Trees in Ancient Rome. Growing an Empire in the Late Republic and Early Principate.

Andrew Fox, Trees in Ancient Rome. Growing an Empire in the Late Republic and Early Principate (London, New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2023). 9781350237803.

Reviewed by Caroline Arbuckle MacLeod, St Thomas More College, University of Saskatchewan, carbuckle@stmcollege.ca.

Andrew Fox’s Trees in Ancient Rome is a substantial adaptation of his 2019 PhD thesis. Through a series of case studies, the author explores the multifaceted impact of trees on the Roman mindset and cityscape. While previous approaches to trees in the ancient Mediterranean have focused on either their role as a commodity or as sacred beings, Fox endeavours to provide a more balanced view. Through case studies, he shows how trees could sometimes be seen as utilitarian or prestigious materials, while in other contexts they were monumental points of cultural memory or used strategically to associate individuals or spaces with specific deities. Fox is ultimately successful in his efforts to demonstrate the significance of trees to the Roman people and the many ways they impacted both daily lives and triumphant celebrations in this powerful ancient city.

Fox starts off his introduction with a discussion of the Ruminal fig. This significant tree was originally associated with the city’s foundation myth, supposedly as the tree under which the infants Romulus and Remus were suckled by a wolf. This tree, or at least, a tree of this type, also came to be placed in the Comitium, a significant public meeting place in the Roman Forum. This means that the tree came to be associated with the political and social heart of ancient Rome. Through this initial case study, Fox demonstrates how specific trees could come to serve as monuments and points of cultural memory within the city.

The introduction then moves on to a series of definitions of trees and their association with gardens and groves. Fox also situates his work among previous discussions that have focused on themes of arboreal utility, religion, landscape and gardens, and war and empire. He acknowledges influences such as Whyte’s discussion of trees and identity construction in early modern England.¹ He also discusses the challenges with identifying the species of trees discussed by Latin authors, who may not always have been accurate in their discussions, or who may have taken some poetic license in their descriptions. He ends his introduction by posing his overarching question: “What was the impact of trees in the Roman city?” (p. 31).

In chapter one, “Memory and Trees,” the author provides a number of examples of the means by which Romans paid homage to trees seen to be important to the city’s history. The mythical foundations of Rome arose from idyllic forest origins, according to Virgil, while neighbourhood names recall the former presence of groves throughout Rome’s urban landscape. Pliny’s Natural History describes a selection of some of Rome’s oldest trees while connecting their lives to the careers and reputations of those who planted them. A number of different groves are then discussed, some related to dynasties, others to deities. This further demonstrates how different trees could relate to specific histories and associations and could be manipulated to send specific messages to the people of Rome or used as allegorical references. For instance, the Julio-Claudian laurel grove, which itself had semi-mythical origins, flourished during this dynasty, but withered by the end of Nero’s rule. Ancient historians used this to comment on the fortitude of the city of Rome and its morality.  

In the next chapter, “Bringing Trees to Rome,” Fox expands on his discussion of Pliny’s work on trees in Natural History, emphasizing the ancient author’s preoccupation with the difference between utility and luxury. Pliny saw useful trees, mostly those from near Rome, as good Roman materials that added to the overall value of the city. Luxurious woods that were often imported, like the plane tree, or not utilitarian as from providing shade, were considered un-Roman and frivolous. Amongst this dichotomy, however, Fox notes the less straightforward understanding of imported citrus wood, which was used to create expensive tables. This timber fueled competition for these fashionable pieces of furniture, a practice that Pliny does not seem to be able to wholly condemn. 

Fox’s third chapter, “Trees in the Triumph,” is more than double the length of the others, and focuses on the use of trees in the Roman triumph and imperial monuments as well as for crowns and trophies. Trees from defeated foreign regions could be imported to be in triumphal processions, as if captives themselves. This helped to demonstrate the new extent of the Roman empire and its victory over foreign territories. Specific trees or tree parts could also be incorporated into artwork to send similar messages. Fox discusses the use of trees on Trajanic monuments as a detailed case study, which has been part of his previous scholarship as well.² He notes that the oak, a tree closely associated with defeated Dacia, was a frequent addition to these pieces, demonstrating Rome’s victory over these foreign territories. Fox concludes this chapter with a discussion of Roman crowns and trophies. The civic crown (corona civica), for instance, was also made from oak and featured acorns, carrying associations with both Jupiter and fertility. This made it a particularly meaningful symbol for the emperor Augustus, who stressed the importance of fertility and family throughout his reign and displayed the crown prominently above the door to his house.

Chapter four, “Keeping Trees in the City,” provides a brief overview of the role of trees in the built spaces of Rome. Much of this is based on an attempt to interpret the small holes drilled into the “Marble Plan,” a massive marble map of Rome as it was under the reign of Septimus Severus. In some cases, archaeological evidence helps to either refute or support these interpretations. In this chapter in particular, Fox reminds the reader of the ways that trees could improve the quality of city spaces by improving air quality, providing shade from the hot sun, and generally beautifying urban surroundings. A number of porticoes are included in this discussion, with a demonstration of how specific trees could complement their purpose. A case study, the Mausoleum of Augustus, is also used to discuss the purpose of trees as part of monuments. If it was indeed cypress trees that were selected for growth on this monument, these trees would have not only increased the visibility of the monument, but their association with funerary practices would have communicated a state of perpetual mourning for Augustus and the end of his rule. Finally, the very brief conclusion to this work simply summarizes the points made through each chapter.

Fox’s book successfully demonstrates that trees played multiple roles in ancient Rome. It is clear that specific species of trees often had a particular commercial function or value, and some specific examples could have associations with different regions and deities. Individual trees in the ancient city could also serve as monuments, as meeting points associated with specific moments in the city’s history. Parts of trees could be used as symbols to emphasize the glory of Rome either as a general victorious force or to emphasize the success and power of individual kings or dynasties. Fox also reminds the reader of the organic elements of urban spaces that are too frequently lost in modern historical and archaeological discussions of ancient cities. He is right to emphasize the positive impact that trees would have had on the daily lives of ancient Romans. It is clear that Fox’s study is comprehensive: he incorporates a wealth of textual references from ancient scholars while occasionally also looking to archaeological evidence for support or clarification of his or other scholars’ interpretations. His numerous case studies are valuable for future discussions of trees in the ancient world. 

While certainly a valuable contribution to the scholarship of ancient trees and their place in the Roman cityscape, some more interaction with the questions posed in the introduction would have helped to push our understanding of the role of trees in the ancient world even further. For instance, one area that I would have liked to see revisited in the conclusion is the association of trees and religion in ancient Rome. In the introduction, Fox highlights the previous scholarship that has approached this question. He notes that early scholars such as Baddeley³ often made blanket statements about how Romans considered all trees to be sacred, and linked this supposed belief to other ancient cultures as an element common to early religious practices. Fox instead follows on Hunt’s more recent and more nuanced approach,⁴ which notes that the question of the religious importance of trees and the definition and role of the spiritual elements of trees, the numen, needs to be examined on a case-by-case basis. Throughout the chapters, Fox indeed demonstrates that trees were frequently viewed as commodities or socially significant landmarks with few, if any, religious connotations. On the other hand, there are numerous quotes integrated through the chapters that do imply, or state directly, the religious associations with specific trees, groves, and wooded areas. It would have been helpful for Fox to revisit this topic in the conclusion, and provide a valuable, direct contribution to this debate by drawing all of his threads together, especially since he had already highlighted this discussion in the introduction. 

While Fox does attempt to define most of the Latin terms used in his discussions, an additional sentence or two of background information in some areas would have also helped this work be a bit more accessible to a broader audience. This interesting discussion would no doubt be of interest to other scholars working on the significance of trees and the natural geography of the ancient Mediterranean more generally, or in other global regions. For instance, a brief sentence explaining what the Lupercal was would help non-Romanists better understand the importance of the original location of the Ruminal fig. 

Despite these more minor critiques, Fox has certainly provided an interesting and valuable overview of trees in ancient Rome, one that will hopefully spark more interest and debate in this fascinating topic. 

Notes

1. Nicola Whyte, “An Archaeology of Natural Places: Trees in the Early Modern Landscape,” Huntington Library Quarterly 76, no. 4 (2013): 499-517. 

2. Andrew Fox, “Trajanic Trees: The Dacian Forest on Trajan’s Column,” Papers of the British School at Rome 87 (2019): 47–69.

3. Baddeley, Welbore St. Clair, “The Sacred Trees of Rome”, Nineteenth Century and After 58, no. 341 (1905): 100–15. 

4. Ailsa Hunt, Reviving Roman Religion: Sacred Trees in the Roman World (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016)

Table of Contents

Introduction (1–31)
1. Memory and Trees (33–51)
2. Bringing Trees to Rome (53–68)
3. Trees in the Triumph (69–109)
4. Keeping Trees in the City (111–27)
Conclusion (129–30)

Discussion

1. In your introduction, you discuss the previous scholarship that has dealt with the religious role of trees in ancient Rome. While it seems clear that you disagree that all trees could have been associated with numen, you also repeat the idea that the oak, for instance, had close associations with the god Jupiter. Do you think then, that the Romans considered all oak trees as worthy of at least respect, if not worship, due to their godly associations? Or do you think that it still depended on the specific oak tree? Do you think that all oak trees had religious potential that could be activated through specific actions?

The oak tree mentioned in the introduction in association with Jupiter is specifically the one in the Temple for Jupiter Feretrius, which is fairly unambiguous in its association with the god. To break down your questions by parts:

a) No. In much the same way that we will fell a fir tree without being devastated by the felling of a Christmas tree, I think Romans will have had a loose associative relationship with the oak, where they might be reminded of Jupiter, but in no way hold this tree to be a sacred object.

b) Yes, definitely it would depend on the oak tree. Some oak trees, like that in the Temple of Jupiter Feretrius, have very obvious relationships, and this is dependent, in my view, on their different sites. And that “sacrality” does not necessarily have a religious aspect.

c) Perhaps. There is certainly something in the idea that Ovid’s shepherd in the Parilia festival did not know what a grove was, but this I think speaks to a very fluid idea of what these sacred places and spaces were, which is something I explore in a recent article for Classical Quarterly (2024).

2. On the Trajanic monuments, you note that the oak trees are usually associated with Dacia, though in the scene with Decebalus, you suggest that here the oak is a reflection of the anger of Jupiter Tonans. Do you notice anything different in the ways that these different trees are depicted that are likely to lead the Roman viewers to this conclusion as well?

As explored in the chapter, these two images appear on the same vertical axis, and if we follow a vertical reading of the Column, you can see the mirroring of the two scenes, both with relationships to Jupiter, around Victory. While I think this is a very high level artistic reading of the piece, a more basic reading brings the theme of the landscape ceding to Roman control, from the wood shielding Decebalus to the wood isolating him. We have to remember that not everyone will have understood these themes as fully as we do now, immersed in ancient scholarship as we are.

3. Are there any clear references to any of the famous trees that you mention being chopped down and turned into wooden objects in a way that would allow them to continue to function as objects of cultural memory?

None that I know of. There are a number of famous statues made of particularly old wood, but I do not believe that they are made from particularly special trees.

4. Do you think that future archaeological investigations will help to clarify wood use and distribution throughout the Roman city? Or are there too few preserved wood remnants to make a significant impact?

I very much doubt it. It would be wonderful if they did, and when we do find timber in Rome it is indicative of a large-scale timber trade. However, Rome has existed on top of itself for 2800 years now, and archaeologically fugitive items like root cavities and wood are highly unlikely to have survived that.