Ancient World, Antiquities, Education, Getty Villa

Reclining and Dining (and Drinking) in Ancient Rome

A Roman Feast / Roberto Bompiani

This painting by Roberto Bompiani captures a common 19th-century association of Roman dining and excess. A Roman Feast, late 1800s. The J. Paul Getty Museum, 72.PA.4

The ancient Greeks had a recumbent approach to their (male-only) dinner parties, as I discussed in a previous post: elite men reclined, propped on pillows, to drink, converse, and—sometimes—overindulge.

The practice of reclining and dining continued into ancient Rome, but with a few additions—for one, respectable women were invited to join the party, and for another, drinking was not a separate, post-dinner event, but became part of the dining experience. An association of dining with luxury led to 19th-century depictions, like the one above, of Roman diners leading the soft life (here, without reclining).

The Greeks used single couches onto which companions were often squeezed for after-dinner drinking parties. The practice seems to have been adopted from the east, where it was a form of dining for elites. In Rome, couches for single (generally male) diners existed, but by the late Republican and early Imperial period the practice at dinner parties was for guests to recline on three large beds placed in a U shape in a triclinium (dining room).  Reclining at parties continued to be primarily an elite practice—poorer people had no room for beds of this size. Although in the “old days” reclining had been shameful for respectable women, they now reclined with men, although some old fogeys disapproved, as we know from texts by Isidore of Seville (Etymologiae 20.11.9) and Valerius Maximus (De Institutis Antiquis 2.1.2).

Surviving triclinia with built-in cement dinner couches (the elegant mattresses long since destroyed by time) show that the beds were strongly angled upward to elevate the diner above the tabletop. In contrast, portable beds used cushions like those on Greek beds to elevate the diners.

Angled cement beds in the triclinium of the House of the Cryptoporticus, Pompeii

Angled cement beds (mattresses missing) in the triclinium of the House of the Cryptoporticus, Pompeii. Photo: Ministro per la Coesione Territoriale, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

As still happens at formal dinners today, places were designated for host, favored guests, and less-favored guests. In his Satire 8, the Roman poet Horace reveals “status seating” in action and shows how hard a Roman host (in this case, an unappreciated one) might work to impress a guest.

Ancient sources of course take it for granted that the reader knew all about dining protocol, and therefore authors didn’t bother to explain the rules for dining with crystal clarity. Scholars sometimes debate the locations of the best seats. (The Romans themselves called the reclining spots sedes, seats.) We know that the middle bed (lectus medius) offered a very good location, and there is evidence that the middle seat in this middle bed was an especially honorable one. Certainly it would have suited the Roman appreciation for symmetry. Queen Dido positioned herself “on a golden couch, in the middle,” when she feasted with Aeneas and Cupid, disguised as Aeneas’s son (Virgil, Aeneid 1.1.297–700).
Diagram of status seating in an ancient Roman triclinium

This digital recreation of diners in the triclinium of the Roman villa at Boscoreale shows how the eyes of a person entering the dining room were drawn to the middle seat on the middle couch.

Guests reclining on this middle couch (lectus medius) could speak easily with the host to their right (on the low couch, lectus imus) and also look out at a view of the home’s courtyard or garden, a view carefully designed to impress, as shown on the seating diagram above. In contrast, diners on the high couch (lectus summus) to the left of the important guests (to the right of the person entering the room) could not see the view without twisting uncomfortably.

Re-creation of the layout of Roman dining beds during a gallery course at the Getty Villa

Re-creation of the layout of Roman dining beds using yoga mats and cushions (these “beds” are lacking legs to raise them off the floor). Villa docents Donald Peterson and Monica Wolfe each recline on the host bed (left, lectus imus), docents Ellie Rosen and Lou Rosen recline with me on the honorable guest bed (middle, lectus medius), and docents Jeanne Dahm and Karen Taylor make do with the lowest-status bed (right, lectus summus).

The re-creation of dining couches in the famous Villa of the Mysteries (below) shows how guest and host beds permitted a view out the main doorway (through which the viewer is entering), and in this case also into a peristyle at right, while the less important diners could only see the opulent wall paintings that decorated Roman triclinia—still not a bad view, however!

Digital reconstruction of the triclinium of the Villa of the Mysteries, Pompeii

Digital reconstruction of the triclinium of the Villa of the Mysteries, Pompeii. Image copyright © 2011 and courtesy of James Stanton-Abbott

In time, Romans with space for serious entertaining increased the number of couches and hosted bigger dinner parties. Another type of couch, a semi-circular stibadium, eventually replaced the three beds. While literary descriptions of reclining and dining faded in the third century A.D., dining rooms for extremely wealthy recliners endure in the archaeological record into the sixth century. However, the collapse of the western Empire and the incursions of “barbarians” with newfangled dining agendas inevitably took their toll. In the eastern Empire, imperial dining rooms and elaborate church art still reference reclining and dining until A.D. 1000. Thus, the elitist practice of recumbent dining lasted the longest in the east, where it originated.

To explore more about the history of reclining and dining, see the entry in Brill’s New Pauly, and this article on status at mealtime in the Roman house. Or pull up a bed and crack open the wonderful book The Roman Banquet: Images of Conviviality by Katherine Dunbabin—along with, of course, a bottle of wine.

Tagged , , , Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

5 Comments

  1. Phyllis Zatzick
    Posted August 14, 2012 at 9:01 am | Permalink

    Thank you for this wonderful window into the ancient world. These pictures are so much more valuable than 1000 words. Please keep these reinactments coming.

  2. Posted August 14, 2012 at 10:33 am | Permalink

    Thanks for the text information and the pictures. They are helpful as was the great workshop.

    Lou Rosen

  3. carol Rosenberg
    Posted August 14, 2012 at 11:06 am | Permalink

    Loved the paintings; the models were superb; too bad Lap Bend Surgery wasn’t around then.

  4. Paula Carroll
    Posted August 14, 2012 at 12:00 pm | Permalink

    The size of the “couches” bothers me. The docents seem to be on individual couches about 2′x5′. So three diners need three 2′x5′ couches. But the “digital reconstruction” and the ancient triclinium all only have ONE (2′x5′) couch on each side. How could NINE people dine there?

  5. Shelby Brown
    Posted August 25, 2012 at 2:56 pm | Permalink

    Dear Paula,
    The docent couches look confusing because we used yoga mats and cushions to separate each diner. Each group of three docents is, however, supposed to be reclining on one large bed. Their individual “sedes” (reclining area) on the bed is indicated by a mat. In the diagram showing guest and host beds, each bed is 6 or 7 feet long and can hold three people.

2 Trackbacks

Post a Comment

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

  • Facebook

  • Twitter

  • Tumblr

    • photo from Tumblr

      Painted in 1632, separated 1927, and reunited today, these paintings of this man and his wife live together in the collection.

      His smize tells all.

      Portrait of a Man, 1632, Nicolaes Eliasz Pickenoy. Dutch. J. Paul Getty Museum.

      08/20/14

  • Flickr