Category: rome

Roman Living: Inside an Insula

A Housing Crisis

During the rule of Augustus from 27 BC to 14 AD, about 750 years after Rome was founded, the city’s population had ballooned to one million people. The hub of the Roman empire had transformed itself from its origins as a small agricultural community into the biggest city the world had ever known. It wasn’t until London, as hub of the British Empire, grew to one million in the mid-nineteenth century that there would be another city to equal the size of ancient Rome.

However, the infrastructure and housing of Rome before the rule of Augustus was simply inadequate to accommodate the masses that were descending on the city for work and protection. While the aristocratic, Patrician families could afford to live in spacious villas set in their own gardens, the growing pleb population had to crowd into the existing badly built structures. Parts of Rome were increasingly looking like a refugee slum.

Flats for the masses

Ancient Rome’s architects found a novel and ingenious solution for this problem – they invented the block of flats and called the new construction an ‘insula’, named after the word for ‘island’. This was the first time that social housing had been designed to accommodate many families together within the same building. It is thought that many blocks could hold about 200 inhabitants. Most insulae had three of four storeys, although some were built as high as nine storeys before Augustus introduced safety restrictions placing a height limit of about 20 metres. The ground floor would usually be occupied by shops or taverns, and families would live in the upper floors.

Health and Safety

Although the buildings innovatively helped to reduce the housing problem in Rome, they were far from ideal and there were serious safety and sanitation problems. Apartments on the higher floors of the insulae would be accessible only by wooden stairs and would not have heating, running water or latrines. The buildings would be noisy and the close proximity and materials used meant there was a fire hazard. Flats on the lower levels would cost more to rent as they had latrines, running water and were easier to access.

The insulae were usually built around an open courtyard. Rooms would have windows without glass to let in light. These windows were also useful for throwing household waste (including excrement) out onto the street below – an antisocial practice that was common, even if it was not legal.

Collapse and Fire

Furthermore, the insulae were prone to collapse as they were often built very badly – using materials such as wood, mud and a rough form of concrete. Usually erected by the ruling classes, they also provided another income for the rich through high rents. For example, the orator Cicero (106-43 BC) was a notorious slum landlord.

The poor construction and overcrowding of Roman tenements are widely blamed for the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD. Following the fire’s devastation of the city, the emperor Nero reduced the height limit of insulae to 17.75 metres and stipulated better building materials. Insulae built during later years used fired brick and concrete instead of wood and mud. By the end of the third century BC, when the city was already in decline, there were thought to be up to 50,000 insulae in Rome.

The Capitoline Insula

Few intact examples of Roman insulae remain today – one well preserved building can still be seen at Ostia Antica, the ancient Roman port 15km outside Rome. However, there is another preserved insula much closer to the heart of the ancient city, on via del Teatro di Marcello. It is a somewhat neglected site, completely overshadowed by the more famous and showy attractions of the piazza del Campidoglio and the imposing Altare della Patria in piazza Venezia. Nonetheless, it is an evocative reminder of city life some 2000 years ago.

The Capitoline Insula, sometimes also known as the Insula dell’Ara Coeli or Insula Romana, was built between 100 and 120 AD and stood at the bottom of the Capitoline Hill on the opposite side to the Roman Forum. It is one of the best existing examples of a brick-built apartment block (as opposed to many that were built with wood).

Demolition works in the 1930s, which removed the Renaissance church of Santa Rita de Cascia, uncovered these Roman living quarters. Many other similar buildings were discovered in the area at that time, but only this one was preserved. After the fall of the empire in the fifth century, most of the insula, and indeed much of the rest of Rome too, was buried. In the 11th century the upper floors of the building were rediscovered and became part of the church of San Biagio de Mercato. Santa Rita de Cascia was then built on top of St Biagio de Mercato in 1665 by the architect Carlo Fontana.

The building has now been excavated and has five storeys, including a mezzanine. It is thought the building originally had six floors – only traces remain of the sixth. Its ground floor was, as was typical of Roman insulae, occupied by ‘tabernae’ – porticoed shops, warehouses or hostelries facing onto a central courtyard. The ground floor now lies nine metres below present-day street level – in fact much of the modern city has been built on top of a layer of older buildings and is now up to 10 metres higher than it was in Roman times. Wooden steps inside the shops would have led up to a mezzanine at first floor level.

The rooms on the three existing upper floors of the insula were for residential use and included features such as wooden paving and rectangular windows with wooden window frames. On the second floor there is the remains of a balcony. Rooms on the upper floors are smaller, and therefore it is thought they were rented out to poorer citizens. It is thought this insula could have housed up to 380 people – almost twice the number of most insulae of the time.

There are two features visible today that date back to the 11th century medieval church of San Biagio de Mercato: a striking fresco in good condition and a bell tower. The colourful fresco shows the burial of Christ between the Virgin Mary and Saint John. It adorns what used to be the façade of the insula and was added in the 11th century when San Biagio was built, as was the Romanesque bell tower.

What Really Happened To The Roman Ninth Legion?

The legendary Ninth Legion – Legio IX Hispana (The “Spanish Legion”) – was one of the oldest and most feared units in the Roman army by the early 2nd century AD. Raised by Pompey in 65 BC, it had fought victorious campaigns across the Empire, from Gaul to Africa, Sicily to and Spain and Germania to Britain.

No one knows for sure why, but sometime after 108/9 AD, the legion all but disappeared from the records. The popular version of events – propagated by numerous books, television programmes and films – is that the Ninth, at the time numbering some 4,000 men, was sent to vanquish the Picts of modern day Scotland, and mysteriously never returned.

The real explanation is very likely much more mundane – the unit was probably either simply disbanded, or continued to serve elsewhere, before finally being destroyed at another battle some years later. The myth, as is so often the case, tends to overshadow the truth.

Rome’s Most Fearsome Fighting Machine

Legio IX Hispana was put together in Spain alongside the Sixth, Seventh and Eight Legions in 65 BC, and first came under the command of Julius Caesar, then the Governor of Further Spain, in 61 BC. Expert at inspiring loyalty in his troops, he found one of his most devoted veteran armies in the Ninth. Although no record of the legion’s emblem exists, we can deduce that it was probably a bull, like all of Caesar’s faithful legions.

It served in Gaul throughout the Gallic Wars from 58-51 BC, and during Caesar’s Civil War against Pompey and the Senate from 49-48 BC. Victory at Pharsalus was decisive in ensuring Caesar’s ultimate grip on the Republic, and the Ninth played a key role. He repaid its service by – after his African campaign of 46 BC, and ultimate triumph at the Battle of Thapsus – disbanding the legion, and settling its veterans at Picenum and Histria.

The Ninth’s service didn’t end there, however. After Caesar’s assassination in 44 BC, it was recalled by his adopted son Octavian, and sent into battle against the rebellious Sextus Pompeius in Siciliy. Victory took until 36 BC; the legion was then stationed in Macedonia, before promptly being launched into another campaign, the Final War of The Roman Republic, as Octavian faced off against Mark Anthony and Cleopatra, eventually defeating them at the Battle of Actium in 31 BC.

A legionnaire’s work never done, the Ninth was next posted in Spain, where it fought with distinction in the long battle against the Cantabrians from 25-13 BC, which eventually ensured Roman dominance in the region. This was probably the campaign that earned the all-conquering Ninth its title “Hispana”.

The Last Campaign?

After Spain, the Legio IX Hispana was likely pitched into the imperial army stationed in the Rhine area, to battle against Germanic tribes, then relocated to Pannonia (an area lying roughly within the boundaries of modern Hungary) for a relatively long period sometime after 9 AD. It wasn’t until 43 AD that the legion was on the move again, joining with other Roman forces, under Emperor Claudius and general Aulus Plautius, in invading Britain, where it was eventually stationed at two camps at Longthorpe and Newton-on-Trent.

Roman historians could be very reticent in recording the facts about legions that had been disgraced, and officials weren’t adverse to covering up the fate of vanquished armies for sake of public morale.

The Ninth suffered terribly in the revolt led by Boudicca in 60 BC, suffering as much as 50-80% casualties (the battle was recorded by Tacitus as the Massacre of the Ninth). The unit’s pride evidently remained intact, however, because the legion’s commander Quintas Petillius Cerialis wasn’t removed from his post. Restored to strength with reinforcements and regrouped at Lincoln in 65 AD, the legion was next sent to guard the northern fringes of the Empire in York, where it helped build the imperial fortress Eboracum, in its last recorded and datable action on the basis of legionary stamps.

Legend has it that the Ninth later embarked on its fateful march against the Picts, a confederation of tribes located in modern day eastern and northern Scotland, and was annihilated, prompting Emperor Hadrian to cut his losses in the north of Britain and build his famous wall from coast to coast. This appears to be the point where myth overtakes reality however – numerous scraps of evidence suggest the Legio IX Hispana met a different fate.

What Really Happened

Certainly its true that Roman historians could be very reticent in recording the facts about legions that had been disgraced, and officials weren’t adverse to covering up as best as possible the fate of vanquished armies, for purposes of preserving public morale. The Legio IX Hispana may have even been crushed so completely and so mercilessly that Hadrian deemed that telling the true story of its fate should be constitutionally banned. But more likely, the Ninth was just moved on again, as it had been so many times before.

At least a detachment of the Ninth is known to have served in the Germania Inferior province of the Roman Empire – near modern Nijmegen, Holland – around 121 AD (possibly trading places with the legion VI Victrix, which arrived in Britain from Germania Inferior around the same time). The main force wasn’t present though, and since detachments had fought separately in Germania before – for instance near Mainz against the Chatti in 83 AD – this arguably could have been the same detachment.

Yet, several high-ranking officers, who could only have served after 117 AD, are well known to us from their later actions – such as Lucius Aemilius Karus, governor of Arabia in 142/143 AD. We can safely assume that the core of the unit was still operating in the reign of Hadrian (117-138 AD). Some voices even speculate that the Ninth may even have assisted in building segments of Hadrian’s Wall, although this seems fanciful.

The one certainty is that Legio IX Hispana had been disbanded or wiped out altogether by the reign of Marcus Aurelius (161-180), because a listing of active legions by that Emperor makes no mention of the Ninth. Probably it was annihilated in Iudaea Province during the Bar Kochba Revolt, or at some stage in the long-running battle between Rome and the Parthian Empire.

The Ninth Legion in Popular Culture

No good storyteller would let something trivial like the facts get in the way of a good yarn, of course, and the legend of Legio IX Hispana’s mysterious destruction at the hands of Scots savages is certainly a gripping tale. Little surprise, then, that it’s continues to be retold in novels and on the big and small screen.

Red Shift by Alan Garner, Engine City by Ken MacLeod, Warriors of Alavna by N. M. Browne, Legion From the Shadows by Karl Edward Wagner and La IX Legione by Giorgio Cafasso are just a few of the many books that touch on the legendary destruction of the Ninth in some way. The most famous novel to deal with the legion’s story – The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff, published in 1954 – is one of the most celebrated children’s books of the 20th century, and has sold over a million copies worldwide. A BBC TV serial of the book was aired in 1977.

A film called The Eagle of the Ninth, based on Sutcliff’s book, directed by Kevin Macdonald and starring Channing Tatum and Donald Sutherland is due to shoot in Scotland in autumn 2009. Another movie about the Ninth, Centurion – directed by Neil Marshall and starring Dominic West and Olga Kurylenko – has coincidentally also been filmed in Scotland recently, and is slated for release in late 2009. Whatever the true story is about the demise of the Legio IX Hispana, popular fascination with its perceived mysterious and macabre fate will probably never be usurped.