CHAPTER VIII

STREETS, WATER-SUPPLY, AND BUILDING MATERIAL

After this rapid walk through the more interesting parts of the

capital, we may consider one or two connected topics of natural

interest.

Amid all this splendour and spaciousness of public buildings, what is

the aspect of the ordinary streets? In this respect Rome was by no

means fortunate. As in Old London, Old Paris, or Old New York, the

streets had for the most part grown up as chance circumstances would

have it. There were very few thoroughfares laid out straight from the

first like the Flaminian or "Broad" Road. Alexandria and Antioch were

the creations of monarchs who began with a clear field and a

consistent scheme. Their straight, broad streets might well be the

envy of the capital. The Romans, then as now, possessed the

engineering genius, but they could not well undo the work of a

struggling past, which had necessitated the crowding of population,

within the defences of a wall. They knew how to supply the city

abundantly with water, and how to drain it with sewers of great

capacity and strength. The chief of such sewers--the Cloaca

Maxima--which passed underneath the Forum to the Tiber and was laid

down more than twenty-five centuries ago, is still in working order.

But no republican or imperial government ever took it in hand to

Hansmannise the city, even after one of those devastating

conflagrations which might seem to have cleared the way. It is true

that all traffic of vehicles, except for special processions, for

Vestal Virgins, and a few other cases--was forbidden for ten hours in

the day. All through the morning and afternoon there were no wheels in

the Roman streets, unless some public building imperatively demanded

its load of stones or timber, or unless the few privileged persons

were proceeding in their carriages to some festival. Nevertheless the

rich men and women in their litters or sedan-chairs, attended by their

servants or their clients; the porters carrying their heavy loads; the

itinerant hucksters; and the ordinary man on errand or other business

bent, made up crowds which were often difficult to pass through.

Another consequence of the old compression within narrow walls was

that, as population increased, the houses grew more lofty. How high

the Romans built, or were allowed to build, in republican times we

cannot tell. The tendency was certainly to build higher and higher,

and sky-scrapers would perhaps have become the rule if the ancient

Roman had understood the use of materials both sufficiently light and

sufficiently strong, or if he had been forced to establish his work on

secure foundations. In point of fact there had been, and there

continued to be, too much of jerry-building. Houses sometimes

collapsed, and many were unsubstantially shored up. A flood or an

earthquake was apt to find them out, and there was frequent peril in

the streets. The majority of the abodes of people of humble means were

not like those in smaller towns, such as Pompeii, still less like

those in the country. They were "tenement houses," large blocks let

out in rooms and flats, and it was natural that landlords should make

haste to run them up and to increase the number of their stories. When

Augustus became emperor he enacted what may be called a Metropolitan

Building Act, which insisted on firmer foundations and limited the

height to 70 feet. That act was apparently still in force in the age

of Nero, and we may take it that along the more frequented streets the

houses commonly ran to a height of four or five stories. They looked

the taller because of the narrowness of the street itself. While it is

perhaps, though not necessarily, an exaggeration for the

epigrammatist--who lived "up three pair of stairs, and high ones"--to

say that he could touch his opposite neighbour with his hand, it is at

least an indication of the truth. Some of the narrower lanes between

blocks cannot have been more than a few feet across.

Nor does it appear that the occupants' of rooms opening on the streets

were very particular as to what they threw out in the way of rubbish

or dirty water. It is true that there were aediles, or officers to

look after the order of the streets and public places, but their

efforts seem to have been mainly directed to preventing conspicuous

obstruction. Practices which we should regard as heinous were treated

lightly or disregarded. To make matters worse, the shopkeepers, who

occupied the lower fronts of most of such houses, took the greatest

liberties in encroaching upon the roadway when exhibiting their wares,

and it was not till twenty years later than our date that the Emperor

Domitian ordered them to keep within their own thresholds.

Apart from the question of the freedom of traffic, it can be readily

imagined that, with all the wooden counters, doors, and shutters down

below, and with the disproportionate quantity of woodwork in the

beams, floors, and even walls above, fires were of the commonest

occurrence, and, with streets so high and narrow, the conflagration of

a whole quarter of the town was speedy and complete. Augustus had

divided the metropolitan area into fourteen regions, and had

distributed over these a force of 7000 watchmen to keep the peace and

to deal with fires at night; but it was not to be expected, if a fire

occurred in a lofty block, that this body, assisted or hampered by the

neighbours, could do much with the buckets, siphons, and wet blankets

which formed the extinguishing apparatus of the time.

Another serious danger, or, when not danger, at least discomfort, came

from the trick which the Tiber has always had of flooding the lower

parts of the city. Somewhat later than our date the river restrained

by strong stone embankments, which one had to descend by steps in

order to reach the river at the ferries or other boats; but this must

have been but inadequately achieved in the early period of the empire,

and a severe flood might bring the houses in the Velabrum, for

example, tumbling about the ears of their inhabitants.

* * * * *

On the whole the streets of Neronian Rome were neither very

comfortable nor very safe to walk in. At night there was no lighting,

except when, at some great festival, illuminations might be made by

order of the emperor for a whole night or perhaps a series of nights.

In ordinary times torches and lanterns must be provided by yourself,

and even the 7000 watchmen scarcely gave you a full feeling of

security. The precise arrangements made for scavenging are unknown,

but presumably it was done by the public slaves under the supervision

of the aediles. It is, however, easy to discover from contemporary

complaints that the streets were often annoyingly wet and slimy.

One thing the ordinary Roman appears never to have minded, any more

than it is minded at the present day. This was noise. There are

studious men enough in ancient literature who complain that sleep or

study is impossible in Rome. They exclaim upon the bawling of the

hawkers, the canting songs of the beggars, the banging of hammers, the

sing-song of schoolboys learning to read in the open-air verandahs or

balconies which often served as schools, and the shouting in the

baths. All night long there was the rattle of carts and the creaking

of heavy waggons. But the average Roman cared, and still cares, very

little for quiet or sleep, and no emperor attempted to check the

annoyance. Perhaps he could devise no check. Perhaps he himself, being

on the Palatine, and his counsellors, being in their own comparatively

secluded houses on the hills, scarcely realised the full enormity of

the nocturnal roar of Rome. In any case the fact of the noise is

unquestionable. It was then very much as it is now if one tries to

sleep in rooms in the Corso or the Via Babuino. The saying that "God

made the country and man made the town" is met with in a Roman writer

of the age of Augustus, and the noise is one factor in the difference.

The ancient Romans, we have said, were masters of practical

engineering, and a chief glory of the city was its abundant supply of

water. Apart from the Tiber and the natural springs, there were in the

year 64 at least eight aqueducts bringing drinkable water into the

city. It was the emperor's concern to see to this matter, as he did to

the corn-supply, but in practice he appointed what he might call his

Minister of Water-supply, and gave him liberal means to provide a

large staff of engineers, surveyors, masons, pipelayers, inspectors,

and custodians. It is a common error to imagine that the Romans were

ignorant of the simple hydraulic law that water will find its own

level, and to suppose that their aqueducts were built in consequence

of that ignorance. In point of fact they knew the law as well as we

do. Their earlier aqueducts were conduits almost wholly underground;

their later were all on arches. When they wished to carry water to a

height within the city, up a watertower to a distributing cistern, or

to the top storey of a building, they did so by pipes, just as we

should; but when they brought water from forty miles away they

preferred to bring it in channels lined with impermeable cement and

carried upon arches, which wound across the country according to the

levels in order to avoid the excessive pressure of too steep a

gradient. The reasons for their choice are simple enough. Their chief

difficulty was in making pipes of iron of sufficient capacity. On the

other hand, it was easy to construct a cemented channel in masonry of

any size you desired. In the next place the water about Rome rapidly

lays a calcareous deposit, and it is much easier to clear this from a

readily accessible channel than from pipes buried in the ground. The

pipes which the Romans commonly made were of lead, bronze, or wood.

None of these could be made and cleared cheaply enough to serve for

the volume of water required for household use, the baths, and the

public fountains of Rome. Meanwhile slave labour was inexpensive, and

the cost of building an aqueduct of any length was of little account

to the Roman.

When the water reached the city it was conducted into settling and

distributing reservoirs and its flow regulated. Thence it was carried

by pipes, mostly of lead, wherever it was required. When Agrippa was

minister of water-supply he constructed in the city 700 public pools

or basins and 500 fountains, drawing their supply from 130 collecting

heads or reservoirs. And it is to the credit of Agrippa and of Rome

that all these pools, fountains, and reservoirs were made pleasant to

the eye with suitable adornment. There is mention of 400 marble

columns and 300 statues, but these are to be regarded as only chief

among the embellishments.

The streets of Rome were commonly paved with blocks of lava quarried

in the neighbourhood from the abundant deposits which had formed in a

not very remote volcanic period.

The materials employed for substantial building were various; in the

older days red and black tufa--a stone so soft as to require

protection by a layer of stucco; later the dark-brown peperino, the

golden-creamy travertine, marble white and coloured, and concrete. The

modern visitor to Rome who regards the ruins but superficially would

naturally imagine that many of the edifices were mainly constructed of

brick. In reality there was no building so composed. The flat

triangular bricks, or rather tiles, which are so much in evidence, are

but inserted in the face of concrete to cover the nakedness of that

material. Concrete alone might serve for cores and substructures, but

those parts of the building which showed were required to present a

more pleasing surface. At the date of Nero this might be achieved by a

fronting of marble slabs and blocks, but more commonly it was obtained

by means of the triangular red or yellow tiles above mentioned. In

buildings of slightly earlier date the exterior often presented a

"diamond pattern" or network arrangement of square pieces of stone

inserted in the concrete while it was still soft. The huge vaults and

arches affected by the Romans made concrete a particularly convenient

material, and nothing could better illustrate its strength than the

tenacity with which it has endured the strain in the unsupported

portions of the vaults of the Basilica of Constantine. Any of the more

imposing buildings which were not mainly of concrete were composed of

blocks of stone, held to each other by clamps soldered in with lead.

Few, if any, such buildings were made entirely of marble. In the case

of those composes of the other varieties of stone already named, the

surface was commonly coated either with stucco or with marble facings

attached by hook-like clamps fixed into the main structure Externally

the appearance of Rome--so far as its public buildings are

concerned-was that of a city of marble. The present having been for

centuries torn away, either to be used elsewhere, or more often to be

burned down for lime.

[Illustration: FIG. 28.--BUILDING MATERIALS. (From Middleton.)]

Life in the Roman World of Nero and St. Paul · 第 8 / 23 章