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Long before Cleopatra, another female pharaoh redefined ancient Egyptian power
More than a millennium before Cleopatra, the female ruler Hatshepsut blazed a trail for powerful women in the ancient civilisation
Cleopatra’s story is often seen through a prism of great drama, romance and spectacle, her rule coming at the very end of pharaonic history. But her position as the definitive image of the ‘female pharaoh’ obscures a much earlier ancient Egyptian experiment in female power – one that is arguably much more revealing. More than 1,400 years before Cleopatra, another woman ruled ancient Egypt as pharaoh, operating within one of the most conservative political systems the ancient world produced. She was Hatshepsut. Speaking about her life on the HistoryExtra podcast, Egyptologist Campbell Price explains what her period of rule means for how power in ancient Egypt has been understood, and how she paved the way for the rulers who followed. An ancient civilisation with a long history Hatshepsut ruled Egypt from around 1479 to 1458 BC, nearly fifteen centuries before Cleopatra’s death in 30 BC. Her power base was the city of Thebes in southern Egypt, which at the time served as the religious and political heart of the kingdom. From there, she governed a state that stretched from the Nile Delta in the north, deep into Nubia in the south, overseeing one of the most expansive and stable empires Egypt had yet known. Read more | Cleopatra: what is the real legacy of the last pharaoh? “With Hatshepsut, we’re talking about the Eighteenth Dynasty, and that is the first of several dynasties in what Egyptologists call the New Kingdom,” explains Campbell Price. Egypt, at this point was anything but new, and had already transitioned through distinct phases of cultural transformation, including the Old Kingdom. “The Old Kingdom is the time of the pyramids,” Price notes. “The pyramids are already a thousand years old by this point.” So, Hatshepsut inherited a civilisation that was already ancient. In its long history, it had already survived periods of war, collapse, fragmentation and foreign rule during the Second Intermediate Period. The role of kingship was to maintain a cosmic order in a world that Egyptians knew could easily fall apart. This was, therefore, not a culture inclined to experiment with authority. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-122221432-30893b7-e1769531290322.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This fresco from the tomb of Sennedjem at Deir el-Medina depicts agricultural labour in the Fields of Ialu – the Egyptian paradise of the afterlife. Painted during the New Kingdom’s 19th Dynasty, the scene reflects the belief that eternal life mirrored the best aspects of earthly existence, with abundant harvests promised to the righteous." title="Egypt, Thebes, village of state labourers at Dayr al-Madinah (Deir el-Medina), tomb of Sennedjem, fresco depicting agricultural scenes in the fields of Ialu, New Kingdom, Dynasty XIX" /> What it meant to be an ancient Egyptian pharaoh The Egyptian pharaohs upheld maat – the notion of balance, justice and order. The ruler was a mediator between gods and humans, who commanded armies and embodied Egypt itself. The visual language of this role was rigid, and defiantly masculine. Although royal women could hold immense influence in ancient Egypt, formal kingship was almost always male. Before Hatshepsut, no woman had ruled for long as a fully recognised pharaoh in her own right. Queens could act as regents, especially for young heirs, but stepping beyond that role meant crossing a deeply embedded cultural boundary. That’s why imagery of Hatshepsut shows her in a “male-coded” way, says Price. “It’s not that Hatshepsut is necessarily dressing up as a man,” Price explains. “It’s that the only way to be shown as a legitimate pharaoh is to be shown in a male guise. That’s how she has to appear in statues and in reliefs.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-463908373-33236aa-e1769532932297.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This relief shows Hatshepsut, queen of Egypt, presenting an offering to the falcon-headed god Horus. Although a woman, Hatshepsut is depicted in male form, adopting the visual language of kingship to legitimise her rule." title="Hatshepsut, Queen of Egypt, presenting an offering to the god Horus." /> But how, exactly, did Hatshepsut rise to power in this system? Hatshepsut began her rule as regent for her young stepson, Thutmose III. This was a role that fit comfortably within established norms. But what followed was a series of escalations that went beyond the regular role of a regent. Thutmose III, the boy for whom Hatshepsut initially ruled, remained alive and present at court throughout her reign. He was trained as a king, led military campaigns, and was never formally removed from the line of succession. But all the while, Hatshepsut seemed to consolidate power toward herself. Read more | Did the ancient Egyptians really love cats? The dark truth might break your heart “There seems to be a bit of experimentation,” Price explains. “But by, say, year seven of her rule, she is fully declaring that she is a pharaoh.” Legitimacy in ancient Egypt was decided by a small, powerful network of priests, officials and court elites who controlled administration. By securing their support through religious donations and favourable building projects, Hatshepsut ensured that her rule functioned smoothly at every level of the state. As long as order was maintained and prosperity continued, she was allowed to retain her power. “And then a bit later on, she is shown [in iconography as] completely male, with essentially a man’s body,” Price adds. In Egyptian terms this was not a denial of her sex, but an affirmation of her role as pharaoh. Kingship had fixed visual rules that couldn’t be tampered with. If she wanted power, Hatshepsut had to bend to fit those rules. The innovation behind Hatshepsut’s rise Hatshepsut’s authority rested on the success of the regime over which she ruled. Her reign coincided with a period of ancient Egyptian confidence and power. “She is very good at, and very interested in, combining tradition and innovation,” Price says. “And undoubtedly there is an interest in doing things in a slightly different, slightly new way.” Her construction regime made that clear. Across Egypt, temples rose that echoed earlier models while pushing architectural styles onward. Her mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahri, cut into the cliffs of western Thebes, was unlike anything that had come before. Also key to her success; her government looked outward, building relationships with other regions and leaders. “She sends out these extraordinary international trading missions,” Price notes, including the famous expedition to a region called Punt, which returned with incense trees, exotic animals and luxury goods. “She does keep her hand in with warfare,” he says. “And again, there’s this presumption that because she’s a woman, she must be meek and mild.” But that wasn’t the case. Egyptian kingship required the credible projection of violence – which Hatshepsut understood. “She is pretty mean,” Price says. “She shows herself as a sphinx, trampling foreigners. And she also – as all pharaohs have to do – threatens people,” Price adds. “She says, ‘Anyone who doubts my power, bad things are going to happen to them.’ She means business as king.” These assertions of Egyptian dominance and strength were spearheaded by Hatshepsut. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-113491794-511b21f-e1769531009439.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This relief from the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahri depicts members of her celebrated trading expedition to the fabled Land of Punt." title="Relief showing members of Queen Hatshepsut's trading expedition to the mysterious 'Land of Punt' from this pharaoh's elegant mortuary temple at Deir El-Bahri. Hatshepsut, 18th Dynasty, reigned 1503-1482 BC." /> The power behind the throne But Hatshepsut didn’t rule in a vacuum. Her reign was a coordinated project, supported by elite administrators who understood how to secure her legitimacy. “I have to mention someone very important,” Price says. “A key member of her inner circle at the royal court – a man called Senenmut.” “Senenmut holds over ninety titles,” says Price. “A very important guy. He seems to be the spin doctor-in-chief, if you like. It seems fairly clear to me that he is personally responsible for creating the iconography of her kingship. So Senenmut is the person who really promotes this idea of her as the great pharaoh.” It wasn’t an entirely benevolent move. Senenmut’s own power depended entirely on Hatshepsut’s success, giving him every incentive to craft a compelling vision of her kingship. Was Hatshepsut’s reign successful? Hatshepsut’s success didn’t bring permanent change to the rules of Egyptian kingship. After her death, efforts were made to remove her name and image from monuments, and later kings returned to exclusively male rule. Nevertheless, by the measures that ancient Egyptians valued most, Hatshepsut’s reign worked. Read more | The face of Cleopatra: what did she look like, and was she really so beautiful? “I would say that the time we know of her on the throne is a prosperous one for Egypt,” Price concludes. While maintaining internal stability, Hatshepsut’s rule also saw the continued progress of trade, and the expansion of monument building. Cleopatra would, more than a millennium later, wield power in a radically different cultural context. She ruled as a Hellenistic monarch in a world now defined by Greek politics and Roman power. Unlike Hatshepsut, she didn’t need to present herself as male, but she also lacked the sacred framework that made Hatshepsut’s rule stable. Their shared label as ‘female pharaohs’ hides the fact that they were solving entirely different political problems. It was Hatshepsut who demonstrated that even the rigid systems of divine kingship could be ruled over by a woman, if given the chance to master those systems. Cambpell Price was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Long before the ancient Roman empire, a rival superpower looked set for supremacy
Before the Punic Wars, as Rome and Carthage edged towards conflict in the third century BC, the balance of power in the Mediterranean favoured the Carthaginians. But it was the upstart Romans who would be victorious
The ancient Romans would come to build one of the world’s mightiest empires, spanning continents and moulding the trajectory of much of Europe and the spaces around it. But that wasn’t an outcome that always seemed likely. In the years before the start of the Punic Wars, which would eventually see the Romans emerge as the Mediterranean’s dominant force, it was a different power that seemed to hold the keys to the future: Carthage. “In the middle of the third century BC, when the Punic Wars began, if you were going to take a bet on who was going to control the Mediterranean, you probably would not have bet on Rome.” That’s the view of Professor Philip Freeman, stressing that the world Rome was emerging into was already crowded with established powers. How, then, did it take advantage of the situation? Speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast, Freeman set out the rivalry between Carthage and Rome and revealed how Rome’s imperial ambitions meant the Punic Wars were inevitable. Ancient Carthage before Rome “Carthage has a fascinating history,” explains Freeman. “It was one of many different colonies that were founded by the Phoenicians, starting in about the year 1000 BC.” The Phoenicians were expert sailors and merchants, and one of the earliest European powers. Rather than conquering large inland territories, they established a network of coastal settlements specifically designed to facilitate trade and spur commercial opportunities. Read more | The overshadowed ancient empire that rivalled Rome with maritime might and an iron fist As Freeman emphasises, “they were not an empire in the sense of the Romans, or other empires. What they wanted to do was found trading posts.” Over time, that strategy would go on to produce extraordinary wealth. Phoenician settlements spread along the north African coast, across southern Spain, and even beyond the Strait of Gibraltar. Their great cities included Rhodes, Leptis Magna, Tyre and Sidon. But it was Carthage that eclipsed its peers, transforming from a colony into what Freeman calls “the leading city of north Africa”. By the third century BC, Carthage had become a hub of astonishing commerce, and a genuine Mediterranean superpower. Its strength lay in its maritime trade, financial prowess and control of key sea routes. It commanded colonies and client territories, and established long-standing treaties that bound much of the western Mediterranean into its economic orbit. In contrast, Rome’s influence barely extended beyond the Italian peninsula. Rome on the margins of the Mediterranean world Rome was a different kind of power. It possessed formidable infantry armies but had little naval capacity – and no overseas empire. From a contemporary perspective, Rome was just one power among many. Though it was arguably inferior to Carthage, there was a fundamental difference between the two. Read more | How Hannibal beat the Alps but couldn't beat Rome “The Carthaginians, in general, did not have the great imperial ambitions that the Romans did,” explains Freeman. Carthaginian power was commercial and strategic rather than territorial. Its leaders focused on protecting trade routes and ports rather than the permanent acquisition of new land. On the other hand, “Rome was very much an expansive power. They were interested in empire and spreading their control over as much territory as they reasonably could.” Sicily and the road to the Punic Wars It was Sicily that would prove to be the flashpoint. Located between modern mainland Italy and north Africa, the island was of vital strategic importance – partly due to its abundant grain supplies. “The Carthaginians controlled the north African coast, and they controlled Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica,” Freeman notes. “And that [Sicily] was next on the list for the Romans as they were expanding.” Read more | How did a crow help Rome defeat Carthage? What began as a local dispute over control of Sicily escalated into Rome’s first major overseas war in 264 BC. This was unprecedented, and the Romans were forced to confront a maritime power that had already dominated Mediterranean waters for centuries. By 146 BC, however, the picture was very different. Carthage had been destroyed and Rome stood as the leading power of the western Mediterranean. But although Rome did achieve victory, it wasn’t inevitable. The Punic Wars oscillated between periods of ascendancy and advantage for both Rome and Carthage. The great Carthaginian war leader Hannibal, for example, nearly oversaw the complete destruction of Rome. At the battle of Cannae in 216 BC, his overwhelmed forces killed up to 50,000 Roman soldiers in a single day. What was inevitable, says Freeman, was the outbreak of the wars themselves. “I think the Punic Wars are an example of the ‘Thucydides Trap’. “The concept, taken from the Greek historian Thucydides, says that when a rising power comes up against an older, established power, you are almost certainly going to have war. This is a situation that takes place again and again throughout history.” Professor Philip Freeman was speaking to Rob Attar on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Did the ancient Egyptians really love cats? The dark truth might break your heart
Cats might have been sacred in ancient Egypt, but they were far from cherished pets. Discover why our assumptions about their treatment draw far more on modern sensibilities than historical reality
A sleek Egyptian cat is an ancient image immortalised in bronze statues and painted on tomb walls. They also don’t just exist in art; cats from this period are preserved today in museums across the world in tiny sarcophaguses or swaddled in linen. These remarkable traces have left many assumptions that cultures across the vast span of ancient Egyptian history adored cats, treated them as beloved companions and elevated them above other animals as uniquely sacred beings. But according to Campbell Price, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast series Ancient Egypt: The Big Questions, that picture rests on a total misunderstanding. It reflects our modern attitudes towards animals whilst, in reality, cats were viewed in ways many would find alien – and brutal. The evidence, when examined more closely, is much more unsettling, and far more revealing about how ancient Egyptian belief actually functioned. What did that belief really look like? The system of belief in ancient Egypt “The ancient Egyptian belief system was polytheistic,” Price says. “There are lots of ancient Egyptian gods and they are in a hierarchy. But divinity is in lots of different things, and you can encounter the gods in different places.” The ancient Egyptians believed that deities could be encountered in dreams, in natural forces, in the landscape, in the afterlife and, crucially, in living beings. Read more | 10 things you (probably) didn't know about ancient Egypt For that reason, Price says that addressing ancient Egyptian faith as a “belief system” is often more accurate than calling it a religion. It was flexible, and capable of absorbing new deities and practices over time. This flexibility meant that religious experience varied by region and was shaped by local cults and traditions. What unified these variations was a shared understanding that divine power was infused within the material world, and that humans could interact with it through physical acts. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-587494718-7ddb154-e1768927269265.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This papyrus from the Book of the Dead depicts the weighing of the soul, a central belief in ancient Egyptian ideas of the afterlife. In this ritual of judgment, the heart of the deceased was balanced against the feather of Ma’at — the principle of truth and order — determining whether the soul would pass into eternal life or face annihilation." title="Ancient Egypt : the weighing of the souls" /> The role of animals in ancient Egyptian worship “The truth is gods could be resident in, or experienced through, lots of different things: rocks, rivers, dreams and animals. Animals are certainly one of those things … [but] we’ve put undue focus on the poor kitty cats,” Price says. Indeed, cats were not exceptional. Crocodiles, falcons, ibises, bulls, fish and dogs could all serve as vessels or intermediaries for divine presence. Certain gods were closely associated with particular species, and temples often kept living animals as part of cult practice. But this didn’t mean that the animals themselves were worshipped – and it certainly didn’t mean that they were loved. Animals were one part of a broader belief system built on the idea of exchange. Humans made offerings, and the gods were expected to respond by granting protection, fertility, bountiful harvest and health. “It is not that the ancient Egyptians worshipped animals,” Price says. “It is that animals were a go-between stage between humanity and the gods.” This is where the modern image of the beloved and pampered Egyptian cat begins to unravel. Read more | What was daily life like in ancient Egypt? Price explains the ancient Egyptians’ view: “the great thing about animals was you can kill them and give them as gifts.” By the Late Period (from around the first millennium BC), this logic reached an industrial scale. Animals were bred specifically to be sacrificed, mummified and sold to pilgrims as offerings for the deities. Temples functioned as religious centres, yes, but also as hubs of large-scale animal production. Cats, associated with the powerful and influential goddess Bastet, were especially prominent in this regard. In Egyptian mythology, Bastet was the daughter of the sun god Ra who was worshipped as a warden against evil and linked with ideas of fertility. Excavations around cult centres, such as Bubastis, uncovered vast burial deposits of cats killed in her name. As Price describes: “tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of cats and kittens were raised and had their necks broken as part of an enormous industry of animal deaths to service votive gift giving to the gods.” Cats as votive offerings, not companions What was it that brought the ancient Egyptians to sacrifice animals? Price explains the practice through this comparison: “today, in a Christian tradition, you might light a votive candle to help your prayer get to God. In ancient Egypt, you would buy a mummified cat, or a crocodile, or a falcon, and you would give that as a gift – not as a pet. Read more | The dark side of ancient Egypt “This notion of animals as pets is extremely rare and very culturally contingent.” So, the enduring belief that Egyptians loved cats might say more about modern culture than ancient Egyptian beliefs and values. Cats certainly lived alongside humans in ancient Egypt, particularly because they controlled vermin. Some may even have been allowed in indoor domestic settings. However, their pragmatic usefulness, both as pest-control and as a conduit to the deities, should not be confused with affection. “The ancient Egyptians were using animals as a means of communicating with the gods,” Price concludes. “They were not venerating them; they were not viewing them as pets. We just have to let go of that modern perception.” Campbell Price was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
He was ancient Rome’s mightiest figure – and rumours said he had a secret affair with Julius Caesar
Did Octavian, later known as the Roman emperor Augustus, have an affair with Julius Caesar? That’s precisely what Mark Antony’s propaganda wanted you to think
Politicians’ intimate lives have been used against them as far back as antiquity. In the first century BC, in the midst of a power struggle between Julius Caesar’s potential successors, the suggestion of a salacious scandal was wielded as a potent weapon. Caesar had unexpectedly named his 18-year-old great-nephew Octavian as his heir in his will – much to the chagrin of the older, more experienced, and much more powerful Mark Antony. And, as Octavian and Antony men fought for public approval and political power, theories about why Caesar had chosen Octavian ahead of all others were spread with great interest. One was the “slanderous” rumour, says Edward J Watts – professor of history at the University of California, San Dieg, who was speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast, that suggested Caesar and Octavian had been in a sexual relationship. The rumour was started by Mark Antony. Although it’s not true, it illustrates the length to which he was willing to go to discredit his rival, as well as contemporary attitudes towards homosexuality. How Octavian being named heir sparked a slanderous Roman rumour “When Caesar is assassinated, everybody in Rome assumes that his heir is going to be Mark Antony,” says Watts. “So, when they open the will, they're shocked that Octavian – this kid that nobody's aware of – has been named the heir of Caesar. “Caesar had been preparing him and giving him training in Roman politics, probably because he recognised how naturally talented Octavian was. Read more | Step inside a Roman home, and you might be surprised by what you find “We don't have any idea about when or what it was that tipped Caesar off to the fact that his nephew would be a world class historical figure of incredible significance. But something did.” Octavian would later go on to become Augustus, the founder of the Roman empire, one of the most powerful Roman emperors in history, and the namesake of the month of August. While Caesar likely wasn’t expecting Octavian to take his place as soon as he did – it’s unlikely he was anticipating his own assassination – says Watts that even at Octavian’s young age, Caesar “recognised that Octavian could be a very real heir, someone who could take his project and continue it”. There weren’t many figures in Rome who were seriously aware of Octavian’s presence and position, because he was so young and inexperienced. He seemed a strange choice compared to Antony, who had been elected consul alongside Caesar, who was incredibly close and loyal to him, and had had a long military and political career. “Nobody understands why Caesar would make this choice,” says Watts. Read more | The death of Caesar: do we know the whole story? Nor did anyone seem to know much about the nature of the relationship between Caesar and Octavian or how it came about. “Mark Antony capitalises on this idea by saying that the explanation is sexual: Octavian actually prostituted himself to Caesar, and that's why he became the heir,” says Watts. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-517424240-11a5384-e1768319256718.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="This bust depicts Mark Antony, the Roman general and politician whose alliance with Cleopatra reshaped the politics of the late Republic. A rival of Octavian, Antony’s defeat at Actium in 31 BC marked the end of Rome’s civil wars and paved the way for imperial rule." title="Bust of Marc Anthony" /> Roman attitudes towards homosexuality The Romans had a very different attitude towards what we would call homosexuality today. Although same-sex relationships weren’t socially accepted, the act of sex between two men wasn’t always defined in terms of a specific sexuality. The Romans saw sexuality in terms of roles: one more dominant, active, and masculine, and the other more submissive, passive, and feminine. Read more | In bed with the Romans Roman law prohibited sexual crimes against freeborn Roman boys but didn’t forbid all homosexual acts altogether. It wasn’t overtly encouraged, but a male Roman citizen could have sex with another man without it impacting his masculinity, if he took the active role with a man of lower social status – like an enslaved servant. The practice, called pederasty, was inherited from Greek customs, in which adult men would have sexual relationships with upper-class adolescent boys. But where these relationships between older and younger men were part of the rite of passage for high-born Greek boys, the same wasn’t true of a freeborn Roman boy – which is why Antony wanted to suggest Octavian had done just that. The rumour died, and Octavian eventually gets his own back Despite Antony’s best efforts, the rumour didn’t catch hold. Not only had Caesar named Octavian as his heir, but he had also legally adopted him, meaning that he passed on his property and name. This gave Octavian a “significant political advantage that would allow him to launch his political career,” says Watts. It also clearly showed that Octavian and Caesar’s relationship was not a sexual one. Caesar: Death of a Dictator Member exclusive | On the Ides of March 44 BC, the most famous Roman in history was murdered. Julius Caesar's assassination transformed Rome forever, and the image of his bloody toga has haunted monarchs and tyrants ever since. Listen to all episodes now Octavian was able to use the situation to his benefit. Alongside starting the rumour, Antony also tried to block Octavian from inheriting Caesar’s property or accepting the adoption, depriving him of the legitimacy he needed to take power. This was a misstep. Pointing to Antony’s actions, Octavian was able to use this against his rival – demonstrating that Antony was trying to go against Caesar’s wishes and prevent Caesar’s desired heir from taking over. Read more | If ancient Romans didn't understand calories, how was their theory of nutrition so accurate? “Octavian makes it clear to everybody in Rome that's what's happened, and so he turns the people who were pro-Caesar against Antony,” says Watts. Years later, Octavian would get his own back. The two men made a fraught alliance, solidified by Antony’s marriage to Octavian’s sister (who was confusingly named Octavia). Antony then famously fell in love with Cleopatra, the ruler of Egypt, with whom he had a highly public affair and whom he divorced Octavia for. “Octavia gets to be the pious wife who's raising their children and his children with his previous wife in Rome,” says Watts, while Anthony’s libertine behaviour spoke for him. This, in turn, strengthened Octavian. “For most of the 30s BC, there was propaganda bouncing back and forth where Antony is trying to undermine Octavian, and Octavian is trying to undermine Antony – but Octavian was just simply better at it.” Edward J Watts was speaking to Spencer Mizen on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Step inside a Roman home, and you might be surprised by what you find
What did Roman houses look like, and how did they vary depending on a person's social status? Even with some considerable archaeological biases, there's a lot that historians have pieced together
The people of ancient Rome lived in a wide range of housing, from grand urban mansions to crowded flats and makeshift dwellings attached to shops. Where and how someone lived depended on geography, social status and wealth – but Roman housing across the social spectrum looked very different from anything built to modern regulations. On an episode of the HistoryExtra podcast, Hannah Platts, a senior lecturer in ancient history and material culture at Royal Holloway, University of London, explained what ancient Roman homes would have been like for different members of society. However, as with many things in history, there’s one big bias: historians know the most about the wealthy when it comes to Roman houses. Large and better-build homes survive far better in the archaeological record than modest dwellings, but that’s not the only reason. “Archaeologists were very keen to dig out the big and the lavish – or indeed to dig out the urban – because that’s where they would find the mosaics, the big structures and the statues,” Platts explains. But that doesn’t mean that historians haven’t learned plenty about Roman homes. Here are three essential facts you need to know about Roman housing, with expert insight from Platts. The houses of wealthier Romans had lots of different rooms A wealthy Roman’s house could have 50 rooms or more. They tended to be multifunctional, but there were certain rooms that were found in most of the bigger houses. On first walking into a Roman house, you’d be greeted by an atrium. Read more | He was ancient Rome’s mightiest figure – and rumours said he had a secret affair with Julius Caesar “An atrium is like a front hall today – it's where you would walk in and receive guests,” Platts says. “It had a very important architectural feature within it: a hole in the ceiling.” This hole allowed natural light in as well as rain, which would collect in a basin on the floor of the atrium, called an impluvium. This was designed to help to cool the building and provide water that could be used for washing, cleaning or watering plants. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-171420993-963d550-e1767617368898.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This illustration of a Roman household centres on the atrium, the heart of domestic life, where light, water, and social ritual came together. With its fountain, open roof, and formally dressed figures, the scene reflects how elite Roman homes balanced leisure, display, and family life within carefully ordered architectural spaces." title="The Roman Empire - the Roman home." /> Just off the atrium were smaller rooms called cubicula, often used as bedrooms, as well as a room called the tablinum, which started off as a master bedroom but over time began to be used for a different purpose. “It was used almost as the library or the study, where you would store ancestors’ records, keep any business documents, or where the master of the house might do elements of the meet-and-greet salutatio process,” Platts says. Then there were the dining rooms, which were used to entertain and were an important way for elite families to signal their wealth. “They could be very opulently decorated with amazing wall paintings, furniture, and couches that would be festooned in fabrics and cushions. Guests would be arranged according to perceived status and would be served food that would be brought to them by the enslaved members of the household,” Platts says. Wealthier families often had two dining rooms – one for winter and one for summer – which faced different directions for the optimum temperature and light. Meanwhile, the kitchens that supplied the diners weren’t nearly as nice. “The kitchens were often located at a distance from the main reception areas,” Platt says. “These were noisy, dirty, dark areas where the enslaved members of the household would be working to produce the food for the household. They were often windowless or had a very small window.” Many ordinary Romans lived in apartment buildings There were plenty of other types of home that existed in ancient Rome, too. “The house sizes that I found the most of, in Pompeii and Herculaneum, have between 10 and 19 rooms. They're called domus, and they are for single family occupancy,” Platts says. “They might be two storeys high and that was it.” Although not as big as the largest Roman villas, domus houses were still occupied by members of the upper classes. Most ordinary Romans in cities would have lived in tall, densely packed blocks of flats. There are useful remains of these flats in Ostia, the ancient port of Rome, dating from the second century AD. These buildings were called insulae and were common in cities. Historians have estimated that between 800,000 and one million people lived in insulae in Rome in the early imperial period. The lower storeys of these buildings were typically constructed from brick or concrete, while the upper floors were often made of wood, which was lighter but more vulnerable to fire and collapse. Some insulae rose to five or even six storeys, though the wooden upper levels have not survived well. Living conditions varied widely. Some apartments were relatively comfortable, with access to running water and private toilets. Others consisted of a single cramped room, particularly on the upper floors, where rents were cheaper, plumbing was less likely, and the danger of structural failure was greater. Read more | If ancient Romans didn't understand calories, how was their theory of nutrition so accurate? For the lowest status members of society, it was a different story again. “A lot of people might have lived, for example, in their shop,” says Platts. “They would have a shop and then have a room, or maybe two, behind their shop that they would then live in. It could be a family of six more living there, in some really small spaces.” There’s also no direct evidence left of where homeless people lived, although we know that there certainly was homelessness. “There was no support. You could go and sleep in the archways under bridges or in the archways of the amphitheatre, or you could try to get into large tombs and sleep there,” Platts suggests. Roman Britain | A short course from HistoryExtra Academy Member exclusive | In this four-week course, discover everything you need to know about Roman Britain, guided by Rob Collins, professor of frontier archaeology at Newcastle University. Explore the course now No matter where they lived, Romans didn’t expect privacy at home “The Roman house really blurred the boundaries of what we think of as public and private,” Platts says, because they defined the two ideas very differently. “The Latin word privatus translates as of or belonging to an individual, apart from or away from the state or the community. The Latin term publicus, where we get public from, means belonging to the people, the state, or the community. So, it's not where an act takes place, but the nature of the act itself and whether it's relevant to the state or the community that defines whether something is public or private,” Platts says. Community or state-related activities often took place in people’s houses, because there weren’t necessarily spaces that were reserved just for public or private activities. They did have doors and curtains that would separate spaces off within a house, and the front doors of big houses would be shut at night or when there had been a tragedy in the family – but mostly they were open for people to look in from the street. Many aspects of Roman housing across the classes mirrors how many people live today. But the way Romans used their domestic spaces, and the limited expectation of privacy within them, can feel strikingly unfamiliar to modern eyes. Hannah Platts was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Nero's doomed love affair: did a failed romance trigger his descent into madness?
He’s reviled as a cruel tyrant who killed his own mother and fiddled while Rome burned. But was Nero’s descent into madness triggered by his failed romance with a former slave? Edward J Watts tells a story of murder, incest and political intrigue
It is difficult to feel empathy for the emperor Nero, a man who did such unquestionably terrible things that he has become a prototype for the monstrous Roman ruler. During his lifetime he was labelled a matricide, an arsonist and a persecutor of Christians who also killed his pregnant wife by kicking her in the stomach. After his death, these stories grew into terrifying legends about his cruel madness. By the Middle Ages, chroniclers even detailed a tale in which Nero commanded doctors to make him give birth. Fearing for their lives, the terrified doctors “made up a potion in which they put a frog and gave it to the emperor to drink”, while prescribing him a special diet that would cause his stomach to expand. When Nero vomited the animal out, he “commanded that the foetus be fed and kept in a domed chamber” as his imperial heir. Some manuscripts even featured an image of Nero on a birthing chair beside his frog-child to illustrate his “evil madness”. And yet it is not hard to imagine a different life for Nero. This is because, before Nero became a monster, he was a heartbroken boy prohibited from marrying Acte – his one true love. Family trauma The tragic history of Nero’s family made it all the more surprising that he found such a romantic partner. His mother, Agrippina, was the daughter of Germanicus – the man whom Rome’s second emperor, Tiberius, hoped would assume imperial power following his planned retirement. When Germanicus predeceased Tiberius, however, his wife and children became potential rivals and were ultimately arrested. Agrippina’s mother starved to death in captivity, while her brother took his own life by eating the mattress in his cell. Their fates taught the princess that real financial and political security came only from a strong connection to some devoted, powerful male figure. She married thrice, each time to a rich and powerful suitor. Her first marriage, which was celebrated in AD 28 when she was just 13 years old, joined Agrippina to her 30-year-old cousin, Domitius Ahenobarbus. Nero was born to the couple in AD 37, and the child not only inherited his father’s fortune when Ahenobarbus died in AD 41, but also that of Agrippina’s second husband, Passienus Crispus, who died six years later. In AD 49, Agrippina wed her uncle, the elderly emperor Claudius. She persuaded Claudius to name Nero as his heir and to marry his natural-born daughter Octavia to Nero in AD 53. Between her husband and her son, Agrippina finally seemed to have the security she had long craved. Read more | Monsters of Rome: do emperors such as Nero and Caligula deserve their reputations? As Claudius’s natural-born son Britannicus entered adolescence, however, the emperor began to reconsider Nero’s appointment as successor designate. But Claudius suddenly died on 13 October AD 54, poisoned by a mushroom that Agrippina may or may not have arranged for him to eat. The 16-year-old Nero was now Roman emperor. Britannicus would be dead within a year. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/7-NeronyAgripina-6f8fc45-e1766490879177.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A marble statue showing a woman crowning a man. Both are dressed in Roman clothes" title="A relief shows Agrippina crowning Nero with a laurel wreath. The 16-year-old boy became emperor following the death of his mother's third husband (and uncle), Claudius (Image by Wiki Commons)" /> Acte enters the scene Everyone in Rome, except perhaps for Nero himself, understood that Nero’s status as Claudius’s legitimate heir derived in large part from his marriage to Octavia. It was then essential for the young couple to remain together. Nero, however, found his wife physically repulsive, and began searching for more attractive and interesting sexual partners. This is how Acte entered his life. The girl, who had been bought as a slave in the Roman province of Asia, was seen by the men around Nero as someone who “could fulfil his desires without harm to anyone” since, as the historian wrote, “it was feared that he might rush into scandalous behaviour with noble ladies, if he were not permitted this indulgence”. Tacitus’s words reflect the Roman idea that enslaved people like Acte were, in a sense, disposable commodities whose bodies could be used by noble men to fulfil the urges their wives could not. When the men tired of “the debaucheries… that vice made overwhelmingly attractive”, they were supposed to dispose of the slaves who had serviced them. This is how elite men often behaved, but no one anticipated that, instead of using and dismissing the girl, Nero would fall in love with Acte. Not only had she quickly won Nero’s affections, but their intense connection would lead to her emancipation and talk of Nero’s desire to marry her. Agrippina was incensed when she learned that this sexual dalliance had evolved into a genuine romance. Tacitus says that she “raved with a woman’s fury about having… a slave girl for a daughter-in-law”, but that “the fouler her reproaches, the fiercer the passion Nero felt”. Read more | One of ancient Rome’s most notorious emperors murdered his own mother, and there's a dark reason why Finally, Agrippina snapped and yelled at her son: “It was I who made you emperor!” This entirely true but extremely unwise outburst was too much for the headstrong teenage emperor to bear. It was at that point, writes Tacitus, that Nero “threw off all respect for his mother”. Rise of the sycophants Sensing an opportunity, men like the future emperor Otho and the senator Seneca stepped forward to exploit the emperor’s hurt feelings and growing estrangement from Agrippina. Otho, a fashionable party boy from an aristocratic family, offered emotional support to Nero during wild drinking sessions, in which the emperor confessed to Otho far more than was wise. Meanwhile, Seneca offered more practical aid by enlisting an associate who was willing to pretend to be in love with Acte, so he could “serve as the ostensible giver of the presents secretly sent by the emperor to the girl”. The appreciative emperor was too naïve to realise that these men encouraged his love affair precisely because it weakened his bond with Agrippina and made him more likely to reward them in the future. Agrippina was not so foolish. “Changing her tactics,” Tacitus writes, she went to her son and “pleaded guilty to an ill-timed strictness”. She even “offered the seclusion of her chamber” for Nero and Acte to use so that their activities did not further embarrass Octavia. This shift in Agrippina’s attitude was sensible politics and good parenting, but Nero’s “most intimate friends… begged him to beware of the arts of a woman” who, they claimed, “was always daring and was now lying”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/8-gettyimages-1157131481-594x594-528e6a8-e1766491080872.jpg" width="579" height="413" alt="A painting showing a group of Roman" title="An 1881 book illustration imagines Nero participating in a bacchanal. The young emperor indulged in marathon drinking sessions, in which he told acquaintances of his desires for Acte (Image by Getty Images)" /> As Agrippina’s views softened, Nero’s sycophants became even more strident in their support of Nero’s relationship with Acte. According to the historian Suetonius, one group of senators even “perjured themselves by swearing that she [Acte] was of royal birth”, so she would quickly become a suitable imperial spouse. The senators were rewarded by Nero, even though it is not clear if anyone besides Nero expected their claim to be persuasive. Murder, intrigue and incest Not long after the predictable failure of this gambit, Nero realised that despite his love for Acte, the gulf between their social statuses was too great for them to ever wed. The affair then ended and both people moved on. Inscriptions from Italy reveal that Acte had a good, productive life, in which she used the profits from some of Nero’s gifts to become a wealthy patron of several towns. Nero’s story, of course, has a much sadder ending. As the years passed, the emperor grew ever more estranged from his mother and became enmeshed in the intrigues of sycophants like Otho, who enticed the emperor into a scandalous love affair with his wife, Poppaea. Tacitus reports that Otho embarked on the scheme “to inflame Nero's passion, in the hope of adding to his own influence by the further tie which would arise out of possession of the same woman”. The affair led Nero to divorce Octavia and force the dissolution of Otho’s marriage so that he could marry Poppaea – the wife he is later rumoured to have killed while she was pregnant with his child. This chapter in the emperor’s romantic life was, of course, much more shocking and tragic than his relationship with Acte. Meanwhile, the senator and Neronian associate Cluvius Rufus reports an even more appalling sexual incident that Nero only just escaped. He tells of how Agrippina tried seducing Nero “in her eagerness to retain her influence”. Seneca then hurried in Acte, who told Nero that the incest was “notorious” and that the soldiers would never endure the rule of an “impious sovereign”. While Rufus’s unreliability as a narrator ought to make one suspect whether Agrippina’s seduction really happened, his description of Acte as the one person who could be counted on to restrain Nero’s worst impulses rings true. She seemed capable of getting Nero to accept uncomfortable truths, because the emperor knew that she alone was genuinely concerned about his best interests. Read more | Think you know everything about ancient Rome? These 25 facts will prove otherwise Descent into madness Despite Nero’s increasingly poor decisions and unrestrained behaviour over the last decade of his life, it seems that Acte was never again summoned to the palace to check his worst impulses. She was not there when Nero arranged for Agrippina to be killed in AD 59, or when he burned Christians alive following a fire that devastated Rome in AD 64. She was not consulted before he went to Greece in AD 67 to compete in rigged Olympic competitions while popular anger boiled over at home. She seems not to have been involved as Nero bungled his response to the rebellion of the future emperor Galba, when he spent more time figuring out how to transport his water organ to the front than he did planning military strategy. Most heartbreaking of all, she was absent when Nero took his own life, virtually alone, after the senate stripped him of his imperial power in AD 68. And yet Acte clearly still loved Nero until the very end of his short life. After his death and public condemnation, Acte joined with the two nursemaids who had raised Nero as a baby to ensure that he had a proper burial. According to Suetonius, the ceremony cost “two hundred thousand sesterces”, an immense sum equal to the annual salary of more than 220 Roman soldiers. Nero was “laid out in white robes embroidered with gold” and, after his cremation, Acte and the two other women “deposited his ashes… in the family tomb of [his father’s family] the Domitii” in a “sarcophagus of porphyry, with an altar of Luna marble standing above it, and enclosed by a balustrade of Thasian stone.” We cannot know whether Acte’s affection, forthrightness and intelligence would have been enough to save Nero from infamy had the pair been permitted to marry. The emperor is fully deserving of the cruel reputation for which he is now remembered. What is certain, though, is that Nero’s descent into madness began when his relationship with Acte ended: the first woman he ever loved, and perhaps the only woman who ever loved him back. Edward J Watts is Alkiviadis Vassiliadis Endowed Chair and Distinguished Professor of History at the University of California, San Diego. He is the author of the book The Romans: A 2,000-Year History (John Murray Press/Basic Books, 2025)
Dr Lucy Shipley shares a life lesson that we can take from the approach to life of the ancient Etruscans
Be yourself and don’t be afraid to make mistakes. That’s one of the lessons that archaeologist Dr Lucy Shipley says we can take from the approach to life of the ancient Etruscans. These historical inhabitants of the Italian peninsula seem to have had a very self-confident attitude – one which we could learn from today.
If you find yourself in a state of worry, Selena Wisnom argues that you could take a leaf out of the book of the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians
Do you wake up in the middle of the night worrying? If so, you’re definitely not alone. But if you want to manage the anxieties of modern life, Selena Wisnom argues that you could take a leaf out of the book of the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians.
Did the ancient Romans wear underwear? The truth is surprisingly complicated
A seemingly simple question opens up difficult debates about ancient Roman beauty ideals and social hierarchy, and reveals how differently the Romans thought about their bodies
At first glance, it seems like a question with an obvious answer. Surely the Romans, famed for the complexity of their social culture, engineering prowess, elaborate fashions and careful etiquette, must have worn underwear? It’s hard to imagine that members of the civilisation that built aqueducts and amphitheatres wandered along their famously straight roads without anything beneath their tunics. Yet as professor Ursula Rothe explains on the HistoryExtra podcast, the reality of Roman underwear is very ambiguous, and exceptionally tricky to pin down. “This is quite a controversial topic,” she says. The debate begins with what the people of the Roman empire wore (or didn’t), but morphs into more complex questions about how they viewed the body, beauty, modesty and status. Roman writers left detailed descriptions of clothing, hairstyles, jewellery and elite fashion, but almost nothing about underwear. “On the whole it’s not really something Romans talk about,” Rothe notes. “It’s not something that is depicted.” Most organic Roman textiles have vanished from the archaeological record, not being something that preserves over two millennia. The few surviving garments and images that have survived are often inconclusive. This scarcity of evidence has led to competing interpretations of Roman underwear. But what’s the answer? As Rothe explains, looking at the clues reveals as much about Roman values, as it does about Roman clothing – or lack thereof. Roman Britain | A short course from HistoryExtra Academy Member exclusive | In this four-week course, discover everything you need to know about Roman Britain, guided by Rob Collins, professor of frontier archaeology at Newcastle University. Explore the course now Roman fashion and the purpose of the strophium There is one thing we can say with relative certainty about underwear: there was something like a bra. “We do know that women wore a band around their bust called a strophium,” Rothe says. This was a simple cloth band that functioned as a form of support, like a modern bra. And it’s a garment that speaks volumes about Roman beauty ideals. “It was considered a beauty ideal to have a very small bust in the Roman world. A big bust was considered a bit coarse and barbaric,” Rothe explains. A fuller chest was associated with lower status, partly because elite women typically didn’t breastfeed their own children; enslaved wet nurses did. Read more | If ancient Romans didn't understand calories, how was their theory of nutrition so accurate? “If you had a big bust, then you looked like you were breastfeeding your own children,” says Rothe, and therefore a tightly wrapped strophium signalled refinement and social rank. Rather than functioning just as underwear, the strophium was part of a broader system of visual cues that signalled a person’s place in the social order. The ‘bikini girls’ of Sicily Images of Roman women wearing what look like two-piece outfits appear to offer clear evidence of underwear. Most famous are perhaps the “bikini girl” mosaics at the Villa Romana del Casale in Sicily, the scenes of which depict young women wearing bandeau tops and brief-like bottoms while playing sports. But Rothe urges caution when drawing conclusions from the mosaics. These are late antique mosaics belonging to a specific decorative tradition, centuries removed from the early imperial period that we most often associate with the Roman empire. Read more | Everything you wanted to know about the Roman emperors “They look like they're wearing briefs and this breast band,” Rothe says, “but we don't know whether they were normal underwear, or whether they were used by women for exercising when they had taken everything else off.” These outfits may have been worn only in contexts where clothing was deliberately reduced for strenuous physical activity. Roman men, loincloths and the problem of interpretation Evidence for male undergarments is harder to find a sign of, but not impossible. “We know that men had loincloths,” Rothe says, based on images of labourers, athletes and enslaved workers. These garments appear in scenes where men have removed outer layers in the heat. But did men routinely wear these beneath their tunics? Or was it just in these instances? Sources are ambiguous. Rothe explains that some Roman literature describes men falling over and accidentally exposing themselves, something that implies the absence of underwear. But it’s not solid evidence, and it’s certainly not conclusive. What is clear is that Roman clothing habits varied widely across regions, centuries and social groups. Soldiers, labourers, enslaved people and elites did not dress in the same ways, and expectations differed between urban and rural environments. Why the Romans barely discussed underwear So why, when we know so much about ancient Roman culture, is this specific topic still so ambiguous? The answer lies in the fundamental differences between Roman and modern ideas of modesty and the body. Read more | You've been getting Roman togas wrong your whole life - here's why Roman society was one of communal bathing, open latrines, shared sleeping arrangements and household hierarchies, in which enslaved people routinely saw their masters undressed. Privacy wasn’t concerned with concealing the body. As such, underwear simply might not have been as important to the Romans as it is to many cultures today. Elite women likely wore the strophium. Men and women working or exercising wore loincloths or brief-like garments. But what about the broader public? Was the average person on an average day wearing underwear? Rothe’s conclusion on the debate is one of caveats: “It's a fraught question,” she says. “It’s not entirely clear. We don't know, and I think that debate will continue to rage.” Some individuals may have worn underlayers beneath tunics; many probably didn’t. The deeper lesson is that the question of underwear exposes a cultural gap. Roman underwear, as a marker of modesty or personal privacy, simply didn’t hold the meaning it does today. Ursula Rothe was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Ancient Roman culture would be baffling to modern eyes – and their toilet habits prove it
Ancient Roman ideas of privacy differed radically from our own, and their communal toilets reveal a mindset almost impossible for modern people to imagine
The right to privacy is a pillar of modern human rights. It’s a concept so deeply ingrained in our society that it can feel universal. We assume that certain spaces like our homes – especially their bedrooms and bathrooms – are inherently private while streets, workplaces and public buildings are for communal life. But these distinctions haven’t always existed. And in the culture of the ancient Roman world, the definition of privacy was entirely different. How, then, did the people across the Roman empire conceive of privacy if not through physical seclusion? Why were communal latrines the norm? And what does this reveal about Roman values? Speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast, Dr Hannah Platts explains how understanding those answers requires stepping into a cultural world where the individual was less important than the collective, and where privacy meant something very different from what it does today. What “public” and “private” meant to the Romans “It is really important not to conflate the urban realm of the city and the domestic realm of the house with our modern notions of urban as public and domestic as private,” she says. Today, closing a door marks out a sphere of personal privacy. In Rome, that wasn’t the case. Instead, Romans distinguished between the private and the public based on the activity itself, rather than the place where the activity was happening. Read more | If ancient Romans didn't understand calories, how was their theory of nutrition so accurate? Confused? You’re right to be. It’s a tricky distinction, but Platts thinks a lesson in Latin can help illuminate what’s going on. “The Latin word privatus translates as ‘of or belonging to an individual’, apart from the state or the community.” By contrast, publicus meant “belonging to the people, belonging to the state, belonging to the community.” So whether something was public or private depended on whether it affected the civic body, not where it happened. A legal consultation in someone’s atrium was public; a bodily function performed in a room full of strangers was private. “It’s not about a space being public or private. It’s about the act that goes on within a space.” Roman toilets as a private place Platts chooses a particularly confronting example to help illustrate the point. Excavations at towns such as Ostia and Pompeii reveal latrines made from long marble benches with regularly spaced holes, often set above flowing channels of water. “These multi-seater toilets could house 20 or so people at one time,” Platts notes. Read more | Female gladiators shocked the ancient Roman world — but not for the reason you think To a modern eye, these rooms: open, communal and without partitions, appear unmistakably public. But Roman logic meant the opposite. “Going to the toilet on a multi-seater toilet was totally a private act in Rome,” Platts says. That was because the act itself had no bearing on civic life: it did not affect the state, involve business, or concern other citizens. It was therefore considered private, even if dozens of people were seated shoulder to shoulder. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/GettyImages-170976487-a3bf4a4-e1765290185234.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="The remains of this 2nd-century AD latrine show the communal approach to Roman toilets. The site is in the Domus of the Triclinium at Ostia Antica served the guild of builders who worked in the bustling port of Rome." title="Ostia Antica. Latrine." /> The Roman house: a public venue in disguise So, if communal latrines were “private”, what was the home considered as? Platts points out that domestic space was often used for activities we would consider definitively public. “Community or state-related activities could, and very often did, take place in the house,” she says. Elite households, especially those of senators, magistrates and wealthy patrons, functioned as political workplaces. Clients would visit their patron’s home to request favours or offer support. Business deals, legal advice, and local administration took place under the same roof as where people slept and cooked. Read more | How did the Roman Republic function? The important thing was whether “what was being dealt with was of relevance to the state or the community,” Platts explains, which made those acts public regardless of setting. Why Roman privacy feels so alien Roman attitudes can feel alien because they reflect a fundamentally different set of social priorities. Public life – civic duty, political participation, and community belonging – were at the core of Roman identity. The individual was secondary to the collective, and personal space mattered far less than the function of an action. That mindset is reflected in Roman architecture too. Roman cities lacked the kind of specialised, closed-off facilities familiar today. Baths were communal, dining was often semi-public, and sleep could take place in rooms accessible to others. Toilets were another of these shared spaces in a culture where solitude was an infrequent consideration. In this way, the Roman multi-seater latrine is an important window into a cultural world structured by very different assumptions about the body, the state and social interaction. It also highlights just how radically notions of privacy have changed, and how distant the Roman worldview can seem. Hannah Platts was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation. Roman Britain | A short course from HistoryExtra Academy Member exclusive | In this four-week course, discover everything you need to know about Roman Britain, guided by Rob Collins, professor of frontier archaeology at Newcastle University. Explore the course now