The Legion: Life in the Roman Army

A photograph and a few words ....

"Military service is, in its essence, strenuous and yields nothing: one's soul and body are valued at ten assēs a day, and with these one must pay for clothing, weapons, tents, as well as to save oneself from the abuse of the centurions or to buy some exemption from some toil."

Tacitus - Annales

In his 1660 book 'Leviathan', Thomas Hobbes expressed his view that "Man's life was solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short." An apt description of the life of a Roman Soldier as described in 'The Legion: Life in the Roman Army' exhibition at the British Museum. Having meandered westwards the previous week, it was southwards I meandered last week to spend a few days with my wife Sarah and visit the exhibition.

The Roman legions formed the backbone of the Empire's military might, the pinnacle of organisation, training, and discipline in the ancient world. The exhibition offers a close examination of the men who made up that backbone through the lens of Claudius Terentianus, a soldier of Greek descent whose letters home remarkably survived the centuries.

Instead of focusing solely on the battlefield, the exhibition uses a collection of artefacts and reconstructions to take visitors through a soldier's service, from the first recruitment process to the harsh realities of camp life and the brutal dangers of combat. 

A soldier in the Roman Army had only a 50:50 chance of retiring after 25 years of service. Once in, there was no early way out other than death. Either battling Rome's 'enemies' or, just as likely, disease.

In theory, it was a lonely life, too, as soldiers who served in the first two hundred years of the Empire could not marry. A rule, however, that in practice was impossible to enforce, although, in the eyes of the army, a 'marriage' contracted by a soldier was not legal. And if a married man enlisted, the army considered his marriage annulled.

While a soldier and his wife's social circle might recognise them as married, the army considered the woman a concubine. This consideration created several complications for a soldier and his wife. As a concubine, a woman did not have to offer a dowry on marriage, and those who did would have no legal recourse in case of divorce and the soldier's refusal to return it. Any children the couple had during his military service would be illegitimate, meaning that they couldn't inherit from their father unless he made a will. And if a soldier's 'wife' wasn't a citizen, neither she nor any children could inherit, even if there was a will. This situation also meant that either party could not be accused of adultery.

Despite these problems, and while the Roman Army didn’t officially recognise marriage, they didn’t discourage such unions since any male children of the ‘marriage’ might eventually become recruits. Such encouragement came especially to those soldiers more permanently based in a part of the Empire and recruits taken from the local population.

Emperor Septimius Severus (who, you may recall from my piece, Frontier City , ruled the Roman Empire from England’s York in the last years of his reign) partly repealed the ban, probably to keep himself in the soldier's favour. However, Septimius only lifted the ban on soldiers marrying women who were Roman citizens. The legal recognition of a soldier's marriage to a non-citizen woman only happened on the soldier's retirement. 

To improve a Roman soldier's chances of survival, he needed financial support from family and the influence of patrons. The former meant he could obtain better clothing, food, and equipment. The latter might get him moved more quickly up the ranks. For the latter, the soldier must also be able to read and write—not so common back then. 

Out of the pay of a Roman soldier came the costs of everything from the leather tent he slept in (shared with seven others (each paying an eighth of the cost) to his armour, sword and even his socks and shoes. The latter lasted around two months. When the soldiers complained about how often they needed to buy new footwear and asked for their free supply, the then emperor suggested they march barefooted as an alternative. 

In the early days of the Roman Empire, the ordinary soldier earned around eighteen denarii a month. By the end of the Empire, around four hundred years later, it had risen to over one hundred a month - yes, inflation has been with us for a long time. However, the pay-out of ten years of salary at the end of twenty-five years made army life 'attractive'. A sum, if used wisely, that would set up the retired Roman soldier for the rest of his life. Moving up the ranks was lucrative, with a Centurion (more on them in a moment) earning eight hundred denarii a month in the early imperial days and over five thousand a month by the end of the Empire.

Evidence from Pompeii suggests that one denarius would buy ten glasses of wine, or five loaves of bread, or over four pounds of grain. Four denarii would buy a new tunic and one hundred and sixty, a mule. 

While the exhibition explores the soldiers' daily lives, it recognises their primary role was to conquer and keep Roman Imperial authority. Visitors can see the tactics and strategies that the Roman Army used, as well as the types of battles that they fought. 

The eight soldiers in the tent mentioned above formed a Contubernium as each man was a Contubernale. Each Contubernium had a mule to carry the tent and two support troops (or enslaved people). Every Contubernale carried two stakes and digging tools to set up camp each night. One of the Contubernale would hold the title Decanus ('chief of ten'), a sort of non-commissioned officer, although the rank structure in the Roman Army does not equate to current models. A Decanus was more likely the senior or longest-serving soldier in the Contubernium. Ten Contubernium made up a Centuria derived from the Latin word centum meaning 'one hundred'. 

A Centurion led a Centuria of infantry soldiers (eighty soldiers - plus twenty support troops (or enslaved people)). A Decurion led a Turma of cavalry soldiers (thirty soldiers). The Centurion or Decurion was usually a soldier who had worked his way up the ranks. Their prime responsibility was training their men and leading them into battle. They also assigned duties, made inspections, checked the correctness of any work assigned, and kept discipline among the soldiers. The Decurion also had to keep an eye on the horses' health.

Centurions often wore helmets with distinctive horsehair or feather transverse crests. They carried their swords on their left-hand side and often wore greaves - a metal shin-guard. The Centurion had a stick as a badge of office that he used on ordinary soldiers for casual corporal punishment. Interestingly, although there is no direct link, the British Army introduced the 'swagger stick' among officers in the 19th century as a symbol of authority and discipline. The stick, typically made of wood or metal, indicated their rank and was a tool for giving commands and keeping order. History repeating itself.

Centurions and Decurions earned significantly more than the soldiers under their command and could afford to buy highly decorated equipment. The cavalry, in particular, liked fancy armour and equipment, and they would have looked very colourful when wearing their complete kit. Centurions and Decurions lived not in a tent but in a set of rooms within a barracks. Later in the Empire, their wives and children lived with them. They also 'owned' enslaved people, some of whom the Decurions used as grooms to look after the horses.

Typically, a Roman Cohort consisted of six Centuria (nearly five hundred soldiers plus the support staff (enslaved people)). Its commander would usually be the longest-serving Centurion within the Cohort.

Finally, ten Cohorts plus several Decurions comprised a Roman Legion with a Legion Legate in overall command. He was usually a senator, appointed by the emperor, and typically held command for three or four years. Next came another Imperial appointee, the Broad Band Tribune, for the broad striped tunic worn by men of senatorial rank. Though generally young, he served as second in command of the Legion. However, he was not the second in command in battle because of his inexperience. Next comes the Camp Prefect, who was generally a long-serving Centurion who oversaw training a legion and might command a Cohort of auxiliaries. Should the legate die during a battle, the Camp Prefect would take command of the Legion. Each Legion then had five Narrow Band Tribunes, generally from the cavalry with some years of military experience. They often served the role of administrative officers. And the role might be the first step to a political career.

Exhibition visitors learn about the role of Centurions as the core of army leadership, the importance of standardised tactics and formations in battle, and the harsh penalties imposed on those soldiers who violated military discipline. By emphasising the centrality of discipline to Roman military success, the exhibition underscores the enduring legacy of the legions as ideals of order and efficiency in the ancient world.

The Roman army didn't just take anyone. A recruit had to be taller than five feet seven inches and provide references. Age wasn't an issue, so the army happily recruited strapping young teenagers (if they had suitable references). If your references were not top-notch, you might end up in the Marines, not the army. Life at sea added another element of danger with death by shipwreck as well as in battle or from diseases. Claudius is a case in point. He wanted to be a great legionary in Emperor Trajan's army. But the army wouldn't have him, forcing Claudius to settle for the lowly marines. Once recruited, he had to scramble for money and seek social connections for 'promotion' to the army. Eventually, succeeding in that.

Visitors to the exhibition can see a wealth of artefacts that illustrate the formidable nature of the legions, from intricately crafted weapons and armour to meticulously preserved military standards and insignia. There are gleaming bronze helmets, swords long rusted into their sheaths and some near-fossilised chainmail. There's also the only complete long curved shield with ornate linework and winged victories. These artefacts highlight the technology used by the Roman soldiers and the rigorous, almost brutal, training they had to undergo, highlighting the importance of discipline and teamwork in the Roman Army. 

One of the exhibition's strengths was its emphasis on showing the diversity of the Roman Army. While Roman citizens formed the core, the exhibition also highlighted the crucial role of auxiliary troops, often recruited from conquered territories. This portrayal challenged the traditional image of the Roman Army as a homogenous entity, underscoring the complexity and multicultural nature of Rome's military might.

Some foot soldiers aspired to the glamour of the cavalry. Better paid (but you did have to cover the cost of your horse) and with a better chance of survival. In the army, the less experience you had, the more in the front rank you would be. The more experienced soldiers behind you were there to stop you from running away. 

One of the most impressive parts of the exhibition is the reconstruction of a Roman legionary's room. Visitors can see the cramped conditions that the soldiers had to endure, as well as the types of personal items that they would have had with them such as a red woollen sock to protect against the rub of hobnailed leather sandals, purses holding a handful of silver coins, and dice for gambling. Visitors can also see the types of food that the soldiers ate, and the exhibition also touches on the religious beliefs of Roman soldiers, highlighting the importance of the gods in Roman society.

The exhibition does come with a warning that it includes human skeletons—the bones of two soldiers, possibly murdered, found flung in a pit with their weapons. There is also the skeleton of the only known victim of crucifixion in Britain, which still has a nail piercing its ankle. A twisted helmet from a Roman soldier who fell victim in Colchester to the uprising by Boudica is evidence that the local population didn't always go along with the Roman way. While he never fought in Britain, Claudius writes in one of his letters that he took part in quelling a Jewish rebellion.

As visitors progress through the exhibition, they can see the enduring cultural impact of the Roman legions on the societies they conquered. Artefacts, inscriptions, and artworks attest to the assimilation of diverse cultures into the fabric of the Empire, reflecting the far-reaching consequences of Roman conquest and colonisation. 

This powerfully atmospheric exhibition succeeds in taking visitors through a soldier's life within the Roman Army. At times, that life was brutal, bloody, and violent, yet for lengthy periods mundane, too. The Roman Army promised citizenship, a pension, and glory if you could survive. And Claudius Terentianus did. Eventually, retiring to a comfortable lifestyle.