Marcello Mogetta, The Origins of Roman Concrete Construction in Roman Architecture: Technology and Society in Republican Italy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2021). 9781108845687.
Reviewed by Amanda K. Pavlick, Xavier University, pavlicka@xavier.edu.
Any archaeologist knows the need for typologies and chronologies; the amount of data generated by survey and excavation cries out for fixed points of dating to help us make sense of the material we find. Architecture has often given some of this guidance, and handbooks, such as those published by Giuseppe Lugli and Jean-Pierre Adam, have long been used to illustrate and date the evolution of architecture and its materials and techniques. These handbooks have thus not only aided us in establishing chronologies for our excavations but also in contextualizing them within the evolution of Roman society. One common example of this is the idea—no longer often articulated, but which still finds echoes in modern researchers’ assumptions—that Roman imperialism was driven in part by the desire to obtain access to certain types of building materials; when said building materials appear in structures, we interpret a date that follows a particular conquest.
Marcello Mogetta’s The Origins of Roman Concrete Construction in Roman Architecture: Technology and Society in Republican Italy has, instead, shown what we often suspect but which linear explanations obscure: that the reality of antiquity is much messier and harder to pin down than we have previously allowed—but also that this reality is much more compelling than we had previously been able to see.
Mogetta’s book has its origins in his 2013 University of Michigan doctoral dissertation, which has subsequently been expanded. It is an ambitious book that includes among its goals:
- to examine the choices of patrons, builders, and experts in the development of what was to become Roman concrete, contextualizing their work within the broader economy of the 2nd–1st century BCE Roman and pre-Roman economy;
- to disentangle Roman concrete from previous conceptions of the material as a marker of Romanitas,
- by so doing, to move away from narratives employing cultural diffusionism and center–periphery frameworks in order to understand this material in its own right;
- to integrate new excavation data in order to create a more holistic and up-to-date picture of technological experimentation and implementation;
- and to create, where possible, a dating scheme for the development of concrete based on stratigraphic excavations and regional studies.
The book is based around the uses of concrete, both figural and literal. The first two chapters provide background: defining the material, its components, its terminology, and its appearances in ancient literature and modern interpretations. We are shown how ancient authors described concrete as a medium that aided in self-presentation and public personae and then how modern scholars have perceived concrete as a marker of Roman cultural identity. Mogetta then examines the physical uses of concrete, from the circumstances of its development to its utilization in various locations around Italy. The book plays with the concept of center and periphery by presenting five analytical chapters that begin with Rome and gradually move outward geographically, but in so doing deconstruct old notions of how this technology was developed and spread throughout the peninsula.
The book makes several major contributions which will be detailed in the chapter breakdowns below. Chief among them, though, is the synthetic treatment of recent stratigraphic excavations in each region, including Rome and the Roman Campagna, Latium Vetus, and Pompeii and Campania. The author has collected and analyzed data from academic and rescue excavations, providing information that updates the reader’s knowledge of these important sites (including excavations with which Mogetta has personal experience, such as Gabii and the Venus Pompeiana Project).
In the Introduction, Mogetta defines his aims for the book; primarily, he wants to foreground the agency of builders and patrons who shaped the Roman built environment, examining how innovation often comes from experimentation with available materials and immediate needs rather than from abstract thought. Definitions follow; first, Mogetta explains Roman concrete as “a mixture consisting of stone fragments (aggregate)…placed in lime-based binder (mortar) with high-quality hydraulic properties, and packed into place” (p. 4). He notes that archaeologists often separate such material by those that do and do not use volcanic ash as an additive; however, when ancient builders could not obtain volcanic ash, they found other ways to create a material that would work as well; this makes the modern distinction problematic. Mogetta then explores terminology for the relevant materials and techniques, demonstrating that terms in ancient nomenclature, such as opus caementicium, were used variably in antiquity and are applied inconsistently in modern reports. To address this, he creates a synthetic classification for the various techniques and processes studied in the book. This is one of many valuable additions which will prove important in future studies.
Chapter 2 details past approaches to concrete and its development. The most influential early studies on this technique created causal narratives, asserting that Rome exported its technology to its periphery. Mogetta, instead, sees these linear, evolutionary paradigms as homogenizing, obscuring the opportunities local elites created within the built environments of their communities and their reasons for doing so. With this in mind, Mogetta pivots to how architecture and its benefaction were part of identity construction in ancient sources. Suetonius’s famous statement about Augustus’s transformation of Rome from brick to marble speaks to the general tendency. Vitruvius’s handbook, too, provided vital information for elites aspiring to participate in the broader world of construction, not just for self-presentation through domestic architecture but also for civic, euergetic purposes. This connection between private and public projects will play an important role in the upcoming chapters.
The next three chapters are the analytical core of the book, presenting the evidence for mortared- and cemented-rubble construction as it was developed throughout peninsular Italy.
Chapter 3 focuses on Rome itself. Mogetta disassembles some of the concepts that studies have relied upon, showing how these false foundations have led prior chronologies astray. Previous studies have argued that the development of Roman concrete happened as early as the 4th century BCE (Table 2.1); the assumptions and the monuments fundamental to these earlier studies are examined for their reliability. Chief among these is the fixed point the so-called Porticus Aemilia is presumed to represent. Mogetta persuasively shows that the identification of the structure in question is problematic in name, in function, and therefore in date, concluding this structure cannot be relied upon as a fixed point in architectural typologies. He proceeds to then interrogate other commonly cited structures and importantly interweaves data from domestic buildings, which have not appeared in prior studies. Here, he demonstrates that private patrons utilized cemented-rubble in their homes first and later employed this same technology in the public monuments they sponsored. Mogetta then interweaves data verifiable via stratigraphy and archaeometric analyses and proposes a new date for concrete construction in Rome: the mid-2nd century BCE.
Chapter 4 expands on the previous chapter’s conclusions: if builders in Rome had ready access to volcanic ash and could take advantage of the pozzolanic properties of this material, would builders in other areas with ready access to similar ash and to limestone—both required for high-quality mortars and the plaster and stucco used as wall coverings—develop cemented rubble independently? Therefore, Mogetta examines the areas of Rome’s suburbium where deposits of volcanic ash abut limestone formations to test this hypothesis. Focusing primarily on Lucus Feroniae, Gabii, and Tibur, and villas in the suburbium more broadly, Mogetta finds that the primary driver for the adoption of concrete appears to have been economic. Traditional methods of construction, such as opus quadratum and polygonal masonry, persisted in these areas far longer than in Rome, and the desire of rural elites to build new, larger structures, such as luxury villas, piscinae, and terraces on sloping terrain, pushed them to adopt concrete in order to be able to construct more projects while remaining within budgetary needs.
Chapter 5 begins Mogetta’s examination of regions farther from the metropolis. This chapter is perhaps one of the most compelling of the book, focusing on a period of Pompeian history that is vital to the story of the city before Roman domination, and yet one that is still poorly understood. Architecture has been paramount in previous reconstructions of Pompeii’s history, beginning in the 19th century with Fiorelli, based upon and building from Strabo’s description (5.4.8) of the various cultures that occupied the city before Rome. Scholars have primarily seen these groups represented in the materials used for building domestic and public structures and dated them accordingly, yet Mogetta deftly uses recent excavations (such as in the Stabian Baths and environs of the Triangular Forum) to show that building material was more representative of wealth than culture or chronology. For example, limestone-framework techniques (often given the modern—and misleading—name opus Africanum) are shown to be employed in their most regular, most labor-intensive, and therefore most expensive forms in neighborhoods where the wealthiest homes are found, and the least-costly techniques are found in areas with lower-class homes, such as the so-called row houses in Regions I and II. For the employment of concrete in the city, Mogetta finds Pompeii has a pattern similar to, but not dependent upon, Rome; local elites—not just in Pompeii, but other locations in Campania as well—experimented with concrete in private construction in the mid-2nd century BCE and then sponsored public monuments in this same material and technique, with verifiable dates from 130–120 BCE onward.
Chapter 6 addresses the lack of uniformity found in Roman and Latin colonies. Based on the dates Mogetta establishes in Rome and Pompeii, he looks at colonies (re)founded around the same time to see how cemented rubble was employed in their architecture. Fregellae, Alba Fucens, Paestum, Cosa, and others are examined in detail, but Mogetta finds no general trend; importantly, this means that cultural diffusionism cannot apply, and neither can arguments about Roman concrete representing some form of Romanitas. Instead, Mogetta finds a more compelling story in the community biographies he examines. At Cosa, for example, public projects, such as the Comitium and reconstruction of the forum temple appear to have utilized many of the colonists as workers (building with small, stackable elements that required little specific training to assemble), creating community buildings via community labor, an opportunity to “materially shape the collective identity of the colony” (p. 203). Such an example demonstrates that the shapers of these various towns were faced with challenges that prompted experimentation and utilization of locally available human and natural resources.
Chapter 7 concludes the volume. Key takeaways are highlighted here, such as the vital role played by non-Roman craftsmen in the various settlements and regions detailed throughout the book. The evidence presented in the volume reveals a pattern of motivated elites and experts. Private building was commonly the first arena for experimentation, and upon those successes, patrons sponsored public monuments, using them for the furtherance of their public personae. The success of these monuments was therefore paramount for these individuals as well as for their various communities. Mogetta also makes a compelling argument that cemented-rubble architecture was employed at a critical moment in the history of the peninsula: the late 2nd century BCE, when sociopolitical tensions were becoming threatening. Elites found a way to highlight traditional authority through monumental public architecture, promoting an image of stability and continuity while also using new materials and techniques to work within fiscal constraints. Mogetta’s work deftly confutes any sense of center–periphery transmission—in one instance, even indicating the opposite—forefronting the agency of experts and their patrons.
The impact of this book will be felt in a number of ways. As Mogetta notes, the development of concrete construction has received less attention than the employment of concrete in large-scale projects (p. 2). The present volume not only addresses this gap, but points out precisely what we have missed because of it—an understanding of how adaptations to local circumstances, and experimentation by now-anonymous craftspeople, are more often the drivers of material change than the elite patrons whose names appear on inscriptions and in ancient texts. This book also continues the trend in recent research of examining the choices made by ancient builders in order to study the socioeconomic realities of the ancient world.1 This approach pairs with scrutiny of the epigraphic, textual, and material records in re-examining assumptions which have gained near-factual status, obscuring the reality of ancient activity. Mogetta’s detailed presentation of concrete and its uses will aid future fieldwork in contextualization as well as providing accurate terminology that should help address the issue of inconsistent labeling across projects. The structure of the book makes it easy to dip in and out of as one may need, and it has a detailed index and many useful maps and plans.
The importance of this volume should outweigh any critiques, which are minimal in comparison. Mogetta’s expertise is undeniable, yet there are times the reader must follow primary and secondary sources in the footnotes to see the fullness of his argument. For example, a graffito in Pompeii’s basilica is given as a fixed point for dating but is not provided; this is critical to the argument, and while the graffito is quite clear about its date (a handy “in the consulship of…” was included by the ancient author), a reader without access to the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum cannot read it. Frequently, the author does include the text of ancient primary sources; making this consistent throughout the book would have been ideal. However, such issues are partially a symptom of the author having a great amount to say, and I did find myself having to wholly reconsider my system of underlining and note-taking as I read, as at times I came perilously close to underlining entire sections of the book.
In sum, this book is a welcome and necessary contribution. It will be of great use in work ranging from the minutiae of fieldwork to broader research on the relevant times and places referred to herein, and as such should be read by a wide audience.
Table of Contents
1. Introduction (1–24)
2. Deconstructing Roman Concrete (25–45)
3. A New Date for Concrete in Rome (46–90)
4. A View from the Suburbium (91–124)
5. Building Samnite Pompeii (125–80)
6. Colonial Networks (181–231)
7. Conclusion (232–43)
8. Appendix: Catalog of Sites (244–51)
Notes
1. See, for example, Janet DeLaine, The Baths of Caracalla: A Study in the Design, Construction, and Economics of Large-Scale Building Projects in Imperial Rome (Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1997); Rodney D. Fitzsimons, “Monumental Architecture and the Construction of the Mycenaean State,” in State Formation in Italy and Greece, ed. Donald Haggis and Nicola Terrenato (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2011), 75–118; Seth Bernard, Building Mid-Republican Rome: Labor, Architecture and the Urban Economy (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018); Jerrad Lancaster, “To House and Defend: The Application of Architectural Energetics to Southeast Archaic Greek Sicily,” in Architectural Energetics in Archaeology: Analytical Expansions and Global Explorations, ed. Leah McCurdy and Elliot M. Abrams (New York: Routledge, 2020), 95–113; and Yannick Boswinckel, Labouring with Large Stones: A Study into the Investment and Impact of Construction Projects on Mycenaean Communities in the Late Bronze Age (Leiden: Sidestone Press, 2021).
Discussion
1. You explain that Roman elites adopted concrete in part as a way of constructing monumental buildings while working within budgetary constraints, and briefly add that the uptick in the use of this new technique after the adoption of secret balloting in 139 BCE “may not come as a coincidence” (235). This is such a tantalizing suggestion; could you expand upon it?
The specific reference is to a radical reform passed by the tribunes of that year to protect the integrity of the voting process in electoral assemblies. In the old system, citizens expressed their votes orally in public, making it easy for patrons to verify that clients would vote according to instruction. Under the new system, the procedures were moved away from the Comitium, and a new apparatus was created in the Forum Romanum to cast, collect, guard, and count secret ballots. As a result, the Senate’s ability to influence elections was greatly diminished, and candidates themselves became more vulnerable to electoral swings. This is where I see a possible correlation with the pattern of diffusion of concrete construction in Rome. Literary representations of the phenomenon highlight the crucial relationship between technological choices and efficient resource management. Most notably, Vitruvius repeatedly warned his readers, i.e., the patrons of elite architecture, not to dissipate funds that could be reinvested elsewhere for their own political advancement (e.g., to finance successful electoral campaigns). Similarly, building inscriptions make abundantly clear that the correct expenditure of public resources was advertised as a civic virtue. Since initiating, financing, and coordinating the successful completion of public works was such an important component for the career of Roman aristocrats, I like to think that the widespread implementation of the new building medium in monumental architecture may have come in response to the constitutional changes that made elections in Rome suddenly more competitive.
2. You spend much of this book dismantling the idea that Rome was a monolithic driver of technology, and part of your conclusion is the compelling statement that at just the time when Roman power was spreading through the peninsula, rather than homogenizing Italy’s culture, we instead see a “dynamic exchange of practice between old and new elites, Roman generals and magistrates, entrepreneurs, local commoners and, to some extent, soldiers” (p. 241). Cemented-rubble architecture is certainly just one aspect of this story; is there a future avenue of research you’d like to see that pursues this conclusion, be that your own work or an avenue you’d like to see taken up in another field of inquiry?
My work aimed to provide a first systematization of the evidence, but further work is needed to characterize fully the material conditions, technological practices, and socioeconomic institutions that influenced architects, sponsors, and patrons of Roman architecture in the age of Rome’s expansion. The typological approach I have proposed for Roman concrete can be enhanced through the application of interdisciplinary scientific methods in terms of both archaeological dating, which is crucial to circumscribe the historical and cultural context of innovations, and analysis of the geochemistry of building materials, which informs us about the ancient empirical knowledge of material properties, exploitation of natural resources, and human–environment interaction. Moreover, the continued development of workflows for the 3D digital recording of architecture has enormous research potential for the identification of masonry styles and energetics analysis of building techniques that are not serial or modular, as this recently published study of polygonal masonry in Samnium has shown. Progress in these fields will likely have a significant impact on our understanding of the economy of Roman construction and trade of building materials as well as on our ability to trace the connectivity and mobility of craftspeople. More broadly, I look forward to seeing other attempts at modeling the diffusion and adaptation of concrete technology in the provinces of the Roman Empire. This might provide a valuable base of comparison to assess the extent to which cultural transfer in the Roman world was decentralized, and the role played by local agents, aesthetics, and materials in the process.
3. There is so much rich information in this book; your research was very broad, and you must have encountered many anecdotes that were engaging but not pertinent to the arguments you were making. Was there anything in particular you found of interest that you wanted to include but didn’t fit with the flow of your text?
To set the stage for my critique of the deep-seated idea that the Romans possessed a “quintessential” ability to find practical solutions to engineering problems, I open Chapter 2 with a brief excursus on the achievements of Cossuttius, the architect responsible for the completion of the Temple of Olympian Zeus at Athens in the early 2nd century BCE. As it turns out, the activities of his firm, which maintained interests in the building industry and stone supply in the Greek East over the course of four hundred years, were instrumental in establishing the masonry practices that brought about the systematic application of Corinthian capitals to Roman temple architecture in Italy. Although closely related to the main theme of the book—the development of the Corinthian order represents another cultural marker of Roman imperial architecture!—I did not have the space to discuss the mechanisms of technological transmission in any detail. But if your readers are curious to know more about the story of Cossutius and to explore how private entrepreneurs well versed in cosmopolitan styles might have operated independently of Roman hegemony, they can now read my extended treatment of the subject, which appears in an edited volume titled Comparing Roman Hellenisms in Italy (just published by the University of Michigan Press).
These are fascinating answers, and only demonstrate that your book should be the catalyst for many more intriguing projects to come, in many different research areas. Thank you!
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