Growing Old
While it is popularly believed that not many people in antiquity lived to an old age, there is ample evidence to demonstrate otherwise. Antoninus Pius lived into his 70s, Augustus died at 75 while his wife, Livia, lived to be 86. Scribonia, Augustus' first wife, also must have been in her 70s at the time of her death. Livia's son, Tiberius was 77 when he expired and Claudius was poisoned when he was 63. His mother Antonia, also lived into her 60s. Seneca was most likely over 65 when he committed suicide; Cicero was 63 when he was put to death. That was nothing compared to his first wife, Terentia, who lived to extreme old age, reputedly 103. Marius, the man who held more consulships than anyone else during the days of the Republic, died at 70. Cato the Elder was 84.
This is just a small list of famous Romans who lived past sixty. A review of literary and inscriptional remains will produce many more. This is a small number of individuals for a thousand year period, admittedly, but our resources are so meager that we only know a fraction of one percent of the population by name during this time. It is not unreasonable to suggest that if so many prominent Romans lived past sixty - and even among those, not all died from old age, then there must have been countless other men and women about whom we know nothing who also reached an advanced age. Obviously that number would be much smaller, proportionately than it is today.
While we do not know how many people lived past sixty, we do have some idea of how long Romans thought a person could possibly live. The most revealing indication is provided by the interval of years between Secular Games at Rome. These games, a combination of thanksgiving to the gods and prayers that Rome and its people would continue to enjoy divine favor - marked the passing of a 110 year period or saeculum, considered the fullest extent of a human life. Secular Games had come to represent the end of one era and the beginning of a new one. The priests in charge needed (for total purification) to make sure that anyone who had witnessed the previous games would not be alive at the next. So, when heralds 'traveled' throughout Rome and Italy,' they could summon 'all the people to come and attend games the likes of which they had never seen before and would not see again.' (Herodian, History 3.8.10)
Practices such as child exposure and slavery, continual warfare, plagues, and generally poor living conditions did contribute to a lower median age for Romans than might be indicated by the examples above. But nevertheless, about one fifth of the population in the Late Roman Republic survived to age fifty five, a remarkable statistic since Western life spans did not increase significantly until the 18th century.
Cicero's well known and uplifting philosophical treatise "On Old Age" (De Senectute) provides an insight into what the Romans themselves thought about the prospect of living to an advanced age. Cicero was sixty two and in good health when he composed the essay, perhaps sort of a therapy as he prepared for his own advanced age. He chose to use Cato the Elder as his mouthpiece to express his views. Cato the Elder was a man who had already lived the kind of old age Cicero envisioned for himself. Cato was one of the most remarkable figures from the great days of the Republic. He had been a successful military commander and a senator and had held the highest office Rome had to offer. More importantly he had remained active and productive - not only in politics but also in literature and farming right up until his death at eighty four in 149 BCE. Cicero hoped that Cato's example would 'lighten the burden impending or at any rate advancing on us.' As he imagined it, Cato's old age brought nothing but wisdom, patience, veneration, influence and satisfaction.
Cicero's idealization of old age was undoubtedly a comfort for many and it did have an impact on contemporary views about aging. For the most part, the Roman attitude about retirement and growing old, at least among the upper class, appears to be positive. But it is clear that tracts like Cicero's could not hide the negative aspects of growing old for rich and poor alide. That side of the issue was often left to the satirists such as Lucian who lived in the Eastern Roman Empire in the second century CE.
In a satire entitled 'A voyage to the Underworld' (5-6), Lucian, through his characters Clotho, the Fate who spun the threads of life, Hermes (Mercury among the Romans, the god who escorted the souls of the dead to the Underworld, and Charon, the Ferryman, probably reflected a bit more accurately how cynically many viewed the elderly. Hermes has recently arrived in the Underworld with an assortment of souls and is helping Clotho and Charon sort them out for transportation across the River Styx:
HERMES: Clotho, do you want the unlamented next?
CLOTHO: The unlamented? Oh you mean the aged. Yes. After all, why should I bother asking questions about a lot of ancient history? Everybody over sixty on board! What's the matter? They're so old they're deaf and don't hear me. You'll probably have to carry them aboard too.
HERMES: Her you are. Three hundred and ninety eight, all sort and juicy and picked at a ripe old age.
CHARON: No, sir, they're a bunch of dried up raisins.