In the spring of 1703, Rome trembled.

Not from invasion.
Not from plague.
Not from revolution.

But from thirst.

Fountains sputtered. Public cisterns fell quiet. Women carrying clay jars waited in lines that stretched along cobbled streets. Monks whispered of divine punishment. Bakers rationed dough. Tavern keepers diluted wine with what little water they had left.

In a city built on aqueducts — the ancient marvel that had once symbolized Rome’s engineering dominance — water was disappearing.

And the culprit, according to rumor and later investigation, was not drought.

It was cheese.

Specifically, pecorino.

The idea sounds absurd. How could cheese deprive Rome of water? But in the early 18th century, a convergence of agricultural pressure, papal economics, and food production nearly strangled the city’s most essential resource.

This is the strange and very real story of how Rome almost ran dry — because sheep were eating everything.

Rome and Its Water: A Fragile Triumph

Rome’s relationship with water is legendary.

The ancient Romans constructed aqueducts that carried water across valleys and through hills for dozens of miles. By the height of the Empire, Rome had eleven major aqueducts supplying public baths, fountains, and households.

Even after the fall of the Empire, many of these systems remained functional.

By 1703, Rome was no longer imperial, but it was still a city deeply defined by water.

Baroque fountains poured continuously.
Public washhouses operated daily.
Pilgrims drank freely at roadside spouts.

Water wasn’t just practical.

It was symbolic.

A flowing fountain meant Rome endured.

The Cheese Boom

In the late 17th century, Rome experienced a surge in demand for pecorino cheese.

Pecorino Romano, made from sheep’s milk and aged to a hard, salty finish, had long been a staple. It traveled well. It stored easily. It flavored simple food.

But something changed around 1700.

Demand spiked.

Papal territories exported increasing quantities of pecorino to northern Italy and even beyond the Alps. Merchants realized cheese was profitable.

And to make more cheese, you needed more sheep.

The Pasture Problem

Sheep require land.

And land in the Papal States was already strained.

To meet demand, large landowners expanded grazing operations dramatically. Fields that once grew grain were converted into pasture. Hillsides were stripped of vegetation to accommodate flocks.

Rome’s surrounding countryside — the Campagna — began to change.

Where wheat once grew, sheep now grazed.

And sheep are relentless.

Sheep and Soil

Overgrazing has consequences.

When too many sheep feed on a region:

  • Vegetation thins.

  • Root systems weaken.

  • Soil becomes compacted.

  • Rainwater runs off instead of soaking in.

In Rome’s case, the land surrounding critical water sources began to degrade.

Natural springs feeding aqueduct systems slowed.

Watersheds destabilized.

It was not immediate.

It was gradual — and then sudden.

The Drying Fountains

By early 1703, Romans noticed something unusual.

Some fountains flowed weaker than usual.
Others ran dry during peak hours.

Officials initially blamed seasonal variation.

But the problem worsened.

Cistern levels dropped.

Water carriers complained that rural springs were failing.

Whispers spread through markets and churches.

Had God withdrawn His blessing?

Panic in the Eternal City

Rome had endured plagues and sackings.

But water scarcity struck at daily survival.

Public baths closed intermittently.
Artisans dependent on water — tanners, dyers, bakers — slowed production.

In a city where water symbolized continuity from ancient glory, its absence felt ominous.

The Pope’s advisors ordered investigation.

And slowly, attention shifted from heaven to hillside.

The Agricultural Audit

Officials surveyed land use patterns around Rome’s aqueduct sources.

What they found was troubling.

Large tracts of land previously dedicated to crops or forest had been converted into pasture for sheep.

The hills were stripped.
Vegetation was sparse.
Erosion scars marked the slopes.

Rainfall, instead of replenishing springs, rushed away into rivers.

The aqueducts weren’t broken.

Their sources were starving.

The Cheese Connection

Pecorino production had surged in recent years.

Monasteries expanded dairies.
Noble estates prioritized sheep over wheat.
Export contracts multiplied.

More sheep meant:

  • More grazing pressure.

  • Less plant cover.

  • Reduced groundwater retention.

The connection became clear.

Rome was drinking less water because it was producing more cheese.

The Papal Response

The Papal States governed Rome in 1703.

Faced with potential civic disaster, authorities enacted emergency measures.

Restrictions were placed on grazing near critical water sources.
Certain lands were ordered replanted or left fallow.
Some cheese production contracts were curtailed.

The measures were unpopular.

Cheese was profitable.

Water, however, was non-negotiable.

A Delicate Recovery

The water crisis did not result in complete collapse.

Rome did not become a desert.

But the scare was severe enough to reshape agricultural policy around the city.

Land management became a political issue.
Environmental awareness — primitive but real — entered papal planning.

It was an early recognition of ecological interdependence.

Food production could not expand endlessly without consequence.

Why It Was Forgotten

Unlike plagues or wars, the water-and-cheese crisis left no dramatic ruins.

No battles were fought.
No monuments erected.

It was resolved quietly, through policy and gradual recovery.

Over time, it faded from popular memory.

But it remains a striking example of how economic demand can strain natural systems.

The Lesson of Overgrazing

Modern environmental science confirms what Rome experienced in 1703.

Overgrazing leads to:

  • Soil compaction

  • Reduced water infiltration

  • Lower aquifer recharge

  • Increased runoff and erosion

The link between livestock density and watershed health is well documented.

Rome learned this centuries before the vocabulary existed to describe it.

The Irony of Abundance

Pecorino Romano was — and remains — a symbol of Roman culinary tradition.

Yet in 1703, abundance nearly undermined survival.

It is a reminder that prosperity can carry hidden costs.

More production does not always mean more security.

Sometimes it means imbalance.

The Myth and the Reality

Was Rome literally bone-dry?

No.

But the reduction in flow was severe enough to cause civic alarm and intervention.

The phrase “Rome ran out of water because of cheese” captures the dramatic heart of the episode.

But the true story is more nuanced.

It was not cheese alone.

It was land management.
Economic pressure.
Ecological oversight.

Cheese was the catalyst.

Sheep were the mechanism.

Water was the casualty.

Final Reflections: When Appetite Meets Environment

Rome’s near-thirst in 1703 offers a timeless lesson.

Cities depend on invisible systems:

  • Watersheds

  • Soil health

  • Agricultural balance

Disrupt those systems, and consequences ripple outward.

In the Eternal City — once master of aqueducts and engineering — it wasn’t invading armies that threatened survival.

It was overgrazed hillsides.

It was profit outpacing prudence.

It was cheese.

The fountains eventually flowed again.

But for a brief, anxious moment in 1703, Rome discovered that even the most enduring cities can run dry — not from catastrophe, but from appetite.

And sometimes, history turns not on swords or storms…

…but on sheep.