"Thais smells worse than an old jar of a covetous fuller just broken in the middle of the street; worse than a goat after an amorous encounter; than the belch of a lion; than a hide torn from a dog on the banks of the Tiber; than chick rotting in an abortive egg; than a jar fetid with spoilt pickle. Cunningly wishing to exchange this disagreeable odour for some other, she, on laying aside her garments to enter the bath, makes herself green with a depilatory, or conceals herself beneath a daubing of chalk dissolved in acid, or covers herself with three or four layers of rich bean-unguent. When by a thousand artifices she thinks she has succeeded in making herself safe, Thais, after all, smells of Thais."
(Martial, Epigrams,6.93)
Ooooh! Bitchy!
Martial, in his withering discourse about the embarrassing body odour of 'Thais', isn't really talking about an actual person, but he's still a catty little madam, isn't he? Martial's focus on Thais's hygiene (or lack thereof) reflects the Roman emphasis on personal cleanliness as a marker of social status and moral character. Bad breath and body odour were not just 'personal failings' but could also be seen as signs of neglect or low social standing. By mocking Thais, Martial reinforces the societal expectation that individuals, especially those in public or social settings, should take care to avoid offending others with their smell.
It is likely that Martial chose this name because it was recognisable to his audience, possibly evoking associations with the famous Thaïs of Athens, a well-known courtesan who accompanied Alexander the Great. By using a name associated with beauty and allure, Martial creates an ironic contrast with the repulsive qualities he attributes to the character in his poem. Through Thais, Martial highlights the Roman preoccupation with personal cleanliness and the social consequences of neglecting it.
It's satire, see? He's still a bitchy little shit though, right?
We all know about the Roman occupation with the bathhouse, but a lot of that was about socialising and being seen as much as it was about getting clean. That's not to say that cleanliness was secondary - being clean was seen as a fundamental part of what it meant to be a Roman. Clean, nicely shaven (something we have discussed before), even if you had a beard, hair done just so, well dressed and reeking like a Frenchman's satchel.
It won't come as any surprise that the Romans liberally doused themselves in all manner of heady unguents and perfumes, but what we're going to talk about here is how they combatted specific body odours. Today, we think nothing of using antiperspirants to prevent rather than mask bad smells, but what, if anything, did the Romans use? It turns out, rather surprisingly, that they used pretty much the same thing you find in one of those annoying little sticks of antiperspirant you can buy from your local supermarket. Plus ça change, as the Frenchman with the pungent satchel might say.
The use of perfumes in Roman society was not only common, but Pliny the Elder described them as "..among the most prized and, indeed, the most elegant of all the enjoyments of life..." (Natural History 13.1). Rome was a sweaty and dirty city, rammed full of people who must have been a heady blend of sweaty body odour and intoxicating perfumed dandiness. Individuals might be so heavily perfumed that:
"... when a female passes by, the odour which proceeds from her may possibly attract the attention of those even who till then are intent upon something else."
(N.H, 13.3)
Of all the senses tantalised in the city of Rome, the aroma is perhaps the easiest to imagine. But what did they do, specifically, to try and avoid such odours?
While the grandeur of Roman baths often dominates discussions of cleanliness, the Romans also developed sophisticated methods to address more intimate aspects of hygiene, such as body odour and bad breath. These practices were not merely about aesthetics; they were deeply intertwined with social status, health, and daily life.
The focus here is on the materials and techniques Romans employed to combat body odour and bad breath, rather than the broader context of bathing or social etiquette. By examining artefacts such as ointment containers, dental tools, and medical texts, we can uncover the ingenuity of Roman hygiene practices. This approach ensures that the discussion remains grounded in verifiable evidence, avoiding speculation and providing a clear picture of how Romans managed personal hygiene in the absence of modern products.
The Romans were acutely aware of body odour and developed various methods to combat it. Archaeological evidence reveals that they used a range of substances, including powders, ointments, and perfumes, to mask or neutralise unpleasant smells. One of the most common antiperspirants was alumen, a naturally occurring mineral salt known today as potassium aluminium sulfate. Pliny the Elder, in his Natural History, describes alumen as a substance that "...has the effect, also, of checking and dispersing perspiration, and of neutralising offensive odours of the arm-pits." (Pliny, NH, 35.52). This suggests that Romans understood the connection between sweat and body odour and sought to address it directly. Alum is still an active ingredient in modern antiperspirants and deodorants.
Excavations at Pompeii and Herculaneum have uncovered small glass and ceramic containers believed to have held such ointments. Residue analysis from these containers has identified traces of plant-based oils, such as olive oil, mixed with aromatic substances like myrrh and frankincense (Mattingly, 1990). These ingredients not only masked odours but also had mild antiseptic properties, which may have helped reduce bacterial growth on the skin.
The use of hygiene products varied significantly across different regions and social classes. Wealthy Romans had access to expensive imported ingredients, such as saffron and cinnamon, which were often incorporated into their perfumes and deodorants. In contrast, lower-class individuals likely relied on more affordable local materials, such as crushed herbs and charcoal. Epigraphic evidence from Roman Britain, for example, mentions the use of pulvis aromaticus, a powdered mixture of herbs and ashes, as a deodorant (RIB 2419).
Class distinctions were also evident in the containers used to store these products. Elite Romans favoured intricately designed glass unguentaria, while commoners used simpler clay pots. These differences highlight the role of hygiene practices in reinforcing social hierarchies, as the ability to afford and display luxurious hygiene products was a marker of status.
Bad breath, or foetor ex ore, was another concern for the Romans, and they developed several methods to address it. One common practice was the use of breath fresheners made from aromatic herbs and spices. Pliny the Elder mentions the use of mastiche, a resin from the mastic tree, which was chewed to freshen breath (Pliny, NH, 24.21). Similarly, the Roman physician Galen (AD 129–216) recommended rinsing the mouth with a mixture of wine and crushed mint leaves to eliminate odours (Galen, De Sanitate Tuenda, 6.14).
Archaeological finds support these textual accounts. Small vials containing residues of mint and other herbs have been discovered in Roman settlements, suggesting that these substances were widely used for oral hygiene (Ciaraldi, 2007). Additionally, toothpicks made from bone or wood have been found in large quantities, indicating that Romans used them to remove food particles and maintain oral cleanliness.
While the Romans did not have modern toothpaste, they practised rudimentary forms of dental care. Celsus, a Roman encyclopaedist, provides detailed instructions for cleaning teeth in his work De Medicina (AD 14–37). He recommends using a mixture of crushed bones and oyster shells as an abrasive to remove plaque, followed by rinsing with vinegar or wine (Celsus, De Medicina, 6.13).
Dental tools, such as scrapers and probes, have been unearthed at various Roman sites, further attesting to their focus on oral hygiene. These tools were often made of bronze or iron and were used to remove tartar and debris from teeth (Jackson, 1988). While these methods may seem crude by modern standards, they demonstrate a proactive approach to dental health.
The Romans' approach to personal hygiene, particularly in addressing body odour and bad breath, reveals a remarkable level of ingenuity and resourcefulness. Through the use of natural materials such as alumen, aromatic herbs, and abrasive pastes, they developed effective solutions to everyday problems. Archaeological evidence, from ointment containers to dental tools, provides a tangible connection to these practices, while primary texts offer insights into their methods and motivations.
These practices were not only practical but also deeply embedded in the social fabric of Roman life. The ability to maintain personal hygiene was a marker of status and refinement, reflecting broader cultural values. Moreover, the Romans' emphasis on cleanliness and health foreshadows modern concerns, highlighting the enduring relevance of their innovations.
In an era without modern hygiene products, the Romans relied on their knowledge of natural materials and their commitment to self-care to navigate the challenges of daily life. Their solutions, though ancient, remind us of the timeless importance of hygiene and the human capacity for creativity in addressing universal concerns.
References and Further Reading
Ciaraldi, M. (2007). People and Plants in Ancient Pompeii: A New Approach to Urbanism from the Microscope Room. London: Accordia Research Institute.
Galen. De Sanitate Tuenda.
Jackson, R. (1988). Doctors and Diseases in the Roman Empire. London: British Museum Press.
Mattingly, D. J. (1990). "Paintings, Presses, and Perfume Production at Pompeii." Oxford Journal of Archaeology, 9(1), 71–90.
Pliny the Elder. Natural History.
Roman Inscriptions of Britain (RIB). (n.d.). RIB 2419. Retrieved from https://romaninscriptionsofbritain.org
Celsus. De Medicina.
Martial. (1993). Epigrams (D. R. Shackleton Bailey, Trans.). Harvard University Press.
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On a scale of Martial vitriolic from 1 to 10, how do you rate this epigram? This one might be peak bitchiness. I am dusting off my old paper on Martial right now and preparing for it for my Substack.