Why the coins in your pocket make you a Roman
The Trajan Denarius
“This is two thousand years old,” my father reminded me as he placed the small silver disc in the palm of my hand. It was still gleaming, cool to the touch, no bigger than a penny. My young mind could not possibly comprehend such an expanse of time. This coin was older than both world wars, older than Shakespeare, and had already existed for a millennium when Harold took an arrow in the eye at Hastings.
The details were worn but peering closely, I could make out letters of an alphabet I understood; encircling the profile of a man whose determined stare seemed to reach far beyond the coin’s edge, as if still planning his next move. My father soon clarified: ‘That’s the Roman emperor, Trajan.’ The leader, he went on to explain, who ruled over an empire so vast it stretched all the way from Scotland to Iraq, and this coin, known as a denarius, would buy my bread at each end of it.
“Let’s call that the first coin in your collection,” he said. A few decades and countless Roman coins later, it is safe to say that from that moment my imagination was captured.
Made tangible in that ancient silver was the might of Rome at its zenith: where coins of trusted metal were struck by the billion and dispatched throughout the empire along a road network so extensive it could have twice circled the globe; where close to one hundred million people exchanged a single monetary currency across dominions which unified by language, law and custom the lands of around 50 modern nations.
The denarius that became a shining symbol of the Pax Romana was actually a creation of Rome’s darkest hour, forged in fire centuries earlier at the height of an existential war with her greatest nemesis. When the armies of the Carthaginian invader Hannibal massed at the gates in 211 BC, all seemed lost. But Romans embraced fearful odds. While any normal state would be drafting terms of surrender, the Republic calmly set about reforming its finances, implementing a whole new monetary system to revive its ravaged wartime economy.
Augustus Denarius: ancient silver was the might of Rome at its zenith
Out went the old Greek denominations and in came an independent family of quality coins that were proudly Roman. Focal point of this patriotic new currency was the denarius. Taking its name from the Latin deni meaning ‘containing ten’, this coin was valued at ten bronze asses, leading to its affectionate nickname as the ‘tenner’ of the Roman world. Crucially, it was struck with four grams of the finest silver, unlike existing money that had been increasingly debased with copper. With its unadulterated precious metal, the denarius was designed to inspire confidence across the Mediterranean. Its silver would be pure – yet at the same time imbued with the determination of a people who could lose many a battle, but somehow always seemed to win the war.
The inception of the denarius signalled a Roman resurgence in the struggle against Hannibal. Within a decade, the Carthaginian was beaten back to his native North Africa, and there, soundly defeated on home soil by the ascendant Republic. In the following century, his metropolis of Carthage (modern Tunis) was completely wiped off the map by a vengeful Rome eager to affirm her status as the apex predator of the classical world.
The path to empire lay open – and it would be built as much by the silver of the denarius as it would by the iron of the legionary’s blade. Struck on an industrial scale, Roman coins truly became humanity’s first mass media. Two millennia before the printing press, they efficiently spread ideas, beliefs, news and propaganda to the furthest reaches of the known world and beyond. Counting your change in the forum might also mean seeing the face of your new emperor for the first time – looks like beards are back in fashion again! – or learning of the latest triumph over those trouser-wearing barbarians. You may even glimpse a new in-vogue god from the East – if Mars or Venus have yet to answer your prayers, why not try a sacrifice to them instead? Passed hand to hand, each coin became a portable promotion for the very ideals of Romanitas – what it meant to be Roman.
Fresco of Hannibal riding his elephant, Capitoline Museums, Rome – Photo12/UIG/Getty Images
While gold circulated mainly among the elites, it was the silver gleam of the denarius that was most familiar to the average Roman and particularly welcome in the payment of salaries. In his parable of the vineyard workers, Jesus describes the denarius as the ‘daily wage’ of a labourer – a simplified appraisal but one that offers a fair sense of its value. A Roman legionary of the first century was paid 225 denarii a year, later increased to 300. A denarius for a day of skilled work was therefore a competitive rate.
Denarii of Rome proudly illustrated her rise to glory. Across thousands of miles they passed between millions of hands – glowing tributes to an empire of wealth and good order. But as fortunes began to wane, they would equally tell a tale of slow decline. With provinces beset by plague and costly barbarian wars, the sacred silver of the denarius was called on, again and again, to yield a percentage of its purity to fund the fight. The dreaded tool of debasement was normalised as a fiscal strategy; a road that, once embarked upon, soon became a slippery slope.
Precious metal drained from Rome’s coinage like lifeblood, until a third-century mint worker struck the final piece of corrupted silver recognisable as a denarius. The coin that placed the Roman dream in every palm would now exist only as a hypothetical unit of account. The denarius was gone – debased into oblivion. Soon the entire Roman world seemed destined for the same.
Special Offa: The Anglo-Saxon King Offa of Mercia was most impressed by the Carolingian denier – Alamy
The defunct denarius would, however, enjoy a long afterlife: so intrinsic was it to Mediterranean trade, its name became synonymous with coinage itself. When Arab caliphs issued the first Islamic coin with Quranic inscriptions in the 7th century – they simply called it the dinar, after the Roman denarius. In the following century, the Carolingian dynasty resurrected the denomination even more explicitly. Having unified much of Europe into a new Holy Roman Empire, Charlemagne became the first emperor to rule in the West since the fall of Rome. His ‘new denarius’ or denier was almost indistinguishable from its ancient counterpart, struck in high-quality silver, using Latin legends and depicting the ruler like a Caesar of old.
The Anglo-Saxon King Offa of Mercia was most impressed by the Carolingian denier. Keen to promote trade with the continental power, he ordered the minting of his own silver coin to the same specifications. His new ‘penny’ (from the Old English penning for ‘coin’, much like the German pfennig) proved so successful it would be the only currency minted in England for the next 500 years.
No surprise then that the monumental King James Bible would simply translate the word ‘denarius’ (specifically, the Greek denarion) as ‘penny’. When Jesus is questioned by the Pharisees if it is lawful to pay tribute to Caesar, he therefore requests that one of them bring him a ‘penny’ to hold. Inspecting the coin, Jesus famously responds that one should ‘Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s’. The somewhat confusing abbreviation of pennies and pence to the letter ‘d’ in pre-decimal currency further echoes its ancient ancestor, with ‘d’ standing for ‘denarius’.
Twenty-two centuries after it was first struck, the denarius remains embedded in the cultural and linguistic memory of East and West. Every day, Spanish speakers around the world refer to dinero when they talk of money, just as Portuguese discuss dinheiro and Italians denaro. While in bustling souks across North Africa and the Middle East – but especially in the markets of modern Tunis, watched over by the spirit of the city’s most famous son, Hannibal – the dinars still change hands.
Moneta: A History of Ancient Rome in Twelve Coins will be published in hardback, ebook and audiobook on 9th May.
Play The Telegraph’s brilliant range of Puzzles – and feel brighter every day. Train your brain and boost your mood with PlusWord, the Mini Crossword, the fearsome Killer Sudoku and even the classic Cryptic Crossword.