‘‘Leisure without literature is death, a tomb for the living man,’’ writes Seneca (Ep. 82.3). There could be no clearer statement of how good otium was to be spent in the worthy pursuits of reading and writing. Pliny the Younger urges his friend Caninius Rufus to free himself from his petty concerns (humiles et sordidas curas) and devote himself to studies (studiis) in his leisure time: ‘‘Let this be your work and your leisure (hoc sit negotium tuum hoc otium), this your rest and toil, in these pursuits would you wake and sleep’’ (Pliny Ep. 1.3.3-4). The products of such studies made the rounds, so that members of the upper orders could quote each other’s verses to one another (Sen. Ep. 24.19). An integral element of this literary culture involved producing works in the style of famous authors, so that when Pliny expresses concern for the health of one Passenus Paulus, he comments that Paulus used to write poems modeled on the Augustan poets Propertius (from whom Paulus claimed descent) and Horace (Pliny Ep. 9.22; cf. 6.15). While today such endeavors would be regarded as empty imitation, in ancient Rome it was seen as a worthwhile pursuit; even Pliny himself declares without a trace of embarrassment that he composes his works in conscious stylistic imitation of select predecessors (Pliny Ep. 1.2; 5.3). Leisure time spent amongst one’s books studying and imitating the canonized exempla was the quintessence of quality otium.
Ancient books were meant to be read aloud. Even when alone, reading aloud was the norm (Knox 1968). When this consideration is added to the expressed centrality of literature in elite otium and the difficulties of mass publication and distribution, it seems inevitable that a culture of public reading should arise among the Hellenized Roman aristocracy of the late republic and early empire (Fantham 1996; Funaioli 1920; E. Rawson 1985). The habit was not unique to Rome: inscriptions reveal the existence of itinerant poets who moved through the towns of the Hellenistic world reciting their work (Guarducci 1924). From the late first century bce onwards, the Roman literary sources are littered with references and allusions to public or quasipublic readings of literature, which could vary from small-scale events that rotated through private houses to full public performances staged in theaters by professional actors and dancers (Quinn 1982: 140-65). C. Asinius Pollio (consul in 40 bce) is credited with staging the first recitationes, in which an author read from his own works, often at his home, to anyone who was interested (Sen. Con. 4 pr. 2; Dalzell 1955). In subsequent years, the recitation became such a prevalent form of literary leisure that odea were built to house them (Coleman 2000b: 243-5), notably the Hadrianic Athenaeum in Rome (LTUR 1.131-2 [Coarelli]).
The elite dinner party, with its relaxed and cultured atmosphere (see below), was a natural setting for literary activity, whether it was an (impromptu) performance by an attendee (Tac. Ann. 13.15.2-3) or the recital of a more polished piece written by third parties and read by a domestic slave or a hired voice (Nep. Att. 14; Pliny Ep. 1.15; 9.17). For those poets whose livelihoods depended on their art, the formal recitatio was a primary means of acquiring a reputation (Tac. Dia. 10.1-2; Stat. Silv. 5.3.215-16). The dinner parties of patrons would have been ideal places for poets to extend their circle of acquaintances and so meet possible commissioners of new work. Two of Martial’s early books of poems were called the Xenia and Apophoreta, or ‘‘Take-Away Gifts,’’ an allusion both to the nature of the short (snack-like) poems and to the likely gastronomic context of their performance (the Xenia, in fact, all refer to types of food served at dinner parties). The mythological subject matter of much dining-room decoration at Pompeii and elsewhere seems to have been deliberately chosen to resonate with the literary tastes of sophisticated banqueters, perhaps even in allusion to specific poems recited in the dining room (Ling 1995: 249).
It is important to recognize that these types of literary activities represented the elite ideal of how one should occupy one’s leisure time. It was not to everyone’s taste. A recitation could be terribly boring, especially if the writer/reciter lacked talent but did not have the sensitivity to recognize that fact. Pliny huffs and puffs at the disrespect shown even to good poets by their audience:
This year has raised a fine crop of poets; there was scarcely a day throughout the month of April when someone was not giving a public reading. I am glad to see that literature flourishes and there is a show of budding talent, in spite of the fact that people are slow to form an audience. Most of them sit about in public places, gossiping and wasting time when they could be giving their attention, and give orders that they are told at intervals whether the reader has come in and has read the preface, or is coming to the end of the book. It is not until that moment - and even then very reluctantly - that they come dawdling in. Nor do they stay very long, but leave before the end, some of them trying to slip away unobserved and others marching boldly out. (Pliny Ep. 1.13.1-3, tr. B. Radice; cf. Ep. 6.15, 17)
The density of daily poetry readings over an entire month surely makes the audience’s attitude understandable. Pliny himself could keep his guests for two days at a single reading (Ep. 8.21), and he refers to another reciter who kept his audience for three (Ep. 4.27). An aphorism about ‘‘too much of a good thing’’ comes to mind. The insistent reciter is a common target for the vitriol of satirists, such as the execrable Ligurinus who followed Martial everywhere, even into the toilet - ‘‘You read to me as I stand, you read to me as I sit; you read to me as I run, you read to me as I shit’’ (Mart. 3.44) - or the poet whom Petronius portrays as harassing the customers in a public bath so much that they almost beat him up (Sat. 91-2). As early as the late Augustan era, Horace could rant against the ‘‘pitiless reciter’’ (recitator acerbus), whose lack of talent was matched only by his resistance to criticism and who treated his audience as would a bear broken out of its cage (Ars 474-6).
The literary recitation, although publicly valued by the erudite guardians of quality otium, was hardly on a par with drinking, gambling, and bathing, let alone the mass entertainments of the circus or arena as a feature of Roman public leisure (see further White 1993: 59-63). Nevertheless recitations were put on as public events and were thus accessible to the masses, even if we have no means of gauging the frequency or the density of their attendance. (Petronius’ comment that being identified as a poet in the wrong part of town could be dangerous [Sat. 93] suggests that the commoner was not well disposed towards the sort of literary pretension that gave rise to the public recitation.) The elite assessment of this situation is entirely predictable: although physically present, the ignorant mob lacked the mental acuity to appreciate what it was hearing (Cic. Orat. 173). The quality of literary leisure was quite simply wasted on them. But the Roman commoners do not seem to have minded too much - they had their own diversions.
World History
