1. INTRODUCTION
Among quasi-marital relationships, concubinatus appears as an alternative to marriage for the Romans.Footnote 1 This type of union was thought to legitimize a relationship that was made up of people of different legal and social statuses without discrediting either of the partners involved (Treggiari, Reference Treggiari1981b: 72; Evans-Grubbs, Reference Evans-Grubbs2002: 148–54).Footnote 2 This article offers a fresh elaboration of two crucial aspects of this Roman quasi-marital relationship: firstly, the act of choosing to enter a concubinatus by ordinary Romans; and, secondly, the role of the concubina within the familia.Footnote 3 While it is impossible to know the reasons why every single couple in concubinatu opted for this kind of relationship, it is, however, possible to study the identity of the individuals involved (i.e. the concubina and her partner) especially in regard to their role in the familia — which is the task of the first part of this article. The second part of the analysis aims to provide an enhanced image of the concubina, and of the esteem in which concubinae were held by the Romans, with particular attention to concubinae of libertine status. Further to this, the article will consider whether legal status may, or may not, have been a discriminant in the perception of these women as concubinae. In order to achieve these goals, two types of evidence will be considered: Latin inscriptions, and reliefs on funerary monuments. As will be seen, both the inscriptions and the reliefs were arranged by men and women who belonged to a social group of middling status, i.e. what we may anachronistically call a ‘middle class’ (Mayer, Reference Mayer2012: 2–3); the voices of these people tell us how concubinae were perceived by their partners and how these couples wanted society to see their unions. For reasons that will become clearer by the end of this study, this analysis intentionally distances itself from the words of Latin authors, moving closer, in deliberate contradistinction, to the words and visual representations of those ordinary Roman men who lived with a concubina and to the women who accepted this role.Footnote 4
2. CONCUBINATUS IN THE EPIGRAPHIC EVIDENCE
In this section, we offer a detailed analysis of the epigraphic evidence for concubinatus. As noted above, concubinatus is understood as a type of union that was used ‘to fill the gap’ between a man of distinction and a woman of lower status or condition, who were involved in a personal relationship with one another. Moreover, although Augustus promoted the creation of legal unions between ingenui and libertae, later lawmakers still considered concubinatus with a freedwoman to be a more honourable relationship for a freeborn man in place of a matrimonium iustum (Tramunto, Reference Tramunto2009: 64; Dig. 25.7.1).Footnote 5 Tramunto (Reference Tramunto2009: 143) has therefore suggested that unions formed of an ingenuus and a freed concubina must have been common in Roman times, especially during the (late) Republic. Taking all this into account, we should expect to find a large number of inscriptions attesting the presence of concubinae, especially those of freed status. However, the epigraphic evidence shows a very different picture. Fewer than 200 cases of women being described as concubinae in inscriptions exist,Footnote 6 most of which come from Rome and other parts of Italy.Footnote 7 If we look at the legal statuses of these women, we see a large majority of libertae (67),Footnote 8 followed by incertae (64) and then ingenuae (3) (see Table 1).Footnote 9
Table 1 Legal statuses and geographical distribution of the inscriptions recording a concubina in Roman Italy.
Even considering the problems connected to dating inscriptions, it is possible to note, in general terms, that the evidence in this dataset comes from the period of the first century BC until the second century AD, with a high concentration of inscriptions dated to the first century AD (Fig. 1).Footnote 10 The distribution is similar for both libertae and incertae, with minimal variations that may be due to the sample size or specific epigraphic habits.
Fig. 1. General chronological distribution of inscriptions mentioning concubinae, with the number of monuments in parentheses.
CONCUBINATUS AND LEGAL STATUS: THE IDENTITY OF PARTNERS
Regarding the identity of the partners of freed concubinae, modern scholars commonly assume that concubinage could be chosen by a patron in order to have a formal and socially accepted union with one of his freedwomen, without accepting her as a legal wife (Treggiari, Reference Treggiari1981a: 72–3; Perry, Reference Perry2014: 92–3). However, the epigraphic evidence (Figs 2 and 3) shows that most of the freedwomen's partners were liberti (68.2 per cent), followed by ingenui (21.2 per cent) and then incerti (10.6 per cent). In the case of incertae, almost half of the partners are incerti themselves (45.5 per cent), almost one-third (32.7 per cent) are liberti, while less than one-fifth (18.2 per cent) are ingenui. In two cases, they are slaves. The two freeborn concubinae whose partners’ identities are known share the same legal status as their partners, i.e. that of ingenui. Considering these data, the widespread modern assumption that ingenui would have found in one of their own freedwomen the best match for a concubina is clearly weakened, as the most common (epigraphically attested) combination was made up of a freedman and a freedwoman from another familia. A peculiar situation is presented in an inscription from Rome, where Aemilia Prima, whom we classify as incerta, is reported as the concubina and heir of the public slave Bithus;Footnote 11 here we face the unusual situation in which an individual of servile status seems to be involved in concubinatu, despite the fact that this type of quasi-marital relationship was created for people of free status.
Fig. 2. Distribution of the concubinae's partners according to their legal status: libertae (number of cases followed by percentage value).
Fig. 3. Distribution of the concubinae's partners according to their legal status: incertae (number of cases followed by percentage value).
Furthermore, by analysing the relationship between concubinatus and the familia (that is, the diffusion of endogamic and exogamic concubinatus), it becomes obvious that patron–freedwoman unions existed but were far from being the majority: the data at our disposal show a predominance of partners belonging to a familia that is external to that of the concubina (Figs 4 and 5).
Fig. 4. Distribution of endogamic and exogamic unions for concubinae: libertae (number of cases followed by percentage value).
Fig. 5. Distribution of endogamic and exogamic unions for concubinae: incertae (number of cases followed by percentage value).
Both samples of libertae and incertae show a predominance of exogamic unions over endogamic unions: 74.2 per cent (46 cases) and 73.5 per cent (25 cases) respectively. For two of the concubinae ingenuae the union was exogamic, while the fragmentary state of the third inscription does not allow us to understand the nature of the third concubinatus.Footnote 12 Only seven cases (11.3 per cent) attest the existence of a concubinatus between a freedwoman and her patron;Footnote 13 in some of these cases, we can state that the personal bond had started before the concubinatus, when the woman was still a serva and the man her dominus. In one inscription from Bergomum we can see the complete process that the concubina went through: Septimia is described as concubina sive serva sive liberta (‘concubina either slave or freedwoman’).Footnote 14 Even if the formal role of Septimia as concubina of her patron Septimius Fortunatus had started only after her manumission, i.e. when Septimia's new legal status properly enabled her to be engaged in this form of union, we may reasonably assume that the relationship began when she was still his slave. Indeed, the very reason behind her manumission may have been Fortunatus’ desire to have Septimia as his formal concubina in a situation similar to that of manumissio matrimonii causa.Footnote 15 Interestingly, an inscription of a concubina incerta reports the woman describing her partner as dominus.Footnote 16 Considering the legal nature of concubinatus, we would assume that both partners were free people;Footnote 17 however, as already seen in the case of Bithus, it is also possible that either or both partners could be slavesFootnote 18 and the term concubina was used to elevate their status.Footnote 19 In the latter scenario, the decision to describe the male partner as dominus would refer to his actual or previous role as the woman's master. Thus, Publius Coelius Abascantianus, a free man, may have been master — or former master — of Lucilla (CIL VI 21607), while Theseus, servus ordinarius, was, evidently, the ‘owner’ of Praxitelia(?), his serva vicaria.Footnote 20
Concubinatus within the familia involved also fellow freedpersons, with even more cases attested (9 = 14.5 per cent), as can be illustrated by the following texts: Plautia Rufa and Lartidia Philema are both described as colliberta et concubina of their respective partners Aulus Plautius Apella and Marcus Lartidius Hilarus.Footnote 21 Nine further cases show couples consisting of fellow freedpersons in concubinatus, but the double connection is not expressed as strongly as in the other two cases just discussed; usually, it can be assumed from the fact that both the partners present the same libertination. The very fact that these texts show proof of pre-existing relations between the concubina and her partner is evidence of the decision made by those involved to show that they belonged to the same familia long before the beginning of the concubinatus, in a definition of the roles that goes beyond the concubinatus itself. More generally, concubinae seems to have a specific place within the familia, highlighted by the use of a different terminology in two inscriptions. One text from Aquinum reports the names of Marcus Lucius Theodorus and Lucia Lais, defined as conliberta sua, and Lucia Prima, defined as concubina sua.Footnote 22 While Theodorus and Lais highlight their legal status and stress their bond as fellow freedpersons, Prima, who was very likely a freedwoman herself, is remembered only for her role of concubina, leaving her legal status and general role within the familia unknown.
The connection between a concubina and her partner is evident also in those inscriptions in which we are aware of the identity of her partner; not because he was actually buried with the concubina, or because he was the commissioner or the dedicatee of the funerary monument, but rather because the freedwoman's name is followed by the term concubina and the man's name in the genitive, as found in five inscriptions from Rome.Footnote 23 In two of these cases the partner's name is complete, allowing for a formal identification of the men: Arria Hospita was the concubina of Lucius Lurius Favitus, freedman of Lucius and a woman,Footnote 24 while Mevia Clara was concubina of Gnaeus Licinius Philomusus, freedman of Gnaeus.Footnote 25 In the other two texts, the partner's name is given only through his cognomen,Footnote 26 or through his role as ‘someone's freedman’ respectively: Marcia Coragio is named as concubina of Rufio,Footnote 27 and Iulia Charis as freedwoman and concubina of Hymnus, freedman of King Ptolemaus.Footnote 28 These five texts all come from columbaria contexts; it is therefore not surprising to find the women buried alone. Once again, the familial environment did not promote the inclusion of the complete name of the deceased or their relatives, as it was not needed for their identification in this context.Footnote 29 It is notable, however, that these women were reported specifically as ‘someone's’ concubina, which may indicate that the partner was somehow well known, i.e. worthy of note, in the community.
CONCUBINATUS AS A SPECIFIC CHOICE? THE SOCIAL ROLE OF PARTNERS AND THE ABSENCE OF CHILDREN
The idea that a concubinatus may have been a highly attractive option for a man of means and with a public role is supported by the job titles of the concubinae's partners: for 32 libertae and 14 incertae the partner's profession and public role is clearly expressed in the funerary monument (Table 2). This incidence is very high compared with that usually seen in Roman epitaphs (Huttunen, Reference Huttunen1974; Joshel, Reference Joshel1992). These men were involved in a wide range of professional as well as public sectors, from politics to the army, from religion to manufacture and trade (Treggiari, Reference Treggiari1981a: 68). An inscription from Cingulum (Picenum) describes Cernitia Nimphe as the concubina of the ingenuus Marcus Cernitius Pollio, likely her patron.Footnote 30 The monument was set up by Phiale, another freedwoman of Pollio, who did not forget to remember the career of her patron: Pollio was elected duovir twice, as well as being an Augustalis. These offices document the distinction achieved by Pollio in both the political and religious contexts of his town. Seviri and Augustales are more generally present in large numbers among the partners of freed concubinae, as are other local officials; there is also a noticeable number of professionals. The freedwoman Hostilia Quinta was concubina of the freed architect Marcus Aetrius Protus.Footnote 31 In Rome we have evidence of the concubinatus between Attia Philumina and Marcus Caedicius Eros, a freedman and goldsmith (aurifex), who worked in a business located in the Sacra Via.Footnote 32 However, we can see that simple soldiers and veterans chose concubinatus too: Gaius Valerius Arsaces, a soldier from the Fifth Legion, Alaudae, took the freedwoman Valeria Urbana as his concubina,Footnote 33 as did Lucius Titius, a veteran of the Seventh Legion Augusta, with his liberta Titia Fusca.Footnote 34
Table 2 List of the professions and public roles given for the partners of concubinae.
Despite the variety of jobs and public roles, what these men, and thus their families, had in common was owning some sort of wealth; this can be deduced not only from the fact that these families were able to afford a funerary monument,Footnote 35 as well as to own and manumit slaves, but also from their capacity to run businesses and take up public offices. If viewed in this light, the sample here discussed may be regarded, as noted above, as a kind of ‘middle class’ — that is, as a group made up of people of varied means but which, nevertheless, is representative of a social status that existed between the lower and the upper echelons.Footnote 36 As this evidence shows, partners of concubinae were proud of their social standing and their public role; they were ‘someone’ in the communities in which they lived, so much so as to decide to have their professions and roles regularly reported on their funerary monuments. Seen from this angle, the choice of taking a woman as a concubina is telling: concubinage could be seen as a good compromise by wealthy and relatively powerful men, as their union could be formally accepted without challenging the boundaries and legal implications of a matrimonium iustum (McGinn, Reference McGinn1991: 338–9). Furthermore, the high volume of exogamic concubinatus may strengthen the assumption that entering a personal liaison with a woman from another familia, even if just a liberta, could provide an advantage for the two families and their members in both social and economic terms.Footnote 37
We also need, however, to consider the idea that concubinage may have been the best option for these men in regard to a specific woman, and that the concubinatus was not so much a general behavioural pattern, but a matter of a particular personal choice; in other words, a woman could be taken by a man as his concubina either after he had entered into a legally acknowledged marriage, or before doing so. Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to establish the chronological order of the unions, not least because the name of a (former) legal wife could be placed in a higher position on the stone compared with that of a (later) freed concubina, in order to highlight the social importance of the former over the latter, rather than following the ‘correct’ order of events. In one monument from Rome, Marcus Servilius Rufus lists three partners without giving any clear indication of ‘order’, as follows: his uxor Petia Prima, his concubina Marcia Felix and his uxor Servilia Apate.Footnote 38 All three women are libertae, and the concubina is described as obita, being already deceased when Servilius Rufus set up the monument: the difficulty of establishing a secure chronological order of the three unions is self-evident. Similar situations can be seen for two incertae, where two seviri Augustales list their uxores and concubinae in their family epitaphs.Footnote 39 Given this kind of evidence, it has been suggested that concubinage and marriage could coexist: i.e. that a man could have an uxor and a concubina at the same time.Footnote 40 There are other epigraphic texts that show men and women remembering multiple partners,Footnote 41 providing further evidence that people could be involved in new relationships after a divorce or the partner's death. The formula uxoribus concubinisque, which appears in four inscriptions, also documents the possibility that a man might have different partners during his life; this formula, however, cannot be read as a proof that men could have multiple legally or formally acknowledged partners, wives and concubinae at the same time. Given the difficulty, as shown, of establishing certainty on the ‘correct’ order of many inscribed relationships, it would, in our view, be rash to interpret the kind of texts just discussed as being evidence for simultaneous unions, rather than for consecutive ones.Footnote 42
The fact that a concubinatus may have been chosen as a true alternative to traditional Roman marriage can be assumed from the very low presence of children:Footnote 43 with the exception of just five inscriptions, the texts do not mention any children born from the concubinatus. Four of the exceptional cases document concubinae incertae.Footnote 44 In two instances, the concubina is clearly the mother of the children as they share the same nomen. The two families in question are those of Aquillius Rufus (ingenuus) and Maria Stacte, and their children Gaius Aquillius Florus and Maria Pieris (both incerti),Footnote 45 and of Gnaeus Numidus Berullus (incertus) and Allia Nysa, and their son Lucius Allius Quartinus (ingenuus).Footnote 46 One inscription from Rome tells us that the ingenuus Marcus Cornelius Favor, who was named after his father, was the son of Cestia Amabilis, as he is described as filius ex concubina.Footnote 47
The only funerary monument reporting the presence of children born from a freed concubina and her partner is a stela from Aquileia, dated to the mid-first century AD (Fig. 6); the gravestone is divided into two parts, each of which contains the epitaph of a nuclear family.
Fig. 6. Stela from Aquileia, recording children of a freed concubina and her partner (CIL V 936) (Aquileia, Museo Archeologico Nazionale inv. 54; su concessione del Ministero dei beni e delle attività culturali e del turismo, Polo Museale del Friuli Venezia Giulia. No reproduction allowed).
The two families are connected by the fact that the two men were brothers, as well as being fellow veterans from the Eighth Legion Augusta (CIL V 936–7). Before or after being discharged, Lucius Titius and Quintus Titius started relationships with two freedwomen, a liberta sua for Lucius and a liberta aliena for Quintus. Titia Fusca is described as a concubina, Pacilia Severa as a coniux.Footnote 48 Both women gave birth to children: Lucius and Fusca's children are reported as Vitalis filius, Ingenua filia and Veneria delicata, while Quintus Titius Quinti filius Severus filius is the description given to Quintus and Severa's son. The differences in the description of these children are fairly obvious: in the second case the boy has his full name and filiation, while in the first case the children are reported only with their cognomina, followed by the word filius/a. Furthermore, Veneria is described as delicata; this means that she may have been Lucius and Fusca's daughter, but there is also the possibility that she was simply an enslaved girl owned by the family.Footnote 49 In sum, it is evident that the two nuclear families, even if they were formed of members with similar characteristics, were perceived in different ways. Two aspects need to be considered: first, the woman who was chosen as a concubina is a liberta sua; second, the legal status of the children. The promotion of unions between an ingenuus and his liberta by Augustus has of course been seen by modern scholarship as a disparagement of exogamic unions formed of an ingenuus and a liberta aliena (McGinn, Reference McGinn1991: 346, 353–4; Mouritsen, Reference Mouritsen2011: 43). However, the gravestone under discussion shows the opposite situation: the liberta aliena is ‘granted’ the most honourable title of legitimate wife, while the liberta sua has to accept the lower ‘grade’ of concubina. This lack of ‘equality’ between the two freedwomen had consequences for the epigraphic representation of their respective children: the wife's child is clearly reported as a son and an ingenuus on the monument, while the concubina's children are simply children and need to be classified as incerti. The fact that one brother decided to use the complete filiation while the other simply underlined the blood connection may reflect the role played by the children in the two families. Quintus and Severa's child was not just an ingenuus: he was, most importantly, a legitimate son and potential heir. In comparison, Lucius and Fusca's children did not have this legal standing in the family, underlined by the absence of filiation, even if there is no evidence that they were not born free. We can present a further explanation, this time related to Roman citizenship. Thus, at the time when the two brothers were serving in the army, Roman law prohibited soldiers from having iusta matrimonia; additionally, children born from informal unions were not legitimate and, hence, could not be considered as Roman citizens. Once soldiers were discharged, they could legally acknowledge their unions and children (Campbell, Reference Campbell1978; Phang, Reference Phang2001: 13–133). In this specific case, we can assume either that Quintus married Severa when he was already a veteran, and their son was born a free, legitimate Roman citizen, or that he, unlike his brother, decided ‘to put things right’ after he ended his service in the army. The status of these two nuclear families, then, made the children different not just within the families themselves, but also in the eyes of society: the tombstone documents more broadly that seemingly simple epitaphs can offer information that withstands any monochrome modern explanation of ancient social practices.
3. CONCUBINA AMANTISSIMA: EXPECTATIONS AND FAMILY ROLE OF CONCUBINAE
Treggiari (Reference Treggiari1981a: 60–4) describes the role of concubinae with these words: ‘They are expected to have the virtues of a wife, but not her pretensions’ (cf. Tramunto, Reference Tramunto2009: 52–3); the concubina, then, was supposed to fulfil all those tasks which were expected from a legal wife, without benefiting from the esteem and status of a wife. This lesser ‘placement’ may suggest a lesser form of recognition given to these women in the family, or a lack of satisfaction with their role. However, as this second part of the epigraphic analysis shows, being a concubina was a role accepted by these women, as well as one that was cherished by their partners and relatives; these women were full members of the partner's family, and the terms of endearment that follow their names show that, in terms of the affection, gratitude and devotion shown to them, concubinae had no reason to envy legal wives. It is unsurprising, then, that concubinae enjoyed the right of burial in their partners’ family tombs; these, in some cases, were arranged by the concubinae themselves.
The acceptance of the role played by these women within the family and the familia is supported by the data relating to the analysis of the commemorators’ identities, i.e. the people in charge of setting up the funerary monuments and choosing the text (Fig. 7). These were the people who identified the freedwoman as a concubina; the majority of them are represented by the partners of the freed concubinae (in at least 63.5 per cent = 80 cases), but we also find the concubina (11.9 per cent = 15 cases), as well as the concubina and her partner together (11.1 per cent = 14 cases). A last category is represented by others close to the couple; for instance, a freedperson jointly manumitted. These, however, constitute only 4 per cent of the cases (5 cases). These data show that the partners of the concubinae cared enough to commemorate these women, much like they would a legal wife, and that these women were fully represented on the funerary monument as a ‘family member’.
Fig. 7. Distribution of commissioners of funerary monuments involving a concubina.
Two further aspects strengthen the assumption that concubinae had an important and recognized role within their partners’ families: the terms of endearment that accompany the names of the concubinae in some inscriptions and the fact that some of these women appear as commissioners of family tombs, as well as in the capacity of the heredes of their partners. Terms of endearment are common in Roman epitaphs, especially as mutual manifestations of personal virtues and marital concordia between husband and wife; it is not surprising, then, to find adjectives and other formulas that praise the concubina's own persona as well as her role as partner. In two texts, the concubina is described as amantissima (‘most loved’) (CIL VI 22293, 24441: Rome), and in another as pia (‘devoted’) (CIL X 6114: Formiae, Latium). A tombstone from Rome was arranged by Sempronia Apate for her partner and herself; the text mentions his worth (pro meritis) and her devotion to him (quae dilexit eum).Footnote 50 Four inscriptions present terms of endearment associated with freed concubinae (CIL VI 6873, 22293, 24441; CIL X 6114) and six with incertae (CIL V 5678; CIL VI 9375, 21607, 24857, 24953, 25014); the formulas used are the same that can be found in many other epitaphs describing freeborn and freed women as devoted and virtuous wives (Von Hesberg-Tonn, Reference Von Hesberg-Tonn1983).
More numerous are the texts that reveal an active role played by freed concubinae in connection with the setting-up of the funerary monuments, and as heirs of their partners. Five monuments attest that the libertae concubinae set up the funerary monument (fecit) and paid for it (ex suo) for themselves and their relatives (sibi et suis);Footnote 51 incertae are commissioners in four cases, in all of which we find the verb fecit.Footnote 52 Two texts reveal that the funerary monuments of the partners had been set up at the discretion (arbitratu) of their respective concubinae (CIL XI 3751; Brandizzi Vitucci, Reference Brandizzi Vitucci1981: 209). Finally, a gravestone found in Rome attests to Avillia Sote being the heres of Gaius Marius Isochrysis, even if we cannot know the extent of the inheritance rights.Footnote 53 These cases prove that concubinae could be considered full members of their partners’ families and that their role was acknowledged and accepted on both ‘sides’.
The role of concubinae was also accepted by the other members of the family, including children born to the concubinae's partners’ former legitimate wives. This last scenario can be seen on a family tomb from Rome: the monument contains the names of eleven people, almost all of whom are members of the Occia gens.Footnote 54 The commissioner is the freedman Decimus Occius Eros, who describes (in order): Roscia Stratego as his concubina, Roscia Pupa as his coniux, and Eros as his and Pupa's freed son. We cannot say which woman came first as a partner in Eros’ life, but both are included in the family tomb. Moreover, Stratego's name is carved in a higher position compared with that of Roscia Pupa, even though Stratego was ‘just’ a concubina.Footnote 55 While it can be argued that Roscia Pupa and her son could have already been deceased when the monument was set up, i.e. that they had no say in the choice of the people that could be buried in the family tomb, two other inscriptions show that the concubina held full standing within the partner's family. A gravestone from Mutina includes the names of a family of ingenui made up of Lucius Graecinius Rufus, his parents, sister and his freed concubina Rubria Thygater.Footnote 56 Another funerary stela from Mutina presents an even more extended family: Marcus Pupius Rufus set up the monument when he was still alive, for himself, his mother and cousin (all ingenui); the name of the freed concubina Allena Heuronome closes the list of family members.Footnote 57 Even if the former stela from Mutina places Thygater's and Heuronome's names in the last position, the two women are nonetheless included in the family monuments, despite their role and former legal status as slaves.
Similar situations can be observed among incertae (AE 2002, 386; CIL V 2627; CIL IX 2255). A text from Formiae presents the freedwoman Refria Nice and Refria Lychore as mater Felicis and concubina Felicis, respectively; apparently, Felix set up the monument for the two women but did not include himself, although he made the connection between the three of them clear.Footnote 58 The freeborn centurion Titus Tillius Sabinus was buried with his concubina Caninia Musa and Postumia Phyllis, the wife of his brother; it is not clear who the commissioner is, but we may assume that he could be either Sabinus, after his brother's death, or the brother himself.Footnote 59 Not only did the concubina become a member of the partner's family, but even her mother could, as in the case of the monument set up in Aquileia by Marcus Metelius Felix, a local sevir, made for himself, his concubina Arria Vitalis(?) and his socrus Arria Ianuaria(?).Footnote 60
4. SOCIAL REPRESENTATION AND FAMILY ROLE: DECORATIONS ON MONUMENTS MENTIONING CONCUBINAE
Both the personal and the social dimension of concubinage emerge also when moving our attention to funerary iconography. Several recent studies have focused on sepulchral images of families, frequently basing their arguments not only on portraits, gestures, habitus or other iconographical elements, but also on the reading of the inscriptions linked to the images, with very good results (George, Reference George and George2005; Larsson Lovén, Reference Larsson-Lovén, Larsson Lovén and Strömberg2010; Mander, Reference Mander2013). In the same vein, this part of this article, therefore, analyses the funerary representation of concubinage, connecting it to the epigraphic evidence: only monuments with the term concubina in the inscription and with iconographical elements are considered here, in order to explore the points discussed in the previous sections more fully. The aim is to establish whether there were specific visual solutions related to concubinae, and to better understand to what extent such images contributed to the social definition of concubinatus.
Portraits will be treated as the main evidence in this section, but (other) visual references to professions and status will also be considered.Footnote 61 Going by the available evidence at hand, text and image are joined together on only a few monuments, about 6 per cent of the whole sample considered in this article.Footnote 62 They date from the first century BC to the second century AD, with the majority of monuments produced in the first half of the first century AD, the period of maximum diffusion of tombstones with portraits in Italy (Pflug, Reference Pflug1989: 1). The material comes from different geographical areas, covering both the northern and southern territories of the Italian peninsula: Rome and Regiones I, IV, VI and X.
At first glance, the images on monuments mentioning concubinae can be divided into two main groups: images with elements concerning the professional achievements of the concubinae's partners, and portraits or gestures that describe the status or the familial role of the women.
MEN, SOCIAL STATUS AND CONCUBINAE
Reference to the jobs or the social standing of the men is a clear theme in concubinae's funerary commemoration, not only in the inscriptions but also in the reliefs, since five out of the nine monuments collected allude to professions in different ways. This can already be seen in one of the very first documented pieces of sepulchral evidence of concubinatus: the facade of a funerary chamber from the beginning of the first century BC, in Rome, displays two shields carved next to the inscribed text, recalling a freed librarius and, among others, his concubina of slave-birth and from the same family.Footnote 63
As some scholars have recently pointed out, the link between the iconographical elements and the inscribed text is not always clear or immediate: professional, sculpted elements may directly describe the job of a man, but they may also have a more extended and connotative meaning, as a symbol of social achievement as well as an allusion to moral virtues (Zimmer, Reference Zimmer1982; Buonopane, Reference Buonopane2013). Thus, although the images on this early relief from Rome do not directly fit with the job recorded by the inscription, it can still be included in this group, as it speaks to the man's social status. This is perhaps also the case of an altar from the environs of Aquileia, where a sevir is mentioned with his concubina: the fasces sculpted on one of the short sides recall his social standing, while the knives carved on the other one can be understood as an allusion to a previous job or to ritual actions and pietas (AE 2005, 553; Magnani et al., Reference Magnani, Banchig and Ventura2005: 120).
In two other cases, the profession is not mentioned in the text and is simply defined by the insertion of explicit iconographical elements. In a fragmentary relief from Pula, dated to the first half of the first century AD, some glass vessels are carved in low relief above the inscription; this is probably a reference to the partner's profession as a master glazier (Fig. 8) (CIL V 215; Starac, Reference Starac2006: 99–101 n. 61). Similar intent characterizes a plaque from Pompeii, which may be from an earlier date, where the public role of the partner, as a gromaticus or a mensor, is recalled by the sole groma and tools (Fig. 9).Footnote 64
Fig. 8. The relief with glass vessels from Pula (Starac, Reference Starac2006: 101, fig. 61, with permission of the Arheološki muzej Istre).
Fig. 9. The plaque with groma and tools from Pompeii (Antiquarium di Boscoreale inv. 11737; su concessione del Ministero dei beni e delle attività culturali e del turismo, Parco Archeologico di Pompei. No reproduction allowed).
Despite this variety in the visual commemoration of the men's profession, which might have depended also on the commissioner's personal taste, it is possible to note that besides the inscriptions these iconic elements were a powerful tool with which to articulate the male partner's social standing and to focus the attention of the onlooker on his personal success. The same can be detected, in a far clearer way, on a monumental tombstone from Suasa, in Umbria, dated to the Julio-Claudian period, and perhaps, more precisely, to the Neronian age (Fig. 10).Footnote 65 The lower part of the front is carved with low-reliefs of lictores, a sella curulis and a laurel crown,Footnote 66 while the short sides are decorated with mythological themes and representations of munera, all elements that directly alluded to the role and the activities of the freed sevir who set up the tomb.
Fig. 10. Front side of the tombstone from Suasa (Museo Archeologico delle Marche inv. 73, SABAP Marche©; su concessione del Ministero dei beni e delle attività culturali e del turismo — SABAP Marche).
CONCUBINAE IN FAMILY PORTRAITURE AND THE SOCIAL DIMENSION OF SEPULCHRAL IMAGERY
The tombstone just discussed also offers a good synthesis for the articulation of social dimensions in sepulchral imagery. Thus, while some of its elements show the same attention to professional and public aspects as the other monuments just considered, an important difference is seen in the presence of the portraits of the people mentioned in the inscriptions. The upper part of the front side is occupied by a rectangular niche, with four half-figures: as seen from the spectator's perspective, the old sevir stands in the centre, in a pre-eminent position; on his right stands the concubina, while on his left his liberta is portrayed holding her patron's delicium in her arms. The two women are dressed in the same way, with a mantle over the tunic, but possess different attributes: while the freedwoman grasps a fruit with her right hand, the concubina displays rings, probably on her left ring-finger.Footnote 67 In order to make the object visible, and to better define the woman as a matrona, the sculptor consciously adopted a specular inversion of the feminine statuary model stemming from the Small Herculaneum Women: thus, the woman raises her left hand and not the right one to hold the palla, so that the presence of the ring can more easily be detected.Footnote 68 In addition to this, the commissioner chose to place this woman, and not the ex-slave, on the right side of the old dedicator, as seen by the spectator: this disposition of portraits is often referred to as husband and wife on monuments of the Augustan and Julio-Claudian period from Regio VI itself, from Rome and the nearby Regiones V and VIII. Footnote 69
A stela from Bovianum, in Regio IV, also seems to put concubinage and de facto unions on the same level, while at the same time celebrating the social achievements of the male partner.Footnote 70 Here the portraits are not present but, above some objects and tools placed on the base on the tombstone, two clasping right hands are carved: they are likely attributable to the commissioner and the concubina sua, both of whom are recorded in the inscription (Fig. 11).Footnote 71 Although the dextrarum iunctio should not automatically be referred to as marriage — even if it sometimes seems very likely — its representation on monuments can be read as a demonstration of a strong interpersonal bond, worth being sculpted and remembered together with working tools (Davies, Reference Davies1985; Hersch, Reference Hersch2010: 201–5; Larsson-Lovén, Reference Larsson-Lovén, Larsson Lovén and Strömberg2010).
Fig. 11. Tombstone with dextrarum iunctio from Bovianum (Rossa, D-DAIROM-75.2720).
Furthermore, in the iconographical record concubinae are also present on monuments depicting a more complex domestic situation. A fragmentary example from Iulia Concordia, dated to the early decades of the first century AD, shows the commissioner's portrait flanked by two feminine busts on either side (Fig. 12): all three individuals are represented nude;Footnote 72 the portrait of the woman on the left, wearing a necklace, should be interpreted as the uxor, while the one on the right should be seen as the concubina recorded in the inscription.Footnote 73 By reading the relief in this way, the wife occupies the correct position according to the regional iconographical norms — with the woman on the left, from the spectator's point of view, in the opposite position compared to the Suasa tombstone (Scalco, Reference Scalco2016), while the de facto union is differentiated and collocated in a less canonical, or maybe less important, place.Footnote 74
Fig. 12. Tombstone from Concordia (Portogruaro, Museo Nazionale Concordiese© inv. 134; su concessione del Ministero dei beni e delle attività culturali e del turismo, Polo Museale del Veneto).
The status of the concubina is not defined here. Her name, formed solely of the cognomen, may indicate a slave or, more probably, a freedwoman who shares the same nomen as her patron; this nomen is, for this reason, omitted in the text.Footnote 75 In such cases, it is possible that the woman was actually in a stable relationship with her own patron; that is, they were in an endogamic quasi-marital union. This interpretation may also be extended to the plaque from Pompeii, the tombstone of Bovianum, and the funerary chamber from Rome mentioned above; in all three, the partners share the same name without clear indication of social status. It does not apply, however, to the monuments from Suasa and Aquileia, where the women are incertae but come from different familiae.
It seems possible that the ‘marital’ pattern of the women did not heavily influence the use of specific iconic features and, at the same time, that the different social standing of the women did not automatically imply different artistic outcomes. It is very difficult to detect a specific attribute, dress or pose that makes it possible, independently and in a replicable way, to distinguish concubinae according to their social status, but also to distinguish them from other matrons, wives or ‘simple’ freedwomen. Reading images of concubinae is, and probably was, a fluid matter; however, it is also self-evident that the collected sample is too scant and too diverse in terms of typology, chronology and geographical distribution to allow generalization regarding the association between social status and iconographic features: thus, while we can establish that the few portraits recorded pertain to incertae, it would be rash to suggest that imagines were completely denied to freedwomen. As noted in the discussion on epigraphic elements and as pointed out by the analysis of the disposition of the portraits, the documented features were embedded in broader contexts: both images and inscriptions, as well as the monuments’ material and locational dimensions, stood in active dialogue with and responded to a much larger setting of funerary commemorative behaviours and practices.
Even so, it is worth noting that iconographical elements connected to these women are quite scarce, and are, in practice, limited to the portrait; overall, then, the main feminine descriptor is found in the term concubina. As a consequence, it seems to be, above all, an indicator of a relationship between at least two people — the concubina and her partner, sometimes his other relatives — and not so much a descriptor for the women themselves, who tended to have a subordinate role. In fact, they typically appear on monuments together with their partners; images referring only to a concubina are very rare on funerary monuments and may even be limited to a particular tombstone from Rome (CIL VI 17343; Solin, Reference Solin2012: 223–4). In comparison, iconographic features of the partners are almost always present; they could flank the female images and, in many cases, could be the sole visual reference sculpted on the monuments.
As this discussion has shown, the visual analysis of the monuments under consideration here adds to the arguments and conclusions advanced on the basis of the epigraphic analysis that has dominated the earlier sections of this article; the epigraphy must moreover be acknowledged as an important interpretative signpost for understanding these monuments given the small number of visual representations for study. In sum, then, the main focus of the sepulchral decorations on monuments that mention concubinae is on the male partners; the women seem to contribute to the men's social and personal representation. It is therefore not surprising that men were the clear majority of the dedicators — perhaps due to their greater economic capacity, compared with that of their concubinae — and thus they heavily influenced the construction of the sepulchral imagery. Picturing personal success seems to have been a major issue in the funerary monuments considered here; even if portraits and gestures describe a personal and even ‘affective’ bond, they are often inserted in a broader iconographical strategy that highlights the achievement of the male partner as a professional, a magistrate or a paterfamilias.Footnote 76 In this sense, the concubinae came literally — or rather visually — second.
5. CONCLUSION
Although different, the epigraphic and the iconographic sources allow for complementary conclusions to be drawn concerning the role of concubinage among members of the Roman ‘middle class’. As ancient historians and jurists have pointed out, concubinatus was specifically chosen in situations where a legally valid marriage would have been considered unattractive; on the one hand, this relationship defines the limitations of the rights of the partners, while on the other concubinage saves them from the shame of stuprum.
The evidence available to us from the inscriptions leads to the same conclusions: the samples not only make it clear that concubinatus was specifically chosen for particular legal reasons, but also that it was perceived in a very particular way by the people that set up and visited the funerary monuments that showed the concubinae and their families. It is indicative that, despite the wide diffusion concubinage may have experienced in Roman times, the cases attested in the epigraphic evidence are not very numerous. Yet, the scarcity of inscriptions containing the word concubina does not prove a scarcity of concubinatus; rather, it highlights how some men and women expressly decided to define their personal unions in these specific terms on (typically) publicly visible monuments. While we cannot argue about the multiple reasons why such a choice could, or could not, be made by the partners, it is clear from the epigraphic evidence that the term concubina seems to reflect a particular social and familial role. Its importance is marked by the fact that the women's partners were not the only commemorators who remembered it on the epitaphs: other family members, people external to the family and even the concubinae themselves celebrated it through epigraphic texts. This situation unveils the double significance of the concubina: a partner identified by legal and social rules, which define her rights and limits, and a companion who does not differ much from other relatives in the familial and personal sphere. It may be argued that such a role was forced upon these women by their male partners, and documented in the androcentric trait of the surviving evidence (Dixon, Reference Dixon2001: 3–63, 87): although the analysis has outlined the potential for involvement on the part of a concubina, it is her partner who played a very important part in the construction of this social image, as the high rate of partners as commissioners in the epigraphic and iconographic evidence suggests.
Ancient laws document that notable men could choose concubinatus in order to avoid falling into the shame of ‘marrying down’, as well as to provide the woman with a respectable social standing (Fayer, Reference Fayer2005: 13). While it is difficult to estimate how frequent concubinage was among elite families (Treggiari, Reference Treggiari1981a: 60–3; Fayer, Reference Fayer2005: 12), it is very likely that elite members created a model — if not a status symbol — that could also be ‘acquired’ and replicated by members of lower social strata. Freedmen are frequently involved in concubinage, especially those who present themselves as successful men. The high frequency of the appearance of job titles and political roles on funerary monuments, the architectonical structure of many of them (with the tools or the status symbols carved on the stone),Footnote 77 show how these men sought to highlight their role within the community and to be remembered for their personal achievements. Both the inscriptions and the reliefs illustrate in consequence an important aspect of concubinatus: while the concubina is mainly portrayed in the sphere of personal relations, her partner moves within a public and social environment, in which the concubina constitutes (merely) a further element — but not the only one — defining the man's social and public role.
The concubinae chosen by these men would have become worthy of the same respectability as matronae, even if, at least in principle, they were not extraordinary exempla of matronal virtues, as noted by Treggiari. Although freeborn concubinae are very few, and probably were not of high rank, legal status seems not to have been a strong discriminant, at least when we consider libertae and incertae, who share analogous patterns of funerary commemoration.Footnote 78 Ancient laws seem to exclude slaves from concubinage, and the epigraphic evidence tends to confirm this (Fayer, Reference Fayer2005: 12); exceptions are very scant: one such includes the above-mentioned funerary plaque from Rome on which an incerta describes herself as a concubina of a public slave (CIL VI 2354; Eder, Reference Eder1980: 112–13).Footnote 79 Such evidence may strengthen the assumption that the term concubina had a social value that was also shared by women; it also denotes the importance of concubinage as being a definition of a stable relationship which directly recalls marriage.
Concubinatus’ first structural similarity with legal unions can be found in exogamy; as noted in the epigraphic analysis, the high frequency of libertae alienae as concubinae could suggest that concubinatus was viewed as creating a possible new social and economic link or affinitas among familiae, even if probably weaker compared to those of a matrimonium iustum; it might have been chosen not only by men, but also by women who wanted a less binding relationship. Alternatively, it might have been chosen by patrons for their freedwomen in order to create advantageous bonds with other familiae.
It could be assumed that a strong distinction may have existed between a de facto union and a valid marriage;Footnote 80 but, if we look at everyday life, the distinction was not so sharp. The use of the dextrarum iunctio and conjugal iconographical schemes leads to a marital-like visual interpretation of such unions, just as formulas and adjectives commonly used for wives were employed also for the commemoration of concubinae. This situation reflects the need to portray concubinae as ‘official’, loving and caring partners, as well as respectable matronae. An inscription from Rome summarizes the multifaceted family role of these women: the man dedicated the tomb to his concubina, his sister and likely his freedmen. Furthermore, he inserts an epigram in Greek in which he declares his grief over the violent death in a fire of the beloved concubina, who lived with him under a single roof (Lissi Caronna & Moretti, Reference Lissi Caronna and Moretti1970: 362–3).
As has been seen, concubinae were considered full members of the partner's family: they appear listed in epitaphs and they share monuments with relatives and often freedpersons of their partners, who regularly occupy a less important role in the family, as the position of names and portraits on tombstones suggests.Footnote 81 When legitimate wives and concubinae appear in the same text, they are both described in positive terms, even if differences are present. On the one hand, a chronological relationship between the two (or more) unions has to be taken into account (Rawson, Reference Rawson1974: 293; Treggiari, Reference Treggiari1981b: 70; Fayer, Reference Fayer2005: 13); on the other, the role of the wives was likely more important, as the tombstone from Concordia suggests, not only because of the implications derived from the matrimonia iusta but also because of the possibility that they might give birth to filiifamilias. The studied evidence seems to suggest that attention to the complexities of a family's composition was a typical characteristic of the male dedicator. When the concubinae are commissioners, the attention is focused on the couple only: this may be accidental, or due to financial limitations — inscribed tombstones had their costs — or may be connected to the fact that concubinae had no duty towards the partner's family. Furthermore, given that any possible child was illegitimate, there was no formal link between the concubina and her partner's family after the man's death, nor was there any intention to build a ‘natural’ genealogy; the evidence supporting the existence of children is very poor, limited to inscriptions and often referring to illegitimate offspring from previous unions.Footnote 82
The picture we get from the epigraphic and iconographic sources reveals some peculiarities relating to concubinae: while they were not legitimate wives, they were neither mere slave partners nor mistresses. Additionally, in the case of freedwomen, the concubinatus enhanced their social position. The use of the term concubina carries a strong social definition, a tool that could be used by men to improve their social standing in the funerary sphere. Thus, women benefited from this title; through it, they also became members of the most intimate group within the domus or the familia. To be sure, these results arise from quantitatively limited analysis, especially with regard to the visual evidence. But as stated at the beginning of this article, the aim of this study is to highlight the views of those involved in concubinatus themselves, and not those of the authors of elite literary or legal texts — which regularly display a less charming image of concubinage and especially the women involved in it than what has been foregrounded here (Strong, Reference Strong2016).Footnote 83 Thus, we can say that, although concubinage differs from marriage for various — and, nowadays, inexplicable — reasons (including aspects such as age, status, financial capabilities, complexity of the familia, and legal issues) (Dixon, Reference Dixon1992: 93), Roman concubinae who have left funerary evidence behind were seen as respectable partners, worthy of affection, even though not suitable for maritalis.
AUTHOR CONTRIBUTIONS
Authorial responsibility for sections as follows: Introduction, T.S. and L.S.; Sections 2 and 3, T.S.; Section 4, L.S.; Conclusion, T.S. and L.S.
