The Sorrows of the Ancient Romans: The Gladiator and the Monster

by Carlin A. Barton

This inquiry into the collective psychology of the ancient Romans speaks not about military conquest, sober law, and practical politics, but about extremes of despair, desire, and envy.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Ancient History, Roman, Classics

224 pages, Hardcover

First published December 14, 1992

Reviews

[Alex · Rating 2 out of 5]

A rather uneven work of social history; Barton is clearly immensely well-read and an impressive scholar, but this book too often feels like an unnecessary expansion of a prior paper. Would recommend only to the serious or professional classicist.

[Robert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Barton's The Sorrows of the Ancient Romans is an ueven book; the first part about the gladiators is awesome, the second part about the monstrous is a drag and could have been summarized in fifteen pages.

Barton's basic thesis is that the rise of the imperator and the empire despoiled the remainder of the elites, denying them places of exhibiting their honor. The total authority and power of the emperors themselves took the funary custom of gladitorial fighting and turned them into an outlet of re-articulating the struggle for honor, by making the powerlessness thematic again.

Barton does a nice job of tickling that thesis out of the sometimes recalcitrant sources, and bringing in some general anthropological and psychological observation to provide a conceptual framework skeleton from which to hang the meat.

In the second part, however, the anthropological, philosophical and psychological observations begin to flood the evidence, bringing too much theory and too little back linkage with the sources. While some of the material remains good and interesting, such as the exposition on the Saturnalia, it drags over some sections.

In addition, Barton seems to completely forget that most of the French, German, Russian and English philosophers, psychologists and literary theorists, far from being independent voices, were all reared on the same Latin classics that she is now discussing (most likely translating them in school). Thus, the interpretations are much more incestuous than they appear to be on the surface.

This is OK when the sources have pre-eminence as in part I, but makes for a somewhat sizable echo-chamber in part II.

So, read the first part with gusto, and the second part if you have the time.

[Colin · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a disclaimer, I should first say that I had the privilege of taking a class with Carlin Barton at UMass Amherst and I'm a great admirer of her as a person. That having been said, this book would be very challenging for the nonspecialist in Roman history or Classics - it is a very dense (though short) treatise on the emotional life of the Romans, particularly under the Roman Empire, with special reference to what we would think of as negative emotions (envy and despair figure prominently). I would recommend this book, certainly, to the serious student or enthusiast of ancient Rome who wants to understand the inner turmoil produced by social conditions under the emperors, but not a book for everyone!

[Tim R · Rating 2 out of 5]

A very difficult read peppered with unique, eye-opening insights. Prof Barton claims to have written a popular work here, but my goodness, how many popular readers could ever hope to slog through untranslated French and German quotations from cultural critics? Or all the obscure cultural references tossed out without any context? One example that I did understand was “…he was so excruciatingly vulnerable, like Herriman’s Krazy.” — by which Prof Barton wants to point our attention to Krazy Kat, the 1910s-1940s comic strip character. But I happen to be a huge geek for old surrealist comic strips. What about others who have spent their lives in more productive ways? I couldn’t help feeling like this was the equivalent of someone name dropping “George” at a cocktail party, prompting a confused rube to ask, “George?” eliciting the reply, “Oh, Clooney, dear” — which was of course the whole point of the name drop in the first place.

Anyway, this felt like attending a lecture by a teacher who is performing her knowledge rather than attempting to actually impart it. Nevertheless, the determined rube can penetrate the self-indulgent writing to access some interesting thoughts and syntheses about how Roman cultural practices both expressed and shaped the Roman psyche. Perhaps to save the reader of this review some time, I’ll copy in some of my notes:

—An equal opponent is a precondition for honor. The need for this equal opponent leads to gladiators and derisores whose presence allows for a system of challenge and response that preserves honor in the absence of an equal opponent (ie Hannibal, who has been defeated).

—The idea of monsters as “apotropaic” spectacles that distract the evil eye away from someone who desires protection. A decoy for the look.

—Status is not static, it must be performed, enacted, used. The restlessness of the monarch reigning over peace. What cultural practices (gladiator, etc) can ritually provide an arena for this exercise of status, sublimating the need to apply authority against the people?

Prof Barton doesn’t really set up or sum up her schema here (even in the sections of the books headed “Introduction” and “Conclusions”), but it seems to be that the emotion of envy (prompted by both a lack of clear distinctions and an overemphasis on those distinctions that were defined) was a dominant part of Roman psychological life, and it could lead to despair (a despair which was sometimes liberating) if it didn’t lead to fascination, a catatonic paralysis caused by excess curiosity. I wish I could get a better grasp on it than that. But Prof Barton isn’t much help. All in all, I would recommend nonspecialist readers find other books on this subject, if they exist, if only to avoid resentful thoughts toward poor Professor Barton.

[María Engracia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tema complejo el de la filosofía del monstruo en la antigua Roma en cualquiera de las versiones e ideas.

No me ha gustado los saltos cronológicos, el argumento va y viene en la cronología y da el mismo valor a todas las fuentes. Entiendo que falta información para poder terminar el puzzle pero forzar las piezas para que encajen y coger los datos según conveniencia me parece un poco intrépido.

Aún así me ha parecido una lectura bastante lúcida y los datos que aporta interesantes como un principio para acercarse a un tema prácticamente no tratado por los investigadores.

[Joe Scrubbins · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dense and repetitive. A very serious scholarly social history with some engaging sections, but a lot of extraneous material that drags.

The opening section on gladiatorial games is very interesting, and does a nice job of drawing a line between ancient and modern societies. Too often, people see reflections of the modern world in Rome, and this part of the book shows how erroneous this is as well as any book that I’ve ever read. But the latter two thirds on what can best be described as the monstrous aspects of Rome in the late Republican and early Imperial eras drags. It’s repetitive and very heavy social history that really could’ve been cut down into an essay.

One aspect of the book that intrigued me the most was the discussion about the dangers of fascination, and how the Romans believed that becoming too curious about something would lead to personal and social paralysis. While Barton doesn’t go there, the comparisons between the ancient and the modern world here are obvious and strong. Maybe we’re more similar to ancient Rome than I would think.