Navigating Libre

- Well, I don’t know the man’s name,
but I know the place where he is.
- Tell me the place then.
- Do you know the portico by the Macellum, down that way?
- Of course I do.
- Go that way straight up the street. When you get there
the Slope is right down in front of you: up it you go. At
the end there’s a shrine on this side. Just by the side of it
there’s an alley.
- Which?
- That where the great wild-fig-tree is.
- I know it.
- Take that way.
- That’s a blind alley.
- So it is by Hercules. You must think me a fool, I made a
mistake. Come back to the portico: that’s a much nearer
way and much less chance of missing it. Do you know
Cratinus’ house?
- Yes.
- When you are past it, turn to your left, go straight along
the street and when you come to the Diana turn to the right.
Before you come to the town-gate, close by the fountain
there’s a baker’s shop and opposite it a carpenter’s workshop.
That’s where he is.
Terence, The Brothers 574–587.
THE QUOTE ABOVE from the second-century
BC playwright Terence shows us at a glance
the problems involved in moving through
ancient Rome, even for an inhabitant. The
route described could in fact be the urban Via
Tiburtina, moving from the market (macellum)
near the Forum, up the Subura Slope and
passing the Fountain of Orpheus before reaching
the Porta Esquilina. This article will follow a
similar route along the urban Via Tiburtina
at the beginning of the third century AD. By
applying a comprehensive perspective, from the
Fig. 1. Piazza della Madonna dei Monti in
the Subura, showing several elements that
shape urban navigation and local identity.
Photo: S. Malmberg.
Navigating the
Urban Via Tiburtina
By Simon Malmberg
Forum area to outside the Aurelian city wall,
comprising the ancient streets Argiletum and
Clivus Suburanus as well as the Via Tiburtina,
this route may be viewed as a coherent urban
and suburban path (Figs. 2 & 3).
The main idea behind this article is to
try to explain how one navigated a Roman
urban environment, an environment which
must have been bewildering to many Romans,
and chaotic to our modern eyes. The analysis
will benefit from the use of the theoretical
model promoted by the urban planner Kevin
Lynch, who has inspired several scholars on
the ancient city (Corlàita 1979; MacDonald
1986; Zanker 1987; Yegül 1994; Dyson &
Prior 1995; Wharton 1995; Favro 1996;
Bayliss 1999). Lynch’s theories on how people
perceive and organize spatial information as
they navigate through cities were based upon
five years work in Boston, Jersey City and Los
Angeles. Working from field reconnaissance
and interviews Lynch developed a model of
how people understood their surroundings
in consistent and predictable ways, forming
mental maps. These mental representations
contain many unique elements, which are
defined by Lynch as a network of paths,
districts, landmarks, edges and nodes. This
article hopes to contribute to this field by
applying Lynch’s theories to an analysis of
the urban stretch of the Via Tiburtina, using
archaeological and literary sources and a
third-century marble plan of Rome (Figs. 2
& 7). To get a full understanding of what it
must have been like to travel the city, some
colouring and life to the cityscape has also
been provided, as this in itself was probably
an important ingredient in knowing your way
around the town (cf. Hellerström, t.v.; Purcell
1987: 187–188).
To most Romans it was probably
inconceivable to use a map, both because they
could not have afforded it, and if they could,
they probably would not have understood
it. Their mental map, ingrained as much as
language itself, belonged to the streets where
they grew up. Nearby towns might as well have
been foreign countries for them. The use of
Fig. 2. Map of the locations mentioned
in the text. Illustration: S. Malmberg and
J. Westin.
symbolic, topographical maps was probably
restricted to the upper classes and the
administrative staff of the government, which
led to such impressive propaganda projects as
the map of the world put up at Rome under
Augustus, or the marble plan of Rome set up
in the city in the early third century, probably
with several predecessors from the early first
century onwards (Coarelli 1991; Reynolds
1996; Rodriguez-Almeida 2002). It was more
common to show cities in a birds-eye view,
as can be seen in Roman paintings. This
situation made landmarks more important
in tying the route together, since an abstract
sense of space was generally missing. Outside
the city, milestones were one of the most
important ways to fix your position along an
itinerary (Laurence 2004). However, these did
not work inside the urban maze.
Larger streets, districts and gates at Rome
usually had names, but since there were
no signs or house numbers, this was not of
much help to a stranger (Dilke 1985: 103–
107; Ling 1990a). As will be shown, quarters
and their populations were relatively stable,
isolated and distinctive in Rome, so outside
the thoroughfares, they probably constituted
the main navigation tool, but you had to ask
around to find your way (Lynch 1960: 130;
Wallace-Hadrill 2001; Macauley 2002).
LANDSCAPE OF THE SENSES
When moving from the official Forum area
to the commercial quarter of the Subura, one
entered a different world through the so-called
Subura Gate (Figs. 2, 3 & 4; Martial 2.17).
This was probably the arch that led from the
Forum Transitorium to the Porticus Absidata,
or Apsed Portico, which created a small,
semicircular square. The steps up to the portico
formed a “small theatre”, perfect for lounging,
which has left traces in the form of rough
gaming boards being incised into the steps, and
presumably also left space for vendors (Martial
2.17.1; Bauer 1983; MacDonald 1986: 103–
105; Stambaugh 1978: 587). One immediately
entered a busy commercial district, dominated
by cobblers, leatherworkers and booksellers.
Fig. 3. An aerial photograph of the present-
day Subura.
1. Forum; 2. Forum Transitorium with the
Subura Gate; 3. Piazza della Madonna dei
Monti; 4. Cavour Metro Station, probably
at the ancient Fountain of the Nymphs;
5. Location of the Portico of Livia at the
Via in Selci; 6. Santa Lucia in Orfea;
7. Fountain of Orpheus and Shrine to
Mercurius; 8. Santa Maria Maggiore;
9. Remains of the Republican Wall at
Via Carlo Alberto; 10. Porta Esquilina;
11. Remains of the macellum at Piazza
Manfredo Fanti; 12. Fountain of Alexander
at Piazza Vittorio Emanuele.
What may have struck one first were the
throngs of people and the heavy traffic on the
road, further increased by the proximity to the
Markets of Trajan (LTUR 1.286–287; Tortorici
1991). The second-century poet Juvenal, who
lived on the urban Via Tiburtina (Rodriguez-
Almeida 1991; Marache 1989), complains that
“we are blocked by a surging crowd in front,
and by a dense mass of people pressing in
on us from behind … My legs are beplastered
with mud; soon huge feet trample on me from
every side, and a soldier plants his hobnails
firmly on my toe” (3.255–259).
A law from ca. 45 BC banned traffic in
the city during the first ten hours of the
day, but not for the last two. The Roman
day, reckoned from sunrise to sunset, always
consisted of twelve hours, whose length
depended on the time of year. Furthermore,
the ban probably only involved heavy four-
wheeled wagons. Even these were exempted
if carrying materials for public works, rituals
or rubbish disposal, but in such cases the
drivers had to get licenses from the proper
magistrate (Tabula Heracleensis 56–67; Palmer
1980; Nicolet 1987). But light two-wheeled
carriages, hand carts and pack animals were
always allowed (Dio Cassius 77.4). Based on
the measurements of street ruts and preserved
Roman carriages in Pompeii, it seems that
two-way traffic was only possible on principal
streets, such as the Via Tiburtina, and in that
case right-hand traffic was probably enforced.
Many smaller streets barred vehicles altogether
through the erection of various barriers,
which funnelled even more traffic into the few
thoroughfares (Ciprotti 1961; Tsujimura 1991;
Poehler 2006).
Fig. 4. View from the Piazza della
Madonna dei Monti, indicating the
vicinity of the Subura to the monumental
centre of Rome, in this case the Colosseum.
Photo: H. Bjur.
But most of the travellers were on foot. The odd
aristocrat could also be glimpsed, through the
awnings of his litter, something which made the
first-century philosopher Seneca lament that
“even to be carried for any length of time is hard
work” (Letter 55.1; cf. André 1994; Saliou 1999;
Hartnett 2003). Traders and local craftsmen
walked and sold in the street or set up their
booths and barrows, further blocking the traffic,
as described by Seneca: “then the cake seller with
his varied cries, the sausage man, the confectioner,
and all the vendors of food hawking their wares,
each with his own distinctive intonation” (Letter
56.2).
The city administration must have had a hard
time to keep the traffic flowing, especially since
they lacked a public cleaning service; according
to regulations this was to be done by the house
owners themselves, with varying results (Tabula
Heracleensis 20–23, 53–55; Digest 43.10). The state
of the road surface may be pictured by reading
laws such as “cleaning is to reduce the road to
its proper level by clearing away all that is upon
it” (Digest 43.11), and it was forbidden to dig
holes in the street, or to encumber them (Digest
43.10.2). The workshops probably easily spilled
out into the streets, but one was not supposed
to put anything outside, except fullers leaving
clothing to dry or carpenters putting out wheels
(Digest 43.10.4), which presumably may also have
worked as signboards. The first-century poet
Martial complained about the state of the Via
Tiburtina: “I must surmount the track up the hill
from the Subura and the dirty pavement with its
steps never dry, and I can scarce break through
the long droves of mules and the blocks of marble
you see hauled” (5.22.5–8; Pailler 1981; Dyson &
Prior 1995; Rodriguez-Almeida 1996).
Fig. 5. The Argiletum Street forks at today’s
Piazza della Suburra with Vicus Patricius,
the modern Via Urbana, to the left and
Clivus Suburanus, the later Via in Selci, to
the right, through what is now the Cavour
Metro Station. Photo: H. Bjur.
The roadway was flanked by tall houses, up
to six or seven stories high. The upper floors
were often crammed with tiny one-room flats,
while shopkeepers lived with their families in
their shops, in small rooms at the back or in
a mezzanine floor above. These lower class
dwellings were not homes in the modern sense
of the word. They were so small that everything
except sleep had to be done outside the flat
(Yavetz 1957; Packer 1971: 73–76; Thompson
1982; Guidobaldi 2005: 144). You could not
usually cook at home, since an open brazier
was punishable by flogging, due to the fire
hazard (Digest 1.15.4). So eating and drinking
was done at restaurants and bars. To wash you
visited the communal baths, and there were
communal latrines in the ground floor of the
building, or you had to use the public latrines
situated along the thoroughfares (Jansen 1997).
Children played in the streets, often pretending
to be gladiators (Balsdon 1969: 92). The streets
became the dwelling place of the collective
(Amato 2004: 174). Urban dwellers were used
to not having any privacy, which made it all
the more precious. To be able to perform
your daily routine at home would be a sign of
prestige, the mark of the upper class. The lack
of this for the ordinary inhabitants gave rise to
an abundance of public meeting places, both
formal and informal, as we shall see along the
Via Tiburtina.
And the noise! Martial 12.57 contrasts his
noisy city apartment with the quietness of his
patron’s senatorial residence, and the serene
calm of Tivoli. But even senators rented flats,
albeit luxurious ones, on the lower floors of
apartment blocks (Frier 1980: 39–47). Seneca
complained that “I have lodgings right over a
bathing establishment. So picture to yourself
the assortment of sounds, which are strong
enough to make me hate my very powers of
hearing! ... Among the sounds … I include
passing carriages, an artisan in the same block,
a saw-sharpener nearby, or some fellow who is
demonstrating with pipes and flutes, shouting
rather than singing” (Letters 56.1, 4). But the
traffic was perhaps the main source of noise,
especially at night. Juvenal moans “For what
sleep is possible in a rental flat? Who but the
wealthy get sleep in Rome? ... The crossing
of wagons in the narrow winding streets, the
slanging of the drovers when brought to a
stand, would make sleep impossible” (3.235–
248). Perhaps wood-paving—slippery when
wet—was used on main thoroughfares to soften
the sounds of iron-shod horses and wagons, as
it was employed in nineteenth-century London
(Turvey 1996: 137–140). But the sound of
the thoroughfares was surely an important
directional tool in the city maze—just follow the
noise!
And the smell! As noted above, street
maintenance was probably rudimentary (for
dystopian Rome, see e.g. Yavetz 1957; Brunt
1966; Scobie 1986, versus Braund 1989;
Laurence 1997; Jansen 2000; Morley 2005).
The smell was not improved by the location of
public latrines in the vicinity of thoroughfares.
But people relieved themselves everywhere,
even behind statues, or defiled the water in
fountains (Digest 43.8.2.29; 47.11.1.1; Juvenal
1.131). Since people often lacked latrines inside
the houses, it was not uncommon to empty your
pot through the window (Digest 9.3.5; 43.10.5;
Juvenal 3.268–274). The fullers also used urine
when dyeing and cleaning cloth. Martial tells
us about a prostitute in the Subura: “So bad
as Thais smells, so bad smell not even the
fullers’ workshops!” (6.93.1). Food shops were
probably fly-infested, which was not improved
by the habit of dumping intestines and carcases
in the streets (Digest 43.10.5). However, smells
evoke strong emotions and memories, and
may therefore have been a subconscious way of
urban navigation, finding your way to the fuller
at the Vicus Sabuci, the fish market near the
Porta Esquilina or the street of the perfume-
sellers (Classen 1993; Porteous 1990).
PATH
The urban Via Tiburtina was a path, or an
armature (Lynch 1960: 47; MacDonald 1986:
3), one of the main channels people use when
moving through a city. Paths with clear and well-
known origins and destinations have stronger
identities; the urban Via Tiburtina led straight
66 | SIMON MALMBERG
from the Forum to the city gate. It is natural to
follow the main stream of traffic, which makes
trusting to the main, wide street automatic
(Lynch 1960: 50–51, 111). If this is true of the
modern city, it is all the more so of the ancient
one. Outside the few public, relatively broad
thoroughfares, Rome must have felt like a
labyrinthine maze to the outsider. Most of the
streets were probably privately owned, and “the
land of a private road belongs to someone else,
but the right of going and driving along it is
open to us” as the third-century jurist Ulpian
puts it. It is interesting to note that the laws on
street maintenance and regulations only deal
with public roads, and Ulpian contrasted the
private road with the public one, which was
“marked out, with fixed limits of width” (Digest
43.8.2.21), implicitly telling us that this was
not the case with the private roads. Moreover,
city regulations only limited the height of
street fronts toward public roads, and ordered
only public roads to be kept clean (Tabula
Heracleensis 32–45; Digest 43.10.3; Strabo 5.3.7;
Suetonius, Augustus 89; Tacitus, Annals 15.43.1;
Saliou 1994; Zaccaria Ruggiu 1995). So private
roads were left to the whim of their owners,
which may explain some of the more eccentric
windings and narrowness of many side-streets.
This was also an expression of social formation,
and formed a defended neighbourhood, hard
for outsiders to penetrate (Schwirian 1977;
Wallace-Hadrill 2001 and 2003; Lott 2004:
19–20).
DISTRICT
Districts in a city are areas with a common,
identifying character. The Subura possessed a
strong identity as a district, characterized by the
Roman upper-class as a sordid commercial area,
riddled with violence and prostitution, but urban
zoning in the modern sense did not precede the
nineteenth century (Laurence 1994: 17; 1995:
65; Favro 1996: 44). The image of the Subura
was probably exaggerated, but the location of the
district, at the bottom of a valley, probably gave it
a proportionately large plebeian population, while
the surrounding hills, with access to more sun and
air and not plagued by the annual inundation of
the Tiber, presumably had a larger proportion
of aristocrats (Aldrete 2007). This topographical
circumstance may indeed have promoted the
communal identity of the Subura, since, by the
concavity of its site, it was easily visible as a whole
(Lynch 1960: 47, 103–104).
To many people the district is the basic
element of the city image. People with the least
knowledge of a city tend to think in terms of
topography or district when navigating. Those
most familiar with the city recognize the social
importance of districts, but tend to rely on small
landmarks for orientation (Lynch 1960: 49, 67).
Typical physical characteristics of a district are the
use and texture of buildings, street activity, noise
and smells, inhabitants and topography (Lynch
1960: 67–68; Cullen 1971: 31).
The smallest urban district was the vicus,
which may be translated roughly as an urban
neighbourhood, corresponding to a single street
and its adjoining houses (Festus 508L; Varro,
Latin language 5.145; Isidorus, Etymologies 15.2). It
was these small districts that provided the social
cohesion in the city and also became important
navigational tools. Pliny reports that Rome had
265 vici in the census of AD 73 (Natural history
3.66). This had increased to perhaps 323 vici in
the fourth century, partly by subdividing existing
vici (Coarelli 1997; Tarpin 2002: 172–173). The
physical and social centre of each vicus was a
crossroads (compitum) where there was a shrine
to its two tutelary spirits, the Lares, often with
a statue and an altar given to the vicus by the
emperor.
Although the vici had existed in Rome from
time immemorial, they were revived by Augustus,
who organized them into official administrative
units under the charge of four vicomagistri
elected among the inhabitants, the vicani. The
vicomagistri were almost invariably freedmen,
and their charge gave them a unique opportunity
for social status, since all other magistracies were
closed to them. The vicomagistri came under the
supervision of the regionary curator and his staff,
together with whom they worked concerning food
supply, water distribution, prevention of fire and
crime, and regulation of businesses. The curator
had his own police and fire-fighters, the vigiles, but
NAVIGATING THE URBAN VIA TIBURTINA | 67
these worked in close cooperation with the vicani
(Sablayrolles 1996: 25–26).
Each vicus also had at least one collegium,
which was a kind of neighbourhood club which
either gathered in its own clubhouse (schola) or
in a local bar and which strove to improve the
quality of life in the neighbourhood. This was
an important development, since extended
kinship groups often wither in an urban
environment, whereas voluntary associations
grow in number and importance (Wirth 1938).
The communal spirit of the vici was further
strengthened through a special festival known
as the Compitalia, which included a religious
procession, stage plays and street shows allowed
to be in the various native languages of the
inhabitants, and performed in all of the vici
(Suetonius, Caesar 39; Augustus 34.1; 63). The
vicus organization thus allowed the government
to develop a grassroots base of legitimacy
(Robinson 1992: 11–12; Tarpin 2002; Lott
2004). Since most of the population worked
in their residential neighbourhood, and used
the same shops and water basins, it was natural
for a strong local identity to form. This was
encouraged even more by the existence of the
vici, but used for state supervision (Wallace-
Hadrill 2001). Vicus could also denote a street,
a meaning first unambiguously attested in the
late first century AD (Martial 7.61.3–4).
Vici were very important for navigating the
city, and were often used for directions. It was
quite natural for collegia to give their addresses
according to vicus (e.g. CIL 2.365; 5.4488;
5.7923). Inhabitants naturally identified very
closely with their own vicus, and sometimes
even inscribed its name on their tombs. Since
they were such close-knit communities, once
you arrived at a vicus, there would probably
not be any problem finding someone who
could tell you where to find the person you
were looking for. It would of course be another
matter whether they wanted to tell you, and one
could get into trouble, like the main character
in the novel Satyricon (6–7), written by the
first-century writer Petronius. To narrow down
which part of a vicus was meant, the concept of
scamnum could sometimes be used. A scamnum
was a unit originally used by land surveyors,
measuring ca. 15–25 m in width. So, if you said
that someone lived in the scamnum primum,
you had narrowed it down to a house located
along the first few metres of the street (Hunt &
Edgar 1934: 357). Another way to put it was as
in a graffito from Pompeii: “At Nuceria ask for
Volvellia Primigenia in the Vicus Venerius by
the Rome Gate” (CIL 4.8356; Butterworth &
Laurence 2005: 110).
LANDMARK
A few hundred metres from the Subura Gate,
the Via Tiburtina reached the foot of the
Cispian Hill (Figs. 2 & 5). Here the road forked;
to the left went the Vicus Patricius up the valley
between the Viminal and Cispian, while to the
right was the Clivus Suburanus (the urban Via
Tiburtina) between the Cispian and Oppian
Hills. This was surely a very important junction,
where three major urban thoroughfares met. It
may be here that the house of the early second-
century consul Stella was situated. The house
had a monumental fountain towards the street
in the form of a grotto with representations
of Hercules and the Nymphs (Statius, Silvae
1.2.71–72; Martial 6.21; 6.47; 7.15; 7.50;
LTUR 1.39–40). It probably gave its name to
the whole surrounding district, ad Nymphas,
attested in the third century (e.g. CIL 6.9526).
The fountain was still in use in late antiquity,
since it was restored by the city prefect around
400 (CIL 6.1728a–b), and was perhaps identical
with the Fountain of the Shepherd (Lacus
Pastoris) attested in the fourth-century regionary
catalogues.
The Fountain of the Nymphs is a prime
example of a landmark. Landmarks are objects,
characterized by singularity, a clear form,
contrast with their background and prominence
of spatial location. Some landmarks are distant
ones, seen over the tops of roofs, and often
used as navigational tools for people not that
familiar with the city (Lynch 1960: 48, 78,
81). If moving towards the Forum on the Via
Tiburtina, one probably navigated with one’s
eyes set on the temples on the Capitoline or
the palace on the Palatine Hill, whereas in
68 | SIMON MALMBERG
the other direction, in late antiquity one may
have had the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore,
prominently sited on the crest of the Cispian
Hill, as a guiding landmark towards the Porta
Esquilina.
For those familiar with the city, more
important are local landmarks, only visible
from certain approaches. A sequential series of
landmarks appears to be the standard way in
which people travel through the city. They work
as trigger clues in turning decisions and give the
distance to the final destination (Lynch 1960:
82–83). As an aid in memorizing long speeches,
the first-century rhetoric teacher Quintilian
suggested that a cityscape might form a usable
environment of memorization, with objects
and buildings serving as landmarks in the
organization of the speech (Institutes 11.2.21;
cf. Bloomer & Moore 1977: 36–55; Bergmann
1994; Favro 1996: 7). Often sounds and smells
reinforce visual landmarks, for instance the
reek from the fish market at the Porta Esquilina
was probably a landmark in itself.
Landmarks were often used when giving
directions. Especially common were trees, seen
for instance in the quote from Terence at the
beginning of this article. Martial referred to
himself as living near the Pear-tree (Martial
1.117.6; cf. DeRose Evans 1992: 75–78), and
a road close to the Via Tiburtina was called
the Vicus Sabuci, which means the Street of
the Elder-Tree (Zimmer 1976). Martial also
said that he lived near the Travertine Column,
and a vicus of the city was known as that of
the Wooden Column; both landmarks surely
singled out because of their height (Martial
5.22.2–4; CIL 6.975). Otherwise, many vici
were named after fountains, city gates, statues
or crafts.
EDGE
The street fork was a place where probably four
urban regions converged (Fig. 2). The regions were
the major administrative internal division of the
city of Rome, and had been created by Augustus.
A curator was put in charge of each region, and
they ruled the city in cooperation with the city
prefect (Robinson 1992: 10). There were fourteen
regions, seven within the Republican wall and
seven for the most part outside the wall (Suetonius,
Augustus 30). Although Augustus never seems to
have extended the city limits (pomerium) beyond
the wall, in practice the seven regions outside the
wall extended the urban area. The regions even
spread further than the later Aurelian wall, since
we know that the river Almo formed the southern
limit of the first region, the Vatican was part of
the Trastevere region, while to the north the
Milvian Bridge was also considered part of the
urban regions.
Major urban thoroughfares made up the
boundaries between the regions (Dio Cassius
55.8; Robinson 1992: 9). It was very common,
almost inevitable, to use the main thoroughfares
of Rome as limits between regions, because of
the chaotic state of the private streets in between.
Based on the listing of monuments in the
regionary catalogues, it is possible to conjecture
the boundaries along the Via Tiburtina. The
Argiletum Street formed the limit between the
sixth and fourth regions. When it forked, the
northern road, Vicus Patricius, constituted the
boundary between the sixth and fifth regions,
while the southern Clivus Suburanus separated
the fifth and third regions. It is also revealing
that several regions were named after their main
streets, such as the third region (Isis et Serapis:
Vicus Isidis), the sixth (Alta Semita), the seventh
(Via Lata) and the twelfth (Piscina Publica: Vicus
Piscinae Publicae) (Palmer 1975: 654; Rodriguez-
Almeida 1983).
Above, the Via Tiburtina was characterized
as a path, but here one sees how it also could
function as an edge, a boundary in the city.
The strongest kinds of edges are those that are
visually prominent but also continuous and
impenetrable, such as a city wall. However, an
edge could also operate as a seam, along which
different districts of the city could be joined, as
along the Via Tiburtina.
ENTERING THE MARBLE PLAN
Shortly after the bifurcation at the Fountain
of the Nymphs the street started to climb (Fig.
6). The strength of a path may be furthered by
a directional quality, when one direction may
NAVIGATING THE URBAN VIA TIBURTINA | 69
easily be distinguished from another. Thus it
is given a sense of progression, to go “up” or
“down” a street. This is commonly sensed in
the form of some quality that is cumulative in
one direction, such as a slope, which is what
gave the Via Tiburtina much of its force (Lynch
1960: 54, 97).
One now entered an area covered by the
third-century marble plan (Fig. 7). The most
accessible information on the plan can be
found on the homepage of the Stanford Digital
Forma Urbis Romae Project (SDFURP; http://
formaurbis.stanford.edu), which has been
consulted extensively. The marble plan shows
the Via Tiburtina as a wide street lined with
small tabernae, probably functioning as shops
(Staccioli 1959).
The area was an important road junction
where two side streets joined the Tiburtina.
The street to the right, crammed with shops
and arcaded on one side, climbed sharply up
the precipitous Oppian Hill, from the crest of
which the huge Baths of Trajan looked down
from their artificial platform. Larger rooms,
perhaps small apartments, lie on the other side
of the street, tucked between an exedra of the
Baths and a grand rectangular portico. The
side street uphill is tentatively identified as the
Clivus Pullius (LTUR 1.284–285; SDFURP fr.
11a). An inscription found nearby, dating to the
370s, mentions a group called clivumpullenses,
the inhabitants of this quarter, presumably
a vicus (CIL 6.31893). At the corner between
Tiburtina and Pullius streets there was an
interesting element: a triangular area partially
enclosed by a wall, and probably open to the
sky. It seems to have been a perfect place for
lounging, and for seeing people coming and
Fig. 6. The slope of the modern Via in
Selci follows the ancient Clivus Suburanus.
Photo: H. Bjur.
going. The Tiburtina then points straight towards
a monumental staircase with two landings,
flanked by tiny shops. As with the enclosed area
at the junction, the monumental steps were also
perfect for lounging, as well as a place for beggars
and vendors hawking their wares, “an eddy in
the stream of activity” (MacDonald 1986: 106;
cf. Stambaugh 1978: 587; Whyte 1980). This
was the main entrance to the Portico of Livia, a
huge portico measuring about 120 × 70 m, with
double rows of columns built upon an artificial
platform on the Oppian slope. It was built by
Augustus, and contained a shrine to the goddess
Concordia, dedicated to matrimonial happiness
(Ovid, Fasti 6.637), somewhat ironic in an area
known for its prostitution. The shrine may be
the rectangular structure in the middle of the
portico, otherwise identified as a pool (LTUR
4.127–129; SDFURP fr. 10opqr, 11a; Boudreau
Flory 1984; Panella 1987). According to the first-
century writer Pliny the Elder, a vine “protects
the open walks with its shady trellises” (Natural
history 14.11), which must have been a nice, quiet
contrast to the hectic street life below. It must
also have had an important social function, and
the large exedras along its outer walls could be
used for meetings, such as that between Pliny
the Younger and his friend: “I was awake when
the messenger came from Spurinna that he was
on his way, and sent back to say I would call
on him, so we met in the Portico of Livia, each
making for the other” (Letter 1.5.8–9). But the
Portico was also important as an architecture
of passage, which tied together many different
levels of the neighbourhood, most importantly
the Via Tiburtina, in the valley, and the Vicus
Sabuci, which ran along the crest of the Oppian
Hill.
Fig. 7. Part of the third-century marble
plan of Rome, showing the area of the
urban Via Tiburtina. Illustration courtesy
of the Sovraintendenza ai Beni Culturali
del Comune di Roma and the Stanford
Digital Forma Urbis Romae Project,
adapted by S. Malmberg and J. Westin.
NODE
Continuing up the Tiburtina slope one laid
eyes on a monumental fountain consisting
of three large, circular basins, located where
the road forked again (Figs. 2 & 7; SDFURP
fr. 11c). Paths should not have changes in
direction that are too sudden; if they maintain
a satisfactory degree of continuity they are seen
as dependable. The urban Via Tiburtina was by
no means a straight street, but it still maintained
a directional quality. Indeed, its organic form
allowed the street space to be subdivided into a
series of revelations, or a serial vision, which gave
the street a stronger impact than a monotonous
straight road (Cullen 1971: 9; MacDonald 1986:
107). The serial vision also allowed a series of
landmarks and nodes to be inserted along the
way, which enabled one to sense one’s position
along the total length of the path. The path then
became scaled, marking identifiable points, so
that the traveller felt that he was moving in the
right direction (Lynch 1960: 55, 97).
Martial 10.19 provides a description of the
fountain: “when you have crossed the Subura in
breasting the steep path; there you will at once
notice Orpheus, spray-sprinkled, crowning his
drenched audience”. The fountain can be identified
with the Fountain of Orpheus, mentioned in
the regionary catalogues, and the house behind
it probably worked as an ornamented backdrop
(LTUR 3.171; Rodriguez-Almeida 1970–1971 &
1975–1976; Wallace-Hadrill 2001; cf. the Fontana
di Trevi). As with the Fountain of the Nymphs
before, this house was probably an aristocratic
one. One may identify the large, curved entrance
steps in the open area to the right of the fountain
which led into an upper-class domus. Since we
know that Pliny the Younger lived close to the
fountain, it is possible that the domus may have
belonged to him, although this must remain
hypothetical (Rodriguez-Almeida 1983; LTUR
2.158–159; SDFURP fr. 10aa). The Fountain of
Orpheus gave identity to an important junction
along the Tiburtina, in fact it named the whole
neighbouring district. In an inscription of the
370s we hear of a group of inhabitants called
orfienses, and the Book of Popes from the early
sixth century twice mentions a “domus in regione
Orfea intra urbem” (LP 1.171, 178).
The marble plan shows that an informal,
triangular square formed around the junction,
which was crowded with shops of different sizes.
A few of these can still be seen, now forming part
of the monastery of Santa Lucia in Orfea. They
consist of travertine arches which support a brick
wall. A large apsed hall was built on top of the
shops in the fourth century (Fig. 8; LTUR 3.191;
Bjur & Malmberg, t.v.).
Fig. 8. Ancient travertine pillars and brick
arches at the Via in Selci. Photo: H. Bjur.
The Via Tiburtina was obviously the centre
of activity in the Subura, and functioned
as a linear node of the district. A node is
defined by Lynch as an intensive focus in the
city, and if a node is the focus of a district it
is a core. Moreover, along the Via Tiburtina
were important junctions which also worked
as nodes in their own right, such as the one
just mentioned. When a traveller reaches a
node, this heightens their attention. Elements
located at such nodes automatically derive
special prominence from their location, such
as the monumental entrance to the Portico of
Livia, or the Fountain of Orpheus. Approach
to such a node often seems to come from a
particular side, a directional quality (Lynch
1960: 47, 72–76), something shown in the
description by Martial. It may be confusing
to the traveller when many paths converge,
especially if they do so at a non-perpendicular
angle. But the character of such a node may be
made clear by a heightened physical character
of the node (Lynch 1960: 58). The fountain
and the portico thereby made navigation
along the Via Tiburtina easier.
A series of nodes can form a related
structure, linked together by intervisibility,
such as the Subura Gate and the Fountain of
the Nymphs, or further up the road, the Porta
Esquilina and the Fountain of Alexander.
They may also be related by juxtaposition,
such as the Portico of Livia, which was very
different from the busy street life, but linked
the Via Tiburtina with the other important
street in the area, the Vicus Sabuci, as well as
with the Baths of Trajan.
NEIGHBOURHOOD AMENITIES AND LOCAL LANDMARKS
The road that branched off the Tiburtina
to the right at the Fountain of Orpheus has
been hypothetically identified with the Via
in Figlinis (Potters’ Street), mentioned by the
first-century BC scholar Varro (Latin language
5.50) and probably forming the border between
the third and fifth urban regions (Figs. 2 & 7;
LTUR 1.263–265; 2.171, 252–253; SDFURP fr.
10opqr). The Via in Figlinis climbed the Oppian
Hill towards Vicus Sabuci. Halfway up the slope
was an early third-century rectangular hall built
in brick-faced concrete. It has been suggested
that it functioned as a covered market of the
area, later to be turned into a Christian meeting
hall, forming part of the later Church of San
Martino ai Monti (CBCR 3.93). Further up, at
the corner between Figlinis and Vicus Sabuci,
behind a row of tabernae, there was a columned
open space around a rectangular element. This
was probably a meeting hall (schola) of the club
(collegium) in the vicus. Almost next door to
this building was found a dedication to Vulcan
by the magistri vici Sabuci (CIL 6.801), and it is
possible that the rectangular element was an
altar or statue dedicated to that god (SDFURP
fr. 10n, 10lm; cf. Staccioli 1968). The location
of the possible schola, close to Via in Figlinis
and the Portico of Livia, both offering passage
between two of the main arteries of the Subura,
also demonstrates the area’s importance as a
core of the Subura district.
Back at the Fountain of Orpheus one
continues up the last part of the Subura slope.
After only a few metres a side street ran to the
left, up the Cispian Hill. At the crossroads
there was a shrine to Mercurius, uncovered
in 1888. It consisted of an open paved plaza
with a raised, rectangular platform covered in
marble. On the platform were an altar and
an inscribed base for the statue of Mercurius,
donated by Augustus. An inscribed boundary
stone reveals that the extent of the public plaza,
which surrounded the altar and served as a
religious precinct, was about 48 × 25 m. The
building of this precinct probably coincided
with Augustus’ construction of the Portico of
Livia nearby. Since Mercurius was the patron
god of commerce, especially the grain trade,
he attests to the commercial character of
the area. Moreover, he was the father of the
neighbourhood Lares (Ovid, Fasti 2.610–616;
Gatti 1888; Combet-Farnoux 1980; Sartorio
1988; Palmer 1997: 80–103; Lott 2004: 76–79;
LTUR 1.265). Thus the shrine probably had
connections with the crossroads cult, which
was so important to the vici. In fact, the shrine
may have formed the centre of a hypothetical
“Vicus Orphei”.
NAVIGATING THE URBAN VIA TIBURTINA | 73
Continuing up the Tiburtina, it was still
crammed with shops. However, in this area
the central parts of the blocks seem to have
lacked structures, which suggests a somewhat
lower population density. This was even more
marked along the Vicus Sabuci (SDFURP fr.
10Aab, 10abcde, 10g). At the first intersection
after the Fountain of Orpheus there was a
somewhat larger, very open taberna, a typical
layout and location for a bar (Kleberg 1957;
Ellis 2004). The counter of a bar was placed
right at the entrance, while guests would sit
at tables on the sidewalk. Martial complained
that the impudent bars had taken over all of
Rome, blocking streets with their furniture
and hanging wine bottles in every portico,
probably as signboards (Martial 7.61). The
entrances to shops were often covered in
advertisements and gossipy graffiti, which
provided dashes of colour in the urban
environment (Martial 1.117.10–12; cf.
Armstrong 1917; Wilber 1942). Apart from
their ad hoc signboards such as bottles and
wheels, shops could also have proper ones.
The Digest (50.16.245) informs us about
“pictures attached by chains or fixed to a
wall, or lamps similarly fixed”, and several
brick plaques, figurative or geometric, have
been found in Pompeii and Ostia, advertizing
different trades and crafts (Ling 1990a; 1990b;
Butterworth & Laurence 2005: 55, 110).
These could function as small landmarks,
guiding the traveller. When it got dark, bar
owners lit lanterns above their shops. All
other shops were closed during the night,
and since there was no street lighting, streets
without bars would have been pitch black
and dangerous. Bars crowded around the
thoroughfares, since that was where the night
traffic in heavy vehicles was concentrated. If
you just kept to the main street, navigation
would be no problem, even easier than in the
daytime, but all the other streets would be
very perilous (Juvenal 3.268–301; Apuleius,
Metamorphoses 2.32; Petronius 79).
Passing a few shops up this side street
to the right we come to the entrance of a
small bath, centred on a columned courtyard
(SDFURP fr. 10g; Staccioli 1961; Reynolds
1996, fig. 3.41). This was one of the hundreds
of small, privately run baths (balnea) that
dotted the cityscape and formed social
foci in the neighbourhoods (Packer 1971:
74; MacDonald 1986: 115; Delaine 1999).
Leaving the part of the Via Tiburtina covered
by the marble plan, one may discern that the
street will join with Vicus Sabuci at an acute
angle just off the map, just inside the Porta
Esquilina (SDFURP fr. 10Aab). One now
reached the top of the Esquiline Plateau, at
the Forum Esquilinum. Looking out through
the arch in the Republican wall one could
see the bustling market square of the Campus
Esquilinus, where executions took place, and
from which the reek of the fish market was
unmistakable (Fig. 9; Bjur & Malmberg, t.v.;
cf. Cullen 1971: 31; Bodel 2000: 145–147;
Amato 2004: 161). Just outside the gate, the
road forked, with the Tiburtina going to the
left. At this junction there was another of
those monumental street fountains, probably
built by Augustus. In the early 220s it was
Fig. 9. The Porta Esquilina with the
Fountain of Alexander seen through the
archway. Illustration: Vasi 1756, plate
126 (cropped).
replaced by the much larger Fountain of
Alexander, which may very well have been
inspired by the Fountain of Orpheus down
the hill (LTUR 2.171; 3.351–2). This fountain
was also used to identify the surrounding
district, known in the 370s as ad nymf(eum)
Alexandri (CIL 6.31893).
CONCLUSIONS
This study has tried to show how the
Romans navigated and perceived their urban
environment, using the analytical tools of
path, district, landmark, edge and node
promoted by Kevin Lynch. An analysis of
paths showed how people trust the main
thoroughfare and avoid the maze outside.
These main paths also worked as edges, in
this case limits between urban regions. This
highlights the importance of the urban Via
Tiburtina in new ways, and merits a closer
analysis of its location, different stretches and
atmosphere. The article has also brought in
new examples of architecture of passage, such
as the Portico of Livia. The concept of district
has been used to explain the strong identity
of the Subura through its location, and its
use for movement. Its social cohesion may
be understood by looking at its sub-districts,
such as the vici. Landmarks, on the other
hand, are often seen mainly as facilitating
navigation through a directional quality and
by providing turning clues. This has also been
demonstrated here, with crossroads fountains
as a prime example. However, this article also
stresses their importance, together with paths
and edges, for local identity, giving their
name to small districts and their inhabitants.
They also take many different forms, ranging
from the monumental to trees, graffiti and
small brick plaques. In this context the role
of paths and crossroads as nodes of districts
has been explored, giving them a heightened
physical character and identity. The aspect
of daily social use has also been addressed,
where articulations of the street space, such
as fountains, crossroads and colonnades,
could be used for lounging, for markets, and
as meeting places. The Portico of Livia once
more comes across as a prime example, being
a place for meeting, commerce and passage.
In short, this contribution aims to stress the
factors of movement and urban identity in
studying the street networks of ancient cities,
in order to obtain a more multi-faceted view
of Roman society.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am most grateful for the generosity shown
by the Sovraintendenza ai Beni Culturali del
Comune di Roma and the Stanford Digital
Forma Urbis Romae Project, in allowing me
to use their photographs of the fragments of
the marble plan.
Fig. 10. The Porta Esquilina today. Photo:
S. Malmberg.
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