Invisible Romans (46 page)

Romans themselves, ‘raiders’ par excellence managing to conquer and loot the entire Mediterranean world, understood and dealt with this sort of bandit tribe as an opposing community.

The normal means of coping with these external ‘otherlaws’ is by an organized military action; in the example above, Strabo notes both the appropriateness and failure of Roman action against the raiders. Because both groups are playing by the same overall rules, the danger is clear: Either side victorious will try to attack and plunder, if not destroy, the other. Although the Romans themselves often do not rhetorically distinguish between ‘otherlaws’ and ‘outlaws,’ here I propose to make that distinction very clear. In the case of ‘otherlaws,’ the external dynamic creates a highly visible interaction that elites participate in and military and diplomatic leaders and so on document extensively. In the case of
‘outlaws,’ the elite are both less directly involved – of all members of society, they have the most capacity to protect themselves from outlaws – and more uncomfortable ideologically because of the critique of the hierarchical society that the outlaws represent. Uninterested and insulated, the elite at best pays attention to ‘outlaws’ when they approach the threat level that ‘otherlaws’ present; usually, outlaws are simply assumed as part of the landscape, measures are taken to avoid their depredations, and they are left to their lives in the usual silence of the sources reserved for groups considered unworthy of notice by the elite.

Another group I do not consider is the common criminal. These people – murderers, thieves, small-time racketeers – are predators on lawful society but emerge from it and go back into it without ever forming an alternative to it. Lucian gives a glimpse of their work:

When I was going away from home to Athens by reason of my desire for Greek culture, I put in at Amastris, on the Black Sea; the city is a port of call for those sailing this way from Scythia, not far distant from Carambis. I was accompanied by Sisinnes, who had been my companion from childhood. After looking out a lodging near the port and transferring our effects to it from the vessel, we went shopping, without suspecting any mischief. In the meantime thieves pried the door open and carried off everything, so as not to leave even enough to suffice for that day.
(Toxaris
57/Harmon)

The Gospels have a number of references to thieves and theft, as do novels and other sources. These petty criminals do not reject the norms of society but strike at it in the interstices, often with crimes of opportunity. Robbers had the capacity for making life difficult and dangerous for everyone, and they did so as they were able. But however obnoxious and worrisome, they posed no real threat, nor had any cohesive group identity.

Finally, I can safely ignore the metaphorical bandit – the use of the term ‘bandit’ and its cousins by Roman elites against each other in political competition. Broadly speaking, they mean by this epithet anyone who was not playing by the rules, and directed it at someone in order to win an argument or competition; it is a metaphorical use designed to smear an enemy, to criminalize them, and therefore to justify any
action against them. These ‘bandits’ are not ‘outlaws’ at all; they are still operating within the elite political and social framework and have nothing to do with the reality of outlaws as people living outside the laws of society.

Discovering outlaws

Although I have discussed quite fully elsewhere the use of various sources, it is worthwhile to note here, in particular, the value of fictional narratives in retrieving the life of the outlaw of the Romano-Graecian world. As will become very clear, I rely heavily on these sources, although historians, inscriptions, and papyri provide material as well. The works of fiction, in particular Apuleius’
Golden Ass
and the Greek romances, limned a world that scholars have come to recognize as real. That is to say, the way the ‘real’ was arranged in the novels is fictional, but behind the fiction lie actual facts of social history, facts that can be retrieved and used by historians. I quote from the novels as though they are historical documents, but this is merely a narrative device; I fully understand that they are not history. My use derives from a confidence that what the characters are doing and saying in the episodes I describe is actually reflective of reality, although the words and situations themselves are constructed by the author.

Moving toward outlawry

The outlaws I restrict myself too – those living in contact with, but outside, lawful society – enact the ideology of that hierarchically stratified society. They form a community organized for the acquisition of power and possessions for some at the expense of others, but from outside that society’s law framework, rather than, as the elite-run community, from within it. The Romans were very aware of the shared ideology of ‘inlaw’ rulers and ‘outlaw’ bandits. In one of the most extensive historical treatments of a bandit in classical literature, a historian has the bandit chief Bulla Felix make just this obvious point of comparison. When he is captured by the emperor Septimius Severus’ men and set before the praetorian prefect Papinian, Papinian is said to have asked him, ‘Why did you become a robber?’ To which Bulla replied, ‘Why are
you a prefect?’ (Cassius Dio,
Roman History
77.10.7). Although the event itself may be fictional, the valid point is that both are robbers of a sort – the prefect within the law, Bulla outside it. Another metaphor comparing robbers and lawful citizens (this time doctors) is given by Galen:

Robbers in our own country band together to harm others and spare themselves: similarly those [doctors] here combine against us, the only difference from bandits being that these men operate in the city, not in the mountains. (‘Prognosis,’ in
Corpus Medicorum Graecorum
V 8.1/Nutton)

The sharing of values, attitudes, and actions within the law and outside it was evident enough.

The condition of soldiers-as-bandits also illustrates the fuzzy line between ‘lawful’ bandits and ‘outlaw’ bandits. The depredations of soldiers are well documented, as is the (quite natural) segue of soldiers into banditry. In the first situation the long association of soldiers with violent solutions to problems, their possession of arms in a generally disarmed or at best poorly armed population, and the authority inherent in their position as Roman soldiers easily led to abuses which were simply robbery. The story in Apuleius of the centurion who requisitions Lucius in his asinine form, the anger this arouses, the violent attack on the centurion by Lucius’ owner, and the final revenge of the centurion on that owner is a fine encapsulation both of the abuses possible and the anger of the civilian population at such abuses
(The Golden Ass
9.39–42). The story in the Gospels of the ‘extra mile’ fits the same mould (Matthew 5:41), as does John the Baptizer’s admonition to soldiers not to extort money and or accuse people falsely – and to be content with their pay (Luke 3:13–15). In the case of soldiers, it was perhaps logical to move into a life of outlaw banditry, given the possibilities for official banditry before. Skill in arms, a disposition to violence, and the poverty-stricken condition of some soldiers contributed to the transition of a certain number into full-time bandits, for despite the general advantages of being a soldier, some did not fare so well in their careers and deserted the standards in favor of brigandage. Here is a specific example in the historian Herodian:

There was a man called Maternus, an ex-soldier of notorious daring, who had deserted from the ranks and influenced others to escape service with him. Within a short time he had collected a large band of criminals and began to make plundering raids on villages and farms.
(Recent History of the Roman Empire
1.10/Whittaker)

Maternus’ enterprise succeeded beyond his wildest imaginings; he plundered whole provinces and plotted to kill Commodus and become emperor. His end came from betrayal by some of his men.

In similar fashion, pirates could evolve from wartime naval activities:

Having acquired a taste for rich plunder [as privateers in the service of King Mithridates VI], they still did not cease their activities when Mithridates was defeated, made peace and retreated. For, having been robbed of their living and their homeland on account of the war, and having fallen into hardship and poverty, they harvested the sea instead of the land, first in small ships, then in large ones, cruising around in squadrons, under the command of pirate captains just like generals in a war. (Appian,
War against Mithridates
92/White)

Thus Mithridates had used what later would be called privateers to give him additional naval power; these captains turned to piracy after Mithridates was defeated, much as many pirates had their origins in the privateers of the early modern European wars.

In yet another crossover between lawful and outlaw worlds, bandits and pirates are entrepreneurs of a sort, trying to be successful in the resource acquisition approved of by society. Eric Hobsbawm writes,

As individuals, they are not so much political or social rebels, let alone revolutionaries, as peasants who refuse to submit, and in doing so stand out from their fellows, or even more simply men who find themselves excluded from the usual career of their kind, and therefore forced into outlawry and ‘crime’ … Banditry itself is therefore … a form of self-help to escape particular circumstances … [A bandit] is an outsider and a rebel, a poor man who refuses to accept the normal roles of poverty, and establishes his freedom by means of the only resources within reach of the poor, strength, bravery, cunning and determination … It sets him in opposition to the hierarchy of power, wealth, and influence: he is not one of them … At the same time the bandit is, inevitably, drawn into the web of wealth and power, because, unlike other peasants, he acquires wealth and exerts power. (
The Bandit,
pp. 19–20, 76)

In crossing back and forth, there are many instances of outlaws being on good terms with some group in lawful society. Although Bulla Felix is said to have eluded the authorities through bribes and cleverness (‘he was never really seen when seen, never found when found, never caught when caught’(Cassius Dio 77.10.2/Cary), he surely enjoyed some protection from the wider population. He clearly had spies in lawful society, whether outlaws themselves or only fellow travelers is not clear; these spies gave him exceptionally good intelligence which aided in his raiding: ‘He learned of everybody that was setting out from Rome and everybody that was putting into port at Brundisium, and knew both who and how many there were, and what and how much they had with them.’ Likewise the outlaws in Apuleius blended into lawful society and returned intelligence to the group; this is noted once when a bandit stayed behind to see what actions the authorities took after the raid on Milo’s house, again when a bandit was sent to scout out possible raids, and yet again when they mingled to find out where Chryseros kept his money (
The Golden Ass
7.1 and 4.9). In the romance
Chaereas and Callirhoe,
Theron the pirate had ‘thugs handily stationed with boats in harbors under cover of being ferrymen.’ Outlaws often seem to be conceived of as wearing two hats, one a lawful occupation, the other banditry or piracy; in Achilles Tatius’
Leucippe and Clitophon
(5.7), Clitophon ran into mollusk fishermen who were actually pirates. When Bulla Felix captured people, he ‘would take a part of what they had and let them go at once, but he detained artisans for a time and made use of their skill, then dismissed them with a present’ (Cassius Dio 77.10.3). Such action softens any hostility of the population toward outlaws. When Maternus began his marauding, he freed prisoners and enlisted them in his band (Herodian 1.10.2); while this is not necessarily a socially positive step, it does hint at that. In Apuleius there is a close, symbiotic relationship between the outlaws and elements of the civil population. This is specifically noticed in at least two places. In
this one, the gang is heading off for their lair after looting Milo’s house:

About midday, when the sun beating down was already making things very hot, we turned aside into a village where the outlaws had good friends among the elders. From the moment they met their voluble exchanges and kisses of friendship showed how close they were – even an ass could see it. And they also took some things from my back and gave them to the villagers as gifts, while in low whispers they seemed to be telling them that these were the fruit of their depredations.
(The Golden Ass
4.1)

Such interaction was easy to maintain – it was mutually advantageous – and, of course, outlaws looked like everyone else and so could blend into the general population at will. Within this context, it is likely that the outlaws saw themselves as in some sense fitting in to society as a whole. Nevertheless, this ‘fitting’ was not to play the game according to the elite’s rules, but rather to live a life against the normal grain.

Who becomes an outlaw?

Crossing over into outlawry was one way – perhaps the only and surely the quickest way – to break the heavy hand of the law and its enforcers which kept the poor poor, the oppressed oppressed, and resources safely in the hands of the already wealthy. With this perspective, it is easy to see that outlaw bands live out a genuinely alternative life within the heavily stratified society of the ancient Roman world. Their lifestyle does not seek change, nor is it a form of resistance. Rather, it is focused on a few very specific goals, and its social organization derives from the needs of fulfilling them. It is possible to recover what sort of person became an outlaw, as well as their goals and social organization, in the process revealing the perspective of outlaws on themselves and their world.