Epigram of the month: I have often visited the city of Baiae

It’s August. Our cities are burning hot and eerily deserted, our daily routine is slowed down by the high temperatures in our offices. Many of us are on vacation or at least trying to escape the heat – be it on the top of a mountain, on the seashore, or in some other quiet place where to recharge and make space for new ideas. I have to admit, in fact, that I, too, am in the middle of this phase. That’s why this epigram of the month will extend the travel and holiday vibe started by my colleague Tina Hobel in July.

What comes to your mind, when you close your eyes and think of holidays? I don’t mean the perfect holiday, but just your idea of holiday (that can be far from being perfect). Each of us has a different perception of what a dream holiday might be: it is entirely subjective, of course, and influenced by the phase of life in which we find ourselves.

Yet, most of people have a clear real or imaginary place that they immediately associate with the word holiday, and that rarely changes. For me this place is the village where I spent most of the summers since I was a child. It smells like sea, lemons, and fresh baked bread and it is crowded with happy memories, with family and old friends. In actual fact, this is the place from where I am writing right now.

I like to think that ancient people were not that different from us (at least in this regard). They also had places where they would have always liked to come back to meet friends, to have some leisure time, or to find their inner peace. One of them was Socrates from Tralles, and his happy place was Baiae.  

Hic ego qui sine voce loquor de marmore caeso,
natus in egregiis Trallibus ex Asia
omnia Baiarum lustravi moenia saepe
propter aquas calidas deliciasque maris,
cuius honorificae vitae non immemor heres
quinquaginta meis millibus, ut volui,
hanc aedem posuit struxidque (!) novissima templa
manibus et cineri posteriisque meis.
Set (!) te qui legis haec, tantum precor ut mihi dicas:
sit tibi terra levis, Socrates Astomachi.

(CIL XIV 480 = CLE 1255 = EDR128833)

Here am I, who silently speak from this carved marble, I was born in the famous Tralles in Asia; I have often visited the city of Baiae for its thermal waters and the pleasures of the sea. Mindful of my honourable life, an heir raised this dwelling and erected a brand new temple for the Spirits of the Departed, my ashes and my posterity for a sum of fifty thousand (sesterces) of my own, as I myself wanted. But you, who read this, I only pray to say for me: may earth be light on you, Socrates son of Astomachus.

(Translation: Chiara Cenati)

Socrates was a very rich man, probably a tradesman, who lived in Italy during the first century A. D. He originally came from the Greek part of the Roman empire. More precisely, he was born in Tralles, a rich and flourishing city in Asia Minor, near present-day Aydın, in Turkey.

He had given clear instructions for the construction of his funerary monument long before his death, composing himself a poem in elegiac couplets to be engraved on the plaque at the monumental entrance of the building by the via Ostiensis, carefully laid out, to ensure himself an eternal voice. 

In the few lines of his poem, Socrates sums up the highlights of his life, blending them with personal details and embellishing them with poetic phrases. Each word seems to have been chosen with care by Socrates who lingers on some aspects while he glosses over others. The lack of particular pieces of information – like his age at the time of death or the name of the heir, which are usually present on funerary inscriptions – strongly suggest that he wrote the poem well before his death: for how could he have known in advance at what age he would have died? Anyway, on some aspects of his life he purposefully wastes no words. About those we may only speculate to some extent: it is clear, for example, that at some point of his life he moved to Rome, or Ostia, probably to take care of his business, and he had a family (posteriisque meis).

Yet, while he avoids speaking in greater detail about his family and his occupation, two things are emphatically stressed in this text: 1) Socrates used to go on holiday at Baiae, in the Bay of Naples, and 2) he was very rich, impressively rich.

Of all the events in his life upon which he might have chosen to dwell (just to mention one big one: moving from Asia Minor to Italy might have been quite the adventure!), Socrates dedicates a full couplet (ll. 3-4) to state how much he loved the place where he went on holiday. And he does this right at the beginning of the inscription. In Baiae he must have left a piece of his heart. He had been there several times, and reading his poem, we get the impression that he knew every single corner of this place (omnia moenia). Baiae was the place where he always returned, even if just with his mind, to find peace.

But, what made Baiae so special?

First of all, Baiae was not a proper city, but a kind of resort, which attracted tourists from all over the empire thanks to its thermal waters and to the beautiful sea. Starting from the Republican age, the super-rich Romans built luxurious villas and spas there, one next to the other. Roman elites and parvenus came to Baiae to relax and take off their official masks, so to speak, in order to have fun among sophisticated and exotic food, pools, and parties on the boats. Going to Baiae was something of a status symbol. If you were rich and you wanted to show it, you had to go to Baiae – and to say it loudly. Merchants, politicians and emperors spent their holidays in Baiae. Poets and writers used to hang out here from time to time as well. Good for us! This allowed us to know plenty of gossip on the luxurious life in this seaside resort.

But let’s return to our Socrates. From his words, he honestly seems to have loved Baiae. Yet, we cannot absolutely exclude, of course, that on his monument he just wanted to show off his status and declare how rich he had become. That is at least the impression we get from lines 5-8.

Regarding the claim that Socrates was very rich, we have absolutely no doubt. He had indeed invested a huge sum on his funerary building: 50.000 sesterces (imagine the equivalent of approx. 100.000 €). There is nothing less elegant and poetic than showing off by saying how much money you have spent on something. Yet, this practice was quite common among rich and less rich Romans. To Socrates, declaring it on his tombstone was so important to find the way to make it fit in the rhythmical pattern of a pentameter. In the same line, he carefully underscores that the heir had erected the monument and brand-new temple to the Spirits of the Departed with his own (=Socrates’) money (quinquaginta meis millibus), following his own will (ut volui) – just for the sake of clarity, in order to avoid any kind of confusion…

We don’t know if a smaller amount of money would equally have guaranteed him to speak from his engraved marble for eternity, but the building to which the inscription was attached for sure contributed to its preservation. And in doing so, it preserved the deep feelings that connected a man to a place that was neither the town where he lived nor his birthplace, but the place where he used to come back for holidays.

Tip for your next holiday:

What makes Baiae special today? Well, Baiae is now a sunken city. Most of the ancient site with its opulent pools, mosaics and statues lies today under the sea because of a phenomenon called bradyseism. If you are interested, here you can learn more about this archaeological site and maybe decide to visit it on your next holiday!