My name is Marcus Tullius, and I am 14 years old. My father is a senator. My day begins before sunrise, and I hear the faint calls of a rooster as my slave, Tiro, wakes me while the rest of Rome stands still. I slowly wake and put on my tunic, toga praetexta, and bulla, the latter of which protects me from evil spirits. I will be able to remove my bulla once I reach manhood, at 16, in a Liberalia festival. I will also give up my Toga Praetexta for a Toga virilis.
Breakfast is simple— bread and honey— which my father praises as a lesson in restraint. He delivers this lecture while consuming a far more elaborate meal himself, demonstrating that moderation is a virtue best practiced by other people. Hopefully lunch is more appetizing today, though dinner is the main meal. Maybe I can stop at a Lixae( street vendor) on the way to school, if Tiro lets me.
Tiro then escorts me to school. The teacher’ s voice echoes endlessly as we copy lines of poetry onto wax tablets that refuse to stay smooth. We must learn a great deal of poetry as well as Caesar, Catullus, and Cicero. When I forget a single word, the teacher’ s expression suggests I have committed a crime against the Roman state itself. I fail to see how this will help me in my life.
After lessons, my father insists I accompany him to the Senate. Senators speak at great length and with impressive confidence yet manage to say nothing of substance. I struggle to follow along with complex sentences with odd word order. My father listens intently while I master the art of remaining upright while asleep.
Later, I meet my friends at the baths, where privacy does not exist, but politeness requires that we pretend it does. The caldarium is delightful; the frigidarium, however, feels less like recreation and more like a test of loyalty to the empire. After this, my father takes me to see a gladiator combat in the Colosseum! They are fighting since it is the emperor ' s birthday, an event special enough to merit the entertainment. I like watching the retiarius, and the lions.
Day In The Life Of A ROMAN
YOUTH
By John Trokan, summit country day
We return to our villa along the Via Appia. Finally, I can eat a real meal! Dinner stretches for hours as we are hosting other senators as guests tonight. The food is abundant, so are the drinks. I am old enough for my father to consent to let me drink wine, though I dislike the flavor very much. My father delivers a speech to the guests as I, once again, focus all my energy on staying awake. Finally, midnight arrives and I slip away from the celebrations and quickly fall asleep, exhausted from a long day in Rome.
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