of old age in his sixty-second year and dedicated it to his lifetime friend and financial advisor - Atticus (aged sixty-five). It was intended to lighten their 'common burden of old age'. While it may have served that purpose, and certainly followed in a tradition of philosophic writings on the subject, it is clearly a plea from a man who had been sidelined from the central political events of his day. Cicero was appealing for the honour and position he considered his experience entitled him to. The work, Cato the Elder on old age, (Cato maior de senectute), was written as a dialogue set in the past (150 bc) between Cato, aged eighty-four, and Scipio and Laelius, in their mid-thirties. The sentiments expressed are not reflections of a real lived experience of old age but they encapsulate hopes and anxieties which would have been common to many upper-class Romans, and, indeed, have echoes for today. Cato argued that while old age brought certain physical disadvantages it need not prevent continued mental activity. He recommended memory exercises. Using examples from the past he stated his case that those with experience have much to offer in terms of advice and authority, which, while it could no longer be expressed in positions that require physical prowess, could be used in persuasive public speaking. He maintained that the weakness of old age should be resisted by a seriously undertaken regimen of frugal eating, moderate exercise and intellectual pursuit. A common complaint, that increasing age brought about reduced sexual activity, should in fact be welcomed. Like the desire to over-indulge in eating and drinking, sexual activity and desire were a part of an earlier stage of life that should be happily laid aside as a detraction from the higher pursuits of the mind. For Cato (Cicero) the only real downside to old age was that its presence signified the approach of death. This, he countered with the typically stoic response, was nothing to fear - after death there would be the pleasure of the afterlife, or no sensation at all. Old age was something to be endured, and was the source of the branch of philosophy known today as stoicism.

The key to the enjoyment of old age was a tough regimen found by Pliny the Younger in the lifestyle of the elderly senator Spurinna. He was seventy-seven and still in excellent physical health which Pliny attributed to the routine he followed every day. This began, an hour after dawn, with a three-mile walk accompanied by friends in conversation or listening to a book being read aloud, thus exercising both mind and body simultaneously. Followed by a rest and then a carriage ride with his wife or friends. When he took a young friend like Pliny with him he, like Cato, talked of great men and their deeds to inspire his company. At the end of the drive, Spurinna walked another mile on foot and then retired to his room to compose verses in Greek and Latin. In the afternoon he exercised without his clothes in the open air by playing ball, an exercise thought to keep old age at bay, then had his bath. There was a short rest before dinner, which was a simple meal. During the meal there was entertainment in the form of a performance or a reading.

Pliny expressed admiration for Spurinna and his lifestyle, seeing him as a person to emulate. Spurinna in his time had had a glittering public career, but had maintained his position and status after his withdrawal from public life. Moreover, he accepted this retirement gracefully, sharing Pliny's view that 'a certain amount of irregularity and excitement is not unsuitable for the young, but their elders should lead a quiet and orderly existence; their time of public activity is over, and ambition only brings them into disrepute'. Pliny was still in the prime of his adult life when he wrote this, still busy with work but anticipated the final withdrawal from that role and a future old age - he died at the age of fifty-one and thus did not experience what it was to be old.

However much comfort philosophy might offer, the Romans were still aware of the drawbacks of getting old. Physical disability was to be feared. The wealthy might fear it from the point of view of discomfort in a world without effective pain relief but also because it increased the individual's dependency on others. Again from Pliny we have an example that is the opposite of Spurinna: Domitius Tullus was so enfeebled by old age that he was practically paralysed. He could do nothing for himself, not even brush his own teeth. He was 'crippled and deformed in every limb' and totally dependent on his wife and slaves. He could, however, still complain. The potential vulnerability of old age was particularly feared by those who were used to being in control. This desire for control of one's fate is expressed by the choice of death by some elderly individuals who developed illnesses: Cicero's old friend Atticus is said to have died at the age of seventy-eight after refusing food on the diagnosis of an intestinal illness and another of Pliny's mentors chose the same method, at the age of sixty-seven, having suffered from the excruciating pain of gout for thirty-six years.

So far all we have discussed applies to the upper-class male. This is because as the writers of the relevant texts they are, for the most part, only interested in themselves. We have to assume that the majority of the population of the Roman world had little choice but to work, in some capacity or other, until they dropped. Those who did not have family or financial resources would find that incapacity brought an early death. A sad little verse from the Palatine Anthology (a collection of epigrammatic poems dating from the seventh century bc to the tenth century ad, found in the palatine library) encapsulates this:

Worn by age and poverty, no one stretching out his hand to relieve my misery, on my tottering legs I went slowly to my grave, scarce able to reach the end of my wretched life. In my case the law of death was reversed, for I did not die first to be buried, but I died after my funeral.

Other instances along these lines are a feature of metropolitan poetry, with a cast of the poor awaiting their deaths and facing the prospect of their bodies being disposed of in a rudimentary manner or subject to the attention of roaming packs of dogs. For these people, without access to either the philosophy or the regimen of the rich, old age was brutal; their lives were lived out or simply worn out awaiting death. 

Women, unlike men, have a biological marker to indicate transition to a new stage of life in the menopause. Fifty was the age given in the laws on marriage after which a widow was not required to seek re-marriage. This assumes that after this age she would no longer be able to bear children. In Rome post-menopausal women all but disappear from the texts. When they do appear it is often in highly stereotypical guises - evil hags, wicked stepmothers or outrageous prostitutes. Women, of course, faced similar anxieties as men about growing older, but these were exacerbated by the status of their sex in Roman society.

A woman's life was centred on her family and she was very much defined by her role within the household as wife and/or mother. There was a sentimentality in Roman writing (by men) about couples who grew old together. Even the decrepit Domitus Tullus was considered lucky to have an 'excellent' (second) wife who cared for him (though there is a sense in Pliny's letter that she might have married him for his money). Women of independent wealth might have an enjoyable old age if they retained their health. The differential age at marriage would suggest that there were many more widows than widowers in Roman society. Men expected to die before their wives, just as women foresaw a life after their husband's death in old age. Some of these widows were well provided for: the widow of Domitus Tullus might have led a fine life after his death. She may also have considered marrying again although she risked censure. It was considered inappropriate for women who had borne children and were now past child-bearing age to remarry and Pliny remarked that she had already been severely criticised for so doing. It was generally assumed that if an individual was to marry late in life it was because their suitor was after their money, indeed some elderly people found themselves surrounded by such 'legacy hunters'.

One elderly lady who lived a highly enjoyable and somewhat indulgent old age, according to Pliny, was Ummidia Quadratilla. Described as having a sound constitution and sturdy physique, she passed her time playing draughts and being entertained by her own private troupe of pantomime actors - clearly a woman who could afford and choose her own pleasures and amusements. However, as a respectable lady she did not allow her pleasures to corrupt her grandson, sending him away while the troupe performed. When she died at the age of seventy-nine she demonstrated her good sense of duty by leaving her estate to her grandchildren and not to her sycophantic actors or other legacy hunters.

Widowed female relations may have gravitated back to the family home and fulfilled childcare and domestic roles again at this later stage of their lives. Women without resources had to fall back on their families or patrons. Julius Caesar's mother lived with him and scrutinised every new bride of her son with an aptitude to identify their adulteries or even to fabricate them. Women without such resources might fall back on the one resource that all possessed, their bodies. The aged female body was a topic of the grotesque in Roman literature. Elderly prostitutes were graphically described by the satirists Horace and Juvenal who make great play on make-up caked faces which failed to conceal wrinkles, toothless gums seeking kisses, sagging breasts under jewellery that failed to disguise the ugliness of the body and inappropriateness of behaviour - some writers associate the techniques of the disguise of age in the brothel with those of the undertaker presenting a corpse. Certain behaviour was only acceptable for certain age groups: old prostitutes seeking young lovers transgressed all acceptable customs; old women were ugly and thus not sexually desirable, to actively seek sexual gratification was doubly transgressive. Old women were also stereotyped in comic literature as drunks, brothel keepers and witches. These literary representations illustrated women who had moved outside male control and thus no longer fulfilled any of the roles that Roman society defined for women. A respectable elderly woman should retire within the household, live a quiet and blameless life, leaving her estate to her children.

The old could be revered by family and the state, but for those with little money or surviving younger family there were real anxieties. As individuals they were marginal to the existence of those with greater access to both wealth and family resources. There was no welfare or charity 'safety net' for them. It is ironic that many of the concepts of age in our own democratic society were learnt from Rome, passed on through the Middle Ages, and incorporated into early twentieth-century sociology. That is where the similarity ends. We may recognise texts suggesting the old act in certain ways at Rome, and sympathise with the response of those growing older in the form of lively defences of the stoic endurance of age. However, the silent majority even of the twentieth century, seen in photographs such as those of Dust-Bowl America in the 1930s, may look old in the manner of veristic Roman portrait before they reached thirty-five. These people do not appear in the world of Rome's elite, or if they do they are caricatures.

It is the unusualness of being old that defines the status of the elite of Rome. Their lives could be summarised as a series of achievements as middle-aged men, and recalled and retold to the young once they had left public life. The old were wise if they were wealthy and were insulated from the dangers of poverty and inequality that was such a part of the structure of the Roman empire. They produced a philosophy of survival - Stoicism. The question for us today is, do these attitudes towards the elderly continue to have relevance? We in the West worry about the possibility of financial well-being in old age - will there be enough younger citizens to support an ever growing population over sixty-five living for longer and longer? Elsewhere, particularly in Africa where populations have been affected by the AIDS virus, life expectancy is dropping to averages similar to those experienced in ancient Rome. But those without AIDS can expect to live into their seventies, having witnessed the deaths of the infected generations. Today, the experience of old age is moving away from that of the wealthy leisured elite of Rome  to one characterised by inequality and poverty. The inability or unwillingness of the state, the G8 countries or any other national or international body to address the current demographic time-bombs threaten to  return us to the broader Roman experience of old age, in which the state offered no care for the elderly leaving the individual only the family or their own wealth as protection  against the uncertainties of the final decades of life.

Further Reading:

K. Cokayne, Experiencing Old Age in Ancient Rome (Routledge 2003); M. Harlow and R. Laurence, Growing Up and Growing Old: A Life Course Approach (Routledge, 2002); Tim Parkin, Old Age and the Aged in the Ancient World , 'Ageing in antiquity: status and participation', in P. Johnson and P. Thane (eds), Old Age from Antiquity to Post Modernity (Routledge, 1998).

• Mary Harlow lectures in Roman History at the Institute of Archaeology and Antiquity at the University of Birmingham. Ray Laurence lectures in Roman Social History in the Department of Classics at the University of Reading.