Writing Your Own Epitaph, Roman-Style

Meet the Romans: Citizens of the Empire

I recently watched the first episode of Meet the Romans: Citizens of the Empire, a documentary hosted by Mary Beard about the lives of ordinary ancient Roman citizens. The first episode of this documentary spends a considerable amount of time interpreting the lives of ordinary Roman citizens from their monuments and epitaphs along the Appian Way. And although we ourselves still use monuments, headstones, and epitaphs, it struck me while watching this documentary that the epitaphs of the ancient Romans, even the common people of Ancient Rome, had a kind of nobility and grandeur that our modern gravestones and epitaphs usually lack. This got me thinking about the cultural values about life and death we contemporary Americans (and perhaps Westerners in general) hold as compared to those held by the people of Ancient Rome.

The Purpose of Epitaphs and Monuments

Obviously the principle reason to leave behind anything resembling a monument, headstone, tombstone, gravestone, and so on, is to be remembered after you are gone, either by your family members and descendants in the near or far future, or perhaps by history in general. Other reasons may exist, such as offering your final resting place as a physical location for your family and friends to grieve, pray, mourn, commune with you in spirit, and so on. But I suspect the primary reason is to be remembered, to leave a tiny piece of yourself behind for posterity, some essence of who you were and your own tiny slice of world history.

If, however, the primary purpose of marking your final resting place with an epitaph is to be remembered, we typical Americans accomplish this rather badly. Many grave markers contain nothing more than a name and the deceased’s birth and death dates, perhaps also with the briefest of additional lines of remembrance (e.g., “beloved sister,” “beloved daughter,” and so on). How inadequate these epitaphs are, however loving and well-intended they may be, for capturing the essence of someone’s life! How much nobility they lack!

Epitaphs and Cultural Values: The Spirit of the Roman People

This lack of detail and nobility of modern epitaphs speaks to a fundamental insight I have had about epitaphs in general: epitaphs are a form of posthumous value signaling, not just indicating who a person was in life, but their personal and cultural values.

With the rise of Judeo-Christian morality, in which meekness of spirit was prized over strength and nobility, we see a shift toward epitaphs emphasizing the gentleness of one’s character, with people wanting to be known as good, kindhearted, meek, and mild individuals who didn’t bump into the furniture of life very much. The ancient Romans, however, whether emperors or ordinary citizens of the Roman Empire, saw themselves as noble, in some sense, full of the grandeur and spirit of the Roman Empire, both in its virtues and in its vices. (Yes, the Romans were noble even in their vices, or perhaps even because of their vices!) Even though many Roman epitaphs and funerary inscriptions contain emotional sentiments of love and loss that are quite familiar to us today, and likely to people of any time period or culture, it wasn’t enough for a Roman citizen to be known posthumously as a “nice” person. Many ancient Roman epitaphs describe the deceased as victorious conquerors, glorious statesmen, dutiful and loyal slaves who were ultimately set free to themselves become Roman citizens, sex gods and sex goddesses (definitely some posthumous exaggeration and aggrandizement there!), and so on. Even the most ordinary of Roman citizens, along with his or her own self-identity and sense of meaning, was ennobled by being a citizen of the Roman Empire. They were not just people; they were Romans—with all that being a Roman entailed.

Even if Roman epitaphs contained a multitude of falsehoods and embellishments, as they undoubtedly did, or at least oversimplifications, the spirit of the Roman people in general comes through in their epitaphs loud and clear. The Romans knew that they were writing themselves into history, in some sense, in leaving behind not just the facts of the lives of Roman citizens but also their nobility and grandeur, exaggerated or not, and even in the ordinariness of life as a Roman. We Americans and Westerners, however, seem to be content to fade into oblivion and obscurity by leaving behind the weakest parts of ourselves, especially if we leave behind anything but a name and a couple of dates to mark our final resting places.

Romans even wrote highly noble epitaphs for their dogs:

I am in tears, while carrying you to your last resting place as much as I rejoiced when bringing you home in my own hands fifteen years ago.

Your Own Posthumous Legacy

I want my final resting place someday to be a testament not only to everything I accomplished, but also to the things I strived to accomplish, to be a statement not only about my values but also about my vision for humanity in general, even a commandment to future generations to keep pushing and striving and accomplishing, to keep fighting against the ravages of time and decay built into the fabric of the cosmos, and definitely not to go quietly into the night as so many of us seem to be content to do, judging by the grave markers left behind by the vast majority of deceased Americans. After all, if we ourselves won’t testify to our own nobility and achievements, who will testify to them for us? Our family, friends, and descendants, perhaps—if we are lucky. But how many of us can honestly say that we are truly understood, in all our glory and strengths, even by our closest friends or family members?

Leaving your posthumous memory to your family and friends is no way to ensure your posterity, no way to make sure that the memory of your essence is preserved for anything more than a generation or two. No, if you want to be remembered for hundreds or thousands of years, perhaps longer, you must write yourself into history and into cultural remembrance by leaving something behind. And what better way is there to leave something behind for the long run than to have it literally chiseled into stone?

Stoicism and the Futility of Posthumous Fame

Of course, over time, even things chiseled into or erected out of stone will eventually decay, as ancient Roman stoic philosophers like Marcus Aurelius knew and understood:

Remember also that every man lives only this present moment, which is a fleeting instant: the rest of time is either spent or quite unknown. Short is the time which each of us has to live, and small the corner of the earth he has to live in. Short is the longest posthumous fame, and this preserved through a succession of poor mortals, soon themselves to die; men who knew not themselves, far less those who died long ago. (Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book III, No. 10)

While erecting edifices to oneself may ultimately be an exercise in futility in the long run, to me it seems obvious that leaving a testament to yourself for the long run is better than to fade into nothingness and to be entirely forgotten. While stoic philosophers such as Marcus Aurelius and Seneca may not have placed much faith in stone monuments, it cannot be denied that they intended to leave something of themselves behind in their writings. Seneca even mentions this explicitly, that he is leaving behind some practical wisdom for future generations in writing his letters to his friend and mentee Lucilius:

I have withdrawn not only from men, but from affairs, especially from my own affairs; I am working for later generations, writing down some ideas that may be of assistance to them. (Seneca, Letter No. 8)

Write Your Own Epitaph and Carve It Into Stone

But if you are confident in the wisdom that you yourself possess, why leave it to chance that you or your kernels of wisdom will be remembered merely by writing it down in something as impermanent as a piece of paper or in a book, in a parchment scroll (as the Romans did), or something as especially ephemeral as a blog post (case in point!) like we 21st-century thinkers and writers are prone to doing?

It makes me think that I would be much wiser to purchase a piece of land with a giant granite hillside and to chisel my innermost thoughts, my sentiments, my hopes and my dreams, and every aspect of my vision for my own life and for the future of humanity, right into the hillside for future generations to discover and benefit from—some trans-generational cultural mana from my mind and spirit to the minds and spirits of all the future humans yet to come.

After all, it was the cultural memory of the nobility of Rome—perhaps the Roman Republic instead of the Roman Empire, but still—that inspired the founding fathers of our own American society in attempt to build a better government with their own willpower. Had Rome not left testaments to itself behind, the United States of America might never had gotten off the proverbial ground.

While I haven’t taken the time to do so, a beneficial activity would be to spend some time literally writing your own epitaph or obituary. If you do so, however, try to think beyond the typical platitudes commonly seen in today’s epitaphs and obituaries. Try to write yourself into history, your essence, your hopes and dreams, your accomplishments, and your vision for what the would and humanity could and should be. Then do everything you can to ensure that your best possible epitaph is literally chiseled into stone and left behind for all the world and for thousands (or millions) of years of future human history and culture to see.

Examples of Roman Epitaphs and Funerary Inscriptions

For inspiration, here are a few (randomly selected) actual Roman epitaphs and funerary inscriptions to inspire you to greatness, both in your life today and posthumously in your future remembrance:

Lucius Cornelius Scipio Barbatus, Gnaeus' begotten son, a valiant gentleman and wise, whose fine form matched his bravery surpassing well, was aedile, consul and censor among you; he took Taurasia and Cisauna, in fact Samnium; he overcame all the Lucanian land and brought hostages therefrom.

By my good conduct I heaped virtues on the virtues of my clan; I begat a family and sought to equal the exploits of my father. I upheld the praise of my ancestors, so that they are glad that I was created of their line. My honours have ennobled my stock.

Gaius Caninius Labeo, of the tribe Arnensis, son of Gaius, the father. "All these here are mine. Him yonder did my son yonder make a freedman; her yonder did he make a freedwoman deservedly, and gave her a robe. As long as I lived, lived all of them together among my own." "An old man bestows on me the same tokens of love, for his boy. Witness this memorial, beset with stone, and packed round its wall with marble at the cost of many thousands."

Here is laid Gaius Quinctius Protymus, approved by his friends in highest praise, whose talents Gaius Quinctius Valgus, patron and fosterling of loyalty, thus proclaims.

Stranger, if you read this name, revile it not . . . auctioneer, son of Lucius. This he made in life an everlasting dwelling-place for himself. He believed that what nature gave him was a guest-chamber, and as was proper he enjoyed his means in company with his friends. See to it that you too use your friends so while you live. Farewell.

Others waste life away in Love's affaires;
But my love, rightfully begot, death takes. 

Here are placed the bones of Caesellia Hymnis, freedwoman of Quintus and his wife. Helena a freedwoman made this at her own cost. 

Property of Gaius Pagurius Gelos freedman of Gaius.

Stranger, stop and look at this lofty tomb, which contains the bones of a little life of tender age. Here I lie buried whose tender age was in its spring-time. I brought dignity to attend on my duty, my wool-making. Plaint fills me at Fortune's lot so hard and unfair. Should you ask my name, the name of 'Salvia' would rise up. I will bid you farewell, stranger. I would like you to be happier.

Hail! Herennia Crocine, dear to her own, is shut up in this tomb, Crocine dear to her own. My life is over; other girls too have lived their lives and died before me. Enough now. May the reader say as he departs, "Crocine, lightly rest the earth on you." Farewell to all you above ground. 

for . . . freedman of Lucius, a buffoon by profession, a most respected and excellent freedman of the highest honour, his patron built this monument.

Gaius Hostius Pamphilus, a doctor of medicine, freedman of Gaius, bought this memorial for himself and for Nelpia Hymnis, freedwoman of Marcus; and for all their freedmen and freedwomen and their posterity. This for evermore is our home, this is our farm, this our gardens, this our memorial.

Here are laid the bones of Publius Octavius Philomusus, freedman of Aulus. Sacred to the gods of dead parents. Damage it not. Depth 15 feet, along the road 15 feet. 

Philargyrus, freedman, and his mate.

. . . Horatius Bathos son of . . . is the giver to members of his township and other residents therein, at his own expense, of sites for burial, except such as had bound themselves to serve as gladiators and such as had hanged themselves with their own hand or had followed a filthy profession for profit: to each person a site, 10 ft. in frontage and 10 ft. in depth, between the bridge over the Sapis and the upper monument which is on the boundary of the Fangonian estate. On sites where no one has been buried, anyone who shall so desire shall make a tomb before he dies. On sites where persons have been buried it shall be permitted to build a memorial to him only who shall be buried there, and to his descendants. 

Publius Larcius Nicia, freedman of Publius; Saufeia Thalea, freedwoman of a matron; Lucius Larcius Rufus, son of Publius; Publius Larcius Brocchus, son of Publius; Publia Horaea, freedwoman of Publius and of his wife.

I was a woman respected by the good and hated by no respectable woman. To my old master and mistress I was an obedient servant, but to him yonder my husband I was a dutiful wife; for they gave me freedom, and he arrayed me in a robe. For twenty years since my girlhood I maintained the whole house. My last day delivered its judgment and death took away my breath, but took not the splendour of my life. 

Lucius Eprius Chilo, messenger-attendant on a tribune of the plebs; Epria . . . 

Wayfarer, you who are walking along with carefree mind and turn your looks to these my funeral gifts, if you ask who I am, being mere ashes, look, and burnt embers, I was Helvia Prima before my sad departure. The husband I enjoyed was Scrateius Cadmus, and we lived one in heart and twins in disposition. Now, led down by fatal fire and Stygian water, have I been given to Dis to remain with him for long ages. 

Marcus Caelius Phileros, freedman of Marcus - attendant of imperator Titus Sextius in Africa, aedile at Carthage for the administration of justice, and for letting the collection of five-yearly taxes at 83 forts, when he built a shrine of Tellus at his own expense, twice duumvir at Clupia, as Augustalis at Formiae he adorned the shrine of Neptune with coloured stonework at his own expense - {erected this} for his wife Fresidia Flora, the freedwoman of Numerius, who was most obedient to her husband, and for his dear friend Quintus Octavius Antimachus, the freedman of his wife. 

To the Spirits of the Dead
And to Quintus Mettius Anies Primitivus, son of Quintus,
From Cremona.
A  soldier in the 7th Praetorian cohort under Iedarnus,
He served for 22 years.
Lucius Tusidius Sabinianus, son of Lucius, from the Velina tribe,
A soldier in the 7th Praetorian cohort under Iedarnus,
His recruit,
Made this [inscription] for the well-deserving man.

To the Spirits of the Dead
Lucius Valerius Sabinus, son of Lucius, from Flavium Noviodunum; he lived 40 years.
He served 16 years in the Second Praetorian Cohort “Pia Vindex Severiana” of Gaianus.
Lucius Valerius Victorinus, soldier of the same cohort mentioned above,
most pious brother and heir, made[ this] to the well-deserving [man].

To the Sprits of the Dead
[and to] Gaius Comisius Successus,
A trader of vessels at the wine yard.
Comisia Fecunda, his wife and fellow freedperson,
Made this for the well deserving man,
Herself, and their descendants.

To the eternal consecrated house
And to Agileia Prima who was also known as Auguria.
Wife beyond eternity; most chaste and modest and frugal who loved
Her husband and his house and all his possessions innocently.
Quintus Oppius Secundus, her husband, made this for the deserving one and for himself.
At the time I was begotten, nature granted me twice ten
years, upon the fulfillment of which, on the seventh day thereafter,
freed of the laws [that bind one to life] I was given over to unending rest.
This life was given to me, [so]
Oppius, do not fear Lethe, for it is foolish to lose joy of life while fearing death at all time.
For death is the nature, not the punishment of mankind; whoever happens to be born, therefore also faces to die.
Master Oppius, husband, do not lament me because I have preceded you
I await your arrival in the eternal marriage bed.
Be well, my survivors, and all other men and women, be well.

Lo, under/behind this marker are placed the bones of Soteris;
she lies buried, devoured by pitiless death.
She had not yet filled up twice three years
when she was bidden to enter the house of black Dis.
The lamentations which the mother ought to have bequeathed to her daughter,
these the daughter suddenly bequeathed to her mother.

Traveller, traveller, what you are, I have been, what I am now, you will be.

And my personal favorite, a thoroughly Roman inscription if ever there was one:

Bathhouses, wine and Venus ruin our bodies,
but bathhouses, wine and Venus make life!

For Further Reading:

• Roman Lives: Ancient Roman Life as Illustrated by Latin Inscriptions by Brian K. Harvey

• Roman Death: The Dying and the Dead in Ancient Rome by Valerie M. Hope

• Spirits of the Dead: Roman Funerary Commemoration in Western Europe by Maureen Carroll