Legendary Rome: Myth, Monuments, and Memory on the Palatine and Capitoline 9781472539892, 9780715636466, 9781472537836

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Legendary Rome

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LEGENDARY ROME Myth, Monuments, and Memory on the Palatine and Capitoline

Jennifer A. Rea

LON DON • N E W DE L H I • N E W YOR K • SY DN EY

Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square London WC1B 3DP UK

1385 Broadway New York NY 10018 USA

www.bloomsbury.com First published in 2007 by Gerald Duckworth & Co. Ltd. Reprinted by Bristol Classical Press 2012 © Jennifer A. Rea, 2007 Jennifer A. Rea has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN: HB: 978-0-7156-3646-6 ePUB: 978-1-4725-3784-3 ePDF: 978-1-4725-3783-6 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

Contents Acknowledgements Illustrations The Hut of Romulus Map of the Palatine Map of the Capitoline

vii ix x xi

Part I Experiencing the Visual: Roman Landscapes Introduction: Rome Recalled

1 3

1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti 2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past

21 44

Part II Poetic Impressions of the Archaic City

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present 4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9

67 85 103

Conclusion: Rome Restored

125

Notes Bibliography Index Locorum General Index

139 163 175 176

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Acknowledgements This book is dedicated to the memory of my cousin, Michael Maronek, whose creative talents were a source of inspiration to me, and to the memory of my aunt, Francesca Rea, who encouraged me to pursue my studies of Roman topography and monuments. Avete atque valete. Before this book even existed, Judith and Pasquale Rea, John Rea, and Professors Michael and Ro Cahill listened and advised, and offered much valuable encouragement and support. As my ideas began to turn into pages, grants from the University of Florida’s Humanities Enhancement Fund as well as the National Endowment for the Humanities made it possible for me to spend summers reading and writing at the American Academy in Rome. Portions of chapters were presented as papers at the APA and CAMWS as well as Classics conferences at the Villa Vergiliana in Cuma, Italy, the University of Edinburgh, and the University of Mississippi, and at the kind invitation of Stetson University. Once my chapters had evolved into a manuscript, the following readers guided me through the process of clarifying and distilling my argument: Neil W. Bernstein, Sheila Dickison, Mary Ann Eaverly, Michael Ewans, Denis Feeney, Karl Galinsky, Edward Gutting, Judith P. Hallet, Timothy S. Johnson, Patricia Johnston, James C. McKeown, Victoria E. Pagán, Christine Renaud, Gareth Schmeling, and Velvet Yates. Their careful and thoughtful considerations of my work have saved me from many errors; any remaining mistakes are my own. I owe a debt of gratitude to my editor, Deborah Blake, and the anonymous reader at Duckworth Publishers, who kindly mentored me through the process of turning this from a manuscript into a book. When my work was very nearly finished, its existence in this form would have been jeopardized had it not been for the extreme diligence of Avery D. Cahill, who daily demanded proof that I had made backup copies of all of my files. Avery, your unwavering faith in this project and your careful and incisive reading of the manuscript at various stages has made all the difference. I have found in the Classics department at the University of Florida an extremely supportive and friendly environment in which to work and I would like to thank all of my colleagues and in particular, my departmental chair, Robert S. Wagman, for all of the advice and encouragement. Many thanks are owed also to David Lamontagne, who lent

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Legendary Rome his careful eye to the completed manuscript, and in particular to the notes and bibliography, and to Generosa Sangco-Jackson, who thoughtfully and generously shared primary and secondary sources with me and assisted me in the final proofreading of the bibliography. I am indebted to Des Jackson and James E. Maronek for graciously lending their considerable artistic talents to the book’s illustration and maps, and to Sheila M. Ryan, who skilfully indexed my work.

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Artist’s reconstruction of the hut of Romulus. Drawing by Des Jackson.

ix

Map of the Palatine. Drawing by James E. Maronek. 1. Temple of Apollo; 2. The House of Augustus; 3. ‘The House of Livia’; 4. Temple of Victoria; 5. Temple of Victoria Virgo (?); 6. Temple of Magna Mater.

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Map of the Capitoline. Drawing by James E. Maronek. 1. Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus; 2. Temple of Jupiter Tonans (?); 3. Shrine to Ops (?); 4. Shrine to Fides (?); 5. Temple of Saturn; 6. Temple of Concordia; 7. Tabularium; 8. Temple of Juno Moneta (?); 9. Auguraculum (?).

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Part I

Experiencing the Visual: Roman Landscapes

1

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Introduction: Rome Recalled Hence it all began and ended with the foundation. Alexandre Grandazzi1

One emperor, two hills, and three poets On 2 September 31 BC, Octavian defeated Antony’s forces at Actium. Less than a year later, on 1 August 30 BC, Alexandria also fell and the subsequent suicides of Antony and Cleopatra meant that the faction that was opposed to Octavian and his plans to establish imperial rule over the city of Rome had been extinguished. While the future emperor may have succeeded in eliminating his political opponents who had chosen to distance themselves from the city of Rome, his greatest challenge still lay ahead inside the city walls: he needed to convince the Roman populace to embrace his political programme and accept him as their ruler on an emotional level, once they had accepted it on a rational one.2 In their recent memory the Romans could recall the dangers of living in a Republic where they had witnessed proscriptions, assassinations, the loss of libertas, and increased violence in the streets on a regular basis. Once the escalation of tensions between rival political factions had led to the final war between Antony and Octavian, they had experienced the worst kind of devastation: the loss of many of their friends and their family members who had sided with Antony at Actium. If Octavian were to succeed as the next ruler of Rome, he would have to convince the Roman populace that the sacrifices they had made had been worthwhile. This would require tact and diplomacy, but the situation would also demand something more, a visible sign that the new leader would make good on his promise to restore the city, and it would require proof of the new emperor’s desire to work with and not against the populace when he encouraged a return to the more traditional values of honouring the gods and their ancestors. The Romans had lived under far too many Republican leaders who had been determined to establish political power and retain control through the use of military force.3 Octavian had to restore Rome to a society with an effective political system that was based in part on the understanding that he had returned libertas to the Roman people and had restored their ability to consent to being governed by him. The painful lessons of the past could not be repeated as he set up this new system. The

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Legendary Rome bloodshed, civil strife, and memories of battles fought, violent and brutal conflicts in which Romans clashed against their fellow Romans, could never be forgotten, but the memories of recent war could be placed into context by using events from Rome’s more distant past to demonstrate the city’s resilience. One of the ways to accomplish this was through city redesign and reconstruction, and among the emperor’s first restorations, were temples that had significant ties to Rome’s legendary landscape.4 This book focuses on a particular aspect of the Augustan city, the Palatine and Capitoline hills, because these two sites were the most significant setting for the stories of Rome’s early development into a community. Augustus restored elements of the archaic Roman settlements on the Palatine and the Capitoline hills because he wanted the community to reconsider the significance of Rome’s origins as part of their healing process. The culture of Rome was a highly visual one, and monuments that commemorated the changes that were taking place in post-Actian Rome helped to develop what Zanker has called ‘a new national mythology, one that focused both myth and history on Augustus himself’.5 But while Augustus completed his commemoration of Actium and his celebration of the return to peace and the renewal of the city with well known monuments such as, for example, the Ara Pacis Augustae, which was dedicated on 30 January 9 BC, and the Forum Augustum, dedicated on 12 May 2 BC, he also restored, in the 20s BC, the memory of the legendary origins of the city on the Palatine and Capitoline hills. I have chosen, therefore, to concentrate within this study on these two sites in particular, since many of the stories of proto- and archaic Roman political and religious developments took place on these two hills. The Palatine, as the traditional site of Romulus’ foundations, and the Capitoline, as the site of the first temple to Jupiter in Rome, had memories of Rome’s earliest political and religious developments connected to them. Augustus built his own house next to the Palatine site of Romulus’ hut, and during Augustus’ reign the hut was kept in pristine condition and maintained as a state monument. Part of Augustus’ reconstructive efforts on the Capitoline hill included two new monuments, a second hut of Romulus and the Temple of Jupiter Tonans, which were built in the 20s BC.6 This is not to say that prior to the Augustan Age, Roman authors7 did not have a tradition of writing about their city’s foundation or that the Romans were not already familiar with the role that the Palatine and Capitoline hills played in the early history of the city. These locales endured as a vital part of the city’s identity when the transition was made from Republic to Empire. Augustus’ reconstructions became what I call ‘archaic-Augustan Rome’, a site that juxtaposed elements from Rome’s earliest foundations

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Introduction: Rome Recalled with the buildings of the contemporary city. Markedly, along with the contemplation of new structures that were emerging all around the city, it was the act of reconstructing Rome’s foundations and the redefining of the archaic city, which seized the imagination of the poets Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius. Their inspiration for this recreation of Rome’s foundations was the novel city-design of the emperor Augustus, which showcased the restoring and redesigning of neo-archaic elements within the topographical landscape, along with the building of new monuments. As members of this post-war society, the Roman poets Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius renewed the importance of Rome’s foundation stories in their poetry. A comparison of the three poets’ versions of archaic Rome reveals that, like the public monuments in the city that served as their inspiration, the poems also offered multiple perspectives on the violence and bloodshed that often characterized Rome’s early foundation stories.8 The poets’ memories of the past encouraged the Romans to explore the ways in which they could negotiate their differences of opinion about the recent violence in the city and the loss of many of their compatriots at Actium. The site of archaic-Augustan Rome would, in effect, allow the Romans to recall that Rome had endured and even flourished, in spite of the strife that had tainted its foundations. Despite the struggles the city had suffered in the early years to maintain its borders, it would continue to prosper under strong leadership following the most recent war, just as it had in the past. Since the publication of Paul Zanker’s The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus (1988), there has been increased interest in studying the ways in which the emperor Augustus created a dynamic urban landscape that communicated his ideals and reforms to observers. As recent studies of the relationship between myth and history by T.P. Wiseman, The Myths of Rome (2004) and Mathew Fox, Roman Historical Myths (2002 [1996]), suggest, the Romans’ stories about the origins of their city were, like the landscape, also highly dynamic in nature. In the past ten years, Catharine Edwards’s Writing Rome (1996), Karl Galinsky’s Augustan Rome (1996), and Diane Favro’s The Urban Images of Augustan Rome (1996), along with articles by Rothwell (1996), Maltby (2002), and Papaïoannou (2003), have also explored the poets’ recreations of the legendary past.9 Propertius has begun to play a more prominent role in the recent scholarship as well. Both Jeri DeBrohun’s Roman Propertius and the Reinvention of Elegy (2003) and Tara Welch’s The Elegaic Cityscape: Propertius and the Meaning of Roman Monuments (2005) offer close readings of Propertius’ portrait of the monuments of Augustan Rome. While the works of the aforementioned scholars will inform my discussion of proto-Rome, or Rome-prior-to-Romulus, and archaic Rome, or the Rome-of-Romulus, my study extends their discussions of Roman topography and Augustan poetry to include a more detailed

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Legendary Rome portrait of Tibullus’ vision of the city’s origins on the Palatine and Capitoline than has previously been considered.10 After the civil wars that took place during the years 49-31 BC, when the Romans found their society in a state of transition from crisis to stability,11 the community of Augustan Rome recalled events from their distant past as part of their healing process. Augustus’ programme of cultural, political, and social renewal included depictions of lush landscapes and scenes of abundant growth and fertility in artwork. And the art and architecture of the time indicated the value of a state that emphasized pietas, labor, and a return to the old mores upon which the city was established. Augustus was now the ‘guarantor of the past’12 and the attention he focused on Rome’s origins allowed Rome’s history to be rewritten to bring the legendary past closer to the time of his reign. When visible evidence of Rome’s legendary inhabitants appeared in social and sacred spaces, a visual text of archaic Rome was woven into the fabric of the Augustan city.13 The final result was a fairly coherent vision: embedded in the landscape of Rome through monumenta and artwork was the message of the community’s return to a time of peace and prosperity and a renewal of the Golden Age. Both the cityscape and literature presented multiple perspectives on what renewal meant for the community.14 What follows in this work will concentrate on the replication of memories: how and why the emperor Augustus recalled the memory of Rome’s foundations on the Palatine hill, a memory that was crucial to the community’s sense of cultural identity, and then replicated Romulus’ hut on the Capitoline hill, and how the poets recalled Romulus’ foundation of Rome, and why they chose to emphasize certain parts of the foundation story.This work will also focus on the restoration of memories: why the emperor Augustus highlighted the role of Jupiter on the Capitoline hill in order to commemorate how the god served as the protector of early Rome and how the poets defined the role the Capitoline and Jupiter played in Rome’s archaic past. The multiplicity of perspectives on Rome’s legendary past, which occurred both in topographical reconstruction of monuments associated with the archaic city and the retelling of the story of the archaic city in the literature, were especially effective in establishing a sense of continuity and consolation for the Romans. During the late Republic, the Romans lacked a sense of cohesive pride in their city and a collective identity that could unite them as a community. In the last highly divisive decades of the Republic, the building programme consisted in part of self-aggrandizing projects such as the private horti of Pompey and L. Licinius Lucullus while the Romans’ temples and the tombs of their revered ancestors lay in disrepair.15 Augustus recognized that the Romans’ lack of a sense of community and their lack of interest in restoring their city were formidable obstacles towards his plans to restore peace and stability to Rome.

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Introduction: Rome Recalled To resolve this problem he focused attention on Rome’s early community development with the new additions to the Capitoline hill and the continued maintenance and repair of the Palatine hut. The poets in turn focused in their descriptions of legendary Rome on the proto-Roman settlement of Evander, the hut of Romulus, and Jupiter as the thundering sky god who civilized the archaic landscape. Part of the emperor’s new programme of political and social development for the city included his promise to refound Rome. Augustus’ restoration of these sites encouraged the community to engage in a dialogue on what it meant to return to the values and virtues of early Rome. The mutability of memory In his recent study Empire and Memory: the representation of the Roman Republic in imperial culture, Gowing observes that the community in Rome ‘viewed memory as an essential means of connecting with the past, and thereby of preserving their sense of self and identity’, and he concludes that it would be dangerous for Augustus to think that he could ignore the past and still be an effective leader.16 Gowing’s argument highlights the fact that when Augustus drew upon the recent memory of the Republic for his programme of cultural and political reform, the construction of monuments that had memories tied to the Republic had both the potential to invoke feelings of celebration for the retention of key Republican institutions and to provoke feelings of defeat and bereavement because the Republic no longer existed.17 Although the recreations of archaic Rome represent a time before the civil wars and farmland confiscations nearly destroyed the society, in all versions of Rome’s founding story the city could not have been founded without violence, and Rome achieved a state of abundance and prosperity only after enduring certain hardships. The potential for loss is one of the reasons that Augustus reconstructed the memories of Rome’s legendary past18 and of Rome’s foundations in the city. In the years following his victory at Actium, Augustus claimed that he was about to found Rome once again and achieve the renewal of a Golden-Age society. By restoring the memory of how events and figures from Rome’s legendary past helped to shape the values and institutions of the city which still existed in Augustus’ time, the emperor’s political and cultural reforms could be understood as the expected evolution of events that would improve society following a period of warfare. It will be helpful for this discussion to define what memory, or memoria, meant to the Romans and to examine how their memories were often linked to visible elements in the society, such as social spaces or physical places in ancient Rome.19 Modern societies tend to define history as differing from memory because history has been determined to be a factual account of an event or events that has been verified

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Legendary Rome through independent investigation. This is in contrast to the modern definition of memory, which exists solely as the record of an event or events as recalled by an individual or group. The Romans did not have a specific means by which they conceived of memoria and historia as two separate ways of talking about the past.20 Instead, as Gowing argues, a passage from Cicero’s dialogue De Oratore illustrates that the two concepts were interrelated in a way that allows us to define the importance of memory for history and vice versa: Historia vero testis temporum, lux veritatis, vita memoriae, magistra vitae, nuntia vetustatis, qua voce alia, nisi oratoris, immortalitati commendatur? (2.9.36) In truth since history is the witness of circumstances, the beacon of truth, the course of life for memory, the guide to existence, the messenger of our great ages, in whose voice except that of the orator’s is it committed to immortality?21

In this passage, Cicero notes that historical record was responsible for documenting and preserving the memory of the past. But it was the exciting and lively nature of certain recollections, or memories, both collective and individual, that made the historical record worth preserving. Certain memories are recalled, not necessarily because anyone believed there was evidence that proved that the events happened in a certain way, but because they made the act of describing the past more colourful and vivid.22 Recent studies on remembrance have focused on memory as a social construct, and have analyzed the ways in which memories become valid when the person creating the recollection does so as a member of a larger social group, the members of which can then confirm or reject the memory by justifying or criticizing the narrative.23 The creation of multiple versions of Rome’s foundation story within a group setting should not be seen solely as a way to either validate or deny key episodes in the city’s legendary past. Rather, this type of social organization provides a frame of reference within which competing memories can be useful. The memories can serve, as the multiple versions of Rome’s foundation story did, as an effective way to create a meaningful dialogue about how to make sense out of the past. How a society decided as a group to perceive the past was also vital for determining its future, as when a group reconstructs the story of a past event, key features ‘become the context and content for what they will jointly recall and commemorate on future occasions’. This type of sharing and gathering to recall events also allowed a group to collectively work together to solve a problem that they could not have overcome as individuals.24 This meant that memories could serve as a way for members of a community to explore various possibilities for the future renewal and

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Introduction: Rome Recalled restoration of their city. The preservation of memories also allowed them to examine the difficulties that could lie ahead, based on their recollections of the past. Memories that exist within a social framework can create a dynamic and ongoing dialogue for a society following a traumatic event. But the social framework that memories operate within can be determined by a number of factors. In Maurice Halbwachs’s book, On Collective Memory, in which he invented the term ‘collective memory’ as a way to define memory as a shared experience, his conception of this term also captured the idea that the understanding of the significance of a memory happens when one recalls it within the social framework of a specific group.25 Halbwachs’s work emphasizes the important role that individual recollections have played in shaping group memories, and defines how the memories can belong to individuals and a group simultaneously. A group of people who share a memory in common decide over a course of a lifetime how and when to give the memory significance, and this act of remembrance in turn gives their lives significance at key times.26 Halbwachs’s comprehension of the role that a group plays in reconstructing memory is especially helpful for our understanding of how memory functioned in the ancient Roman world. As the Roman community’s sense of cultural identity came in part from shared recollections, the act of preserving and commemorating public memories was crucial to their society’s sense of well-being. Moreover, as Gowing suggests, a significant part of daily life in ancient Rome was built around regularly scheduled ritual events that memorialized key events in the Romans’ lives and the lives of their ancestors. A sense of responsibility for public acts of remembrance existed, therefore, at both the individual and community level and was built into the structure of their society.27 In her study of memories and their preservation within cultures, The Art of Memory, Frances Yates describes how the ancients placed great importance on the visual when discussing memory. She points out that Cicero, for example, identifies sight as the sense that is crucial for strengthening memories (De Orat. 2.87.357). He describes how the construction of memories was often facilitated through imagining the arrangement of things within a physical space, as if one were placing objects in rooms within buildings, or envisioning things appearing in an ordered sequence within a physical location (De Orat. 2.86.351-4). Yates also notes that Quintilian narrates the following method of memorizing a sequence of events (Insti. 11.2.17-22): when an orator wanted to construct a memory with multiple details, he did so by associating it with a visual picture, often of a building with multiple rooms. By placing the details of the memory in the various rooms inside the building, he could later retrieve the memory at will by imagining the rooms of the building, and going through each room in his mind and retrieving the

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Legendary Rome memories from the rooms in order.28 This technique of assigning meaning to places was not limited to the orators’ imaginations, as Diane Favro has pointed out. Her study of urban environments demonstrates how all members of the community relied heavily on cues in the environment, such as the memories associated with particular monuments or spaces within the city, because the physical landscape supplied them with information about their city’s current and past political and social climate.29 In brief, the Romans relied on visual narratives in their everyday life as well as their professional lives: they retrieved memories from recreations of physical monuments within their minds, but when they walked through the city, they saw a visual narrative of memories stored in specific monuments as well. The importance that Augustus placed on restoring or building temples, transforming religious spaces, and reconstructing the first home of Rome’s founder Romulus, brought archaic Rome back to life. At the same time he also placed memories of the early city in locales that allowed observers to contemplate the archaic foundations within the context of Augustus’ achievements. When Augustus transformed the city’s architectural programme, his restoration highlighted, among other things, the traditional values from the legendary foundations of the city that could be seen as the inspiration for his own rule of the city. Florence Dupont notes that Roman daily life was filled with sacred spaces and the performance of religious rites associated with those spaces.30 Thus, the community thought more in terms of moving from one space to another throughout the day when they participated in daily life rather than moving from one time period to the next as they did their daily activities. When Augustus created new sacred and social spaces within the city’s landscape and the poets engaged in the creation of memories associated with the landscape, they initiated a dialogue on what it meant to participate in the religious and political community as it was redefining Roman identity. The entire society, Augustus included, was also learning how to define leadership and responsibility. What the poets see emerging from the building programme of the new regime is an emphasis on a return to the value placed on communitybuilding and strong leadership that the proto-founders, such as Evander and Saturn, who inhabited the site before Rome, and Romulus, when he founded Rome, possessed. Consequently, significant spaces within Rome contained memories of the foundations of Rome-prior-toRomulus and Romulus’ early city. The motif of the simple life was emphasized, for example, when the hut of Romulus stood as an exemplum of how the founder dwelt in a rustic hut and lived an existence that was defined by hard work and piety. The recollections of Rome’s foundations stress how the early foundations of the proto-city that existed before early Rome were marked by piety and a simple existence that was not yet complicated by fratricide or crime. Yet at the same time

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Introduction: Rome Recalled that there is emphasis on the early community and its members’ sense of inclusion, there is always in the telling of the story by Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius the inclusion of the various elements of civilization that suggest that the violence that shaped Rome’s foundations played an integral part in the success of the city and the community’s development. I have chosen to look at this period of Roman poetry31 because the poets created their works during and immediately after the period when the city was experiencing the transition from Republic to Empire, which began in 36 BC, when Octavian defeated Sextus Pompey, and continued until 23 BC, by which time his authority as emperor had begun to be established since he had received the full tribunicia potestas. In 23 BC, Augustus was able to surrender his consulship, yet still retain, through the tribunician powers that he held, considerable influence over the affairs of the city.32 And he achieved and maintained this power in spite of a series of severe illnesses during this decade;33 as Southern points out, by this time he had ‘arrived at the most successful basis for imperial rule and had managed to do so without inventing anything too disturbing or outlandish’.34 Through his tribunician authority, Augustus ruled the city with powers that had their origins in Republican custom, but had been adapted very effectively to suit the new imperial age. This transformation from Republic to Empire was successful because Augustus encouraged the idea that the Roman world’s state of well-being could be measured by its success at working together to rebuild the city and community. By skilfully and slowly blending Republican-based ruling traditions with decisive and effective changes to the old constitutional system, he gradually enlarged his powers and gave the impression that, like the Senate, his goal was to safeguard the morals and values of the state.35 He did not seem too heavy-handed in his assumption of power because his command and authority had their origins in the prior ruling customs of the Republic. And his expressed desire to return to the old values and re-establish peace was effective, as evidenced by the widespread response to his reforms reflected in literature, art, architecture, and coinage, among other elements that supply us with the surviving record of cultural history of the times. Increased emphasis on a new visual culture was one of the ways in which Augustus communicated to the populace that he had restored peace and would bring prosperity to the community. The poets also highlight the new programme of cultural reform through the use of ‘heightened emphasis on visual themes, particularly those tied to a new understanding of the world as reflected in imperial building’.36 The transformation of the city was a dynamic and ever-changing process and one that was marked by creativity. It was during this era that Vergil began the Aeneid around 29 BC and had more or less completed it by his death in 19 BC, Tibullus wrote his

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Legendary Rome second book of Elegies sometime before his death in 19 or 18 BC, and Propertius’ fourth book of Elegies appeared (the last datable reference is to 16 BC).37 The poets not only experienced the transition from Republic to Empire, but they also saw first-hand the Augustan reconstruction of the Palatine and Capitoline hills, which began when Augustus vowed the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine in 36 BC and ended with the Augustan reconstruction of the Capitoline, which took place from 26 to 20 BC.38 While the poets were inventing a landscape for the founder and proto-founders of Rome to inhabit and retelling Rome’s foundation stories, at the same time, they were watching the memories of the archaic city being woven into the restoration of the cityscape. This is not to say that the poets are our only source of information about this time period. Key details about cultural life, political affairs, and the restoration of the city during the Augustan principate are contained within the extant histories of Velleius Paterculus and Dionysius of Halicarnassus. If the works of their other historian contemporaries, which included Asinius Pollio and Titus Labienus, and the books of Livy that dealt with Augustus’ reign had survived, the literary record of the events that led up to the fall of the Republic and the start of the Empire would have been greatly enriched.39 Their assessment of the Republic and Augustan Rome would have contributed a great deal to this study of how the community dealt with civil turmoil, healed the unresolved trauma of the aftermath of the wars, and turned a period of decline into one of renewal and hope. Thus, because we are missing Livy’s account of this time, the poets’ perspective on the changes that took place in the landscape are especially valuable for this study of memory because they lived through the changes and were affected daily by the modifications that took place in the political structure of their society and the cultural reform that rapidly occurred all around them. While I will consider in this work the relevant evidence from the texts of later historians, such as Suetonius, Plutarch, and Tacitus, their perspective, while valuable, does not have the same impact as the poets’, because their descriptions of sites and monuments, and their accounts of Augustan history, are not being written from the same viewpoint. The Rome they see and experience is still a mutable city, but their experience is not defined by the vibrant and evolving creation of the principate. Instead, since they lived well after the inception and installation of Augustus’ rise to power, their insights about the past are more static and defined by the biases that come from living during the Empire as an established enterprise. What the poets bring to this study, then, is a unique offering as told from the perspective of those who lived during the transformation from Republic to Empire.40 Unlike the historians, they chose not to pass over the tales of proto-Rome, but instead give the stories of the city’s pre-Roman origins a prominent place in their narrative. Livy explains why the

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Introduction: Rome Recalled stories about pre-Roman and Roman foundations that contain divine elements are not the main focus of his work: quae ante conditam condendamve urbem poeticis magis decora fabulis quam incorruptis rerum gestarum monumentis traduntur, ea nec adfirmare nec refellere in animo est. (Livy praef. 6) What happened before the actual foundation or the decision to found the city has been handed down suited more to poetic fables than to authentic accounts of historical events, and I have in mind neither to confirm nor refute these traditions.

Livy preferred to begin his narrative with the story of Aeneas and then Romulus. For Livy, the act of creating a record of the distant past served as a comforting retreat from confronting the more disturbing events of his own time, but his penchant for escape did not include writing about the time when, for example, the god Saturn lived among the proto-Romans.41 For Livy, exploring the past is a way to trace the moral decline that occurred within the community after the city was founded. Tacitus did not discuss proto-Rome at all, and his Annales contains only the briefest mention of Rome before the start of the Republic (Ann. 1.1.1). Plutarch, who was writing well after the reign of Augustus, recorded the story of Romulus, but he did not give a detailed account of the landscape of proto-Rome. For the poets, however, a return to the city’s earliest origins is a way to express their questions, hopes, and fears for Rome’s future. Augustus’ message of political and religious renewal and his promise of a return to the old values and virtues is highlighted in their work when they restore the legendary past as a living exemplum of how the humble lifestyle of the proto-founders and founder Romulus led to the expansion of the city and the development of Rome’s power and when they examine the role that divine figures played in the development and protection of the early city. They also explore the emotions that arise from seeing the past being reinterpreted for them and retold in a visual narrative in their city. And most significantly, they investigate what it means to be a member of the community of Augustan Rome. The elegiac poets make the past ‘a matter of personal concern’42 as much as the other topics they choose to discuss in their works, and their treatment of the past contributes to the dialogue on what it means to be a poet writing during this time of urban transformation and renewal.43 Vergil’s contribution is similar in his epic poem: he makes the encounter with the past personal as he explores the challenges and trials that the legendary Romans and proto-Romans faced as they founded the city. His impression of the past creates the sense that he is also engaging his audience and asking them to consider how to handle the challenges of restoring

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Legendary Rome the city of Rome after civil war. His entire epic is a thoughtful articulation of the power that the memory of the past has to shape the human experience. Vergil was the first poet to understand that the Romans’ sense of present time needed to be understood in the context of what had come before and what was to come in the future.44 This multi-dimensional temporality was part of the elegists’ world as well. Like Vergil, their representations of the archaic city contain allusions to the Augustan city and raise questions about the city’s future. Their final contribution is their sometimes playful but always decisive ability to manipulate memories. In the end, the effect of their injection of humour into Rome’s legendary past shows that the poets are in control of how the past defines the present. Reception and audience in Augustan Rome An examination of how the poets’ stories of the early city described the past foundations and highlighted the idea that Rome’s evolution into a great empire was due to these very origins must take into consideration the issue of authorial intent. In his 2005 study of Vergil’s Georgics titled Reading After Actium: Vergil’s Georgics, Octavian, and Rome, Nappa addresses the difficulties that arise when scholars interpret texts within a context that does not take into consideration authorial intent. He points out that, while there is no consensus among scholars about how powerful social networks and political relationships influenced authorial intent, to dismiss the possibility that these poets were taking into account the political behaviours which they observed and the social networks in which they themselves were engaged, would deny that the works were written within an important social context: This is certainly not to say that a historical author’s intentions and goals are the meaning of the work, nor does it suggest that a statement of an author’s intent can ever automatically trump other readings of a text. Rather, it means that texts such as Horace’s Satires or Vergil’s Aeneid operated within a network of social and political protocols; these texts were implicated in the broader social system by individuals attempting to gain from that system. Whether or not one feels that intention has a privileged epistemological function, it certainly had a special, and very real, social function: an author’s intentions are an important part of the way social context, literary text, and individual authors interact.

As Nappa suggests, the poets composed their works at a certain time and under certain social conditions within the Empire. Therefore, to separate the texts from their authorial intent belies the fact that the poets were part of the social, cultural, and political milieu of Rome at this time.45 It is important to extend this discussion of the poets’ intent, however, to acknowledge that their vision of the past changed over time,

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Introduction: Rome Recalled not because they were bowing to the pressures of the regime, but because they evolved as authors. As Patricia Johnston has noted in her discussion of Vergil’s ‘emerging conception’ of the Golden Age, during the poet’s career, he transformed the Golden Age from a myth ‘into the realm of semi-historicity, under the rule of a semi-historical figure’ as he transformed the promise of life without labour into an agriculturalbased society.46 All three poets composed their works in a society where the line between myth and history was being blurred in their living environment. My reading of the three poets’ works will consider their texts as participating in an on-going and evolving dialogue in the city at this time on how to restore community and cultural identity following a period of crisis, as I see the authors responding to the changing landscape of the city around them.47 Nappa argues that Vergil’s Georgics can be understood as an attempt to engage in a dialogue with Octavian on his options for leadership and to pose the difficult questions that must be asked about how best to rebuild the society and encourage the community to unite and focus on common goals such as maintaining peace and restoring the city. The content of Vergil’s work is not meant to suggest absolute answers; it is left for the audience to discern the answers based on personal experience. Moreover, the poem warns Octavian that his behaviour will be subject to interpretation; he cannot control the reception of his actions.48 A similar approach can be taken in the investigation of the relationship between Augustus’ reconstruction of the landscape and the poets’ vision of restoration and renewal. Augustus’ landscape is not perceived as static or unchanging once the restorations are complete; environmental and social factors constantly affected the viewers’ perception of the cityscape. Equally significant is the poets’ vision: the poets offer and create versions of early Rome that raise the issues that are very much on the minds of members of the community. Part of the recovery process would have included exploring and coming to terms with the role that violence played in shaping the city’s development throughout its past.49 When the community participated in this discourse, where the origins of the city are brought back to life for their contemplation, it was up to them to decide what to take away from this experience and what to remember. There is a danger, when exploring the potential that the transformed landscape of the city held to persuade observers that the havoc and horror of civil wars had come to an end, in assuming that the poets were either reacting with propaganda or pessimism to the promise that harmony and restoration would prosper under Augustus’ leadership. This book examines the possibility that the poets created a dialogue that navigated the area between praise and polemic with their recreations of archaic Rome: as I will demonstrate, each poet in turn offers a different response to the landscape that informs our understanding of how the community never reached an unequivocal conclusion about the

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Legendary Rome changes they saw taking place in the city around them. Rather, the poets’ texts and the Augustan landscape, while raising awareness of both the potential advantages and problems that the community would encounter when trying to rebuild their society, also permitted viewers to realize their own conclusions about what they saw and took away from their interaction with the texts and the landscape. Outline of chapters Chapter 1: ‘The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti’, explores the development of the Palatine hill and the role that the site played in the stories of Rome’s origins. The topography of the Palatine during the time of Augustus is considered in relation to Augustus’ novel use of spatial design and architecture on the hill, which created an artistic programme that encouraged the community to see how the site developed from Romulus’ humble settlement into a locus of political power for the emperor. When Romulus’ hut was placed in proximity to the emperor’s residence, it suggested that Augustus was following the precedent of humility and modesty that Romulus established when he chose to live in a hut on the Palatine. Multiple versions of the story of the death of Remus existed during Augustus’ reign, including a tale where Remus dies as a sacrifice on behalf of the city. When the variations on this story are placed into the political and social context of the Republic it is possible to define how the myth was reinvented in Augustus’ time. The hut was used in the early part of Augustus’ reign, I suggest, to redefine the importance of the early community’s religious and political development for Rome. Chapter 2: ‘The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past’ explores the role that the Capitoline and Jupiter played in the stories of Rome’s early foundations and how Augustus restored those connections with the addition of new structures that reinforced the relationship between the community of archaic Rome and the Augustan community. Augustus’ programme of building and restoring key structures on the Capitoline, I suggest, allowed the emperor to insert himself into the tradition of those who were protected by Jupiter. In addition to a critical study of the sites on the Capitoline that held the memory of Rome’s early foundations, this chapter also examines the figures associated with the city’s early religious and political development. Romulus, of course, plays a key role in the foundation story and the addition of a second hut of Romulus on the Capitoline in Augustus’ time contributed to the sense that Romulus was responsible for many of the religious and political developments in early Roman society. The role of Jupiter as a lawgiver and a civilizing figure for both the early community and Augustan society50 and his temples on the Capitoline’s landscape en-

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Introduction: Rome Recalled couraged observers to see significant evidence of the part that Jupiter played in preserving the early community. Chapter 3: ‘Thinking In Images: Preserving the Past for the Present’ undertakes an exploration of how modern theories about visual culture and social drama can be applied to the transition from Republic to Empire. It begins with a critical examination of Norman Bryson’s definition of ‘visual culture’. Bryson defines how observers participate in visual culture when they look at images of cultural significance and assign meaning to these images that can be articulated and understood by others within the same society. Thus the poets and Augustus share a vision of the foundation that they are articulating to others as part of a meaningful dialogue. What follows is a look at Augustan reforms within city neighbourhoods in order to offer illustrations of how, once the emperor made specific changes to key locales in Rome, the community began to associate new memories with the physical spaces. The final part of this chapter considers a contemporary analysis of a storytelling process called ‘social drama’ and applies it to the narrative that the community of Augustan Rome created as they tried to move beyond the crisis of civil war. Chapter 4: ‘Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Aeneid 8 and Tibullus 2.5’ explores the portrait of the ancient city in both Vergil and Tibullus and investigates the ways in which Tibullus 2.5 presents an inversion of the Vergilian landscape. Both Vergil and Tibullus assign considerable importance to the early landscape and the promise it holds for Rome’s prospective success in the Augustan Age. Although Vergil’s text presents a far more detailed landscape of early Rome, Tibullus’ setting also resonates with recollections of the early city. Tibullus’ use of topography in his description of proto-Rome as compared with Vergil’s description of the proto-city has not been previously explored in depth. A comparison of the two poets’ interpretations raises significant issues about the differing scenes of Rome’s foundations. Clearly, both Vergil and Tibullus recreate Evander’s settlement, but Vergil selects the Palatine as Evander’s proto-Rome and Tibullus selects the Capitoline for Evander’s settlement. As a consequence of this, there is an emergence in both poets’ texts of Rome as a developing civilization under the direction of Romulus and Jupiter that suggests Rome’s future greatness. This in turn leads to a greater understanding of how the proto-city is commemorated as the early settlement whose communal virtues and values establish the foundation for the restoration of a Golden Age in Augustan Rome. Chapter 5: ‘Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9’, explores Propertius’ vision of early Rome. His portrait of the early city differs from Tibullus’ in that Rome is not originally a pastoral or a rural retreat. Instead, soldiers occupy his Rome and references to violence in the early city dominate the landscape scenes. At first glance, it appears as

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Legendary Rome though the Vergilian echoes of the ancient past in Propertius do not lead to praise of the Augustan city. Yet Propertius’ portrait of the city is actually a careful and deliberate reversal of Vergil’s tour that allows for his audience to see how the violent events that take place in the ancient city are what give the city its stable and prosperous appearance in Propertius’ own time. Because the community overcomes its humble beginnings and goes on to survive repeated misfortunes, it becomes evident that Propertius’ text demonstrates how Rome is made better and stronger though overcoming hardship and adversity. Propertius’ vision differs from the city of Evander and Romulus that Vergil and Tibullus present; instead, his early Rome is most memorable for figures such as Tarpeia and Hercules, and for his audience, it is almost as if Rome develops into a splendid city in spite of their efforts (i.e., Tarpeia’s betrayal and Hercules’ destruction of the shrine to Bona Dea). Like Tibullus’ version of early Rome, Propertius reverses one of the key elements in Vergil’s description of the early city. In Propertius’ poetry, the story of Hercules comes, not before the tour of the city as it did in Vergil, but at the end of the story of Rome’s early existence. The consequence of Hercules’ story coming after the tour of the city and after the tale of Tarpeia on the Capitoline is that Propertius presents a theme throughout the three poems, that as a result of the destruction of old boundaries and structures, Rome emerges as a better and stronger city, destined to become a great empire. This idea culminates in the triumphal behaviour of Hercules in 4.9, which alludes to the importance of Jupiter and the Capitoline in Augustan Rome in the works of Tibullus and Vergil. Propertius poses the same questions about what it means to be a member of the community of Augustan Rome as Tibullus and Virgil but his use of foundation stories differs from his predecessors as Rome-before-Aeneas is barely mentioned, and the walls of the city preserve an alternate memory of Remus’ death. More than the other poets, Propertius focuses on what it means to live within the borders and boundaries of an ordered civilization. As the poet’s memory rewrites the past in various locations, Propertius negotiates the space between praise and criticism by using humour to create his own distinct version of Rome’s foundations. The book will conclude with a concise look at the meaning of monuments and texts in the later Augustan Empire. A brief look at Ovid’s Fasti, as a work representative of the next generation of Augustan literature, and at Ovid as a first-generation poet who, for all intents and purposes, grew up with little or no memory of the Republic, will demonstrate how Ovid reforms the memory of Rome’s foundations to suit the times. Ovid, like Vergil, imagines a more epic unfolding of the city’s origins yet retains some of the elegiac details of Tibullus’ and Propertius’ visions of archaic Rome. A final look at the meaning of foundation narratives and their impact on the preservation of memories aids in the

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Introduction: Rome Recalled understanding of how the Romans formed their unique sense of cultural identity. When the foundation narratives are compared to the urban narrative that is scripted on to the city’s topography, it is possible to conclude that the community could glean meaning from an urban landscape in much the same way as it did a work of literature.

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The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti Introduction Augustus revived the story of Rome’s foundations through his creative use of the hut of Romulus in two key sites in the city of Rome, the Palatine and the Capitoline. Recently restored and newly built architectural monuments on both sites encouraged viewers to accept time as existing in a visual continuum, as though the city’s humble foundations had a direct impact on the splendour and improvements of the Augustan city. Comparisons between legendary Rome and Augustan Rome were apparent within the Palatine and Capitoline landscapes, as observers could consider how the formation of the Roman Empire following the decline of the Republic presented obstacles and challenges that were similar to the ones the early community had to overcome in Romulus’ time. Consequently, recreating the archaic landscape in literature and monuments allowed the community of Augustan Rome to initiate a dialogue on how to face the challenge of reorganization and reintegration in the city. This chapter examines the Augustan building programme on the Palatine as it existed during the lifetime of the poets Virgil, Tibullus, and Propertius, who would have had the preservation of Romulus’ story and Augustus’ restoration of the hut of Romulus on the Palatine, along with his other building programmes on the hill, as inspiration for their invented visions of legendary Rome. The Augustan poets mentioned the emperor’s complex of buildings on the Palatine in their works more often than any other space in Rome.1 So that the poets’ vision can be understood within the context of the topographical changes that took place in the city over time, it is important to establish how the Palatine evolved from the earliest foundations of the city to a site of religious and political significance in the time of Augustus. This chapter will therefore consider the following issues: the topographical development of the Palatine from its legendary foundations to its emergence as a focal point of political and religious power during the early Empire; how the restoration on the Palatine of the hut of Romulus and the precinct of Victory encouraged the community to make comparisons between the Augustan city and the archaic past; and some of the reasons why Augustus might have chosen,

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Legendary Rome during the early years of his rule as emperor, to highlight similarities between himself and the legendary founder of the city, Romulus. Examining the various versions of the myth of Romulus and Remus that the poets and Augustus would have been familiar with at that time allows for a reconsideration of some of the previous assumptions about Romulus, his life on the Palatine, and the ways in which Augustus commemorated the legendary past. In addition to recalling the story of Romulus and Remus, the community had a long-standing tradition of evoking the significance of place in order to define what it meant to be part of the community. In his Academica, Cicero’s praise of Varro confirms the importance of bearing in mind the ancient importance of sites and the traditions associated with them.2 In the following passage, Cicero credits his knowledge of Rome’s significance to Varro’s lost work, Antiquitates rerum humanarum, or the Antiquities: } nam nos in nostra urbe peregrinantis errantisque tamquam hospites tui libri quasi domum reduxerunt, ut possemus aliquando qui et ubi essemus agnoscere. Tu aetatem patriae, tu discriptiones temporum, tu sacrorum iura, tu sacerdotum, tu domesticam, tu bellicam disciplinam, tu sedem regionum, locorum, tu omnium divinarum humanarumque rerum nomina, genera, officia, causas aperuisti } (1.3.9) } for we were like outsiders in our city roving and drifting about and your books led us back home, so to speak, so that we might become aware of who and where we were. You have uncovered the age of our country, the chronology of its times, the laws of its religious rites and the priesthood, its civil and military custom, the seat of its boundaries and sites, the names, types, functions, and origins of all of our religious and secular traditions }

Cicero notes that the Romans were like peregrinantis or ‘outsiders’ until they learned, among other things, where they were, about the sedes of the city including its boundaries, and the origins of Rome’s religious traditions. In effect, when Augustus restored and maintained evidence of the starting point for Rome’s foundations on the Palatine and the city’s early religious traditions on the Capitoline hill, like Varro, he gave the community a sense of where they were. The archaic settlement on the Palatine In Roman historical tradition, the Palatine is named as the hill on which Rome’s earliest foundations were established. Both Tacitus and Livy, for example, record the story of how Rome was founded on the Palatine. According to Tacitus, the Palatine was part of the early city, and he mentions Romulus’ boundary-markings at the original site (Ann.

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti 12.24). Livy describes how Romulus chose to found a settlement on the Palatine and became the first king of Rome (1.6.3-7.3). The site had a noted significance in Vergil’s Aeneid as a proto-Roman settlement as well. The legend of Rome’s first colonist, the Arcadian exile Evander, who founded a simple settlement called Pallanteum, was part of Vergil’s narrative about the proto-city in the Aeneid.3 Thus, when Augustus placed his residence on the Palatine, he could claim to have followed the custom of the proto-founder Evander and the founder Romulus. Although there are at least sixty known literary versions of Rome’s foundations,4 Romulus is most readily identified with Rome’s archaic origins on the Palatine as the city’s founder. Although archaeological evidence has suggested that the hill was occupied as early as the fourteenth century BC,5 Rome’s foundation stories were partially confirmed when archaeological investigation discovered a wall around the Palatine, built for defensive purposes and to visibly mark the boundaries of the community, which can be dated to the eighth century BC,6 and revealed the remains of a primitive set of huts, located near the top of the Scalae Caci on the Palatine, which can be dated to the ninth and eighth centuries BC.7 While there is, of course, no proof that an original ‘hut of Romulus’ ever existed on the Palatine, the hill was clearly occupied from the eighth century and the later Romans declared this to be the original location of the founder’s hut. Since Augustus and the poets use the hut as a symbol of Rome’s origins, an archaeologist’s estimation of what the restoration of the hut could have looked like deserves special consideration. Amanda Claridge describes the construction of one of the huts as follows: The largest plan measures 5 x 3.5m., a slightly oval rectangle; the spaces between the wall posts were probably filled with wattle and daub, and the roof thatched with reeds: there was a small porch in front of the door.

The original huts would have been very simple, with only an entrance and a roof-hole for ventilation. According to the archaeological record, the Palatine huts were not made out of permanent materials. Rather, the wattle and daub enclosures were ‘destroyed by the late C7 (to be replaced by more substantial structures of which we know little) but the memory of this early settlement on this particular corner of the hill endured in legends which surrounded it’8 and the post-holes for the huts still remain on the Palatine hill today.9 Thus, as Claridge points out, the memory of the hut settlement was retained even after later buildings replaced it on the hill. Although there is still dispute among scholars over the exact location of the hut of Romulus on the Palatine, numerous literary sources from antiquity, which include Dionysius Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 1.79.11) and Plutarch (Rom. 20.4-6) situate the hut near the Scalae Caci on the south slope of the Palatine.10 As evident from its

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Legendary Rome enduring longevity in the early city to its restoration by Augustus and beyond, the memory of the hut was preserved because it represented the lifestyle of Romulus, the humble ruler, founder, and civilizer, who taught the community by example the values that Rome needed in order to survive beyond its earliest origins. From archaic settlement to the city in the time of the Republic Although there are no historical or archaeological records that indicate that any king after Romulus lived on the Palatine, it is clear that during the city’s expansion, the hill retained its importance as the site of Rome’s earliest foundation while the city continued to develop around it.11 Towards the end of the seventh century BC, Rome began to expand its inhabited areas beyond the Palatine, and established a system of local trade, importing Greek pottery and other goods from Etruria. The city developed a civic centre in the Forum, where, in the sixth century, an inscription appears on the Lapis Niger referring to the monarchy. Also starting in the sixth century, the slopes of the Palatine began to be used for residential occupation, and from that time on, the houses offered their owners an elevated view of triumphal processions.12 At the same time as the Palatine was evolving into a residential neighbourhood, the rest of the city experienced a population explosion. Many public buildings, including temples, public markets, and other structures used for civic functions, were constructed in or near the Forum during the sixth and fifth centuries, and it was this growth in public construction, along with the formation of labour guilds and the paving of the Forum, that gives the impression that Rome was fast becoming a defined urban presence in Latium.13 While the rest of the city was growing around the hill, the Palatine continued to be used primarily as a residential area, but it also functioned from early on, as did the Capitoline, as a site where the community would gather to perform religious rites to assure victory in war. The hill had a long-standing association with the cults of Victoria and Magna Mater. Rome’s goddess-protector on the Palatine, the Great Mother, was housed in the Temple of Magna Mater. Dedicated in 191 BC by Marcus Junius Brutus, the temple was built during the Second Punic War after the Romans consulted the Sibylline books and received the order to set up a temple to Magna Mater at Rome (Diod. Sic. 34.33.2). Long before a temple was built to Victoria on the hill, the community performed religious rites associated with the victorious conquest of their enemies in war on the hill and Dionysius of Halicarnassus records the tradition that the precinct of Victory was established in Evander’s time on the Palatine (Ant. Rom. 1.32.5).14 In 294 BC, the same year that the Temple of Jupiter Stator on the Palatine15 was vowed

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti by M. Atilius Regulus during the war with the Samnites (Livy 10.36.11; 37.15-16), Livy also reports that Lucius Postumius Megellus dedicated the Temple of Victoria with his spoils from the Samnite Wars (Livy 10.33.9). In 194 BC Cato the Elder dedicated a shrine to Victoria Virgo (Livy 35.9.6) that was located next to the temple. The Clivus Victoriae also ascended directly to the precinct from the Lupercal.16 As the Romans expanded into the rest of Italy, using the resources and population from each new territory they conquered in order to increase their military power and material prosperity, the cult of Victoria served the community as one of its defenders. By the mid-second century BC, the concept of Victory had evolved from a divine force that helped the Romans in battle to a cult figure that was closely linked with the ceremony of the triumphator as the ceremony honoured the connection between a victorious conquest and the resulting military triumph.17 Thus, the godhead Victoria had achieved what Fears calls an ‘intimate personal union’ with the Roman god Jupiter, with Victoria either serving as an attribute of Jupiter or functioning as a separate goddess as the occasion required. As visible proof of this union and to give the goddess a permanent place to reside in Rome’s citadel, in 216 BC the Romans placed a small golden statue of Victoria, a gift of Hiero, in the Temple to Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitoline (Livy 22.37).18 Moreover, by the end of the Republic, a connection between Romulus and Victoria emerges in the literary record; Romulus is credited with being the first triumphator and the first Roman to vow a temple to Jupiter Stator (Livy 1.12.3-7; Plut., Rom. 16.5-8). During a crisis in the battle with the Sabines, the Romans were forced to retreat to the Porta Mugonia at the base of the Palatine after the Sabines took possession of the Capitoline. Romulus called upon Jupiter Stator to inspire the Romans to hold their ground and fight and the Romans were able to defend themselves successfully in the valley between the Palatine and the Capitoline. Romulus also initiated the cult of Victoria at Rome. In addition to her association with the founder of Rome, Victoria also represented the collective authority of the community during the Roman Republic; her presence on coins, along with other symbols of the res publica, suggested to the community that she served them as one of their guardians.19 It is evident that by the end of the Republic, the Roman goddess Victoria would have had a clearly defined presence as a defender of the Roman community on both the Palatine and Capitoline hills and that Jupiter would also have had a specific function as the guarantor of the community’s safety on both hills – as Jupiter Stator on the Palatine and Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitoline. Augustus’ reconstruction of the Palatine and Capitoline served to emphasize the roles that the deities Victory and Jupiter played in the protection of the community as a whole. The archaeological and historical records have confirmed that Rome

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Legendary Rome slowly evolved into a city after the establishment of the initial settlement attributed to Romulus: the formation of a citizen population, the building of public monuments, fortifications, and sanctuaries, and the establishment of contact with traders and economic sustainability, along with the emergence of religious festivals and customs, all contributed to the sense that the city was growing into a community in Latium with a definable urban presence.20 But along with the established cityscape that was defined by the public spaces within the city, by the late Republic the community also placed an increased emphasis on the appearance of private dwellings as a reflection of their occupants’ moral character and their power within the community. Augustus’ house, therefore, was built at a time when the distinction between private versus public space was beginning to be blurred by changes in the structure of Roman society. Yvon Thébert suggests that an examination of the lives led by the more privileged members of Roman society during the late Republic contributes to our understanding of the confluence of public and private lives during the late Republic and early Empire. He argues that the structure of the society at this time, which was based on the patron-client system, encouraged the development of social activities that took place, not as one might expect, in public spaces, but inside private homes: ‘Political life was concentrated in the home of Caesar or Pompey, as much as, or more than, in the Senate.’ Thébert points out that this new trend, which encouraged Romans to view the activities that took place in their private dwellings as a significant part of their public lives, was instituted in the late Republic and continued to the end of the Empire.21 As a result of this, the Romans began to place great emphasis on the size and appearance of their dwellings. Accordingly, architecture represented one of the most important visual cues that the community of Augustan Rome could use to determine how much power a person wielded. Wallace-Hadrill comments that the centre of public life is now within the Roman house, as political power began to be generated outside of public settings: ‘} the home was a locus of public life. A public figure went home not so much in order to shield himself from the public gaze, as to present himself in the best light.’ This development was also echoed by a change in the way patronage was conducted, since the emphasis was then on the patron’s self-presentation in a domestic setting and the house no longer served as a private retreat but yet another place where the wealthy Roman could appear in the best possible light in a very controlled environment.22 Hence, a patron could choose to lead a very public private life in order to maintain a certain image. An established literary tradition records that high-ranking Romans required housing that reflected their moral character. Both Cicero and Vitruvius, for example, comment on how men of rank need housing to fit their social standing. Just as the restoration of Romulus’ house was

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti meant to reflect the humble lifestyle of the founder, other Roman literature on the topic of home ownership also recalled the idea that a house reflected its owner’s values and position in society. Vitruvius even suggests that certain men were socially obligated to build spacious homes: } nobilibus vero qui honores magistratusque gerundo praestare debent officia civibus, faciunda sunt vestibula regalia alta, atria et peristylia amplissima, silvae ambulationesque laxiores ad decorem maiestatis perfectae; praeterea bybliothecas, pinacothecas, basilicas non dissimili modo quam publicorum operum magnificentia comparatas, quod in domibus eorum saepius et publica consilia et privata iudicia arbitriaque conficiuntur. (De Arch. 6.5.2) } for noble men who, by administering high political offices and magistracies, must fulfil their duties to their fellow-citizens, regal and lofty entrance halls should be made, and exceedingly expansive atriums and peristyles, groves, and amply spacious walkways, finished in a manner that is worthy of their dignity. Moreover they should have libraries, basilicas, and picture galleries, constructed with a splendour that is similar to that of public works, since public debates as well as private legal disputes and hearings are more often held in their own homes.

Vitruvius notes that houses must reflect the social and political standing of their owners; they cannot be used solely as residential retreats.23 But this does not mean that all Romans encouraged indulgence when it came to expenditure on private buildings. Cicero, for example, advises against lavish display in a private home: Cavendum autem est, praesertim si ipse aedifices, ne extra modum sumptu et magnificentia prodeas } (Off. 1.140) But care must be taken, especially if you yourself build, not to proceed beyond the proper measure in expense and display }

Thus, the ideal Roman house reflected the owner’s good taste and restraint. But the ideal that Cicero called for was not an accurate reflection of the trends and standards of the late Republic.24 Indeed, many ancient authors, including Cicero, have characterized the building projects in the days of the late Republic as new and lavish developments that showcased personal wealth and splendour and demonstrated a lack of restraint and morals.25 That the Roman aristocracy preferred to put their money into building elaborate private homes and neglect the city was considered outrageous. Cicero reminds the community why excessive displays of private wealth were not considered appropriate: Odit populus Romanus privatam luxuriam, publicam

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Legendary Rome magnificentiam diligit, ‘The Roman people despise luxury in their private buildings but delight in public splendour’ (Mur. 76). The trend also extended to expansive construction when it came to buildings that were meant for public use. Livy portrays Cato as the moral voice of reason, who comments on how the citizens praised their foreign gods in new temples while the older Roman gods made of clay received only public ridicule (Livy 34.4.3). For Livy, the clay gods represented Rome before a time when it was corrupted by greed and war. Cato’s lament warned the city that if the people failed to remember Rome’s humble origins, the moral and cultural decline would continue. During the Republic, the patron-client system was evolving and dynamic, and the atmosphere of social change and growth encouraged patrons to produce the kind of pompous and oversized building projects that authors like Cicero bemoaned. At the start of the Empire, however, when Augustus came to power, the system changed. The princeps took charge of public resources and there was increased emphasis on his role as the model patron for his citizens. At this time both the patron-client system had changed and the boundaries between public and private life had become increasingly blurred. Therefore how Augustus presented his private life, which included the size and style of his private residence, to the public, would have had great significance for his political image as a leader. Augustus either restored or reclaimed many monuments and spaces within the city in order to define public memories that were tied to his own achievements. This reinforced the idea that Rome’s development from proto-city to Romulus’ early settlement was comparable to Augustus’ own role in Rome’s restoration. As a result, the community began to participate in the creation of public memories, or the representations of and allusions to the early city that materialized in the landscape and became part of the public record in which they could share. The production of communal memories enhanced the significance of specific places in the landscape that corresponded to Augustan developments in the city. From the preceding survey of the city and summary of the growth of the Palatine from archaic times to the late Republic, it is possible to conclude that as Rome developed into a city, the Palatine functioned primarily as a residential space until the major public building projects on the hill – the Temple of Magna Mater, the Temple of Victory, the Temple of Victoria Virgo in the precinct of Victory, and the Temple of Jupiter Stator near the Porta Mugonia – gave the site a greater religious significance. In addition, as the community developed around a patron-client structure, society placed an increased emphasis on public displays of power both in private homes and more public building projects. But what was missing from the Palatine was a sense of a coherent building programme that was integrated into the city’s development, since Republican Rome was in the hands of individuals who

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti performed public works and restored buildings or built new ones without being held accountable to a comprehensive plan. Instead, wealthy members of the community developed spaces within the city that glorified their political achievements as individuals. After Augustus began his ascent to power, however, the Palatine’s urban image began to develop under a cohesive political authority. The Palatine in the time of Augustus Augustus’ building programme on the Palatine took place at a time when the city was given to extravagant and lavish home building for private glory. This meant that the emperor had to be very careful not to appear to imitate his Republican predecessors. Instead, he created a building programme for the city that emphasized a visual language of power and restoration. Augustus created a complex of buildings on the hill that complemented the older, mid-Republican structures, which included several temples. According to Paul Zanker, as part of this new programme, the outward appearance of Rome had to change along with the ideals of the people. He points out that the new imagery signifying restoration for the public good was suddenly everywhere: It is astonishing how every kind of visual communication came to reflect the new order, how every theme and slogan became interwoven. } For generations the ills of state and society had been proclaimed, described, and lamented as incurable evils. The surprising thing, for many people virtually a miracle, was that the new ruler actually took the lament seriously and decided to do something about it.26

After the Romans had endured years of hearing warnings about moral decay and decline, Augustus emerged as the leader who would restore Rome. Certainly, Augustus would have been aware of the relationship between domestic architecture and social and political identity, and his house reflected this ethos. In planning his own residence on the Palatine, Augustus was careful not to appear self-aggrandizing. And if he could preserve the image of Rome’s pastoral simplicity, even if it was only on a symbolic level, he could remind viewers of the city’s humble starting point. Thus, Romulus’ hut served as a reminder of what a ruler could accomplish even without a magnificent home. The restoration of the hut at the start of the Empire also served as a stark contrast to more recent building trends of the late Republic, which, like the civil wars, grew out of an environment which encouraged self-promotion rather than community preservation. As a result, various members of the community sought to outdo one another in building projects that were primarily aimed at displaying their political power.27 At a time when many in the community were surveying the city with

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Legendary Rome dismay, as a result of the decline of affordable, quality housing, those who could afford to build sumptuous private homes did so in the more desirable parts of the city. Paul Zanker comments on the disparity in Rome between the magnificent homes of the rich and the poor housing conditions offered to the rest of the population: The gap between the rich and the poor altered the city as never before }. The sudden population explosion in Rome led to speculation in real estate and a housing shortage. Almost daily, buildings that were too narrow or too tall, built on inadequate foundations or of substandard materials, either collapsed or fell victim to fire (Plutarch, Crassus 2), making whole sections of the old city dangerously unsafe. The great mansions stood like little walled cities in these warrens of narrow streets.

As Zanker points out, the neglect of the city by the aristocracy had created, among other concerns, a lack of housing for the less privileged social groups in Rome.28 In recent memory, therefore, the community would have experienced a housing shortage that was caused in part by the desire of wealthy individuals to showcase their importance by building impressive mansions. This suggests that the emperor, when overseeing the construction of his own home, would have wanted to avoid the appearance of supporting the trend of private indulgence at the expense of issues such as public safety and welfare. Augustus’ own home, after all, was to be built on a hillside in a sought-after neighbourhood like all of the other desirable homes of that time.29 He differed from the other wealthy Romans, however, in his intention to restore the public areas of the Palatine rather than just building a lavish private residence atop the hill for himself. This does not mean that the emperor did not engage in building projects on the Palatine or elsewhere that were intended to glorify himself and his family far more than they benefited the public.30 But his combined programme of buildings that could be used for both private and public functions on the hill was his offer of visible proof to the city that the state of decline was over and renewal based on a return to the values that founded the city had begun. Consequently, the restoration of Romulus’ hut by Augustus indicated his desire for the community to recognize that his restoration of the city was firmly grounded in the values of early Rome. Augustus was born on the Palatine hill in 63 BC (Suet. Aug. 5.1) and later would return to the Palatine to build a house on the southwest part of the hill between the Scalae Caci and the Temple of Apollo (Suet. Aug. 72.1-2). When Augustus decided to leave his house near the Roman Forum and move to the Palatine, instead of building a magnificent house on the Palatine, he created a complex of buildings. In 36 BC, after the battle of Naulochus and the defeat of Sextus Pompey, Augustus vowed to construct the Temple of Apollo31 in the southwest corner of the

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti Palatine (Vell. Pat. 2.81.3). His original plan was to use the land designated for the temple for his private residence, but when part of the house plot was struck by lightning, the College of Augurs determined that the ground was sacrosanct. Augustus then declared the land for public use and the Senate voted that a new residence should be built nearby at public expense (Dio Cass. 49.15.5). The remains of Augustus’ residence, known as the Domus Augusti, contained an upper and lower terrace, and within the lower terrace, a small colonnaded peristyle around which the main rooms in what was thought to be the public part of the house were arranged, including two libraries, a dining area, and reception rooms.32 It was connected with the Temple of Apollo by means of a ramp directly off the peristyle; the entrance for the public, however, was outside.33 While archaeological evidence confirms that the Domus Augusti was on the Palatine in the area next to the temple, new questions have been raised about the main residence of Augustus. The controversy over the size and presentation of the house is in large part due to the descriptions ancient authors have left behind and the fact that parts of the house were built over during the later Empire.34 The most detailed account is from Suetonius, who reports that Augustus lived in a modest residence that he purchased from the orator Hortensius: Habitavit primo iuxta Romanum forum supra Scalas Anularis in domo quae Calvi oratoris fuerat; postea in Palatio, sed nihilo minus aedibus modicis Hortensianis et neque laxitate neque cultu conspicuis, ut in quibus porticus breves essent Albanarum columnarum et sine marmore ullo aut insigni pavimento conclavia. Ac per annos amplius quadriginta eodem cubiculo hieme et aestate mansit, quamvis parum salubrem valitudini suae urbem hieme experiretur assidueque in urbe hiemaret. Si quando quid secreto aut sine interpellatione agere proposuisset, erat illi locus in edito singularis quem Syracusas et technyphion vocabat: huc transibat aut in alicuis libertorum suburbanum; aeger autem in domo Maecenatis cubabat. (Aug. 72.1-2) He lived at first adjacent to the Roman forum above the steps of the ringmakers, in a house which had been the orator Calvus’; afterwards on the Palatine, but nevertheless in the modest home of Hortensius, that was neither extravagant in size nor remarkable in refinement, in which there were abbreviated porticos of Alban columns and the common rooms were without any marble or decorated pavement. And for more than forty years, winter and summer, he remained in that same bedroom. Although used to brave the city which was not conducive to his health, he wintered there continually. When he planned to do anything in secret or without fear of interruption, there was a place for him at the top of his house which he called Syracuse and his little workroom: he went here or some other freedmen’s estate near Rome; when he was sick, he was confined in bed in Maecenas’ house.

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Legendary Rome Despite the fact that Suetonius described the house as being large enough to contain a tower that constituted a private retreat, he still described the house as an aedibus modicis and without laxitate or cultu. This is probably in part due to the fact that the house was part of a larger complex, which included Greek and Latin libraries and the so-called ‘House of Livia.’ According to Suetonius, the Domus Augusti did not contain any marble decorations or decorated pavements and Augustus used the same bedroom for forty years.35 Renaud argues that Suetonius calls the house modest because it is small in relation to the entire complex of buildings and because later imperial palaces on the hill dwarfed the Augustan structure.36 Coarelli points out that the house was built on land that was extremely expensive to buy, which may also have been a consideration in determining the house’s size.37 Thus, this account of the unassuming modesty that characterizes the emperor’s home may have to do with the conditions under which it was built and the way in which Augustus occupied the private space within the home. Yet the visual impact of Augustus’ house must have been significant. Dio Cassius (53.16.4-5) reports that the Romans referred to the house as the Palatium and explains how Augustus created an image for his home that fit into the traditions of the Palatine hill: Thus, Caesar earned many previous honours when the acts of refusing the monarchy and the distribution of the provinces had come up as topics for debate. To symbolize that he was the victor over his enemies and the saviour for the citizens, the right to install laurel trees in front of his royal residence and to hang oak-leaved garlands in front of them was voted to him. The seat of the empire, i.e., the emperor’s house, was named ‘Palatium’ not because that was its given name, but because the emperor himself lived on the Palatine and installed his military headquarters there, and his house took on a certain measure of repute because Romulus had once lived in that place. And even if the emperor resides someplace else, his house still holds the title of Palatium.

As this passage indicates, Augustus incorporated the theme of victory into his own household and cultivated an image of himself as a saviour. Dio Cassius also suggests that the community recognized the relationship between the hut of Romulus and the importance Augustus placed on the location of his own home near the house of Rome’s founder. The emperor’s house also became a monument to his accomplishments as triumphator. In 27 BC Augustus was granted the permanent right to embellish the postes of his home with laurels and to suspend the corona civica over his door (RG 34.2),38 which gave his home a very prominent suggestion of victory as two laurel trees and an oak crown graced the entrance.39 In addition, there was the elevated technyphion (‘little workshop’) and a palm tree, which was a symbol of victory, grew in front of

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti the house (Suet. Aug. 92). This meant that the house would have been a visible and distinctive feature on the horizon.40 Cicero cites the example of how a house reflects its owner’s status when he refers to the example of how Cn. Octavius’ house made him worthy of the consulship (Off. 1.138). In Augustus’ situation, his house served as a monument to his ultimate military triumph: Actium. This idea was not unknown to the Romans, as military tributes ended at the victor’s home: ‘after paying his vows to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the triumphator in his gilded chariot led his procession of captives and wagons of spoil to his own house.’41 As Wiseman suggests, in this way the house becomes an area of public tribute much as a temple does in the way that it advertises the owner’s accomplishments: In fact, there are some striking parallels between house and temple: the spolia round the door, the honorific statues in vestibulum or pronaos, and in all probability the paintings of glorious res gestae within. For Scipio Africanus, the Iuppiter temple was like his own atrium: his imago was kept there, and brought out each time there was a family funeral. And it may not be accidental that great houses were commonly referred to by the names of their one-time owners, just as temples were named after their founders rather than (or as well as) after the divinities they were built for. Both preserved the ‘everlasting memory of the name’ in the same way.42

Augustus did not invent the idea of associating private homes with public monuments. Pompey’s house was built in close proximity to his theater (Plut. Pomp. 40.5). But Augustus was the first Roman leader to connect his private residence to a temple. His Palatine complex had suitable spaces for all public and private activities that the emperor wished to accomplish. The Temple of Apollo Palatinus, for example, could be used for state business, yet it was located next to the emperor’s own house.43 Thus, Augustus could remain on the Palatine close to his home while performing his duties as emperor. As Zanker suggests, Hellenistic influences inspired Augustus’ apparent way of showing his proximity to Apollo: The bond between the god and his protégé could not have been more explicitly conveyed. The house itself was relatively modest, but the temple area, because of the close proximity, became like a part of the whole complex. In this Octavian took his cue from the Hellenistic kings. In Pergamum and Alexandria, for example, a sanctuary adjacent to the palace served as a kind of showplace. This idea of living next to the god originated in the period just after the Battle at Naulochoi. A thunderbolt had conveyed the god’s will and designated the spot where he wished his temple to be built, right next to Octavian’s house.44

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Legendary Rome Thus, Augustus’ house on the Palatine could be seen as an extension of the Temple of Apollo. Consequently, Augustus chose to live and work beside his patron-deity, and public business was conducted in his house as well as the temple. In 12 BC he officially declared part of his house a public area as he resided there while serving as the Pontifex Maximus.45 Augustus created a visual definition of space, therefore, that indicated how public and private had merged and that the god Apollo was always close at hand while the emperor conducted his public and private life.46 When Augustus built an altar to Vesta in his own house, this also created the sense that he was sharing the Palatine with two divinities, Apollo and Vesta. Ovid describes the house’s relation to the Temple of Apollo in a way that suggests that Augustus’ home was also a temple: aeternos tres habet una deos ‘one [home] contains three eternal gods’ (Ov. Fast. 4.954). Augustus also received foreign delegations on the Palatine and the Senate met there as well (Suet. Aug. 29.3). Although questions still remain about the exterior presentation of the house, Augustus mentioned the approach to the front door, which was as spectacular a tribute to the emperor’s achievements as was allowed for a private citizen: Tertium decimum consulatum cum gerebam, senatus et equester ordo populusque Romanus universus appellavit me patrem patriae, idque in vestibulo aedium mearum inscribendum et in curia Iulia et in foro Aug. sub quadrigis quae mihi ex s.c. positae sunt censuit. (RG 35.1) During my thirteenth consulship, the Senate, the equestrian order, and the entire people of Rome granted to me the title of Father of my Country, and determined that this ought to be inscribed in the entrance of my house and in the Curia Julia and in the Forum Augustum under the chariot, which had been set there on my behalf by the Senate’s resolution.

This honorary title was inscribed above Augustus’ door, much like the dedication on the front of a temple. Wiseman argues that the original approach to the house of Augustus faced towards the west, which meant that advancing towards the house would take the viewer past the Lupercal and up the Clivus Victoriae. Wiseman suggests that the house’s original orientation gave it a strong connection with the gods of victory and the founding of Rome.47 It also emphasized the Lupercal and the Casa Romuli as a moral showcase for Rome’s history. After the fire of AD 3 Augustus changed the orientation of his house so that it faced the Forum;48 there was a dazzling display of the triumphal spolia of other wealthy and accomplished Romans before one encountered the Domus Augusti. In this way, the new orientation of the entrance to the house could be downplayed as if it appeared to be in a sequence of triumphers’ homes, which were marked by similar distinctions.49 Of course, the other houses were not complemented by their proximity to

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti the Temple of Apollo, nor were they as prominently placed on the hill, so Augustus’ house would have still have remained prominent amidst the surrounding homes. The significance of this placement was that the house of Augustus, like the hut of Romulus with its walled enclosures, appeared conspicuous but not overly so, in a setting that included other homes. Although the Domus Augusti itself was small compared to other residences on the Palatine, Augustus had to buy several other properties on the hill in order to obtain enough land for what was, in reality, a complex consisting of his house, the so-called ‘House of Livia’, and the Temple of Apollo.50 The ‘House of Livia’, located on same level as the upper terrace of the Domus Augusti, may have been separated from the Domus Augusti by a narrow street in antiquity.51 By creating a complex of buildings, which housed a temple that was connected to a domestic building, Augustus blurred the lines between public and private space in architectural design. But more importantly, he placed this complex in proximity to two other monuments on the hill that had memories that linked them to archaic Rome: the Casa Romuli and the Temple of Jupiter Stator. In addition, the house was situated next to the precinct of Victory, which housed three major temples that were associated with past Roman military victories over barbarians and tyrants: the Temples of Victoria, Magna Mater, and Victoria Virgo. Augustus emphasized the role that Victoria played in his critical restoration of the res publica. He also cultivated associations between his victories and those of Romulus by placing his home between Romulus’ and the precinct of Victory. According to Fears, the emperor also fostered connections between himself and Romulus: through his use of the cult of Victoria on the Palatine he created the sense that he was ‘the charismatic general, whose own achievements in bringing order out of chaos and in overthrowing tyrannical rule recalled the archetypical achievements of Romulus’. Both Victoria and Magna Mater were elevated to state deities by the first century AD, and Augustus restored the Temple of Magna Mater in AD 3 (RG 19.2; Ovid Fast. 4.347-8).52 The Roman community heralded the divine power Victoria in particular as one of the guardians of the Empire who could guarantee peace for the city and by extension the return of a Golden Age existence, because the goddess served as the protector of the city and its residents.53 Augustus created his own associations with Victory for the site; he celebrated the anniversary of the Palatine Victory on 1 August because that date marked his conquest of Alexandria.54 Through his restoration of the Palatine, he had succeeded in devising a nexus of political power on the site that highlighted the achievements of Romulus, who had relied on the protection of gods such as Jupiter Stator and Victoria to increase Rome’s military power and save the city from enemy attacks. Augustus’ designs for the Palatine took into account the rich history of the site; he used the themes of Victory and the associations of the site with Romulus and Jupiter to

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Legendary Rome encourage the community to adopt the idea that after Romulus, he was the new founder of a renewed Rome who was responsible for the restoration of the res publica and preservation of the city. Memories of Rome’s origins were not the only elements that empowered the community of Augustan Rome to develop a new sense of cultural identity, based in part on their shared recollections of the past and to some degree on the collective act of preserving and commemorating events that happened in their city’s past. Another factor is what Syed has referred to as ‘a hunger for self-definition among the Romans’ which she argues is the reason for the Romans’ interest at this time in the stories of their legendary founders.55 This act of remembering the past was also a necessary part of their healing process from the civil wars, which nearly destroyed their society. Moreover, Augustus’ reconstruction of Romulus’ hut on the Palatine hill encouraged viewers to remember that war should not be motivated by greed and individual ambition as it had been in the recent past.56 Previously, the restoration of the Casa Romuli has been considered as a way for Augustus to emphasize the community’s renewal and preservation of the values associated with Rome’s humble founding. It is certainly true that this would have been part of the image that the hut conveyed, but the story of Rome’s origins and, more specifically, the hut of Romulus also served as a reminder of another facet of Rome’s past: the value that Rome had always placed and would continue to place on militaristic expansion and the assimilation of outside cultures as the key to Rome’s endurance and success.57 The traditional tale in Livy includes the story of how Romulus created an asylum for refugees and welcomed them to Rome. He also populated the city when he attacked the Sabines and assimilated them into the community (Livy 1.8.4-1.13.8). But this does not mean that the initial details of fratricide and criminal behaviour that were present from the beginning were forgotten. The hut could also function as a reminder that even at the start of the city’s existence, the community had to move beyond the memories of the foundations of the city, which included the death of Remus, in order to attain stability, both morally and spatially. Paul Zanker suggests that for Augustus, Romulus was the exemplum virtutis, and that in the Augustan Age his behaviour ‘is displayed as a model and whenever possible linked with the living exemplum of the princeps’.58 Indeed, Augustus encouraged comparisons between himself and the founder of the city: Suetonius (Aug. 95.2) records the legend that twelve vultures flew before Augustus while he was taking the auspices (just as they had for Romulus). Although Romulus was the first king of Rome, Augustus preferred to promote an image of Romulus as the humble founding father of the city. He avoided comparing himself directly to Romulus as a monarch because he did not want to appear to be following in the legendary founder’s footsteps when it came to

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti attaining sovereign power over the Romans.59 And so by focusing on aspects of the legendary founder that were less specifically associated with the monarchy, Augustus was able to gloss over Romulus’ ‘other life’ of crime, which included the murder of his brother Remus.60 Instead, Augustus emphasized Romulus’ lowly beginnings. The hut of Romulus, for example, was adopted as an Augustan symbol: the simple, rustic house was a sign of Rome’s modest, yet noble, origins. Romulus’ virtuous lifestyle was now compared to Augustus’ modest one. Augustus required his priests to be responsible for the maintenance of Romulus’ hut. Dionysius of Halicarnassus relates that the Romans treated the hut like a shrine during Augustus’ reign. He comments: They [Romulus and Remus] led the life of herdsmen and they lived self-sufficiently, primarily on the mountains in thatched-roof huts, which they built out of timber and reeds. One of these, designated as the hut of Romulus, remained even in my time on the side of the Palatine hill which looks towards the Circus, and it is maintained as a sacred place by those who are the caretakers for such matters; they add no decorations to it at all, but if any part of it suffers damage, either by stormy weather or by the ravages of time, they mend the damage and return the hut as nearly as possible to its previous state. (Ant. Rom.1.79.11)

Dionysius indicates that the hut required diligent care and attention to ensure that its appearance remained pristine. Since the hut had a wattle-and-daub structure, the repairs must have happened quite often. Dio Cassius mentions two instances of the hut burning during Augustus’ time. The first instance occurred in 38 BC when the hut was accidentally set on fire while the pontifices were performing a religious rite (48.43.4). The second instance occurred in 12 BC when crows dropped burning meat on the hut and the resulting fire destroyed it (54.29.8). Since there was a system in place for rebuilding the hut whenever it became damaged, Edwards suggests that the restoration of the hut ‘could function as a demonstration of concern for the preservation of those values with which it was associated’.61 Keeping the hut looking as if it had just been built, with fresh thatch and constant repairs, moreover, could also serve to remind the Romans of the restoration of ancient virtues, as if Romulus himself could emerge from the hut at any moment as a living reminder of the early community’s ability to flourish into a great empire from its humble beginnings. Thus, Augustus used the Casa Romuli to establish a link between the values associated with early Rome and his own policies of moral restoration and continuity. The rustic hut of Romulus on the Palatine represented a time when Rome was remembered as a model of pastoral simplicity. Religious rites that took place at the hut also recalled how from its the humble beginnings, Rome evolved into a mighty empire. Yet the city’s strength

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Legendary Rome was always thought to derive from the rustic simplicity and honesty of its character. Edwards describes the hut as a link to the past: ‘by parading their veneration for it, Romans demonstrated the persistence of the virtues of their rustic ancestors even in the vast metropolis of the emperors.’62 More specifically, the constant reminders of Romulus’ modest dwelling could reflect the value of venerating ancestral customs. The ongoing maintenance of the hut served two purposes: first, it established a visible ritual that was important for the community, as it served as a way for them to commemorate their founding father and added to their sense of civic identity. And it also gave the Romans the impression that they had not strayed too far from their original foundations. The hut of Romulus, as an enduring sign of Rome’s origins, was one of the most significant symbols of this return to the values of archaic Rome. For the community of Augustan Rome, the straw-roofed hut of Romulus served as a reminder that their humble founder once occupied the very same hill whose horizon was later sullied during the Republic by lavish private residences that were meant primarily to display the wealth of their owners. Romulus: small-town crook or city father? The version of Rome’s origins which described twin city-founders who were suckled by a she-wolf originated in the late fourth century BC.63 The key details of the story survived through Rome’s development, and the infant twin founders of Rome remained a central part of the story in Augustus’ time. In his narrative of the events of 296 BC, Livy mentions replicas of the twin founders as part of the gifts that the Romans offered to Mars and Jupiter during a time of crisis: Eodem anno Cn. et Q. Ognulii aediles curules aliquot feneratoribus diem dixerunt: quorum bonis multatis ex eo quod in publicum redactum est aenea in Capitolio limina et trium mensarum argentea vasa in cella Iovis Iovemque in culmine cum quadrigis et ad ficum Ruminalem simulacra infantium conditorum urbis sub uberibus lupae posuerunt semitamque saxo quadrato a Capena porta ad Martis straverunt. (Livy 10.23.11-12.) In that same year the curule aediles Cn. and Q. Ognulius tried several moneylenders whose goods were exacted as a forfeit. And out of what was taken into the public treasury, they placed bronze thresholds in the Capitoline temple, silver vases for the three tables in the temple-chamber of Jupiter, on the roof, Jupiter with a chariot drawn by four horses, and at the Ficus Ruminalis, images of the founders of the city as infants under the wolf’s teats, and they paved the path from the Porta Capena to the temple of Mars with squared stone.

The infant sons of Mars, and Jupiter in his chariot, became the gifts that

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti would protect the city. This, according to Wiseman, was the first time in the narration of the founding traditions that the infant twins could most likely be identified as Romulus and Remus.64 Wiseman argues that the legend of twin founders in the community emerged when the societal structure of Rome appeared to be what he terms a ‘double’ community of patricians and plebeians. He considers the development of a community in which the two social groups shared power to offer ‘the necessary condition for the creation of the story of the twins’ and suggests that the legend of the twins engaged in a struggle for power was invented for political purposes.65 The myth is far more complex and varied than the simple tale of a struggle for power between two brothers. There are multiple versions of the story, and, as a consequence, many ways in which the legend of Romulus can be recalled and received by the community. Even the most familiar version, which holds Romulus responsible for the murder of his brother, does not always have to be understood as wholly evil. As Edwards points out, in light of the civil wars, ‘the story of the fighting brothers, one dying, the other acquiring monarchic power, could take on new resonances, some positive, some sinister’.66 The story of Romulus’ foundation of the city of Rome where Remus’ subsequent death was inevitable can be understood as a sacrifice necessary for the survival of Rome. While the variants on the Romulus and Remus story may differ in some details, a consistent pattern does emerge: if Rome tried to stand as a city divided by two or more leaders, she would fall. The tradition of infant founders is not as important for the continued existence of the city in the time of Augustus as the story of the adult twins. Instead, the story of Romulus’ foundation of the city and Remus’ subsequent death could be one way to understand a single leader emerging from conflict as the key to the city’s survival. Multiple versions of Remus’ life and death existed by the time Augustus came to power.67 While the fratricide and civil strife that exist in the story of Romulus contribute to the negative side of the story in the Augustan Age, there is enough ambiguity in the depictions to allow for a more positive interpretation of the death of Remus. The origins of Remus’ story provide the key to comprehending his role in Augustan Rome. Whether or not Romulus killed Remus, however, depends on who is telling the story. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, for example, reports that Romulus and his men were building a wall around the settlement on the Palatine when Remus demonstrated the ease by which the enemy could cross over into Romulus’ territory by leaping over it. The head of Romulus’ workforce, a man named Celer, or ‘Speedy’, put an end to Remus’ taunts by hitting him over the head with a tool and killing him (Ant. Rom. 1.87.4). Livy tells two versions of the story: in the first one, Remus is killed by an unnamed assassin when a fight ensues between the two brothers and their followers over who has the right to rule Rome

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Legendary Rome and in the second one, Romulus himself kills Remus after Remus jumps over the wall, remarking afterwards, ‘Sic deinde, quicumque alius transiliet moenia mea’ (‘So henceforth for whoever else will leap across my walls’, 1.7.1-3). The story of Romulus might at first seem an odd symbol of the Augustan renewal. Romulus, after all, was known for the murder of his brother Remus and a memory of the crime of fratricide would not have had positive associations at the start of the Augustan Age, when the community was recovering from the horrific memory of the recent crimes of the civil wars, in which many members of the Roman community had perished at the hands of their fellow Romans. In addition, Romulus was not always considered to be honest in his actions as the leader who put an end to divisive factions that would have destroyed the city;68 there are morally dubious versions of the foundation story where Romulus was said to have faked the results of the augury contest that ordained him as king of Rome.69 A cheating criminal would hardly seem to be the humble founding father and legendary leader of Rome with whom Augustus would have wanted to be associated.70 Although Augustus declined to grant the senators’ request that he accept Romulus’ name (Suet. Aug. 7.2), his decision to highlight Romulus’ role in the civil and moral affairs of the early city was apparent from his prominent placement of Romulus’ statue in the Forum Romanum and his restoration of the hut of Romulus, which stood on the Palatine as a symbol of Rome’s humble origins.71 In fact, any concern over Augustus’ desire to avoid a merging of his image with Romulus’ would overlook the obvious: there were multiple versions of the story of the lives of Romulus and Remus. Many of these versions still existed in Augustus’ time and not all of them cast the twins into the familiar story of Remus being murdered by Romulus. The variations on the story of Remus, which appear in the literature of the Augustan Age, suggest that the community was well aware of a variety of traditions about the foundation of the city. Horace indicates that the Romans are still paying for the death of Remus (Epod. 7.17-20). Although Horace blames Romulus for the murder and concludes that the blood that spills from the ‘undeserving Remus’ (immerentis } Remi) onto the ground will curse the Romans (Epod. 7.19), Propertius credits Remus with saving the city through the sacrifice of his life (3.9.48-9); Although Gurval argues that in Epode 7 and Propertius 3.9 Remus’ mention ‘continues the theme of the defeated and betokens Roman civil war’,72 other references to Remus suggest that there was a tradition in which the brothers ruled jointly. Remus appears in Vergil’s Aeneid as ruling together with Romulus (1.291-6) and in Propertius the regna is assigned to both brothers (4.1.9-10). Propertius also mentions the ‘first kingdom of Remus’ at 2.1.23, and at 4.6.80 the signa Remi must be returned to Rome.

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti Wiseman has proposed a creative solution to the death of Remus that allowed him to die for a noble cause in a variant version of the myth. Because there was no mention of a twin named Remus in the original version of the story, Wiseman suggests that the addition of Remus occurred when the plebeians gained increased political power. Since legal reforms that occurred in 367 and 342 gave plebeians greater rights and this political shift took place around the time when the story of Remus originated, he argues that when the plebeians were able to hold consulships and join the colleges of the augurs and pontifices, a story about Remus, who represented the plebeian faction in Rome, was invented at that time. Another detail was added to the story of Remus following the events of 296 BC, when the Romans were engaged in a conflict with the combined military might of the Samnites, the Etruscans, and the Gauls. It was at this time, according to Wiseman, that the Romans reached a state of crisis, having been thoroughly frightened both by their battles with the Gauls (Livy 10.26.13) and by the terrifying omens that had occurred throughout the city (Zonaras 8.1.).73 He argues that because the Romans were not assured of a victory and had witnessed startling portents, they responded by appeasing the gods through a human sacrifice. This kind of sacrifice to save the city, although extremely rare, was not completely unknown, and Livy mentions that on occasion the Sibylline books commanded the rite (22.57.6).74 Therefore, Wiseman concludes that when the safety of Rome was threatened by outside forces, the story of Romulus and Remus was altered so that Remus became the human sacrifice that saved the city. Wiseman cites as further evidence the mention by both Propertius 3.9.50 and Florus 1.1.8 of Remus as the sacrifice that spared Rome. The historical and archaeological records confirm that the Romans won the battle at Sentium in 295, and then as a result of unexpected success in battle, the temple of Victory, under which has now been discovered a human burial that can be dated to the fourth century BC, was dedicated on the Palatine to mark the momentous occasion.75 Thus, it is possible that the emergence of the second character, Remus, around this time in the Roman literary tradition of the foundation narrative, was due to the fact that the Romans created an alternate version of the story in which Remus died to save the city, leaving Romulus alive as ruler to guarantee Rome’s political stability. But the more familiar tale can also serve a purpose in Augustan Rome as a warning against those who wished for divisive political factions. For Augustus, the story of Romulus and Remus represented the sacrifices that Rome had to make in order to survive. One of the major changes that had to take place was the transition from the Republic, where partisan politics played a major role in the city’s development, to the Empire, where one ruler was responsible for the

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Legendary Rome safety of the community. This alternative tradition, where Remus was sacrificed, reinforced once again the idea that the community’s strength relied on the ability to increase Rome’s territory through success in military conquests, even if it meant the sacrifice of human life from within the community. Peace was enforced through the maintenance and expansion of Rome’s boundaries and by civil harmony within its borders. Augustus promoted a similar message when he became emperor.76 In the aftermath of the battle of Actium, Augustus’ reforms and restorations meant that there would be peace within Rome’s borders. Conclusion Thus, from an examination of the topographical remains on the Palatine and the literary sources, it is possible to see how Augustus established a link between the values associated with the legendary figure of Romulus and his own policies of moral restoration and continuity. The custom of the triumphal ceremony, the origins of which Livy attributed to Romulus, for example, reached a decisive point in Augustan times when he celebrated this cultural institution for the last time, as a far more personal and private celebration of power. Just as Romulus was the first to celebrate the triumph on the hill, later Augustus stopped his ritual of commemorating his military victories on the Capitoline after he celebrated the triple triumph there in 29 BC.77 The connection that was established between Romulus, Victoria, and Jupiter was also highlighted by Augustus, as he used the similarities between himself and Romulus to explore the idea that the gods Victoria and Jupiter acted on behalf of the emperor as he worked to restore and preserve the community, just as they had for Romulus. As this chapter has demonstrated, at the start of the Empire, when Augustus recreated the legendary past on the Palatine, he included the adoption of the religious and political myths that were associated with Romulus, Jupiter, and Victory. The creation of a connection between Romulus and Augustus dramatized the immediacy of the past for the community. Augustus’ programme of cultural renewal and reform on the Palatine, therefore, offered the community of Augustan Rome a lesson in political and religious mythology that connoted a return to the legendary past. In her study of how Augustus created a ‘moral museum’ in the city that showcased the importance of maintaining the values and virtues that dictate to a society how to live a morally responsible life, Walker argues that Rome’s monumental artwork and structures, such as the buildings discussed above, contained messages about the correct social behaviour for the community.78 When viewers inspected the sights on the Palatine hill, members of the community and outsiders alike became the spectators to a display of acceptable social and moral behaviour – which included an emphasis on Rome’s humble origins and

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1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti the assimilation of outsiders through military expansion as the key to the city’s survival – when they viewed the Augustan restorations on the Palatine. As Smith points out, even though areas such as the Palatine were developed and then continued to be urbanized in the centuries preceding the Empire, the preservation of the site of Romulus’ hut as the physical and tangible spot on which the community first began is a deliberate and on-going process: ‘The Romans seem to have known quite clearly that the Palatine was a central part of the earliest history of Rome. The memory of the Palatine is characterized by this flexibility of reinterpretation. One of the ways of indicating this centrality was by giving the hill a sacred and symbolic topography, which was open to constant reinterpretation.’79 Through his use of Romulus on the Palatine, Augustus continued to explore and to develop new ideas for demonstrating how his rule would safeguard the city and restore stability and peace, in order to challenge the established view of the ways in which the community previously had perceived displays of power and civic generosity.

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2

The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Introduction This chapter explores the role that the Capitoline and Jupiter played in the stories of Rome’s early foundations. It also examines the way in which Augustus restored the immediacy of the past when he built new monuments on the hill that recalled archaic Rome and Romulus’ foundations. In addition, my treatment of this issue will consider the role of Jupiter as a civilizing figure for Augustan society and the ways in which the Augustan building programme on the Capitoline emphasized Jupiter’s function as the protector and guardian of the early city. By extension, Augustus associated himself with the embodiment of Jupiter as the protector of the entire community, choosing to place a temple to Jupiter Tonans in front of the Republican temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Augustus extended the range of Jupiter’s role in Rome when he highlighted the unique way in which Jupiter Tonans served Augustus and, by extension, the entire community. Consequently, the Augustan landscape encouraged observers to see evidence of the central roles that both Jupiter and Romulus played in the development of the early community and its preservation. In his earliest incarnation within the Roman community, Jupiter functioned as the sky god who could communicate through weather signs such as thunder and lightning. The Romans considered Jupiter to be their divine protector; the god served as their pater-figure, whose energy could bestow fertility to their crops and give or take away life from the community. He also imparted judgement as a supreme lawgiver who could negotiate and guarantee their relations with foreigners.1 Jupiter had a strong connection with the Roman community that preceded his Capitoline cult; the associations between the god and the hill were evident from the start of Romulus’ kingship. Mary Jaeger calls the Capitoline ‘the center of Roman space’ because of its history, which included the hill’s role as the starting and ending point for triumphal military processions. Jaeger points out that this tradition began with Romulus, who created ‘the religious center of the city in its military capacity’. Livy (1.10.4-7) reports that the first temple in Rome was located on the Capitoline. Romulus killed the king of

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Caenina and placed his armour on a Capitoline site which he then consecrated to Jupiter Feretrius. When his prayer to Jupiter Feretrius was finished, Romulus declared the site to be a sacred space for victorious Roman generals to bring their spoils of war.2 The god’s function as Jupiter Feretrius, however, was not to guarantee victory to the Romans in battle. This particular aspect of the god served as the recipient of the spolia opima’s powers, as only the god could properly transfer the power contained in the enemy’s armour to the community for its benefit. But the power had to be transported by a human representative, the Roman commander, into the city limits before it could reach Jupiter Feretrius’ sacred precinct.3 The Romans believed that the power Jupiter could dispense by this transferral was capable of saving the community in times of danger and even increasing the population, the borders, and food supply. Thus, even before Jupiter Optimus Maximus became the dominant cult on the hill, in Roman religion the god was associated with the Capitol and maintaining Rome’s borders,4 and Jupiter’s interventions into human life established order and encouraged the community to live within a certain social and political structure. Augustus would later restore the temple of Jupiter Feretrius in 31 BC (Livy 4.20.3, Aug. RG 19.2). The Capitoline took on further significance as the centre of Roman political and religious space when the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, which served as a monument to Rome’s eternal imperium and destiny as a world-centre, was erected on the hill and became the final destination for triumphal military processions.5 The political and religious functions of the hill were closely linked because Jupiter had always served as one of the Romans’ chief gods of foreign relations and, along with Mars, guaranteed their success in warfare. The significance of the hill took on new meaning and memories, however, when Augustus placed a second hut of Romulus on the hill and built the temple of Jupiter Tonans in front of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.6 Augustus’ reconstruction of the hill redefined its significance for the community of Augustan Rome. In addition to commemorating the important role that the hill had always played in the political and religious life of the city, Augustus highlighted the connections that Jupiter and Romulus had established with the hill because they were leaders who were responsible for initiating strong community development in the early city and establishing law and order.7 The changes Augustus made to the topography of the city indicate that the hill did not experience a decline in significance as has been previously argued.8 Rather, the impact of Augustus’ topographical restructuring of the Capitoline suggested that the Republican customs and traditions served as the backdrop for the emperor’s restoration of the hill, which emphasized the significant role Jupiter played ‘as charismatic preserver and augmenter of the Roman community’9 before the Capitoline cult of Jupiter Optimus Maximus dominated the hill. The Capitoline’s

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Legendary Rome function within the city was reinvented to establish a connection between Jupiter, Romulus, and Augustus. The Temple of Jupiter Tonans stood in front of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, encouraging observers to reconsider the god’s role in Augustan Rome. The combination of the placement of new shrines to Jupiter and Romulus on the Capitoline created a space that recalled the importance of protecting Rome’s borders and expanding the population for the early community and highlighted the return to order following the civil wars in Augustan Rome. The dual huts of Romulus situated on both the Palatine and Capitoline evoked the city’s archaic foundations. The Capitoline setting for the hut transferred Rome’s foundation to the seat of power for the city, and reminded viewers that the hill had always functioned as a stronghold and fortress for them in times of distress. Thus, the placement on the Capitoline of both the Temple of Jupiter Tonans and the hut of Romulus alluded to the stability and preservation of the city that the emperor, as Rome’s protector and restorer, promised to return to the community. Augustus built the temple of Jupiter Tonans as a way to remind the community of the earliest function of the god. The simpler incarnation of Jupiter as the thunder god on the Capitoline served as a powerful reminder of the god’s prior function on the hill, which, like Augustus’ new role in the Empire, was to serve and protect the community.10 By placing the Temple of Jupiter Tonans in front of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Augustus promoted the active preservation of the memory of the god’s most basic function: as the guarantor of the community’s preservation and safety. With Jupiter as the city’s protector, Rome had always endured and even thrived despite engaging in conflicts with various enemies. Through the act of remembering the humble origins of the founder and the earliest incarnation of Jupiter as a sky and weather god, the Capitoline demonstrated that many of the city’s political and religious functions had originated in that site. The early history of the Capitoline The Capitoline hill also played a vital role in the Romans’ early struggle to defend its borders. In antiquity, the southern crest of the hill was known as the Capitolium, and the northern crest was called the Arx. The entire hill could also be referred to as the Capitol.11 Although it is the smallest of the seven hills, its strong natural defences, which consisted of steep, rock-covered slopes leading up to the two peaks, made it the natural choice for a fortress in times when the city was under assault from the enemy. The most famous episode occurred around 390 BC, when Livy reports that the Gauls nearly destroyed the city. Although the Romans were forced to retreat to the Capitoline, they were able to withstand the siege (Livy 5.39.9-40.6). Livy describes the

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Romans’ belief that if the enemy could not take the hill, the city would survive despite suffering terrible losses: Nam cum defendi posse urbem tam parva relicta manu spes nulla esset, placuit cum coniugibus ac liberis iuventutem militarem senatusque robur in arcem Capitoliumque concedere, armisque et frumento conlato, ex loco inde munito deos hominesque et Romanum nomen defendere }. si arx Capitoliumque, sedes deorum, si senatus, caput publici consilii, si militiaris iuventus superfuerit imminenti ruinae urbis, facilem iacturam esse seniorum relictae in urbe utique periturae turbae. (Livy 5.39.9-12) Since there was no hope, with the small number of troops that remained, of being able to defend the city, it was agreed that the military youth and the able-bodied senators should withdraw with their children and wives into the citadel and Capitolium, and after weapons and grain had been stored there, from that fortified place they would defend their deities, their people, and the Roman name }. If the citadel and the Capitolium, the seat of the gods, if the Senate, the ruling power of the government, if the young men of fighting age, were able to triumph over the impending ruin of the city, the loss of the crowd of old men left behind in the city would be easy, since they were about to die anyway.

The Romans retreated to the Capitoline hill as the one spot in Rome that they could hold during an attack.12 When the Gauls attacked the Capitol, they were unable to take it because the Romans had the topographical advantage of being able to charge down the steep slopes towards their attackers (Livy 5.43). According to Livy, a series of prolonged battles between the Gauls and the Romans followed, and the rest of Rome was sacked before the Romans could retaliate and destroy the Gauls’ camp. The Romans’ concern following their final obliteration of the Gallic camp was whether they should stay and rebuild the city or move to Veii. Camillus persuaded the Romans that to leave the city behind was to abandon the places that made their religious customs valid: Et cum victoribus Gallis capta tota urbe Capitolium tamen atque arcem dique et homines Romani tenuerint et habitaverint, victoribus Romanis reciperata urbe arx quoque et Capitolium deseretur et plus vastitatis huic urbi secunda nostra fortuna faciet quam adversa fecit? } Adversae deinde res admonuerunt religionum. Confugimus in Capitolium ad deos, ad sedem Iovis optimi maximi: sacra in ruina rerum nostrarum alia terra celavimus, alia avecta in finitimas urbes amovimus ab hostium oculis; deorum cultum deserti ab dis hominibusque tamen non intermisimus }. Urbem auspicato inauguratoque conditam habemus; nullus locus in ea non religionum deorumque est plenus: sacrificiis solemnibus non dies magis stati quam loca sunt in quibus fiant. (Livy 5.51.3-52.2)

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Legendary Rome After the entire city had been captured by the victorious Gauls, the Romans and their gods still occupied and lived on the Capitolium and the citadel. Shall the citadel and even the Capitolium be deserted now that the city has been recaptured by the victorious Romans, shall our good fortune make more devastation for this city than misfortune has made? } When difficult times arrived, they served then as a reminder of religious customs. We sought refuge with our gods on the Capitolium, the seat of power for Jupiter Optimus Maximus. We hid some of our sacred objects in the ground among the ruins and others we kept from the eyes of the enemy by moving them to neighbouring cities. We never ceased to worship the gods, even when we were abandoned by the gods and men. } We have a city founded on augury and auspices; there is no place in it that is not full of religion and gods. There are no more days that are set for religious observance than there are places in which they are held.

Camillus’ plea for the Romans not to abandon Rome and move the capitol to Veii was based on his compelling argument that their religious rituals, which were a central feature of Roman culture and their daily lives, would lose their meaning if they were not performed at the traditional sites. The ritual significance of places, according to Edwards, was part of ‘the meaning and power’ of religious ceremonies in Rome. She observes: ‘Rome’s future successes are implicitly bound up in the proper observance of religious rites and the preservation of religious objects in their allotted places.’13 Without the place that makes the religious rite sacred, there was no compelling reason to conduct the ritual. Moreover, at the close of his speech, Camillus hastened to point out that the hill, which had survived the onslaught, was sacred to Jupiter and was the centre of power for the city (Livy 5.54.7). Without the Capitol as part of their city, the Romans could no longer claim to occupy the seat of imperial power. From the city’s earliest recorded history, the hill also served as the place where the civic functions of Rome were carried out. As early as the ninth and eighth centuries BC, the asylum near the Capitoline was inhabited.14 Non-Romans who fled to this site, which was known as inter duos lucos or asylum and was located on the lower seat of the hill between the two crests, were allowed to remain in Rome. Livy describes the tradition that Romulus, who was interested in increasing the number of inhabitants in the city, created a sanctuary there (Livy 1.8.5-6). By the sixth century BC evidence indicates that walls made of tufa were also located in the area of the Capitoline, suggesting further evidence that Rome had expanded its well-defined boundaries. The state archives, or Tabularium, consisted of a substructure that lay in the depression between the Capitolium and the Arx and held important state documents. At the top of the Arx stood the Temple of Juno Moneta. Omens were read on the Arx and from the auguraculum, or observation point where the augurs took the auspices; augurs looked towards the

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Alban hills and the Sacred Way.15 In addition to being a site used for augury, the Arx was also a residential area and aristocratic Romans occupied homes there by the fourth century BC. The Capitolium was best known as the location of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Jupiter on the Capitoline The Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, or Jupiter Capitolinus, was located on the Capitolium within the Area Capitolina, a walled precinct with irregular borders. The precinct would have extended roughly 30-40 metres around the front and sides of the temple.16 The temple itself, which contained the triad of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, was set on an enormous podium measuring approximately 61 x 55 metres, and an altar to Jupiter stood at the front of the podium. Owing to its large size, and because the temple contained the statues of the three major gods and was the depository for offerings made by victorious military generals, dedications, and trophies that commemorated military conquests, the temple occupied the central religious and military space on the hill. It was also the destination for triumphant Roman generals’ military processions. The temple served as a key location for activities involving Roman state politics and religion; the newly appointed magistrates sacrificed in front of the temple’s altar, and the Senate held its first meeting every year there. Thus, it had the unique distinction of being both civic and military space.17 The temple was flanked on either side on the Capitolium by smaller shrines to Ops and Fides. Nearby, the Temple of Saturn stood at the base of the Clivus Capitolinus, the road that led up the hill to the entrance of the Area Capitolina.18 Although no trace of the building or its foundations remains today, the Area Capitolina was also the likely location for the Temple of Jupiter Feretrius. The precinct also held commemorative statues of gods such as Jupiter and Hercules along with the statues of famous Romans, memorial shrines, altars, and bronze plaques.19 The many statues and relics stood in the courtyard space in front of and all around the temple. According to Livy, the temple was vowed by Tarquinius Priscus but constructed by Tarquinius Superbus (1.38.7).20 Shrines to other deities were already established on the land designated for the temple. While the auguries allowed Tarquinius Superbus to deconsecrate most of the shrines, the auguries for the sanctuary of Terminus forbade its deconsecration (5.54.7). Accordingly, this forced Tarquinius Superbus to incorporate the shrine of Terminus into the temple.21 But as Livy notes, in his version of this aetiological story, this omen was interpreted favourably, along with the discovery of a human head: } idque omen auguriumque ita acceptum est, non motam Termini sedem unumque eum deorum non evocatum sacratis sibi finibus firma sta-

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Legendary Rome biliaque cuncta portendere. Hoc perpetuitatis auspicio accepto, secutum aliud magnitudinem imperii portendens prodigium est: caput humanum integra facie aperientibus fundamenta templi dicitur apparuisse. Quae visa species haud per ambages arcem eam imperii caputque rerum fore portendebat, idque ita cecinere vates, quique in urbe erant quosque ad eam rem consultandam ex Etruria acciverant. (1.55.5-6) The omen and prediction were taken accordingly: since the established place of Terminus had not been moved, and because he was the only one of the gods not called from his sacred borders, it foretold that everything would be enduring and stable. After this hospitable omen of permanence was received, another marvel followed which prophesied the greatness of the Empire. A human head with the face still intact is said to have been unearthed by those responsible for digging the foundations for the temple. Clearly this sight foretold that this would be the imperial citadel and the seat of all power, and thus the seers, those who were in the city and those from Etruria whom they summoned for interpretation of this omen, proclaimed it.

In this passage Livy explains that the discovery of the human head, found in the site designated for the foundations of Jupiter’s temple, was a favourable prophecy that Rome would rule as the arcem eam imperii caputque rerum, ‘the imperial citadel and the seat of all power’. Livy’s text defines how the Capitoline symbolized Rome’s imperial might, and why the Capitoline itself took on great importance as a locus of political power.22 Moreover, Jupiter was also associated with Terminus, the boundary numen that could preserve the borders of the community and the borders that defined individual property for the citizens of Rome. The shrine to Terminus, contained within the middle cella of the Capitoline temple, emphasized the link between the cult of Jupiter and the protection of the boundaries of the city.23 This was an extension of Jupiter’s role in the early community as the god who would maintain the sacred pomerium and oversee its expansion.24 So well before Jupiter assumed a role in the Capitoline triad as Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Fears argues that the god served the community and was considered responsible for its prosperity and cohesion: ‘predating the Capitoline cult, this image of Jupiter as sacral king } is a reflection onto the divine of the social and political order of the human community.’25 When the early community confirmed Jupiter as the main deity who enabled them to establish fertility and stability, its rulers were able to maintain social and political order in part because they participated with the community in religious rituals on behalf of the god who was dedicated to their preservation. The site was not only the place where Rome’s political power was generated, but it was also the place where the Romans were able to establish and cultivate the religious and political traditions that protected the community.

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past It is worth examining in brief how the Romans would have conceived of Jupiter as a divine being with so many different attributes. Since the worship of Jupiter developed very early in Rome’s history, the god developed attributes that would serve the city: ‘from a very early period, the real focus of Roman religion was Rome itself } the gods were expected to serve and preserve her just as her citizens were.’26 The gods served the city, and in turn they had places that were sacred and associated with their attributes. As Fears suggests, the gods were not mere ‘abstractions’ to the Romans, nor were they detached entities that the Romans rarely thought of in the course of everyday life.27 They took part in daily activities in Rome. Feeney points out that since the gods were visible in the guise of statues throughout the city, this tied them to civic life and secured a place for them in the daily routine ‘as fellow-citizens who partake of the time and space of the other citizens’.28 Therefore, the key to understanding how the god Jupiter could have many attributes, some of which co-existed on the same hill, is the knowledge that the worship of these gods was a dynamic part of Roman culture. Many attributes of Jupiter could co-exist on the Capitoline, with the collective goal being the preservation of the city and the community. In addition to the function of Jupiter Feretrius as the god of foreign relations, Jupiter’s earliest connection to ancient Rome was as the father-god who protected the community. The first description in Roman literature of Jupiter occurs in Ennius (Ann. 5.580), who characterizes him as divumque hominumque pater rex with the implication that the title ‘pater’ designated the god as the protector of the Roman people. But the pater could also punish those who broke contracts or violated treaties. Jupiter also assisted the Romans in their relationship with foreigners, whether in peace or war. A special group of priests known as the fetiales were closely connected to Jupiter and were responsible for conducting relations with foreigners. The god served as a witness to their actions as well.29 Another aspect of Jupiter was also associated with victory in war from the earliest days of the Roman community; it was common for the Romans to call upon him as the god who could guarantee victory to the people and who gave them license to conquer, since success in war often yielded peace and prosperity.30 The thunderbolt was one of the first attributes associated with the god; his first cult statues and coinage showed a thunderbolt. In his role as divine pater of the Roman people, the thunder-god Jupiter also guaranteed their prosperity through his ability to protect them. Fears summarizes the role of Jupiter in early Rome as follows: ‘For the early Roman, Jupiter was sky god and weather god, but he was also king, preserver and augmenter of the Roman community; and this last aspect, embodied in the epithet Optimus, was seminal for his future development. However, the seeds of this development existed before the establishment of the Capitoline cult of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.’ In

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Legendary Rome other words, Jupiter functioned as the god who was the saviour of the Roman community, he acted as the intercessor and protector of Roman foreign relations, and he was the god who increased the fertility of the Romans’ land and crops. The early community of Rome would have regarded him as the god who could personally intervene on behalf of the community’s welfare and guarantee their prosperity.31 So it was not just his capacity as a weather god that predated the Capitoline temple. His ability to preserve and augment the community and maintain the order that was seminal for the religious and social development of the community also was one of Jupiter’s primary functions. The Romans had a sense that, if there was not harmony within their community, visual signs could manifest themselves on the Capitol, since Jupiter protected them from harm.32 The state of the Capitoline, therefore, could be used as a measure of the state of the city’s affairs. At the end of the Republic, as Cicero notes in In Catilinam, the memory of the Capitoline and the gods associated with it evoked a warning to his audience about the dangers of civil war. The gods expressed their displeasure when the affairs of state were disrupted: Nam profecto memoria tenetis Cotta et Torquato consulibus compluris in Capitolio res de caelo esse percussas, cum et simulacra deorum depulsa sunt et statuae veterum hominum deiectae et legum aera liquefacta et tactus etiam ille qui hanc urbem condidit Romulus, quem inauratum in Capitolio, parvum atque lactantem, uberibus lupinis inhiantem fuisse meministis. (Cat. 3.19) During the consulship of Cotta and Torquatus, you recall, of course, that many items on the Capitol were hit by lightning, when the images of the gods were struck down and the statues of men of olden times were thrown from their places, and the bronze law tablets were melted, and even Romulus, the city’s founder, whose gilded image you remember stood on the Capitoline hill as a nursing infant gaping at the teats of the she-wolf, was struck.

In this passage, Cicero appeals to his audience to recall their memories of the Capitol in a state of disarray in order to avoid war. Cicero mentions the statues of the gods and the bronze Romulus that were situated on the Capitoline hill to suggest that if these items were moved or disturbed, Rome’s seat of power became unstable as well. Thus, Cicero established that Rome was threatened when the centre of Roman political power was disrupted. Later in the speech, he points out that corruption and vice in other parts of the city would also have constituted reason for Jupiter to express his displeasure: Quo etiam maiore sunt isti odio supplicioque digni qui non solum vestris domiciliis atque tectis sed etiam deorum templis atque delubris sunt

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past funestos ac nefarios ignis inferre conati. Quibus ego si me restitisse dicam, nimium mihi sumam et non sim ferendus: ille, ille Iuppiter restitit; ille Capitolium, ille haec templa, ille cunctam urbem, ille vos omnis salvos esse voluit. (Cat. 3.22) Not only into your own houses but also the shrines and temples of the gods have these men striven to bring deadly and impious fires, thus your hatred and desire for punishment for these men should be even greater. For if I dared to claim that I resisted them, I would be going too far. Yet it was the god Jupiter who resisted. He wished for the Capitol, these temples, the entire city, and all of you to be saved.

As the quoted passages suggest, during the Republic Jupiter still maintained the attribute of city-protector that was part of his earliest function on the hill, although in Cicero’s text this function was directed more at protecting the Romans from the enemy within. Fears suggests that Cicero associated Jupiter with ‘the preservation of the Roman state against civil strife and specifically against individuals who seek violently to overthrow the institutions of the Roman commonwealth’.33 Previous leaders had adopted close associations with Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Marcus Manlius, once proclaimed by the Romans to be their vindex libertatis (Livy 6.14.10) because he saved the Capitoline from enemy attack, became a threat to the Romans. He adopted the name Capitolinus, which recalled the great temple of Jupiter on the hill. But as Jaeger points out, Manlius’ supporters transferred the divine aspect of the hill to Manlius himself: ‘Capitolinus now signifies not just the saviour of the Capitoline but a person almost divine and ranked with Jupiter himself (prope caelestem, cognomina certe Capitolino Iovi partem)’ (6.17.5).34 The community felt threatened, moreover, when Manlius built his private residence on the hill. Manlius’ death came about when the Senate feared that a house on the Arx of the Capitoline would be a threat to the community’s libertas because it provided a place for the plebeians to assemble (6.19.1), which could lead to political unrest. After a trial in which Manlius was accused of being a threat to the Republic, the tribunes cast him off the Tarpeian rock (6.19.6-20.14). As Jaeger argues, in the eyes of the Romans, the hill became ‘associated with a menace looming over the city’.35 The Romans did not want a human representative of Jupiter living on the hill and threatening the unity of the community; they wanted the god Jupiter acting in the best interests of everyone in the city. Scipio Africanus Maior also cultivated a close relationship between himself and Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Polybius reports that Scipio conversed with the gods (10.5), and Livy remarks that there was a tradition that Scipio was from divine, rather than mortal, ancestry (26.19.7). As victory in war became linked to Scipio’s persona rather than attributed to Jupiter,36 he was put on trial and eventually retreated to the country when the Romans decided that

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Legendary Rome there was no longer any place for him in the city (38.50.6-53).37 The community once again perceived this appropriation by an individual of Jupiter’s attributes as a threat. At the start of the Empire, however, Augustus changed the way in which Jupiter functioned as the protector of the Romans, encouraging a return to the memory of the time when the god was the protector of the entire community against outside threats. The Capitoline in the time of Augustus Although the Capitoline is the smallest of Rome’s hills, in antiquity it still maintained a commanding visual presence within the landscape of the Augustan city. There were already many long-standing traditions associated with Roman religious and political power that had been established on the hill during the Republic, but Augustus’ projects included building the Temple of Jupiter Tonans and a second hut of Romulus on the Capitoline. In effect, he created a new focal point: now the hill preserved the memories of Rome’s earliest foundations. In addition, he called attention to the relationship he maintained with the god Jupiter. Augustus used the Capitoline’s connection with Romulus and Jupiter to create the sense that he was re-founding Rome. Because his construction on the hill restored the memory of the early city, he encouraged the Romans to reconsider how they perceived the role of the Capitoline in Roman history. While Jupiter Optimus Maximus belonged to the Roman people as their guardian, during the Empire Augustus remained under the protection of Jupiter Tonans. Augustus redesigned the Capitoline landscape to reflect this idea. As the topography became more reminiscent of the founding of Rome, it also became more interactive for visitors to the hill, because now the older, pre-Augustan structures on the hill were framed by building projects that recalled Rome’s foundations. The temple of Jupiter Tonans, located directly in front of the Capitoline temple, was meant to reintroduce Jupiter in a guise that would recall his role in the early community. Jupiter Tonans served as the protector of Augustus’ welfare and safety in order to suggest a correlation between Augustus’ well being and the stability and security of the Empire. The god protected Augustus, but Augustus was careful to establish a relationship with the god that defined how guarding Augustus was in the community’s best interests. Moreover, the connection between Jupiter, Romulus, and Augustus was highlighted by the proximity of the hut of Romulus and the Temple of Jupiter Tonans. In the early phases of the principate, Jupiter was celebrated as the god responsible for the preservation and success of Augustus’ reign. Although Augustus renovated the Temples of Jupiter Feretrius and Optimus Maximus, he also erected a modest temple to Jupiter Tonans, since the god was responsible for saving his life.38 Fears argues that the

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Temple of Jupiter Tonans, dedicated on 1 September 22 BC, was considered a more personal celebration of power for the princeps.39 Jupiter’s association with legendary Rome and the early religious community would also have been evoked by this temple. Built to commemorate the sparing of Augustus’ life during a night march from Cantabria, Spain in 25/26 BC (Suet. Aug. 29.3), it was located on the southeastern part of the hill near the entrance to the Area Capitolina. Dio Cassius notes that it would have been the first building the Romans encountered as they ascended the hill (54.4.3). The temple was small. It was made of marble and featured a cult statue by the fourth-century Greek sculptor Leochares.40 Suetonius records the story of how Augustus frequented the temple so much that the god Jupiter Optimus Maximus appeared in a dream and complained about all of the attention being given to his new counterpart (Aug. 29.3). Augustus was supposed to have answered that he only wished to give the temple a gatekeeper and hung a string of bells on the temple’s entrance.41 But, as Favro has suggested, a string of ringing bells would only have served to call attention to the new temple and encouraged pedestrians to look at the temple ‘that provoked the jealousy of Jupiter Best and Greatest’.42 Because Jupiter Tonans had saved Augustus from harm, his temple gained an important place on the Capitoline. Now, all functions of the god Jupiter that provided for the welfare of Augustus, which included his roles as weather god, god of foreign relations, and the god of victory in warfare, were enhanced, and the image of Jupiter as the protector of Augustus was one of the most prominent features of the Capitoline. This relationship between Augustus and Jupiter differed from his predecessors’ associations with Jupiter Optimus Maximus; Augustus did not appear in this way to be appropriating the aspects of the Jupiter that had been previously linked with political unrest and a divided community. It is likely that the hut of Romulus on the Capitoline hill was constructed during the Augustan transformation of the Capitoline that took place from 26 to 20 BC, as there is no mention of the Capitoline hut in Roman literature before this time.43 While the exact location of the hut is not known, it is thought to have been located within the Area Capitolina, along with several other temples (Vit. De Arch. 2.1.5).44 The placement of the hut on the Capitoline served two purposes. First, it was a way to maintain the role of the Capitoline as a focal point in the early religious development of the city, because the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine was fast becoming a new focal point for religious ceremony in Augustus’ time.45 Second, it highlighted other aspects of Romulus’ reign that were not associated with the murder of Remus on the Palatine, such as his role in the development of Roman religion and, in particular, the installation of the worship of Jupiter on the Capitoline. Although there is no literary or historical tradition that would place Romulus’ residence on the Capitoline before the time of Augustus, as I

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Legendary Rome mentioned before, archaeological evidence indicates the existence of Iron Age huts in the asylum area of the Capitoline as early as the ninth century BC and the homes of aristocrats were constructed on the Arx by the fourth century BC.46 Catharine Edwards suggests that there are many different ways that the community of Augustan Rome could have interpreted the hut of Romulus: The hut of Romulus was a sacred place, a fragment of the distant past (or so the Romans believed) embedded in a context thickly encrusted with mid and late Republican stories about early Rome, overlaid with all of the contradictory associations of the Augustan regime. How was it to be read? As a starting point for the contemplation of the humble beginnings of the mighty city, of the virtues of the maiores on whose achievements the empire rested, or perhaps of a morally ambiguous contrast between the rustic past and the golden present?

Edwards makes the point that the hut became a tangible symbol of the past. The hut was a symbol of Rome’s resilience. Edwards asserts that it did not matter to the community where the hut stood or in how many places.47 Rome’s past contained many contradictions, to be sure, but what made the Casa Romuli so appealing was that the hut preserved a memory of endurance, and it stood as a reminder of all the times that Rome survived wars and periods of decline and conflicts in order to rebuild itself after a episode of moral decay. As Edwards points out, often the same memory, or a variant of it, can exist in competing spaces within the city, but this replication of memories in differing locations did not seem particularly troublesome or confusing to the community of Augustan Rome: ‘For many purposes, it did not matter precisely where Romulus lived, just as it did not matter that the hut itself was so many times reconstructed.’ These variations on the topic of Rome’s origins do not detract from the impact of the memories; rather, she argues, they can provide the community with multiple perspectives on the themes of renewal and stability.48 The dual locations for the hut of Romulus in Augustus’ time, for example, provided the community with a visual history of the foundation story that was flexible enough to be reworked numerous times, yet stable enough to have existed within a traditional catalogue of details about the city’s origins. This ability to imagine that Rome’s foundations were mobile, provided, of course, that they remained within the city of Rome, allowed differing locations to influence how the hut was perceived. The role of Jupiter in Augustan Rome Among the omens and dreams that Suetonius (Aug. 94) records about Augustus, there is the story of a dream that Cicero had about the young Octavian. In the dream the future emperor stood at the door of the

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and the god handed him a whip.49 The whip was symbolic of the power that Augustus would have some day. Jupiter transferred his power to Augustus as a sign that the emperor would act as the protector and representative of the Roman people. As the guarantor of empire who appeared to restore the institutions of the res publica as much as possible within the framework of an imperial regime, Augustus cultivated this image of himself as the heir apparent to Jupiter’s role as the protector of Rome. Augustus was careful to establish a transfer of power from Jupiter to himself, instead of encouraging the Romans to see his identification with Jupiter as a total and complete assimilation.50 Certain aspects of the god, such as Jupiter’s association with the constitutional government,51 could appeal to the princeps’ desire to present himself as having restored power to the people and would be consistent with his desire to appear before the community of Rome as the leader who restored the Republic. In the Res Gestae, Augustus explains how he was determined to have no authoritarian powers: In consulatu sexto et septimo, postquam bella civilia exstinxeram, per consensum universorum potitus rerum omnium, rem publicam ex mea potestate in senatus populique Romani arbitrium transtuli. Quo pro merito meo senatus consulto Augustus appellatus sum }. (34.1-2) Over the course of my sixth and seventh consulships, after I had put an end to the civil wars and during the time when with the consent of all I was in total control of all matters, I transferred the Republic out of my power into the authority of the Senate and the people of Rome. I was given the name Augustus by the order of the Senate on behalf of my service }.

This passage demonstrates how Augustus maintained that the people of Rome and the Senate would still retain their powers. Although he did not really restore the Republic, he did present himself as loyal to the state and the Roman people, and this created a sense of a new regime guided by a princeps, or ‘first citizen,’ who was respectful of the precedents and conventions of the Republic. His opening statements in the Res Gestae also confirm this: Annos undeviginti natus exercitum privato consilio et privata impensa comparavi, per quem rem publicam a dominatione factionis oppressam in libertatem vindicavi. (1.1) When I was nineteen years old, as a private undertaking and with my own money, I raised an army, through which I liberated the Republic, which was subjugated to the tyranny of a faction.

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Legendary Rome The Res Gestae was composed by Augustus towards the end of his life, and the opening declaration summarizes one of the ways in which the emperor conveyed his authority at the start of his reign.52 Both of these passages from the Res Gestae are of particular interest to this study of how Augustus portrayed himself as someone who was a new founder of Rome and who, as the leader of the city, was the one representative who acted on behalf of the community of Augustan Rome. This could recall for the Romans the role that Jupiter played in their community during the formation of the proto-city. As leader, civilizer, and law-giver, Jupiter can be understood to be the figure that brought a better way of life to the proto-community and the Romans. By reinforcing the connection between Jupiter and Romulus on the Capitoline, the emperor also created a link between himself, Jupiter, and Romulus that generated a sense of the emperor as the guarantor of empire and the founder of Rome renewed. In the early phases of the principate, Jupiter was celebrated in his role as the god who was responsible for the preservation and success of Augustus, but once the Augustan peace was firmly established, the emphasis on Jupiter’s role in the imperial city changed. Jupiter became the protector of Augustus and the values that the emperor championed. Jupiter, who stood for the preservation and welfare of the Roman people and was once the supreme god of the Republic, now protected the Republican political institutions that Augustus claimed to have restored. He also stood for the preservation of Augustus himself. One of Jupiter’s functions on behalf of the new principate was to receive the vota, or prayers for the emperor.53 Just as political power became more concentrated within individual homes during the transition from Republic to Empire, now power could be centralized within one individual, with the sense that, as matters of war and triumph became more personal, the imperator himself could deal with foreign relations and guarantee a renewed age of fertility. While visual evidence in Rome suggested that the community saw the similarities between Jupiter and Augustus, that does not mean that Augustus’ role in taking over Jupiter’s functions was given a single, coherent interpretation by the community.54 Instead, viewers would find throughout the city visual cues that indicated that this was a new kind of leadership, open to many interpretations. Jaeger argues that a key issue at this time was ‘how to define the role of the extraordinary man as he moves from military to civil life, how to commemorate his achievements, and how to limit his influence at home after the crisis that brought him to power has passed.’55 The role of Augustus in Roman religion was based on Republican traditions, but with a new emphasis on the emperor as the guardian and protector of the Roman people. Galinsky suggests that Augustus was highly creative in his approach to defining religious values and virtues for the Romans:

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past There is the same combination of restoration and innovation that characterizes Augustan government. Like other aspects of Augustan culture, Augustan religion was evolutionary and adaptive, providing an elastic framework for many different purposes and needs }. In this area as in others, we are looking not at a simplistic return to religion, but at a constant process of experimentation and negotiation that, all at the same time, increasingly converged on the emperor’s ultimate transcendence as divus Augustus.56

Galinsky’s argument, which emphasizes the elasticity of Augustan religious reforms, specifies that Augustus was flexible enough to allow old ideas to be open to new interpretations. Moreover, the new religious traditions brought the Romans together. Galinsky notes that the system encouraged participation in state life for the Romans: ‘By way of religion and cult, they were granted more of an involvement in Augustus’ new order than they had had in any other.’57 It is precisely this ‘new order’, with its connection to the past, that Augustus successfully shaped into a coherent narrative about his relationship to the Roman god Jupiter. Although scholars tend to assign Jupiter a role of changing importance in the principate,58 in order to understand Jupiter’s position in Augustan Rome, it is necessary to look at the origins of the worship of the god in the Roman community. Fears, in his critical survey of the role of Jupiter in Roman imperial ideology, determines that it is ‘political mythology’ that guarantees a society’s success and continuity. The community employed Roman Jupiter as the model of leadership, but as the political framework of the Augustan Age became more cohesive, Jupiter’s purpose had changed and shifted.59 In his study of Vergil’s Georgics, Nappa argues that Augustus encouraged comparisons between himself and Jupiter because the god represented law and order ‘against which only the barbarian and monstrous would contend’. Nappa equates Augustus’ struggle with Antony with Jupiter’s battle with the Titans because, as he points out, in both instances the battles define who can be part of the civilized community. The thundering god rescued his own father, Saturn, from the Titans by fighting a bloody gigantomachy. He then established his supremacy over the kingdom of Mount Olympus by banishing Saturn.60 He set himself up as a civilizing figure for the community when he became responsible for creating laws and maintaining order for humans. Thus, like Augustus, his early rise to power was not always guaranteed or stable, and war and conflict were presented as necessary actions prior to his establishment of a civilized order.61 At the start of Augustus’ reign, the emphasis on Jupiter’s role in the restoration of the community became apparent. The Temple of Jupiter Tonans effected this change; while previous leaders had focused on military might and triumphal processions that were

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Legendary Rome associated with the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Augustus was free to create a new range of associations for the novel temple that were suggestive of his efforts to restore peace and order to the community.62 The more modest residence of the thundering god guarded the gateway to the magnificent Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus,63 but the smaller temple stood as a reminder of Jupiter Tonans’ powerful ability to intervene in human affairs. The Capitoline remained the site that would always be intimately associated with the community’s security and prosperity, even as the Palatine and the cult of Apollo became more apparently linked to the emperor’s day-to-day functions as ruler of the Roman people. Moreover, once early Rome was re-created and the idea of a return to a Golden Age firmly established, the emperor was free to move on to other projects that would establish the direction his leadership would take once Rome was renewed. The Capitoline retained its importance as a site of religious and political significance in the later Empire. Tacitus describes how, when the Romans violated the sacred space on the Capitoline and destroyed the temple, moral corruption occurred. Tacitus’ narrative demonstrates, although the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus was completely devastated, that it was the memory of the hill’s resilience up until that point, in addition to the physical temple itself, which retained great significance for the community. In the year AD 69, the temple was burned to the ground during the struggle between Vespasian and Vitellius for power: Id facinus post conditam urbem luctuosissimum foedissimumque rei publicae populi Romani accidit, nullo externo hoste, propitiis, si per mores nostros liceret, deis, sedem Iovis Optimi Maximi auspicato a maioribus pignus imperii conditam, quam non Porsenna dedita urbe neque Galli capta temerare potuissent, furore principum excindi. arserat et ante Capitolium civili bello, sed fraude privata: nunc palam obsessum, palam incensum, quibus armorum causis? quo tantae cladis pretio stetit? pro patria bellavimus? (Hist. 3.72) This action was the most sorrowful and shameful to happen to the Roman state since the time of its foundation. Although no external enemy initiated hostilities, although the gods were well-disposed, as far as our morals permitted, the sanctuary of Jupiter Optimus Maximus which was auspiciously founded by our ancestors as a token of our imperial power, which neither Porsenna after the city had been handed over, nor the Gauls after its capture were able to defile, was desecrated by the madness of our leaders. The temple had been burnt down previously during civil war, but that was an individual criminal act, now for what reasons of military significance was it openly attacked, openly set on fire? At what cost did Rome endure such disaster? Were we fighting on behalf of the country?

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past Tacitus describes this facinus as luctuosissimum foedissimumque rei publicae populi Romani, indicating the severity of the loss for the Romans themselves. The destruction of the temple was an especially crushing blow because the inhabitants of the city obliterated one of their most important and venerated civic spaces. The Capitoline, as the physical marker of the seat of Roman power, had been vanquished within the walls of Rome by its very citizens.64 It is this memory of civic loss and of the violation of Roman space that exemplifies how the significance of this site transcended its material importance as a place of worship; as the military presence of individuals disrupted the civic space of the community as a whole, the site came to represent the destruction of social memory. Once the remembrance and sanctity of the site was disregarded, then the destruction of the culture followed. In Tacitus’ narrative the Romans as a whole never healed from the trauma of civil war after this.65 Moral boundaries were destroyed along with spatial ones. Conclusion The changes in the landscape of the Capitoline suggest that the hill came to have new meaning and memories associated with it: now the Romans could perceive the past history of the hill as evidence that Augustus was meant to restore Rome and serve as the city’s protector. By placing another hut of Romulus on the Capitoline, Augustus created new associations between himself and the founding father of Rome that were distinct from the associations created by the Palatine hut of Romulus. Both Romulus and Augustus established new religious traditions for the city. By building a Temple of Jupiter Tonans, Augustus created a role for himself that was directly linked to Jupiter as the guarantor of empire. Moreover, the emperor highlighted the god’s chief attributes, fertility and prosperity for the community, which were present in the early history of Rome, because they were suggestive of the responsibilities that Augustus had assumed.66 Augustus created a distinction between Jupiter’s prior role, related in the Republic to the activities connected with the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and Jupiter’s new role in the Empire. In order to succeed at creating new significance for the Capitoline hill, Augustus had to find a way to take the pre-existing associations with the Capitoline and create new meaning and memories that would complement the hill’s older traditions. When Augustus built the Temple of Jupiter Tonans, he created another role for Jupiter on the Capitoline, because, unlike the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, his temple had no previous connections to the activity of prior leaders. To a society attempting to reintegrate its members after the crisis of civil war, this new narrative provided a cultural history that the Ro-

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Legendary Rome mans could see had a direct link to the emperor’s current achievements. Once the Augustan peace was firmly established, the emphasis was on Augustus as the new founder of a renewed Rome.67 Favro argues that the community of Augustan Rome was receptive to the changes Augustus brought about in their city because the emperor did not appear to seek personal glory but rather gain for the entire community.68 For the Romans, the experience of recalling their humble beginnings and remembering how they endured and achieved greatness despite adversity allowed them to see that Augustus’ call for a return to pious and modest conduct was a way to redirect their interests towards building a new future for Rome. This new cultural narrative was played out in rituals established by Augustus, such as those surrounding the ringing bell in the front of the Temple of Jupiter Tonans on the Capitoline and the constant restoration of the hut of Romulus on the Palatine. Now the roles of Romulus and of Jupiter in the founding of the city can be reconsidered through the observance of ritual. One of the many benefits ritual provides a culture is the ability to transcend and withstand cultural change. Mary Beard argues that drastic change can transform ‘static ritual forms and make them significant again’.69 Seaford asserts that a ritual act ‘both represents and at the same time constructs an ideal reality’;70 thus, for example, the ritual of the priests’ maintenance of Romulus’ hut can be seen as creating an ‘ideal reality’ which restored the hut of Romulus to such a pristine state that an observer could almost imagine that the legendary founder was about to step out of it at any moment. The religious rituals on both the Palatine and Capitoline contributed to the sense of a community reinventing its cultural identity through the use of sites that had always been associated with Rome’s legendary past. The reminder of Romulus’ presence in the recreation of archaic Rome on the Palatine and Capitoline brought to mind an alternative version of the Romulus and Remus story. The emphasis was on the early Roman tradition of leadership that involved great sacrifice for the benefit of the city. In particular, Romulus could also be recalled as a leader who had contributed to Rome’s political and religious development. The goal was never to conceal the version of the foundation story that contained Romulus’ murder of his brother. Instead, the presentation of the two huts of Romulus on the Palatine and Capitoline encouraged observers to consider multiple perspectives on how the foundation myth could be understood as well as Romulus’ contributions to the early city. The second hut of Romulus and the Temple of Jupiter Tonans helped to establish a dialogue about the ways in which the Romans could restore order and stability. The changes on the hill also engaged the interest of observers in the city, as they responded to the political and social transformations taking place around them. Augustus’ use of the past in his building programme on the Palatine and Capitoline was especially

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2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past effective because he used myths that the Romans were likely to understand and remember, and images they were familiar with, that dealt with events or relics from a well-known past.71 Augustus emphasized political as well as cultural reform. He was then able to maintain his rule because he defined for the community what their new civic identity would be following the civil wars. Their customs, laws, religion, and their emphasis on remembering the origins of their city came from this new Augustan programme of renewal and renovation. Since Augustus was building on a foundation of ideas and an identity that was already present in Roman society, he was able to suggest to observers that he was restoring values and beliefs that had already been a part of the culture. Thus, he created a conceptual framework for how to view the changes taking place in the city.

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Part II

Poetic Impressions of the Archaic City

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Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present Introduction When I learn to speak, I am inserted into systems of discourse that were there before I was, and will remain after I am gone. Similarly, when I learn to see socially, that is, when I begin to articulate my retinal experience with the codes of recognition that came to me from my social milieu(s), I am inserted into systems of visual discourse that saw the world before I did, and will go on seeing after I see no longer.1

Here the art historian Norman Bryson is explaining how looking at a painting within a social and cultural context can be understood as the act of participating in a visual culture. The key to being aware of the visual culture in which one is immersed includes taking into account the way in which others in the past have seen the same images. Another way to look at this concept of a visual culture would be to understand that the process of viewing an image and interpreting it is ‘socially constructed’ in part by our ability to share this experience in a meaningful and comprehensible way with others.2 The same process happens when viewers look at other kinds of images, such as monuments. As the above passage by Bryson demonstrates, seeing is a social process, whereby one does not see a monument or a painting as an isolated object, but one understands the object as participating in an ongoing visual discourse. This visual discourse includes what was in place before the object’s existence as an important consideration for how the object is perceived by an observer. The idea that one can ‘learn to see socially’ by inserting images into a social framework that is already in place within a culture provides, in part, the theoretical basis for the second part of this book, which examines the ways in which the poets shared their encounters with the archaic past with a larger audience. In their recent study of the history of visual culture that explores Bryson’s concept of a visual culture, Caroline van Eck and Edward Winters define visuality as the ability of a viewer to define visual works of art through verbal means. The fact that the viewer’s verbal definition and expression of an image comes from participating in a particular cultural, historical, and political context makes the experience meaningful and significant to a society at

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Legendary Rome large.3 While the term visuality and the idea of seeing something socially within a visual culture are part of our contemporary vocabulary and the modern scholarly dialogue, it is also possible to find evidence that the community of Augustan Rome participated in a highly visual culture when they viewed the changes taking place in the city of Rome at the start of Augustus’ reign. Visual culture, memory, and the Roman community Understanding the role that memory played in the creation of visual culture is essential for this study because it allows us to see how monuments are given a social framework by a culture’s participants. Topical studies on the impact of visual culture in ancient societies have demonstrated the importance of creating memories that are contained within landscapes for a culture that is trying to form or reconstruct its identity. Catharine Edwards argues that the Roman community imprinted memories that were ‘both personal and national’ into sites of importance for the city. When the ancient community experienced emotive reactions to physical spaces in their environment, they established a sense of continuity between the past and present.4 To experience seeing the city completely, therefore, was to understand the meaning and memories behind its physical monumenta, which were imbued with multiple associations for Rome’s foundations. Memories revived through the introduction of monuments or other structures of cultural significance into an already existing landscape played an important role in the development of cultural identity.5 Susan Alcock, for example, has recently explored the question of how ancient communities perceive monuments set within landscapes and how cultures contain or preserve specific memories evoked by monuments or topographical locations. She argues that for the ancients, remembrance is an active process: ‘What people remember of the past fashions their sense of community and determines their allies, enemies and actions; they will argue over it and kill for it. Social memory is manifestly a mighty force, but also a fugitive one. Memories overlap and compete; over time they change or are eradicated; people forget.’6 Alcock’s work defines how closely human behaviour is linked to the manipulation of the past. As social memories are imprinted on a culture, a kind of public liability is created, as the memories, both literary and visual, shape the community’s sense of moral responsibility towards the preservation of their society. And although there can be a sense of common recollections and shared associations for specific places, it is the memories that change over time, or that share specific aspects of a narrative but differ on other significant details. Memories tell the story of how a community can maintain a shared identity but still engage in a discourse about how to remember the past. Thus, memories are dynamic, they are formed

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present and then shared within a culture, and most importantly their preservation is often influenced and guided by spaces in the physical world and the material objects housed within these spaces.7 But what remains constant about the use of memory over time, even as the details change from one version to the next, is its purpose as a way to celebrate the achievements of a society or to erase or draw attention away from unsettling aspects of a culture’s origins. Susan Alcock offers another theory for why the ancients located variations on a memory in multiple places. When memories are shared by two places, according to Alcock, it can suggest evidence of a community’s desire to reconcile conflicting values or extend to a larger group a sense of a shared cultural identity. She describes the mobility of memories, or the idea that two places can contain the same memory or a variant of it as a sign of a community’s wish to define or redefine its identity. This mobility, according to Alcock, often arises from the changing needs of the community, when societies associate themselves with, or alternatively, cast off, a set of values. As a result, memories often spread from place to place within a region, as, for example, when rival cities decide to adopt shared recollections as a way to demonstrate their cultural unity. Her examination of this process of identifying places with specific memories demonstrates that the city of Corinth, for example, did not have a fixed sense of identity that was attached to a particular set of memories, but rather chose, at various times, and under certain circumstances, to make use of recollections that it held in common with other cities in order to demonstrate the city’s participation in a multi-urban display of united Hellenism.8 The elasticity of this process meant that alliances could be formed and broken, and values transferred from one place to another repeatedly. It is also possible to see evidence of this within Rome, when a memory transfers from one site to another, or when two places within a city share the memories of the same event. As Alcock points out, this replication and mobility often leads to the creation of something new: memories can evolve as the result of fusion with new elements. Place and circumstance can change the way an event is recalled and influence the reinforcement of the memory. Monuments and landscapes, according to Alcock, served as vehicles that empowered viewers to understand multiple readings of the past, not all of which needed to be positive. These memories, even ones that suggested dissension and juxtaposed opposing viewpoints or values, proved to be what allowed a community to see how the events of the past shaped their present. Most importantly, shared reminiscence could break down social barriers and give members of a community a sense of unity.9 An entire community – from the elite members of society to the less-privileged social groups10 within a city – could share in a memory, or multiple versions of it, or take part in a ritual that involved the memory to suggest the formation of one

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Legendary Rome group with common interests, and to indicate that others who do not share in the memory are excluded from their social group. Alcock’s analysis of the mobility of memory is useful for this examination of recollection and landscape in Rome. In particular, she suggests that the recollection of events – even if multiple versions co-existed – often created a new vision of the past, and one that could be used to highlight the current political state of the community. Her observation confirms that a study of the city’s landscape and the differing versions of Rome’s foundation story can help us to understand how Augustus used the events from the past as a model for how to restore peace as he reconciled various factions that needed to unite in order for imperial rule to survive and sustain the city. Her study also suggests that a certain amount of debate and controversy over how to remember, what to remember, and where to remember events did not weaken or destroy the collective identity of social groups in antiquity. Rather, the use of a constructive dialogue that allowed for debate and consideration of multiple perspectives permitted a community of individuals to develop loyalty to their social group and to their leader. Thus, this approach to memory, which recognized that its mobility and mutability allowed for opposing viewpoints to be reconciled, or, at the very least, to be reconsidered from differing perspectives, permitted society to move past prior conflicts in the hope of finding a more peaceful way of existence. After acknowledging the significance of memory for their society, the next step in creating the constructive dialogue and debate about the future of Rome involved active participation in the visual culture by the Romans. Members of the community had to take into account the way in which others had seen images or recalled monuments in the past before they could share their visions in a way that was significant and could be comprehended by others. Visual culture on the Palatine While prior studies have already explored how the Republican city evolved into an Augustan cityscape that presented a cohesive and focused urban environment,11 we need to further investigate how, in the early stages of this transformation, the commemoration of Rome’s past within the Augustan landscape encouraged the community of Augustan Rome to participate in a visual culture that highlighted the development of communal values as an alternative to individual self-promotion at the expense of the city’s growth and development.12 Instead of the opposing political messages of the Republic, primarily financed by members of the higher echelons of society, Augustus offered opportunities for various social groups, including members of the lower strata of society, to participate in the renewal of all aspects of their city, whether through monetary contributions or participation in religious rituals. At

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present this time, city residents were encouraged to renew their interest in religious rituals and to take responsibility for the day-to-day management of civic services.13 A renewed vision of how Rome’s earlier society functioned as a community contributed to the city residents’ sense of their place within the Augustan community. In order to succeed at demonstrating that the Palatine and Capitoline were not isolated examples of how the community had renewed its interest in the religious traditions of early Rome, and that these sites were in fact evidence of a wider visual culture of religious preservation that was taking place throughout the city, Augustus restored traditional piety throughout the city as well. He initiated religious rituals within the neighbourhoods of Rome in order to further the understanding that all members of the society were now united under one leader. The reorganization of neighbourhoods served, as did the other new developments in the city, to complement the visual narrative that Augustus developed on the Palatine and Capitoline, which encouraged the Romans to reconsider their perception of the transition from Republic to Empire. These changes offer visible proof of how, in order to reinforce his role as princeps and to maintain the Augustan peace, the emperor had to create new rituals and connect them to familiar sites. One of Augustus’ first accomplishments after restoring the peace was to idealize the lifestyle that the Romans’ founding fathers lived, in order to demonstrate that their community did not have to disintegrate into a way of living that valued luxury and strife over honour, piety, and peace. Just as Augustus began to transform the landscape into a virtual display of the praises of farming, modest, pious living, and rustic simplicity, at the same time he also reorganized the urban environment to encourage the population to see the responsibility for restoration as a shared one. Suetonius (Aug. 30.2) informs us that Augustus divided the city into regions and neighbourhoods, and appointed city officials to oversee these areas. Shared responsibility for maintenance of religious sites was one of the reforms, which Augustus promoted through the changes he made within the city. Augustus also changed the way in which the community thought about leadership and responsibility through his use of public and private space. While the city had formerly been composed of various factions that showed allegiance to a rotating cast of political leaders, it now (through his efforts) shifted its allegiance to him. Previously, power bases had been constantly shifting and Rome’s civic life had been structured around loyalty to whichever provocative politician was able to challenge the established power base. New reforms that encouraged the neighbourhoods to focus their political loyalty exclusively towards imperial rule fostered the relationship between the princeps and his citizens.14 This was one of the methods that Augustus used to make sure

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Legendary Rome that ruling power stayed centralized and out of the hands of factions that could challenge his authority. Part of the goal of Augustus’ restoration of Rome was to change the landscape so that it would reflect his new role as leader of the community and also to demonstrate the values that he would strive to pass on to the community, including a return to a pious and peaceful society. A recent study by Lott describes how the emperor achieved this ambition. Lott’s examination of Augustan reforms within city neighbourhoods provides several important examples of how, once the emperor made specific changes to key locales in Rome, the community began to associate new memories with the physical spaces. Past visual discourses provided a social framework for viewing changes within the environment. His investigation of the neighbourhoods of Augustan Rome includes a section on the Augustan reconstruction of the neighbourhood shrines to the crossroad gods, the Lares Compitales, and it is worth examining in brief as a model for how the entire city was being transformed by the emperor to emphasize continuity between the veneration of old traditions and gods and the new Augustan building projects in the city. In particular, Lott’s work offers an excellent example of how the emperor’s transformation of religious spaces in Roman neighbourhoods was linked to his religious and political reforms. Augustus’ actions recalled that the original purpose of these neighbourhood shrines was, in part, to provide a place for the community to worship the gods who were associated with protecting specific physical areas within the city and who stood watch over those areas, whereas during the late Republic, the shrines had become primarily associated with the political partisanship of various leaders and worship at a specific shrine reflected this.15 The changes Augustus made to the sites that contained the shrines would not only redirect attention to his own achievements, but give the sites a new cultural and political context to make them more meaningful to the community at large. As Lott’s critical study of how Augustus fostered a sense of communal and shared interests through participation in religious rituals at neighbourhood shrines suggests, the concept of how the community functioned and what it meant to be part of the community was not a static one; rather, it changed as the moral messages suggested by the building projects within the landscape evolved.16 The emphasis on redirecting the community’s attention to a new-found sense of religious and civic responsibility following the struggles associated with the civil wars was a natural development after the city’s recent experiences with internal strife and partisan politics. The transformation was a long and difficult process, from a population that was mourning the city’s loss of moral order to a cohesive society that welcomed signs that civilization and stability were returning.17 Augustus’ restoration of the worship of the Lares Compitales led to a renewed sense of community, which

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present served to prevent society from splintering into incendiary factions. An examination of how the shrines were transformed and how the community responded to their emperor’s directive to improve the city provides insight into how a change within a landscape can modify an existing pattern of thinking or behaviour, or create new ways of viewing a landscape. The shrines to the Lares Compitales were located at the crossroads, or compita, throughout the city. The cult of the Lares Compitales was especially popular among the slaves and the lower strata of Roman citizens, and their worship was a central component of neighbourhood religious and civic life.18 Although the Compitalia was an official state holiday and was meant to be celebrated by the entire Roman populace, before Augustus’ reign its cult and the associations, or collegia, that formed around it consisted primarily of slaves and former slaves, or freedmen.19 Accordingly, during the late Republic the collegia were a breeding ground for incendiary political activities.20 Augustus outlawed the collegia in 22 BC and restructured the roles that the slaves and freedmen played in the upkeep of the neighbourhood so that their contributions were officially recognized by his regime.21 Moreover, when Augustus restored the shrines and reorganized the way in which the neighbourhood associations were responsible for their maintenance, he encouraged members of the community to see the similarity between their contributions to the emperor’s smaller-scale improvements within individual neighbourhoods and his more ambitious restorations of bigger public shrines and temples all over the city. By 7 BC these shrines had become the centres for the cult of the Lares Augusti and Augustus donated statues of the Lares Augusti to each neighbourhood. The neighbourhoods became responsible for acting on behalf of Augustus to oversee the maintenance of these sites and the celebration of the Compitalia.22 Thus, the reform of the shrines had a personal connection with the reforms of the emperor and they reflected his promise of a new emphasis on religious piety and peace attained through political stability. As a result of the changes that Augustus effected in the worship at the compital altars, the shrines underwent a transformation, from gathering places for the slaves and freedmen to altars that honoured the emperor’s accomplishments, including his neighbourhood renovations. The message evoked by the shrines shifted as well, from political rivalry and decay to revival and the establishment of the principate: ‘Augustus visited each neighbourhood only once; the statues continued to serve as reminders of his presence and to inspire loyalty in his residents.’23 The subsequent celebrations of the Compitalia during the Empire would serve as a compelling reminder that the function and nature of the shrines had changed, along with the nature of the cult. Now participation in the cult reflected an allegiance to the emperor and his reforms.

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Legendary Rome The reforms of the neighbourhood shrines are similar to the changes Augustus brought about on the Capitoline hill. In both instances, he shifted the focus away from any potential activities that could threaten his claim to power. The Capitoline hill, as a place where triumphal processions culminated in the march of a victorious Roman general who placed the spoils of war in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, was a locus associated with individual achievement. At the start of the Empire, Augustus transformed the hill so that the emphasis was less on individual political achievements and more on commemorating Jupiter’s role as the guardian for the entire community of Rome. To change the way in which the community thought about sacred spaces on the hill, Augustus built the temple of Jupiter Tonans next to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus and restricted military triumphs to himself and members of the imperial family. A reminder that mighty Rome was once a settlement of huts that looked to the sky-god Jupiter for protection against outside attacks provided a novel contrast to the previous era’s building programmes and political policies that promoted self-aggrandizement and showcased personal ambition among rival factions within the community. The reforms that Lott discusses also affected how the community perceived Augustus’ use of domestic space on the Palatine hill. By placing his home on the Palatine, the emperor inserted himself into the tradition of those who would rule and protect the city. Augustus employed architectural details at the front of the entrance to his home to demonstrate that his authority, although achieved by military means, was community-sanctioned. Augustus’ use of the laurels and corona civica, which traditionally were used to signify victory, indicated that he had taken on the responsibility of overseeing the protection of the population and maintaining the peace. Soon the laurels and oak wreath also appeared on the compital altars in neighbourhoods throughout Augustan Rome. According to Lott, this indicated to observers that the community supported the emperor and that they demonstrated this through their adoption of the symbols of his private residence on their public neighbourhood shrines.24 Augustus’ reforms placed emphasis on organization at the neighbourhood level. Individual neighbourhoods were responsible for the religious observance of local cults such as the Lares, for maintaining the food and water supply and for the administration of other public services, such as police and fire departments.25 Previously, during the Republic, individual parties often had supplied the resources for preserving order and equipping the city with the basic necessities. This frequently led to political factions forming around the person or persons responsible for various aspects of the city’s maintenance. To continue this policy would have threatened Augustus’ political dominance and undermined his influence. Consequently, when he gave authority to the

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present individual neighbourhoods to maintain sites of religious importance and increased their civic authority, he simultaneously reduced the larger urban population’s ability to organize any kind of collective action that would interfere with his authority.26 United efforts by the community became largely honorific, as, for example, in 2 BC when the Senate, the equestrian order, and the people of Rome granted the title pater patriae to Augustus (Suet. Aug. 58.1; RG 35.1). The result of all of these adjustments was that the entire city appeared to be working towards change and improvements that could benefit everyone. Augustus’ ongoing efforts to make changes in the city’s appearance and administration could be understood as part of his effort to improve the city, and as the various neighbourhoods did their part of the work as well, they shared in the sense that they were contributing to the city’s restoration. In addition to engaging slaves and freedmen in neighbourhood activities, Augustus also engaged the more privileged members of society in the act of memorializing the new regime. Previously, the more privileged social groups in Rome had celebrated personal achievements through military triumphs and high-profile public building projects that also served as individual memorials, such as shrines and temples, porticos, bridges, roads, stadiums, aqueducts, and marketplaces. When Augustus restricted monumental building and triumphs to members of the imperial family, he had to find alternative building projects for the community that would not lead to activities that challenged his authority.27 The result was that between the emperor’s increased emphasis on restoring sites of religious importance and the renewal of building activities in the city, the populace was now focused on rebuilding the landscape. The new building projects and the renewed interest in religious activities signified that the city was stable and prosperous once again. As Lott’s study demonstrates, through Augustus’ reorganization of city neighbourhoods and his public building projects that encompassed every part of the city, the emperor communicated that his religious, social, and political reform was on every level a change from what the population had experienced during the Republic. As a result of the changes Augustus made to the compital altars, the visual culture was imbued with the motifs of abundance, renewal, and stability. The idea that Rome was experiencing a return to a time of stable leadership and piety was now being imprinted onto the social and spatial environment. When the renovations on the Palatine and Capitoline are put into context alongside the neighbourhood reforms, it is possible to see how Augustus juxtaposed grand building projects with smaller-scale restorations and encouraged all facets of the populace to participate in the renovations to the best of their ability. The success of his reforms within the neighbourhoods encouraged viewers to see that the new system was working and the outcome emphasized that the community of Augustan Rome was united in a common goal: to reform

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Legendary Rome their society and to restore their city. As Augustus became more experienced and developed his own programme of city development, the visual culture of Rome became more and more infused with social and political cues. This indicated to viewers that the return to traditional values the emperor promised was taking place all around them in strategic locales in the city. The war at home: reintegration after Actium Alongside the visual reconstruction of neighbourhoods, another kind of restoration was taking place, which included the promise that the new leadership in Rome would bring on an age of peace and prosperity. The ways in which this golden-age myth redefined the community’s loyalties towards Augustus as their leader can be interpreted as the social phenomenon that cultural anthropologist Victor Turner calls ‘social drama’. Social drama, according to Turner, is the method by which a society, after experiencing a crisis, is guided by a political leader through the process of generating a meaningful dialogue that addresses the following: how to make a transition beyond the crisis and how to determine who can continue to be a part of the community once the transition is complete.28 Turner posits that social drama includes the following four phases: ‘breach, crisis, redress and either reintegration or recognition of schism.’29 The first two phases, ‘breach’ and ‘crisis’, and the events that led up to Actium will be summarized only in brief, as this study primarily pertains to the events following 31 BC. Rather, the ‘redress’ and ‘reintegration’ stages will be the focus since they provide a critical source for examining how the community interpreted and commemorated the events following the war by generating new ideas and visual imagery that suggested that Augustus was responsible for the city’s welfare and prosperity. Turner makes the case that a culture experiences social drama when ‘a public breach has occurred in the normal working of society, ranging from some grave transgression of the code of manners to an act of violence’.30 Often, this breach in civility occurs when there is a power struggle, and leads to the ‘crisis’ phase that threatens an entire society’s stability: This breach may be deliberately, or even calculatedly, contrived by a person or party disposed to demonstrate or challenge entrenched authority – for example, the Boston Tea Party – or it may emerge from a scene of heated feelings. Once visible, it can hardly be revoked. Whatever the case, a mounting crisis follows, a momentous juncture or turning point in the relations between components of a social field – at which seeming peace becomes overt conflict and covert antagonisms become visible.31

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present In this passage, Turner addresses the fact that when a society has reached a critical state, as in this case when the Romans split into opposing factions, it is apparent to all members of the society that there is no going back to the way things used to be. Meier has referred to events that led up to the civil wars in Rome as ‘a crisis without an alternative’ because there was no opposing power strong enough to resist the breakdown of the old system of the Republic, which was a centralized and constitution-based government that the Senate oversaw, and no other system of governing the city presented itself as a potential solution at the time when the collapse occurred. The structure of the society as the community knew it had collapsed because of the continual conflicts that were brought on when powerful leaders such as Pompey and Caesar challenged the authority of the Roman Senate and the constitution.32 This led to the violent conflicts between the Senate and the political factions that were challenging the established order of the power structure in Rome. When Antony began to challenge Octavian in a power struggle that would end in Antony’s death and the start of the Roman Empire, the breach had begun. By the summer of 43 BC, when factions had developed and sides were taken for or against Antony,33 the crisis phase had been reached. The crisis ended when Octavian defeated Antony in 31 BC. The new ruler had been engaged in completing a series of public works for the city of Rome in the years that led up to the ‘momentous juncture or turning point’ at Actium, and these actions were calculated to gain the favour of the people before the political situation reached its crisis point. Antony, on the other hand, was doing everything he could to challenge authority and to assume power. He mocked the Roman religious tradition of a victory march up to the Capitoline when he held a recreation of the ceremony on barbarian soil in 34 BC after seizing the king of Armenia. He also refused to relinquish the title of triumvir, unlike Octavian.34 These acts were a visible sign that the political situation was leading up to a crisis at Rome as far as the proper distribution of power. The act of participating in social drama can help a society find common ground and unite under strong leadership, much in the same way shared or collective memories provide a way for a community to seek answers collectively about its future through commemorating its past. The meaningful narrative about a return to a Golden Age that the society generated through participation in social drama involved the creation of new religious rituals and a new-found reliance on a leader to move the community beyond a crisis. The Golden Age myth played a part in the social drama because it reinvented Augustus’ role for the city and transformed him from a victorious military leader to the Romans’ would-be saviour.35 The concept of a Golden Age in Rome has been widely interpreted as both a central feature of the visible programme of renewal and restoration that took place during the Augustan Age and

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Legendary Rome as a specific objective for Augustan society to attain.36 Evans suggests that the community of Augustan Rome’s invention and reinvention of the paradisal conditions of the past reveal a great deal to us about the Roman tendency to be suspicious of, and unable to imagine, an ideal existence, as she notes that Rome’s origins always included a violent beginning. Thus, as Evans indicates, exploring the discourse that restores and reconstructs the Golden Age can reveal how the story of Rome’s past functioned as a form of social commentary in Augustus’ time.37 Wallace-Hadrill also argues that the myth served a social purpose: it made Augustus’ rule necessary to the society’s survival. According to Wallace-Hadrill, the myth of the return to a Golden Age belongs to a ‘complex of ideas’ in which the emperor’s role as a saviourfigure who mediates between the human community and the divine one can be understood as the ultimate salvation for the Romans from the destruction brought about by their greed and lust and the crime, or scelus, of the civil wars.38 When Augustus established a nexus of interrelated ideas and themes about what it meant to be living during the return to prosperity and peace at the start of the Empire and what responsibilities the Roman people had as active participants in this return, society, as a contributor to this social drama, had two choices for how to deal with this myth: it could disintegrate and splinter into rival factions due to disagreement about how to proceed with the reunification of the community, or it could find at least some measure of common ground and find ways to unite under its new leader as the community of Augustan Rome. It chose to unite under Augustus. Turner further defines social drama as a group experience: ‘Social dramas occur within groups bounded by shared values and interests of persons having a real or alleged common history.’39 Thus, the Romans, who, as a group connected by their shared history, experienced in common a public and highly visible break in civility leading up to the civil wars, during the wars themselves, and in their aftermath, needed a way to reorganize and form a coherent society after Antony’s defeat at Actium. This involved developing a comprehensive system of memories that allowed them to commemorate their return to the values of the legendary past. This new discourse also served to form a more cohesive concept of cultural identity and community identity. Collective goals to work towards, a shared legacy based on the renewal of familiar values from Rome’s past, and a sense of restoring and rebuilding society gave shape to this experience of identity production. Following the encounter with the ‘crisis’ phase of social drama, the Republic was transformed into an Empire. Now the invitation to return to the Golden Age required a more comprehensive vision that extended beyond recent history, including the violence of the Republic, and reconsidered Rome’s past. It is this reassessment of Rome’s origins that completes the act of social drama, with new memories and meaning behind the Golden Age being

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present sought as the Greek myth40 was reinvented and given a uniquely Roman interpretation. In the Augustan Age version of the Golden Age, humankind was responsible for the return of the Golden Age and therefore could control the society’s happiness.41 Unlike Hesiod’s original myth of the golden race (Op. 110-20), Augustus and his fellow Romans were, of course, living in an age where war, private property, laws, and technology were part of their culture. Space and physical boundaries played a significant part in the Golden Age narrative; in Augustus’ time, boundaries separated the world into the ‘Roman’ and ‘non-Roman’ communities. Multiple perspectives emerged on how to re-establish law and order and how to combine the more pragmatic military objectives and imperialistic aspirations of the Augustan Age with a less practical vision of the past.42 The role of the responsible citizen became the hallmark of a state that was not only just, but also was prolific with good things due to the understanding of the individual’s accountability towards producing a good society. Augustus’ rule could be justified, since through the act of subduing various enemies and maintaining the empire’s borders, the community continued its prosperity and there were fewer parts of the world that were non-Roman and able to pose a threat to their return to peace. Turner’s explanation of the ‘redress’ that occurred suggests the reason behind Augustus’ desire to shape the Romans’ understanding of their legendary past: In order to limit the contagious spread of breach certain adjustive and redressive mechanisms, informal and formal, are brought into operation by leading members of the disturbed group. These mechanisms vary in character with such factors as the depth and significance of the breach, the social inclusiveness of the crisis, the nature of the social group within which the breach took place, and its degree of autonomy in regard to wider systems of social relations. The mechanisms may range from personal advice and informal arbitration to formal juridical and legal machinery, and to resolve certain kinds of crisis, to the performance of public ritual. Such ritual involves a ‘sacrifice,’ literal or moral, a victim as scapegoat for the group’s ‘sin’ of redressive violence.

The ‘redress’ phase also includes the formation of a strong and consistent social structure for the community that allows the divisive elements in society to be reunited, after the breach phase, when ‘real power emerges from behind the façade of authority’.43 After 31 BC, Augustus needed a way to remind the Romans that the threat of civil war had passed; his building programmes on the Palatine and Capitoline became a part of the process of social drama because he redesigned the topographical focus of the hills. The redesign communicated to the Romans that the trauma of their recent war, and in particular, the fulmination of a civil crisis, was now a part of Rome’s past. This visual

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Legendary Rome landscape was part of recreating the social structure for the community, because it recalled the time when the Romans’ worst threat came from outside the city. The focus was now on the renewal of the values and virtues that had been part of the city’s legendary past but had been lost in more recent times. Therefore, this return to Rome’s legendary past, and the myths of the divine proto-founders Jupiter and Saturn, helped to highlight Augustus’ contribution to the post-civil war efforts to establish peace and reintegrate opposing factions into one united society: ‘the public political disorder of civil war and the private wrongdoing of the individual are inextricably intertwined and the emperor as a second Saturn is assigned the role of keeping both at bay.’44 In particular, the visual culture demonstrated religious and cultural values and encouraged the Romans to see Augustus as the leader behind this movement. Turner notes that at a time of crisis, ‘law enforcers of the relevant community’ will seek a way to bring about reconciliation through religious rites. Religious ritual, according to Turner, can encourage shared interests and values among the ‘widest recognized cultural and moral community, transcending the divisions of the local group’. His use of the term ‘reintegration’ can be applied specifically in this instance to Augustus’ religious and political reforms.45 Leaders who are involved in the ‘redress’ phase, according to Turner, manoeuvre ‘the law courts, the procedures of divination and ritual, and impose sanctions on those adjudged to have precipitated crisis’, so that they can redirect the intentions of the community into reconstructive projects following the crisis. Often the leader will attempt to address what Turner calls the community’s ‘sin of redressive violence’ through a religious sacrifice or some other ritual that can offer visual evidence that the society is healing.46 The Golden Age myth served to provoke certain ideas about addressing the community’s past transgressions: first of all, it facilitated communication about a promised saviour-figure in the form of Augustus, the return to peace, and the elimination of scelus. The scelera of the Republic were not merely past crimes that required forgiveness; nor was it practical to expect that the deeds of the recent past could be eliminated from public memory. Instead, Wallace-Hadrill points out that defining scelus in this context is not as simple as comparing it to the Christian idea of sin: But scelus in Roman religion involves more than simple wrong-doing. It is an offence that incurs the wrath of the gods, and is liable to bring down retribution unless set right or ‘expiated’ by the requisite ceremony (piaculum). Augustus, if he was about to reintroduce the Golden Age, must not only restore peace, but abolish scelus.

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present Wallace-Hadrill emphasizes the idea that in order for the people to be saved, a redeemer must emerge as the focal point: ‘Scelus still stands between man and happiness, and only the emperor can overcome the obstacle.’ The Romans’ decline into civil war is reinterpreted as a fall from paradise, with the obliteration of scelus presented as the solution for a return to the Golden Age.47 Moreover, the renewal of this ‘return to golden paradise’ theme communicated that the post-civil-war language of crisis was about to be transformed into a new discourse on justice and the reparation for past scelera. Now the princeps must demonstrate pietas and appear as the saviour of the Roman people in order to establish that the bloodshed and violence of the civil war are a thing of the past.48 Wallace-Hadrill questions how the Romans understood the concept of a return to the Golden Age as serving a social function in their culture: ‘if the Fall serves as a mythological explanation and justification of the present state of human society, what are the social implications of a Return?’49 He concludes that the ‘Return’ involves allowing Augustus to oversee all aspects of the citizens’ lives, both public and private: The return of the Golden Age theme was more than hyperbolical praise. } it belongs to a complex of ideas the effect of which was to provide Augustus with a role that made him essential for the preservation of Roman society.50

A society which has experienced a traumatic event or crisis will attempt to create a way to bring about reconciliation among its members in order to keep the society together and avoid further destructive factions that would lead to an irreparable and divisive split.51 For the community of Augustan Rome, participation in or shared observance of religious rituals, along with commemoration of the memories that defined how the city had overcome past conflicts, united the urban community as they now shared a focus on restoring their society to a pious and peaceful existence. Turner asserts ‘where historical life itself fails to make cultural sense in terms formerly held good, narrative and cultural drama may have the task of poiesis, that is, of remaking cultural sense even when they seem to be dismantling ancient edifices of meaning’.52 He further points out that sometimes the reintegration or recognition phase involves ‘the social recognition of the irreparable breach’.53 In this case, Augustus initiated a shift in the cultural perception of the Republic; he initiated reforms that would encourage a ‘social recognition’ that the overt antagonism of the recent past by parties that contested the leadership of the Roman state did not represent how the Republic was meant to function as a governing body. Through his widespread cultural, social, and political programmes, Augustus encouraged each and every member of the community to

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Legendary Rome observe how continuity of certain elements from the past was a source of pride for the Roman state. In many instances, the political and religious reforms that he fostered were based on the idea that he was taking Republican structures familiar to the Romans and giving them new meaning. Once Augustus suppressed the threat of civil war, the community as a whole was free to pursue other goals, such as the care and restoration of the city. Despite Augustus’ claims to have restored the Republic, his political programme was essentially a thinly-disguised monarchy that was crafted from Republic institutions and granted legitimacy by the backing of the established power base that existed within the Roman Senate. Augustus succeeded at this task because he made sure that traditional elements of the Republic were emphasized until his reign was so well established that it did not matter that the monarchy that was masquerading as a Republic was the established form of rule.54 His reign was marked by his efforts to secure proper care and maintenance of the city. This in turn led to a new focus on civic identity and what it meant to the community to be part of a renewed Rome. Eder has suggested that Augustus achieved this new focus by cultivating the Romans’ pride in their accomplishments as a nation: [Augustus’] greatest political achievement consists in having promoted the development of a patriotism that combined the legacy of the Republic and his own accomplishments in preserving that legacy. } Thus, personal pride in the fatherland, in particular a feeling of ‘we-ness’ was encouraged, which permitted each Roman to find his own place as a civis Romanus and as part of the history of the Roman state.55

Eder’s consideration of the issue highlights the fact that there was a concentrated effort on the part of Augustus to emphasize the achievements of the Republic as part of the reason why the new administration would succeed. He is also suggesting that Augustus selectively highlighted elements from Rome’s past in order to make the community feel as though its members should take pride in the society’s recent accomplishments. Rather than dismiss the Republic as an institution that failed to protect and adequately represent the interests of the community, it was far more advantageous for Augustus to commemorate the Republic as the system that was responsible for safeguarding the Roman mores and other social and political institutions that gave the Romans a sense of civic and cultural identity. The community accepted Augustus as their leader, whose restorative efforts allowed them to focus on reintegration and reunification of their society. Moreover, many of these institutions – both political and social – could be remembered as having their origins in the legendary past, and accordingly the community could see how the continuity of these traditions through time contributed to the idea that the Romans had not strayed too far

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3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present from their original foundations, but were still honouring the same values and virtues that had made the city great in the past. In this way, history was being remade to make ‘cultural sense’ to the Romans. While Augustus would never have admitted openly to the creation of or a return to a traditional Roman monarchy, he did highlight the early history of Rome’s first monarchy to suggest that the early rulers defended the first community’s right to an ordered society and the establishment of laws and civilization. This is in part why I suggest that Augustus recreated the roles of Jupiter and Romulus on the Palatine and Capitoline, to show how their social, religious, and political reforms created favourable conditions for the community that were similar to the ones that Augustus’ rule could offer. While a select part of the Augustan programme focused on the importance of correct moral behaviour, Wallace-Hadrill argues that the modern trend has been to overlook the political reforms that were also a part of Augustus’ developments. He considers how politics and morality were connected in Augustus’ time, even if in modern society the two are often kept apart: Too often when we think of Augustus as ‘moral reformer’, we think of the marriage and adultery laws. But it is modern, not Roman, thought that restricts ‘morality’ to the private sphere and separates it from ‘politics’. All Augustus’ reforms, the ‘political’ ones too, are aimed at mores }. He was in the business of restoring ancestral exempla, supplemented by a few of his own.

As a consequence of the emphasis he placed on political and moral reforms, Augustus could take exempla from Rome’s earlier period and add his own moral slant to an episode from Rome’s past.56 And the result was that he encouraged the community to see new interpretations in old ideas. Conclusion Although there was no consensus within the community of Augustan Rome about how to interpret a particular event, written text, or monument during the period when Rome was being transformed from the Republic to Empire, the valuable act of exploring ways to commemorate the religious and political restoration that was taking place within the city brought the society together as a whole. It gave them something to focus on as they created a new cultural narrative for themselves. The idea that the community recognized and understood the transformations of the cityscape of Rome in the context of what had come before is central to our understanding of how much visual culture was a part of the Romans’ everyday life. As Smith’s recent study of the importance of vision in Vergil emphasizes, key information about the Romans’ legen-

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Legendary Rome dary and historical past is communicated in the Augustan world through visual means, and the Augustan poets also place particular emphasis on creating a visual culture within their works. The visual component of the tour that Evander gives to Aeneas, in which Aeneas gazes upon the impending site of Rome while Evander teaches him about the past history of the site, is necessary in order for Aeneas to gain an understanding of how the Romans will achieve their future hopes and goals.57 Vergil’s Roman audience already had visual knowledge of the sites that Aeneas sees. Changes in the city, such as the ones Augustus made to the compital altars, demonstrates the Romans’ ability to alter their perceptions of the landscape in a way that was conscious of the social milieu that was already in existence. The community’s ability to react through verbal means to the visual culture in which they were immersed demonstrates that they had learned to see socially. As a process that is understood and experienced by an entire culture, participation in the act of social drama allows a society the flexibility to test out new ways to define who they are as a community when a crisis threatens to destroy the institutions and values that define their society’s status and identity. Thus, the experience permits community members to move past their differences, and find ways to acknowledge both good and bad elements in the society as an alternative to letting the social and emotional scars caused by traumatic events from the recent past destroy them. Since social drama involves the introduction of religious rituals, the communal spaces that the members of Roman neighbourhoods worshipped in were now given new meaning and memories that could be seen as a form of social drama that was directly tied to the achievements of Augustus. These spaces emphasized that all of the neighbourhoods in Augustan Rome paid tribute to the emperor, instead of keeping the city split into factions that could potentially grow large enough to develop into a full-scale rebellion against the current leadership. Augustus’ role as the ‘lawgiver’ of the community can also be seen in this reinvention of the myth of the Golden Age. The return of this myth encouraged the community to see in Augustus a saviour-figure. The myth also reinforced the idea that Rome’s past had a positive and direct link to the emperor’s current achievements. This Golden Age revival would in turn influence the poets, who, as members of Roman society, inserted their own voices into the complex discourse on how Rome would understand its post-civil war identity and redefine community.

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4

Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 Introduction The landscape of Tibullus 2.51 contains few topographical references, and as a result the poem’s description of proto-Rome is often characterized as a pastoral and escapist vision of the legendary past.2 Yet this pre-Roman landscape need not be interpreted solely as an Augustan topos meant to evoke an image of rustic peasants living an unspoiled, idyllic existence.3 Instead, both the lack of detail and the less urbane setting allow Tibullus’ audience to consider the few monuments that do appear in 2.5 – which include the Capitoline and Palatine4 – as vital for his narrative on the early origins of the city. The Palatine in 2.5 is a grassy slope with no suggestion of Evander’s proto-Rome or Romulus as the founder who engaged in an aggressive struggle to rule Rome. Rather, it is the Capitoline that contains early Rome’s foundations. Like the Palatine, the Capitoline hill in Tibullus’ poem is a site that resonates with memories of Rome’s foundations and the city’s re-founding in Augustus’ time. This chapter will show that that use of monumental sites in 2.5 indicates that it is not only what is remembered about Rome’s foundations, but where the foundations are recalled, that contributes to our understanding of how the community of Augustan Rome restored and reconstructed the past. A reading of 2.5 that considers the meaning and memories associated with the foundations of the city on both the Palatine and Capitoline hills in Augustan Rome strongly suggests that it was the Augustan restoration of the Capitoline that influenced Tibullus’ choice of location for proto-Rome. Vergil’s vision of early Rome in Aeneid 8 also captures Tibullus’ imagination. Both poets depict Evander’s community as a rustic settlement of huts on a hill, but the changes Tibullus makes to Vergil’s Palatine settlement, including the change in location, are significant. If the description of the proto-city in Tibullus is put into the context of the emperor Augustus’ building programme and Vergil’s portrait of Rome’s earliest foundations in Aeneid 8.314-69, then it is possible to understand Tibullus’ transfer of the foundation story from the Palatine to the Capitoline in 2.5 as a reshaping of the Palatine myth of Rome’s foundations. By extension, a consideration of Tibullus’ shift in the location of

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Legendary Rome proto-Rome further examines how the visual culture of Rome influenced Tibullus’ depiction of Rome’s past through his use of the city’s monuments in his poetry, and considers another possibility for why, when recalling the memory of the early city, the Romans did not have one foundation site but instead created two traditions for the founding of the city. Tibullus and Vergil: a shared tradition Although this chapter explores the idea that Augustus’ topographical restoration of the archaic city was an inspiration for Tibullus 2.5, any discussion of the foundation tradition in Tibullus must take into consideration Vergil’s potential for influence on Tibullus’ interpretation of early Rome. Murgatroyd determines the date of composition for 2.5 from an inscription containing Messalinus’ name among a list of the Quindecimviri Sacris Faciundis that can be dated to 17 BC (CIL 6.32323.152). If Messalinus’ appointment was a recent one, then it is possible that Tibullus composed 2.5 in 19 or 18 BC, just before his death. Because Virgil’s Aeneid was a work-in-progress by that date, Murgatroyd suggests that Tibullus was able to hear recitals of the Aeneid while composing 2.5.5 Other scholars differ: Buchheit, for example, pushes back the date of Tibullus’ death until after 19 BC, concluding that the resemblances between Vergil’s Aeneid 8 and Tibullus 2.5 are so close that Tibullus must have seen a polished version of Vergil’s epic before composing 2.5.6 On the opposite side of the debate, Cairns and Della Corte both are hesitant to declare the Aeneid as having a considerable influence on 2.5 because of differences between the two works.7 But it is likely, as Bright has pointed out, that while both poets were writing in a time when the expansion and the security of the Roman state were of utmost concern, differences between the two works occur because Tibullus was writing elegy, not epic, and the conventions of elegy do not allow for the same treatment of these topics.8 Maltby’s recent discussion of the history of early Rome in Tibullus 2.5, Vergil’s Aeneid 8, and Propertius 3.9 and 4.1 also considers the question of whether Tibullus was aware of Aeneid 8 when he composed 2.5 and, if so, how much inspiration he might have taken from the Evander episode in Vergil. His investigation concludes with the possibility that, while Tibullus was familiar with the Aeneid in some form, probably from hearing parts of the epic in a recital rather than having access to a more polished copy, the poet drew his inspiration for 2.5 from a variety of sources in addition to the Aeneid. These include the Eclogues and Georgics, as well as earlier historical traditions about the founding of Rome, among them Livy, Ennius, and the Hellenistic ktiseis, or poems about the founding of cities.9 Many similiarities in issues of content and theme in the poets’ foundation stories can also be

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 attributed to Hellenistic influences that emphasize city foundations as a way to reaffirm cultural and social identity for a population. The poets’ conception of the link between the past and present was influenced by their interest in the Hellenistic poetry that contained founding legends, and especially in Callimachus’ Aetia, which includes the foundations of Sicilian cities.10 The earlier Greek works approached the development of foundation stories as a way to establish a cultural identity for the inhabitants of an area and as a way to foster links between the greatness of a city’s past and its present.11 Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius were the first to give Rome’s foundations what Maltby has termed ‘a sophisticated Hellenistic treatment’.12 I believe, as Maltby suggests, that the Aeneid was a key influence on 2.5, but Tibullus was aware of other discourses and traditions about the founding of Rome that could be used as a creative backdrop against which to define his own portrait of the proto-city. Founding Rome in Roman poetry via the Golden Age The poets recall the foundation story and employ the proto-founder and founder figures as characters in their poems in order to consider some of the fundamental questions raised by their poetry: How should Remus’ death, as envisioned by the poets, be remembered – as a violent murder at the hands of Romulus or as a human sacrifice that enabled the city to be founded? How does Augustus’ placement of the hut of Romulus on the Capitoline instead of the Palatine change the meaning of the myth for Tibullus? Does the mention of Saturnia recall a peaceful Golden Age before the Palatine became the proto-Roman outpost of Evander and the domain of Romulus? Or does the Golden Age of Saturn evoke images of a slothful existence where humans never strove to improve themselves, unlike Jupiter’s reign, where the ability to make laws and work private plots of land forced humans to make moral decisions that strengthened their character? Poetic impressions of the early city include both the idea of an uncultivated and undomesticated landscape, which yielded fruits and other vegetation without effort (i.e., a Golden Age), and the further evolution of the site by those who were heroic and virtuous in their efforts to establish the city.13 Wifstrand Schiebe suggests that when the poets first used this motif in their writings, the image of paradise, or a Golden Age existence, was set within the context of recent political strife and chaos: This repeated appearance of the motif of the paradisiac life in one or two generations of Roman poets in the last years of the Republic and the first decades of the Empire is to be seen against the background of the social, political, and economic chaos following in the wake of the civil wars. People lost their homes, their fortunes, their relatives. They learnt not to

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Legendary Rome trust anybody. Life and civilization had lost all sense. It was logical enough to take a pessimistic view of history and society, and it took a long time for optimism and security to return.

Thus the first evidence that the poets had begun to imagine the return to a better society, occurred when Vergil was ‘audacious enough to imagine his miraculous paradise coming back in the near future’.14 He did this in his Fourth Eclogue, which contains the first mention of the gens aurea, or ‘golden race’ in Latin literature. The poem predicted the return of peace and the birth of a divine but unidentified child. Described as the age of Saturn (4.6), the Golden Age returns the earth to a state of lush fertility: the land will bear its crops without needing cultivation, goats graze with their udders bursting with milk, and grain, grapes, and honey all spill forth from the land in abundance (4.18-30). What emerges in the poetic depictions of the Golden Age that follow the Fourth Eclogue is a focus on the legendary past, including descriptions of a Golden Age paradise, which suggests that the community experienced a period of mourning, in which they accepted that the time of innocence and peace was lost to them forever. As a result, the Augustan poets adopted a more positive assessment of society only after stability and peace returned to the community: Accordingly, the Augustan poets, one after another, modify their critique of society. Scorn and the repudiation of the fundamental characteristics of civilization become much more scarce. Instead, the basic inventions of civilization, such as agriculture, house-building, law giving, take on a positive value and are even praised as the very essence of life, the blessings that saved man from his deplorable state in the precultural era. The idea of a degeneration that began at some time in the past is not given up, only the point where the degeneration is said to have started has been postponed.

Once the poets take up the themes of unceasing domestic labour and pastoral simplicity, they envision the magnificence of Rome as evolving from its past as a rural settlement. The ‘precultural’ era, as Wifstrand Schiebe defines it, is the time before civilization, when the earth spontaneously provided food and supplied all other human needs.15 But the poets are not in agreement about whether this is a good time for mankind: both Vergil and Tibullus emphasize multiple perspectives within the corpus of their works concerning the benefits of a cultivated life. Vergil’s Fourth Eclogue, for example, praises the Age of Saturn when the earth bore fruit of its own accord and there was no labour, yet in Georgics 1.121-46, the lack of a structured and civilized way of life was so harmful to humans that Jupiter had to intervene. Tibullus 1.3.39-42; 45-6 celebrates rural life where the only sustenance humans needed was supplied by honey from trees and sheep who freely offered

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 milk from their abundant udders. In Tibullus 1.10.39-42, however, it is the farmer’s agricultural labour that offers the ideal existence and grounds for moral improvement. While these pictures of rural life suggested a contrast with the urbane splendour of the landscape of Augustan Rome, they could also indicate that the emphasis on a return to the simple life needed to be restored in order for Rome to achieve greatness. The decline of civilization, therefore, did not immediately follow the end of the Golden Age, but was postponed until later in Rome’s history, when the city had become an urban centre.16 The differing depictions of the Golden Age provide evidence of a cultural shift, as the community mourned their losses and then began to recover. They also serve to demonstrate how the remembrance of Rome’s foundations was truly a dynamic and evolving process. The end result is that the civilizing benefits for the community – laws, agriculture, and religion17 – that are associated with figures such as Jupiter and Romulus, for example, became positive examples of human achievement. Archaic-Augustan Rome in Aeneid 8 At the heart of Aeneid 8 is a foundation story that is really the narrative of many early foundations. The act of explaining the various origins of the pre-Roman community foreshadows the development of a distinct Roman culture.18 The similarities between proto-Rome and Rome are highlighted. One particular feature that makes the early communities unique is the on-going theme of exiles such as Saturn coming to Latium to create new societies. Their simple lifestyles and modest origins set the example for the rest of the proto-Romans and define what is expected of members of the community. When Evander, also an exile, arrives to found his settlement, he follows the precedent established by Saturn in that he also leads a modest lifestyle.19 When the foundation stories are set into context of the rest of the Aeneid, which has Aeneas coming to Italy to discover a land that is a synthesis of Trojan, Italian, Hellenistic, and other influences, the message is clear: the future Romans will thrive if they manage to retain their values and their identity as Romans, while they absorb cultural influences and, in some cases, the populations from other communities. Being Roman means assuming an identity that carries both political and cultural meaning.20 While remaining somewhat set apart from the other cultures, they may also be required to wage wars and engage in conflicts with other societies, and eventually their reward will be that they will achieve Roman imperium sine fine, as promised by Jupiter at Aeneid 1.279. Vergil depicts the early Romans, as a result of this interaction, as a society that allowed outsiders who were willing to contribute to their social group and adhere to the rules to become a part of their society and remain members of the community. Syed notes that this policy in later

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Legendary Rome times allowed Rome to build a community where membership was not based on descent, but instead a sense of group identity was formed when a society participated in shared cultural practices: } Vergil’s treatment of Roman identity reflects the dramatic changes the concept underwent during the first century BC. The granting of citizenship to all Italians after the Social War, and to an unprecedented number of communities outside Italy under Augustus, expanded not only the Roman citizen body, but the very notion of who was a Roman and what it meant to be a Roman.

Syed suggests that the community was constantly redefining their criteria for membership.21 Places within the city played a central part in the formulation of this identity, since the concept of what it meant to be Roman was learned in part by observation and in part through participation in shared experiences at significant sites. Viewers in the city saw the veneration of the hut of Romulus and the priests of Augustus who restored it; they were the audience to whom Vergil’s eighth book of the Aeneid was recited, in which they heard about the significance of the ancient sites and they saw evidence that the sites were still venerated in their own time. The poets’ vision of the landscape of primeval Rome features the early topography as well as the founder-figures who played a significant part in the city’s development, and Vergil’s Aeneid in particular turns back time to reveal a meticulous and developed portrait of the city-before-Rome. The audience who accompanies Aeneas on Evander’s tour hears descriptions of well-defined and detailed topography22 and listens to Evander tell of past achievements and the promise of a community founded with piety and destined to achieve greatness. The religious, moral, and political character of Augustan Rome is reinforced by the parade of figures of cultural and political importance and their impact on the shape and cultivation of Rome’s destiny. For Vergil, the permanence of a leadership tradition on the Palatine hill was restored in the time of the principate since Rome’s founding fathers – Evander, Romulus, and Augustus – all resided in the same place, and, in the case of Romulus and Augustus, the emphasis on the temporal distance between the two rulers was lessened by a visual highlighting of the proximity of their homes.23 Above all, for Vergil’s audience, Rome’s ascent to greatness from the settlement on the Palatine recalled Romulus’ rise to power on the hill in the city’s legendary past and the magnificence of the Palatine in Augustus’ time. At the start of Aeneid 8, Aeneas hears about the Palatine for the first time when Tiberinus tells him that Pallanteum is the site of Evander’s settlement (8.51-4). The Palatine will serve as a beginning and an endpoint for Aeneas’ education about the city.24 Consequently, Aeneid 8

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 highlights events in proto-Roman and early Roman history that point out the similarities between the archaic city and Augustan Rome that will guarantee Rome its memorable and permanent place in history as a world empire. Aeneas learns of the other founder-figures besides Evander – Janus, Saturn, and Romulus – and the role each one will play in the site’s development. As Renaud suggests, the cyclical nature of this tour creates awareness of how each civilization in turn has its moment: ‘The lesson to the Augustan audience is clear: Romulus’ Rome will one day come to supersede Evander’s Pallanteum while still preserving the relics of that illustrious time in the same way that Augustus’ vision of Rome alters and yet preserves the vestiges of Romulus’ simpler time.’25 The emphasis in this passage, therefore, is on the cycle of the individual successes and failures of each founder. Aeneas arrives at the site while the community is participating in its annual commemoration of the rites of Hercules at the Ara Maxima.26 The tour can be divided into the presentation of two concepts that are central to Vergil’s vision of primeval Rome: the first is the evolution of the early community, which is described by Evander when he takes Aeneas from the Ara Maxima outside the city to the Porta Carmentalis, which is located at the base of the Capitoline hill (8.306-41); the second is the description of the topographical evolution of Rome, which ends at the Palatine hill (8.342-65). The appearance of two key sites on the landscape, the Palatine and Capitoline hills, along with the presentation of the values that the early community holds, creates a proto-Rome that is antique yet timeless. The message of the tour is that eventually the site will evolve from the early Roman city, which has learned that its survival depends upon virtuous leadership and a strong sense of community, into the community of Augustan Rome, led by Augustus, who, as the new founder of a renewed Rome, will encourage a return to the traditional values. As Aeneas surveys the landscape, he hears Evander’s tale of early Latium, in which the king gives a description of how the pre-Romans lived a harsh existence. The topographical details and evidence of the development of the religious and political values that would characterize early Rome do not exist, nor is there any evidence of community development (Aen. 8.306-18): Exim se cuncti divinis rebus ad urbem perfectis referunt. ibat rex obsitus aevo, et comitem Aenean iuxta natumque tenebat ingrediens varioque viam sermone levabat. miratur facilisque oculos fert omnia circum Aeneas, capiturque locis et singula laetus exquitur auditque virum monimenta priorum. Tum rex Evandrus Romanae conditor arcis:

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Legendary Rome ‘haec nemora indigenae Fauni Nymphaeque tenebant gensque virum truncis et duro robore nata, quis neque mos neque cultus erat, nec iungere tauros aut componere opes norant aut parcere parto, sed rami atque asper victu venatus alebat.’ After the sacred rites were completed they turned back to the city. The king went on, hindered by age, and held Aeneas and his son close at hand, embarking on a diverse series of topics as he eased the walk. Aeneas was amazed and readily he took in everything in sight. Captivated by the landscape, he asks happily about the sites and learns of the monuments of those who came before. Then King Evander, the founder of the Roman citadel, said: ‘Native fauns and nymphs occupied this grove along with the race of men born from the hard oak and tree trunks, for them neither custom nor education existed, they did not know how to yoke the oxen, or gather resources or ration a harvest, branches and crude game fed them.’

The settlement lacks viable culture or society. There are no laws or even a steady food supply.27 Just as the landscape has no pleasing features, the people who inhabit it also have little appeal. The emphasis is on the lack of a pastoral description or memorable topographical elements in the site, and the stress placed upon the harsh labor required for daily survival sets this phase of proto-Rome apart from later evolutions of the site, such as Evander’s settlement, where his pre-Roman settlement hints at the promise of Rome’s future greatness.28 Evander tells Aeneas how the proto-Romans became a community during the age of Saturn (Aen. 8.319-27): ‘primus ab aetherio venit Saturnus Olympo arma Iovis fugiens et regnis exsul ademptis. is genus indocile ac dispersum montibus altis composuit legesque dedit, Latiumque vocari maluit, his quoniam latuisset tutus in oris. aurea quae perhibent illo sub rege fuere saecula: sic placida populos in pace regebat, deterior donec paulatim ac decolor aetas et belli rabies et amor successit habendi }’ ‘Saturn first came from Olympus on high, escaping the might of Jupiter and as an exile from a lost kingdom. He gathered an untaught people scattered from the high mountains, he set the laws and called his kingdom Latium, because safe within its boundaries he had hidden from view. There were ages under that king which they called golden, thus he used to rule the people in gentle peace, until little by little, a worse age, tainted, followed after, bellicose and greedy }’

In this passage Saturn transforms from an exile to a proto-founder in order to establish the Golden Age in Latium. The description of Saturn’s

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 rule during the Golden Age is a positive one, with Saturn ‘guiding the people in gentle peace’ and establishing laws.29 Saturn is a ‘culture-hero’ because he tames the indigenous peoples.30 The narrative also recalls an earlier passage, in which the reign of Augustus reinvents the Golden Age and returns peace to Rome (Aen. 6.791-5): Hic vir, hic est, tibi quem promitti saepius audis, Augustus Caesar, divi genus, aurea condet saecula qui rursus Latio regnata per arva Saturno quondam, super et Garamantas et Indos proferet imperium } This man, this is the one whom you often hear is promised to you, Augustus Caesar, of a divine family, shall again craft a golden age in Latium, through fields once reigned over by Saturn, and he shall extend his command beyond the Garamantes and the Indians }

The Golden Age community that Saturn established is gone in Aeneas’ time but will be restored in the distant future when Augustus becomes the first emperor. Jenkyns considers the comparison between Augustus and Saturn to be the reason why Vergil departed from the Hesiodic theme of a Golden Age paradise to make it a period of time when a wise ruler guided the people. Vergil makes Saturn an exile like Evander and Aeneas, but in truth he was an agricultural god with established ties to Italian soil.31 His status in the Aeneid as an outsider, however, contributes to Vergil’s ongoing theme of an adopted population that evolved into a Roman one by accepting the civilizing customs and behaviour of their new society. The distinction between the urban magnificence of the Augustan city and the ancient ruins, which by contrast often appear wild and uncultivated, is evident. The Capitoline hill in Augustus’ time will glow with the golden splendour of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, yet it appears overgrown and rough to Aeneas and Evander (Aen. 8.347-8): hinc ad Tarpeiam sedem et Capitolia ducit aurea nunc, olim silvestribus horrida dumis. He leads him here to the Tarpeian rock and the Capitol now golden, then bristling with woodland thorn-bushes.

The site’s future greatness is implied here by the use of the word ‘golden’. Vergil’s tour of the ancient site evokes the Augustan transformation of the landscape in his own time. The route that Aeneas and Evander complete follows the path of a Roman triumph.32 Although the Capitoline will only be mentioned briefly, the significance of the hill is implied throughout the walk. As Aeneas hears of the roles that Romulus

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Legendary Rome and Saturn play in the development of the city, he approaches the Capitoline, which in Vergil’s own time had strong associations with Saturn, Jupiter, and Romulus. The Capitoline is the focus of the tour, just as it remained a focal point for the community of Augustan Rome at the start of the Empire. Long before the temple marks his following on the site, Jupiter established his attendance on the hill by thundering loudly to the Arcadians (8.351-4).33 Next, Evander points to the ruins of Saturn’s settlement on the Capitol, hanc Saturnus condidit arcem (‘Saturn founded this citadel,’ 8.357). The visit to the Capitoline establishes the proto-urban history of Rome and demonstrates that even before Romulus founded Rome, Saturn’s colony on the Capitol was a well-ordered community, because it had laws that the god enforced.34 The tour of the Capitoline area gives a positive representation of Saturn’s rule,35 but the Capitol itself is clearly uninhabited when Aeneas sees it. Since the tour is meant to show Evander’s proto-Rome, Romulus is not a central figure in Vergil’s description. Only a brief mention of him occurs before Aeneas sees the Capitoline, when Evander shows Aeneas the Lupercal at 8.342-4. However, his presence is felt as the tour ends at Evander’s Pallanteum, where Aeneas is welcomed into the leader’s humble home (Aen. 8.359-65): talibus inter se dictis ad tecta subibant pauperis Evandri, passimque armenta videbant Romanoque foro et lautis mugire Carinis. ut ventum ad sedes, ‘haec’ inquit ‘limina victor Alcides subiit, haec illum regia cepit. aude, hospes, contemnere opes et te quoque dignum finge deo, rebusque veni non asper egenis.’ While they were talking, they approached humble Evander’s home, all around they saw a herd of cattle lowing in the Roman forum and in splendid Carinae. When they had come to the dwelling, Evander said, ‘Triumphant Hercules entered this threshold; this palace received him. Dare, friend, to scorn wealth and also to imitate the worth of the god. Approach my poor home in peace.’

The house of Evander is described instead of Romulus’ hut on the Palatine,36 but the fact that the hut is located on the site where Romulus will later have his settlement is suggestive of Romulus’ later attendance on the hill. The tour has reached its final point on the Palatine hill, and Aeneas can reflect on what he has seen. Jenkyns calls Aeneas’ trip to Evander’s settlement ‘a departure from epic themes altogether’ since Pallanteum offers many of the hallmarks of a pleasant, small-town atmosphere. War temporarily recedes into the background at the start of the book, and Evander’s hospitality offers

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 Aeneas the chance to participate in his host’s simple customs and culture during his visit.37 The tour does not permit a complete departure from epic themes because the city does more than just hint at Rome’s future greatness. It is not a romanticized version of Arcadia featuring an idyllic life; rather, Pallanteum appears simply as rustic outpost consisting of a citadel, a defensive wall, and a few small but serviceable huts.38 Vergil weaves a strong moral structure into his story of the people who will inhabit the future site of Rome and into his depiction of the site itself.39 The distinction between the values of past and present exists in the simplicity of the site contrasted with the grandiose vision of Rome’s future glory.40 The distance between proto-Rome and Augustan Rome is lessened by the existence of the founder’s hut on the Palatine in Vergil’s time. Tibullus 2.5 Tibullus is a poet whose work neither overtly flatters Augustus nor expresses any significant signs of dissent concerning contemporary political events. The conventions of elegy allow him, in the majority of his poems, to distance himself from themes of a life lived in the publicpolitical arena and instead to focus on love and the joys of a rural existence. Yet 2.5 represents a marked departure from the elegiac theme of a quiet country life. Out of all of the poems in his corpus, 2.5 most closely resembles the work of his contemporaries, for whom the public affairs of the city were the subject of much commentary.41 The poem also looks back to how Rome’s destiny was set in motion and evokes themes of peace, victory, and achievement.42 The Augustan values of peace and an ordered society that appear in this poem suggest that Tibullus was, like his contemporary Vergil, participating in a dialogue on the virtues of the new regime when he recreated Rome’s archaic landscape as the precursor for Augustan Rome. In 2.5 Tibullus explores the events that led from Rome’s humble origins to the greatness of the city in the poet’s own time. Composed to commemorate a religious ceremony in the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine hill, the elegy celebrates the induction of Messalinus, Messalla’s son, into the priestly college of the Quindecimviri Sacris Faciundis. The priests, who were responsible for preserving, editing, and interpreting the Sibylline texts, also conducted ceremonial rites on the hill for Apollo and foreign gods (Livy 10.8.2).43 Apollo is the deity who is central to the poem and who provides the divine impetus for Tibullus’ composition. The poem begins with a call to Apollo for inspiration,44 and the opening address ends with a request for guidance as Messalinus begins his official duty of interpreting the books (1-18). A description of early proto-Rome and the Sibyl’s prophecy follows (19-38). She prophesies the future for Aeneas, the founder of Rome. His victory in war, with

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Legendary Rome Apollo’s aid, is the foundation for the imperial supremacy which the Sibyl predicts for Rome (39-65). A mention of bad omens that identifies the time of Caesar’s murder is relayed, along with a request for Apollo to bury this information in the water (67-80). Bountiful yield for farmers is foretold in anticipation of the celebration of the Parilia (81-104). A prayer to Apollo to ease the burden of Tibullus’ love for Nemesis and further praise for Messalinus and his future military triumphs end the poem (105-12). According to Gosling, the themes of Tibullus’ love for Nemesis and the celebration of Messalinus’ prominent family do not detract from the central topic of the poem, nor are they a direct sign of approval of Augustus and his achievements: ‘Instead of using a myth or legend to illustrate his personal feelings, Tibullus has used his private relationship, as also the achievements of Messalla and Messalinus, to illustrate the larger issue of Rome’s greatness, founded on her legendary past.’45 While Apollo is the primary god mentioned in the elegy,46 I suggest that within 2.5 Jupiter emerges as a key secondary figure whose role in establishing a new and peaceful Augustan age is central for understanding the significance of the Capitoline setting. The poet’s decision to place proto-Rome on the Capitoline highlights the role the hill played in the city’s origins and its continued importance as a center of urban development. By Tibullus’ time, the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus dazzled visitors with its gilded roof, which was visible from many vantage points in the city.47 Its position as the final destination for the triumphator as he ascended the hill to place his spoils in the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus meant that the site held a special significance for the community as the guarantor of empire.48 Tibullus’ poem celebrates both the earlier aspects of Jupiter’s role as the civilizer and protector of the city at the same time that it recalls his later role as the chief god of the Roman triumph. An indirect reference to the Capitoline appears early in the elegy, when Apollo is asked to appear as he did when he hymned a song of Jupiter’s victory49 over Saturn (2.5.9-10): qualem te memorant Saturno rege fugato victori laudes concinuisse Iovi They recall you as, when Saturn was expelled from rule, you sang a song of tribute for Jove as victor.

Saturn’s reign in this elegy appears in contrast to a previous reference in Tibullus (1.3.35-50) that recognizes Saturn’s kingship as a time when humans lived in effortless peace and without wars, and characterizes Jupiter’s reign as the beginning of endless strife and bloody conflict. In 2.5 the end of Saturn’s reign in Latium brings the age of Jupiter, and it

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 raises the following question: since physical effort on the part of humans to secure their own existence does not occur in the age of Saturn, does the arrival of Jupiter’s age indicate that the god has rescued humans from a too passive (albeit peaceful) form of survival?50 I suggest that Jupiter plays a role in the development of community and civilization in 2.5; the establishment of new laws and an ordered society follows a reign characterized by a lack of labour and direction.51 The decline of Saturn’s Golden Age appears to save humans from an idle life in which they accomplish nothing and do not improve as a race (cf. Verg. G. 1.121-8; Ov. Fast. 2.289-302; Ov. Ars Am. 3.127-8).52 Thus, in 2.5 Jupiter’s victory over Saturn is positive. The regulation of society is shown as beneficial here, even if war is the means by which order is maintained. Consequently, the Capitoline is a fitting site for the introduction of proto-Rome, because it is sacred to Jupiter, whose triumph ended the Age of Saturn. The origins of political and social development, along with a sense of community, will come from a proto-Rome gifted with labour and laws. In 2.5 an age without labor is the downfall of the pre-Roman era. Instead, Tibullus sees the Age of Jupiter as saving humankind from the sloth of the Age of Saturn. The onset of Jupiter’s reign, which brought labour and other signs of civilization to humans, was not seen as a bad development as it allowed humans the ability to improve. The downfall occurs later, when civil wars and greed subsume the community’s desire to live a peaceful and pious existence. This allows Tibullus’ audience to consider the pre-Roman foundations, and the foundation that Romulus established on the site of Rome, not as flawed societies lesser than the Golden Age of Saturn offered, but rather as civilizations where laws and technology offered opportunities for moral and social development. In place of Vergil’s Palatine settlement, Tibullus’ vision of the protocity substitutes a scene of grazing cattle on the hill. This provides a distinct contrast to the Palatine in Tibullus’ day, which had a prominent display of temples and the casa Augusti. Tibullus reminds the audience that the site has not yet been occupied by Romulus, and the scene described on both hills evokes Rome’s humble origins (2.5.23-6): Romulus aeternae nondum formaverat urbis moenia, consorti non habitanda Remo; sed tunc pascebant herbosa Palatia vaccae et stabant humiles in Iovis arce casae. Romulus had not yet constructed the walls of the eternal city that were not meant to contain his brother Remus. Back then cows fed off the grass-covered Palatine and humble huts stood on Jupiter’s citadel.

Tibullus’ narrative does not tell of Remus’ murder but instead states that Remus will not inhabit the city with Romulus. But as Vergil’s

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Legendary Rome description of Evander’s humble settlement on the Palatine demonstrates, Romulus’ absence does not mean that his presence is not felt on the site or in the story.53 By mentioning the walls of the city, which can suggest the alternative tradition of a human sacrifice protecting the city’s boundaries, this passage may allude to the other version of Remus’ death and suggest another explanation of the city’s founding that did not involve the fratricide that took place on the Palatine.54 By suggesting an alternate location for the foundation, another image of Rome’s foundations can emerge, in addition to the familiar story of the murder of Remus. Tibullus’ transfer of Evander’s settlement to the Capitoline highlights an aspect of Rome’s foundation that focuses less on Remus’ death and more on the beginnings of a community that emphasized Rome’s civil and religious origins. His Capitoline community recalls the model of the hut of Romulus on the Capitoline. As Murgatroyd and Maltby suggest, the humiles casae at 2.5.26 remind Tibullus’ audience of the same phrase in Vergil’s Eclogues 2.29 and the contrast with the grander, more elaborate structures on the Capitoline in Tibullus’ day. It is also possible to consider the hut Augustus placed on the Capitoline as the inspiration for Tibullus’ site, since it too stood in marked contrast to the buildings around it.55 In particular, the description of the Capitoline in 2.5 is an allusion to the Augustan restoration that indicated how Rome’s religious and political community began with Romulus’ actions on the Capitoline. As the citadel of Jupiter, the site recalls Romulus’ religious and military activities dedicated to Jupiter Feretrius, which in turn recalls Augustus’ restoration of the temple Romulus built to Jupiter Feretrius on the Capitoline. Moreover, Tibullus’ choice of the phrase urbs aeterna at 2.5.23 alludes to the Capitoline and recalls the triumphs that are mentioned at the beginning and end of the poem. This is the first recorded use of the term urbs aeterna (23) in Latin literature,56 and it reminds the audience that no matter how much Rome transforms into an urban centre resplendent with new temples, such as the one on the Palatine in which Messalinus’ ceremony took place, its lasting presence developed out of humble and rustic foundations, which are recalled by the community even in Augustus’ time. As a result, Tibullus’ vision of Augustan Rome extends beyond the immediate celebration of Messalinus’ induction on the Palatine; in Tibullus’ imagining of the mythic history of the city, poem 2.5 captures the dual nature of Rome’s character. By the start of the Empire, the Capitoline hill had gained a religious and political significance so great that a reference to the hill could stand as a symbol for the city itself. Edwards suggests that the moment when the triumphator offered a sacrifice on the Capitoline was an extremely meaningful event for the city, because this was the time when both Roman general and Roman city became eternal and

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 divine.57 As a result, Tibullus’ use of the phrase urbs aeterna could recall either Rome or the Capitoline for his audience. The role that community plays in proto-Rome is also significant, because the description of the peaceful settlement foreshadows the return of peace in the Augustan Age. Tibullus’ settlement is inhabited by people who exhibit a pious lifestyle and worship agricultural gods. Aeneas has not yet come to Latium, and an atmosphere of piety, harmony, and innocence characterizes Tibullus’ description (2.5.27-38): lacte madens illic suberat Pan ilicis umbrae et facta agresti lignea falce Pales pendebatque vagi pastoris in arbore votum garrula silvestri fistula sacra deo fistula cui semper decrescit harundinis ordo: nam calamus cera iungitur usque minor. at qua Velabri regio patet, ire solebat exiguus pulsa per vada linter aqua. illa saepe gregis diti placitura magistro ad iuvenem festa est vecta puella die, cum qua fecundi redierunt munera ruris, caseus et niveae candidus agnus ovis. There was Pan, soaked in milk-offerings, under the holm-oak’s shade and wooden Pales crafted by a rustic blade, and on the tree hung the wandering shepherd’s votive, the chattering pipe sacred to the woodland god, the pipe which has reeds descending in order, for each lesser reed is joined by wax, all the way up to the end. But where the area of the Velabrum extends, a tiny craft driven by oars was accustomed to go through the shallow waters. And often there a maiden who would be pleasing to the herd’s rich owner was carried on holiday to her young lover, and with her returned the bounty of a fertile farm, cheese, and the white lamb of a glistening ewe.

Tibullus’ vision has religion, a peaceful existence, and an abundance of food without excessive labor.58 But this is not simply a vision of an idyllic, Golden Age-like existence before the onslaught of war and crime darkens the pastoral landscape, nor is the scene removed in time and space from the origins of the city. The festa dies (36) being celebrated by the early community is the Parilia, the foundation festival that celebrates Rome’s birthday.59 As Cairns suggests, Tibullus’ emphasis on the Parilia is not simply following the tradition of ktiseis-poetry. When the pre-Roman community recognizes this holiday, it also creates a connection between the city-before-Rome and Rome’s permanence. Cairns comments on the Parilia as a link between Rome’s past and present: ‘The appearance of the Parilia, the birthday festival of Rome, as part of a description of pre-foundation Rome is yet another way in which Tibullus constantly suggests the early origin and eternity of Rome. He

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Legendary Rome is creating a continuity between pre-Rome and Rome and so implying that Rome always existed.’60 The harmonious domain of the woodland gods and shepherds (27-32) and the abundant fertility in the form of harvest-gifts (37-8) are pointed reminders of the peace and prosperity that will return in Augustus’ time. The Parilia festival has another element that ties it to Rome’s future. The charming detail of the maiden rowing to meet her lover (36) foreshadows the birth of Rome: instead of depicting a rape scene, Tibullus has Mars meet the embrace of the eager Vestal Ilia on the riverbank (53-4).61 Just as love is responsible for the birth of Romulus and Remus, it is also a part of life in the Augustan Age: during a second celebration of the Parilia a soldier will quarrel with his lover (100-3), and at last Tibullus will feel the pain of his love for Nemesis (109-10) before he sings of the triumph of Messalinus. As the poem transitions from legendary time to Tibullus’ Rome, the themes of love, the rebirth of a Golden Age, and the triumph are interwoven effectively by Tibullus’ repeated descriptions of celebrations that bring the community together – the Parilia and Messalinus’ military victory. Tibullus’ account of the wars that take place before the onset of the Empire is terse (39-80): Aeneas emerges from the ashes of Troy to fight with Turnus, and Jupiter assigns the Laurentian land to him (39-47); Ascanius founds Alba Longa (48-50); Mars fathers Romulus and Remus (51-4); and the signs of civil war and finally the war itself cast a dark shadow over the Roman landscape until Apollo in his role as prophet presides over the destruction of past evils (55-80). The landscape does not play a significant role during this transitional period of wars, nor does it experience any apparent changes, which might appear to indicate that the location of the city and its topography are not important in 2.5.62 This is not the case; instead, Tibullus’ deliberate and elaborate recreation of Rome’s pastoral origins63 at 2.5.23-38 suggests that Rome still contains the religious and political foundations necessary to be resilient after the pollution of the civil wars. Tibullus’ lack of detail serves as a reminder that the humble founders of the city needed very little besides the fertile land and a simple and peaceful existence to set the city on the path to becoming a great empire. In Tibullus’ own time, the promise of a return to the values and virtues of the city’s foundations will guarantee the Augustan pax. Rome survives and even flourishes by remembering, not obscuring, its origins. To further confirm this promise of an Augustan revival of fecundity and pax, Tibullus returns to scenes of bucolic bliss at 2.5.81-104 when he describes the celebration of the Parilia in his own time.64 Once again shepherds gather to sing the praises of the god Pales, and Roman families come together to drink, feast, and celebrate the harvest. Tibullus’ return to the festival scene, this time celebrated in the poet’s Rome, signifies the importance of continuity of religious traditions in the city.

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4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 For the Roman community, celebrating the religious traditions every year in the same place was sacrosanct.65 Consequently, Rome’s celebration of the Parilia is more than a simple festival that could take place anywhere in the Italian countryside;66 the location is just as important as the ceremony itself. The crowning achievement of the city is that it has emerged intact from the years of internal strife and warfare and can still commemorate its birthday in the same location. The poet uses the theme of the triumphator to begin and end 2.5. Apollo is invoked at the start of the poem as a god of triumph (2.5.5-6). Tibullus follows with a wish for Messalinus to be hailed as a conquering triumphator in Rome’s future military conquests (2.5.15-17).67 Tibullus’ use of Apollo as the central deity is reflective of Apollo’s role within the Augustan building programme. The mention of Apollo throughout 2.5 and praise for Messalinus and his family are indicative of Tibullus’ approval of the values of peace and prosperity that Augustus fostered in the new Empire.68 Tibullus concludes his poem by expressing his wish to sing about Messalinus’ triumphal procession (2.5.115-22): ut Messalinum celebrem, cum praemia belli ante suos currus oppida victa feret, ipse gerens laurus: lauro devinctus agresti miles ‘io’ magna voce ‘triumphe’ canet. tunc Messalla meus pia det spectacula turbae et plaudat curru praetereunte pater. } so that I may celebrate Messalinus when before his chariot he bears war’s plunder, conquered towns, himself laurel-crowned: his army, wreathed with wild laurel, chants the triumph with a loud voice. Then let my Messalla grant to the crowd his approving display, and cheer as a father when his son’s chariot passes by.

This is a moment in the poem when the themes of peace and war come together.69 To commemorate the fact that an external threat to Rome’s safety has been extinguished, the crowd gathers, including Messalla, to watch Messalinus and his army march after returning home from the frontiers of war. The pastoral city has given way to a martial one, but internally, peace has been restored, and it is celebrations like this that serve as a sign to the community that civil war has ended.70 When Messalinus appears at the end of the poem as a triumphator, his head wreathed in laurel (117), this evokes a memory for Tibullus’ audience of the triumphal procession that led up to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitoline in Rome: the moment in time when the victorious general became the embodiment of Jupiter.71 While Augustus is not mentioned overtly in this scene, the Augustan values are: strong family ties, as represented by Messalla and Messalinus, the establishment of peace, and the prosperity of the Romans through world

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Legendary Rome domination.72 The site of the Capitoline has remained the centre of Roman political and religious power throughout 2.5, and in the end the community will return to the Capitoline to celebrate their victory. Accordingly, the site of the Capitoline, represented by triumphal imagery at the start and end of the poem, establishes a sense of continuity between the past and Augustan Rome. Conclusion While Tibullus’ Capitoline settlement is reminiscent of the topography of the Augustan city, many details from the proto-Roman landscape in Aeneid 8 also appear in 2.5. Like the proto-Romans in Vergil’s Palatine settlement, it is the proto-Romans in Tibullus whose simple lifestyle suggests a model of virtuous living. But Tibullus’ proto-Rome reverses many of Vergil’s key details: Saturn’s age is a threat to humans, the Palatine is unpopulated, and the Capitoline is the civilized area. Moreover, even though the Capitoline remains the focal point in 2.5 as it did in Aeneid 8, a significant detail has changed because proto-Rome is far more civilized in Tibullus than it appears to be in Vergil73 and, as I have shown, this leads to a more detailed understanding of the significance of proto-Rome, the Capitoline, and Jupiter in 2.5 than has previously been assumed. Thus, 2.5 demonstrates how the dynamic nature of memory transforms the story of Rome’s origins over time as even a well-known image from Roman literature, such as the portrait of the city’s origins, gains new meaning and memories for a community each time it is reinvented. Tibullus, like Vergil, presents the theme of postActian Rome’s new and orderly saeculum for his audience’s consideration, but unlike Vergil, he does it without directly mentioning the emperor or any of his policies or accomplishments.74 In Tibullus the Capitoline is a humble site that celebrates the achievements of the community, while the Palatine remains underdeveloped. Instead, he recognizes the Palatine’s prominence in his own time, as it is the hill upon which individual aspirations, such as Messalinus’ initiation ceremony, are celebrated. Tibullus does not mention Romulus’ or Evander’s settlement on the Palatine, because references to the hill in this context could recall the struggle for supremacy and could be taken as a negative comment on Augustus’ appropriation of the site for his own use. Consequently, I suggest that Tibullus’ decision to place Evander’s proto-Rome on the Capitoline instead of the Palatine signifies that the poet’s vision of archaic Rome was in fact meant to highlight less violent aspects of Rome’s origins, including the early religious and political development of the city. While both landscapes evoke memories of the city of Romulus, Tibullus’ archaic city highlights the religious and political traditions initiated by Romulus and confirmed by Augustus on the Capitoline.

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5

Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 Introduction This chapter examines the use of topography in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9. While previous scholars have suggested that Propertius’ early Roman landscape demonstrates that the simplicity of the past is preferable to the grandeur of the present,1 Propertius’ poems about the foundations of the city can also reveal that the legendary landscape is not in fact superior to the Augustan city, but rather, the landscape of Augustan Rome displays a continuation of the past values. From the earliest foundations of the city the Romans had to make sacrifices, to suffer losses in war, and to defend their territory.2 Propertius’ vision of the city suggests critical connections between Rome’s early past and the landscape of the archaic-Augustan city. Propertius was grounded in the visual culture of Rome and his impressions of the archaic city were also shaped by the way in which Vergil and Tibullus saw the city before him. Propertius does not envision Rome’s early foundation tales as fantasy stories where humans lived in an unspoiled paradise, protected from outside influences.3 Just as Augustus’ recreation of archaic Rome reminded the Romans of the sacrifices that were made to found the city, Propertius’ use of topography and monuments reveals how events within the early city acted as the catalyst for the Augustan promise to renew old virtues and values. I have chosen to focus specifically on three of the eleven poems in Propertius’ fourth book – 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 – because when the three poems are read together, they constitute a reversal of the tour that Evander gives Aeneas in the eighth book of Vergil’s Aeneid. My discussion will focus primarily on the similarities between Aeneid 8 and Propertius’ poems since the similarities between Tibullus 2.5 and 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 consist mainly of smaller details that appear in both Tibullus and Propertius’ descriptions of the archaic sites. In a manner that is similar to the way in which Tibullus 2.5 describes early Rome, for example, Propertius 4.1 does not mention Augustus by name, and his settlement includes grassy slopes for grazing, reverent worship of the rustic gods, and a humble hut.4 The topographical descriptions in Propertius’ three poems, like the Augustan restoration, locate much of

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Legendary Rome the action on the Palatine and Capitoline hills. Both Romulus and Remus share a house on the Palatine and the Capitoline appears as Jupiter’s domain in 4.1, while in 4.4 the Capitoline is the backdrop for Tarpeia’s betrayal of Rome, and in 4.9 a comic Hercules fights Cacus on the Palatine and transgresses both a physical boundary and an ancient law when he establishes the Ara Maxima in the Forum Boarium. Propertius’ vision of the early city seems to suggest that Rome was founded almost in spite of the behaviour of its early inhabitants, rather than due to their actions. But, as I will discuss, each encounter with Rome’s foundations adds to the impression that the Romans’ early transgressions make it a stronger and more viable city in Propertius’ own time. Although Propertius’ settings can appear to resemble wall paintings and on one level his image of the Romans’ early topography can be compared to a fantastic landscape scene, 5 a close examination of how Propertius uses landscapes and monuments will demonstrate that Propertius’ use of topography has also taken some of its inspiration from the Augustan reconstructions and from the recreations of the site of early Rome by his predecessors, Vergil and Tibullus. While the legendary past in Propertius does serve as an exemplum of how the humble, rustic settlement became a powerful empire full of golden temples and other magnificent structures, his version of the story also mocks early Rome’s reputed simplicity and modesty. The poems 4.4 and 4.9 include an often amusing look at the legendary past and the largerthan-life and sometimes flawed figures who inhabited the landscape. Vergil and Tibullus Propertius had an opportunity to hear Vergil’s poetry, and he created his own reflections on the ancient city in Book 4 after he became acquainted with Vergil’s vision of early Rome. The last dateable reference in Propertius’ fourth book is to the year 16 BC, which is also the likely publication date of the book.6 The poet’s earlier books also show influences from Vergil. Maltby argues that Propertius 2.34, for example, contains ‘Vergilian echoes’ that demonstrate that the poet not only was familiar with the Aeneid but also that Propertius had, in particular, heard the first and seventh books of the epic.7 Propertius’ fourth book represents a departure from his earlier work, which included in particular 2.15, 2.16, 2.34 and 3.11 as poems that can be read as his pessimistic commentary on Rome’s recent civil war. In these poems, Propertius stresses the hardship of being part of the community that recently witnessed murder, losses, and destruction. There is no landscape of renewal as the setting is more often Actian than Roman in these poems and this departure from the city setting is part of what creates the sense that Propertius is not allowing his audience to forget their recent crisis and move on to commemorate their victory. Rome is a city that cele-

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 brated victories in war over its own citizens and the community should feel ashamed, not triumphant (2.34; 3.11.57-8). The victory at Actium angers the gods and memories of the dead overshadow any happiness that Rome might feel (2.15); Actium is a scene of intense destruction and the expense of many lives lost overwhelms any thoughts of glorious leadership (2.16). Finally, Rome’s fear of Cleopatra puts the city in a state of disgrace (3.11).8 Propertius’ final poem about Actium is 4.6. Propertius 4.6 has been read as a ‘moralizing myth’ and a sincere ‘eulogy’ for the princeps,9 an endorsement of Augustan politics that was largely generated under duress,10 and as a poem that provides a harsh look at the way in which Augustus came to power.11 Although 4.6 at first appears to be about the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine as a monument that commemorates Actium, in the end, Propertius comments on the means by which his own poetry would memorialize the battle in a more permanent fashion than any monument Augustus could erect.12 The poem does, however, remind the community of the similarities between Rome’s past foundations and present rebirth, since under the auspices of Jupiter (4.6.42-3) and via a civil war that is reminiscent of Romulus’ battle with Remus (4.6.43-4), Augustus restores the city. When Propertius returns to the legendary landscape, his poetry appears to have been influenced by Vergil, whose public readings of the Aeneid Propertius may have been privileged to attend. According to Maltby, Donatus records the recitation of Aeneid Books 2, 4 and 6 to the imperial family as occurring in 23 BC. Although it is not known for certain, other recitations may have occurred for Vergil’s colleagues and close acquaintances.13 Along with the appearance of elements suggested from Vergil’s poetry, his text also contains Tibullan echoes. Maltby has suggested that Tibullus and Propertius were not only familiar with one another’s work, but that after Propertius composed 3.9, which offers his recusatio for not writing about topics suitable to epic, Tibullus’ response was to compose 2.5. To continue the game of word-play between the two writers, Propertius then offers 4.1 as a reply to 2.5.14 Propertius next returns to the Vergilian influence when he expands upon the theme of Rome’s origins by composing 4.4 and 4.9. With the addition of these two poems, he extends the poetic dialogue on Rome’s origins and allows himself to contribute to the multiple perspectives on the significance of Rome’s foundations. What is particularly striking as a link between Propertius’ three poems is that together they comprise a triad of poems about outsiders entering the city. First in 4.1, a visitor to Rome is given a monumental tour of the city, then in 4.4, on the Capitoline, Tarpeia betrays Rome by allowing the enemy Tatius to enter, and in 4.9, Hercules’ grand entrance into the city includes the act of slaying Cacus on the Palatine and then he approaches and is refused entrance to the shrine of Bona Dea. Equally significant is the fact that if the three poems are understood

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Legendary Rome together as one viewing of the city, in a way that is similar to Vergil’s all-inclusive tour that Evander gives to Aeneas, then the appearance of Hercules at the end of the ‘tour’ is given a new significance.15 The difference lies in the order of events and the presentation of the sites. In Vergil, the sequence of events occurs as follows: Aeneas arrives at the city and hears the story of Hercules and Cacus, then Evander’s tour takes him to the Capitoline, and then the exploration of the rest of the proto-city follows, complete with allusions to archaic Rome and Rome in Vergil’s own time, before the tour ends at Evander’s hut on the Palatine. Propertius reverses the order of the events. In Propertius the Palatine appears first in 4.1, the Capitoline remains in a central position in the overview of the city in 4.4, and in 4.9, the final poem, the story of Hercules on the Palatine is told last. I argue that, when the presentation of events is reversed, Propertius’ audience sees the importance of the sites within Rome and the figures that inhabit or visit Rome in a new light. Rather than interpret the poet as glorifying only the past achievements of the city, when life was simpler and more rustic, note that the poet leads the audience back to the Palatine on the final part of his tour, where displays of power and victory are prominent in Propertius’ own time. The present is worthy of celebration and praise.16 That does not mean, however, that the rigours and hardships of the past should be glossed over or denied. Propertius never presents a pristine image of the city; instead, violent images are intermingled with pastoral details within the landscape. As a result, the founding of Rome and its refounding in Augustus’ time are brought closer together as a result of Propertius’ highlighting of the more militaristic and violent details of the city’s foundations. Propertius 4.1: what the hospes saw at Rome In poem 4.1 Propertius is introducing Rome to an outsider, whom he calls hospes, and the poet’s tour encompasses sites of importance for both the ancient city and Augustan Rome.17 Unlike the depiction of early Rome in Vergil and Tibullus, Propertius’ landscape is more violent and does not contain any allusions to Saturn or a Golden Age existence, and proto-Rome is barely mentioned at all.18 The contrast between Augustan Rome and legendary Rome is not as evident in Propertius’ poems either. While the size and scope of buildings and locations may increase, some of the basic institutions of Rome’s legendary past that have seen a renewal in Augustan times are being highlighted in this poem as the scene transforms from past to present, and then back to Rome’s origins once more as Propertius makes his way through the city. The first part of this poem, lines 4.1.1-70, can be broken into two sections: 1-38 and 39-70. The second half of the poem (4.1.71-150) features Horos’ response to Propertius’ plans to become the Roman

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 Callimachus. In the first half, the hospes is introduced to Roman monumenta that Augustus has either recently built or restored.19 The first ten lines describe the initial growth of the city (4.1.1-10): Hoc quodcumque vides, hospes, qua maxima Roma est ante Phrygem Aenean collis et herba fuit; atque ubi Navali stant sacra Palatia Phoebo Evandri profugae procubuere boves. fictilibus crevere deis haec aurea templa, nec fuit opprobrio facta sine arte casa; Tarpeiusque pater nuda de rupe tonabat, et Tiberis nostris advena bubus erat. qua gradibus domus ista, Remi se sustulit, olim unus erat fratrum maxima regna focus. Whatever you see here, visitor, where now greatest Rome appears, before Phrygian Aeneas, were hills and grass-covered grounds, and where the Palatine stands sacred to Marine Apollo there lay the cattle of the exile Evander. These gilded temples arose for earthen gods, and there was no disgrace in a home coarsely fashioned. Tarpeian Jupiter thundered from an exposed rock, and the Tiber was a foreigner to our cattle. Where that house rises above the steps, once was the house of Remus. There was a single hearth, the chief domain of the two brothers.

Propertius begins his poem by calling the city maxima Roma, and throughout the first part of the poem he will be comparing the city in his own time to Rome’s simpler and smaller past.20 The first site to be mentioned is the Palatine hill. It is the spot where cattle graze, recalling the cattle of Evander from Tibullus 2.5.25 and Aeneid 8.361.21 Stahl has pointed out that in the poem’s first half, Propertius is celebrating the accomplishments of Augustus. First, Stahl argues that when Propertius addresses his fictional hospes, he puts him in the heart of maxima Roma, standing on the Palatine for a distinctly ‘Augustan viewpoint’ of the city and its monuments. When Augustus’ ancestor Aeneas visits the city, it appears rustic and poor (4.1.1-4), now it assumes an aura of greatness as a result of the impressive and splendid structures in the Augustan city (4.1.4).22 The Palatine at this point in the elegy is pastoral, not violent, and Evander and Aeneas are quickly left behind in this harmless landscape. Propertius redirects his audience’s attention to contemporary Rome once again with the mention of aurea templa, which replace the more ancient and crudely-fashioned dwellings of the clay gods. Although the identification of the structures Propertius refers to is not certain, the aurea templa described at 4.1.5 could be the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine or the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline. Edwards places the aurea templa on the Capitoline,23 which is possible since a reference to

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Legendary Rome Tarpeian Jupiter follows, and the Capitoline temple had a gilded roof. Maltby suggests that since 4.1.3 describes the sacra Palatia, that the phrase aurea templa recalls Propertius 2.31.1-2 where the poet describes the Temple of Apollo as aurea Phoebi porticus.24 I consider the reference to be to both temples since the preceding lines describe the Palatine and the following lines describe the Capitoline. The effect of this transition from maxima Roma to the sheep-grazed Palatine and back to the aurea templa reminds the audience that in Propertius’ time Rome’s past and future co-existed on both the Palatine and the Capitoline with the juxtaposition of monuments from the foundation with the newer Augustan structures. The sense of continuity between past and present is established, but at the same time a marked contrast is drawn between the clay gods and grassy hills of the past and the golden temples in Propertius’ own time. One possible explanation for this contrast is to conceive of Rome in a state of decline, envisioning in 4.1 a city that has grown so much in size and importance since its earliest days that elements of the nature-landscape of early Rome remain only as memories. Both Rothwell and Papaïoannou read 4.1 as Propertius’ praise-poem for the humble life of shepherds and rustic gods over the newly-evolved maxima Roma.25 This would suggest, however, that Propertius admires and is nostalgic for scenes of natural landscape. It could also show that he values the existence of nature more than the sophisticated cityscape he creates within his elegiac world. In fact, Propertius does not tend to locate his elegiac characters in pleasant outdoor settings; his legendary heroes encounter frequent environmental threats and when the poet himself ventures outside the bedroom, the great outdoors holds many unpleasant surprises for the subjects of his poetry.26 While other poets may encourage an escape from the city to a pleasant pastoral vignette of the countryside, the landscape outside of the city in Propertius is not agreeable. Threats often lurk in the corners of his manufactured artifice. Consequently, the outdoor settings appear stressful to the adventurous wanderer but at the same time the tone of the adventures acknowledges the comic nature of these wild encounters. Even the legendary and larger-than-life figures have trouble in the great outdoors: Hercules’ young lover Hylas is plucked like a flower from the face of the earth and disappears forever into a spring (1.20), and Milanion groans in pain when he is clubbed by Hylaeus (1.1). Propertius, in a comic tone, expresses mock fears for his safety at a request by Cynthia to return to Rome at once despite the dangers of travelling through the dark, thug-infested landscape outside of the city (3.16).27 The countryside is not meant to be pleasing or something to which Propertius wants to grow accustomed, but at the same time the poet encourages a sense of humour when defining the obstacles the landscape poses to lovers and others.

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 Propertius alludes to past violence in the proto-city at 4.1.7-10.28 Tarpeian Jupiter’s thunder resounds from a bare rock, reminding Propertius’ audience of the god’s role in the ceremony of the triumph on the Capitoline and his earlier functions in the city’s religious development.29 The domus Remi, a reminder of the way in which Remus’ death paved the way for the founding of the city, appears at line 4.1.9. This appearance of the hut of Remus has been the subject of much speculation as to why it appears as Remus’ hut and not Romulus’ domus, and where Propertius means to place it in the city. In a poem full of violent descriptions of martial law and bloody sacrifices, the mention of Remus is not out of place, and the sacrifice of Remus is alluded to later in the poem at 4.1.50: Aventino rura pianda Remo (‘lands needing to be purified by Aventine Remus’), in a way that alludes to Remus’ death as a sacrifice as it was in 2.1.30 Yet in the line that follows at 4.1.10, unus erat fratrum maxima regna focus (‘there was a single hearth, the chief domain of the two brothers’), the anticipated murder of Remus is replaced by the detail of two brothers who shared a hearth. The occupant of the hut may be specified, but its location is uncertain. Neither Tibullus nor Vergil describes a Palatine hut of Romulus, but it is possible that Propertius is doing so here. Scholars are uncertain as to how to read the location of the hut. Both Camps and Richardson take the reference to stairs (gradibus) to mean the steps leading up to the Temple of Quirinus on the Quirinal.31 But as Edwards points out, the hut could also be the Palatine hut of Romulus, with the reference to the steps being the scalae Caci.32 DeBrohun suggests that the contrast between the maxima Roma and the maxima regna on the Palatine shared by two brothers, is meant to provide a contrast between the size of the city then and in Augustus’ time, as the regna is reduced to the space of a shared hearth in this elegy.33 In addition to emphasising how much the boundaries of the city have increased since antiquity, the hut also calls attention to the method by which the city was founded. Certainly, the appearance of the hut can imply a decline in virtue, as it did in Propertius 2.16.19-21 where the poet suggests that a woman’s love would not be swayed by gifts, if Rome were free of wealthy men and rulers still lived in straw huts.34 But there is also the fact that Remus in particular is mentioned as the resident of the hut. While Remi is a metrically acceptable substitution for the Romulus,35 it is more likely that the choice of Remus is deliberate. When Propertius decides to make him the main occupant of the hut, however, it is possible that he, like Tibullus in 2.5, could be alluding to the tradition where Remus is sacrificed.36 Yet Remus’ appearance remains ambiguous. He reminds the audience of the struggle for supremacy on the Palatine,37 but at the same time Propertius alludes to the alternative tradition where he is not murdered but a human sacrifice for the good of the state.

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Legendary Rome In the next section of the poem, lines 11-38, Propertius’ audience is introduced to the governance, worship, and military practices of primeval Rome: Curia, praetexto quae nunc nitet alta senatu, pellitos habuit, rustica corda, Patres. bucina cogebat priscos ad verba Quiritis: centum illi in prato saepe senatus erat. nec sinuosa cavo pendebant vela theatro, pulpita sollemnis non oluere crocos. nulli cura fuit externos quaerere divos, cum tremeret patrio pendula turba sacro, annuaque accenso celebrante Parilia faeno, qualia nunc curto lustra novantur equo. Vesta coronatis pauper gaudebat asellis, ducebant macrae vilia sacra boves. parva saginati lustrabant compita porci, pastor et ad calamos exta litabat ovis. verbera pellitus saetosa movebat arator, unde licens Fabius sacra Lupercus habet. nec rudis infestis miles radiabat in armis: miscebant usta proelia nuda sude. prima galeritus posuit praetoria Lycmon, magnaque pars Tatio rerum erat inter ovis. hinc Tities Ramnesque viri Luceresque Soloni, quattuor hinc albos Romulus egit equos. quippe suburbanae parva minus urbe Bovillae et, qui nunc nulli, maxima turba Gabi. et stetit Alba potens, albae suis omine nata, ac tibi Fidenas longa erat isse via. nil patrium nisi nomen habet Romanus alumnus: sanguinis altricem non putet esse lupam. The Curia, which now shines brightly, is lofty with the toga-clad Senate. It once held the ancestral fathers, simple-hearted, clad in skins. A curved horn collected the ancient citizens for conferences: one hundred of them in the meadow often made up the body of the Senate. No wind-blown curtains hang over the empty theatre, and the stage did not give off the odour of the ceremonial saffron. There was no need then to seek out foreign deities, when the hesitant crowd trembled at the ancestral rituals and burning hay celebrated the annual festival of Parilia, just as now the rites of purification are renewed with a docked horse. Impoverished Vesta rejoiced in garlanded mules and the meagre cattle led the mean sacrifice. Fattened swine purified the lowly crossroads and the shepherd offers the sheep’s entrails while the reed-pipes sound. The ploughman clad in skins moves the bristling lash, where Fabian Lupercus freely holds the sacred rites. Nor did the primitive soldier shine with menacing weapons; unarmed they fought with fire-hardened stakes. Lycmon set up the first general’s quarters wearing a leather cap, and the greater share of Tatius’

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 wealth lay in his flocks. From this source the Tities, Ramnes, and the Luceres of Solonium came, from this place Romulus drove his four white horses. Certainly Bovillae was less a suburb when the city was small, and Gabii, which is nothing now, held then a great crowd. Powerful Alba was standing and was born from the omen of the white sow, at the time when the journey to Fidenae was long for you. Now the native Roman retains nothing except the ancestral name; he would not consider a she-wolf the foster-mother of his race.

As these lines suggest, early Rome is a violent place. The festival scenes are not pastoral interludes, as they are in Tibullus 2.5. Instead, the crowd gathers fearfully at the celebration of the ancestral rituals (18), which include performing equine mutilation and the sacrifice of swine at the Parilia (20-4).38 It was also not opulent or decadent, as lean cattle and an impoverished Vesta attest (21-2). There is, as Rothwell testifies, an atmosphere of ‘labor and negotium’, as the arator (24) and the miles (27) also inhabit the landscape, along with the patres (12). Warriors populate proto- and early Rome (e.g., Evander, Aeneas, Romulus) and the city continues to grow under the direction of Tatius, and later, Decius and Brutus (45).Rome is not the refuge that Evander’s proto-settlement offered Aeneas in Aeneid 8 nor is it the proto-Roman site of fertility-without-labour of Tibullus 2.5: in Propertius’ vision, labor, war and Rome’s conflicts with foreign tribes (33-6) are very much in evidence.39 The model of the past is redesigned with a heavy emphasis on labor and a martial environment in order to create a sense that the past environment has created a landscape for Rome in which renewal, peace, and continued growth are dependent on a return to labor shared by an entire community. Propertius’ Rome reminds his audience that Rome’s neighbouring tribes were soon incorporated into the population of the city (33-6).40 The shift has been from domestic violence (alluded to by the mention of Remus at lines 9-10), to Romans fighting and conquering foreign tribes (31-6), although Rome is smaller and her soldiers are unarmed. Lines 37-8 may at first seem to imply that there is a lack of connection between the past and present, as the members of the Roman community do not necessarily want to perpetuate the myth of their ancestors being nursed by a she-wolf, or his audience may have more recently become part of the Roman community and do not associate their heritage with the myth. The Romans did not identify with the female wolf who was supposed to have raised their ancestors, Romulus and Remus: ‘Both Livy (1.4.7) and Dionysius (Antiquitates Romanae 2.37.2) report difficulty on the part of the Romans in accepting the story that a literal she-wolf nursed Romulus and Remus.’ To solve this problem, the Romans invented a new story in which a shepherdess named Laurentia, or Larentia, nursed the twins.41

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Legendary Rome The aversion to the she-wolf is not necessarily an Augustan invention, however, as Laurentia, the wife of the shepherd, Faustulus, who rescued the twins, is given credit for nursing the twins in a variant of the story that may have appeared as early as Fabius Pictor’s account of the myth.42 Propertius is here reminding his audience that early Rome’s history was complicated because it contained multiple versions of the past. He shifts his focus to the fall of Troy and the appearance of Aeneas (39-54). The theme is one of destruction and rebirth, with Troy’s fall giving way to the new city of Rome. Fox argues that Propertius never hides Rome’s past: ‘the central idea is of an apparent disaster leading to something good, and of Rome’s greatness being part of a divine order, that was perceptible to the gifted even at dark moments when it appeared most unlikely.’43 The Sibyl’s prophecy demonstrates this, as the death of Remus and the fall of Troy allowed the city to prosper (49-52): si modo Avernalis tremulae cortina Sibyllae dixit Aventino rura pianda Remo, aut si Pergameae sero rata carmina vatis longaeuum ad Priami vere fuere caput: } if in truth the Avernian tripod of the shuddering Sibyl told of the lands needing to be purified by Remus on the Aventine. Or if the songs, accepted too late, of the Pergamene seer, to the ancient Priam proved to be true.

This version of Remus’ death alludes to the sacrifice tradition that Wiseman has proposed, but it can also recall the version of the story where Remus is murdered by Romulus.44 The first half of 4.1 concludes with Propertius declaring himself to be the Roman Callimachus and proposing to sing about Rome’s festivals and the names of ancient sites (55-70). Propertius may be Umbrian, but he still takes pride in being able to tell the history of his adopted city.45 Although the second half of the poem has him retracting this promise, he soon turns to writing Roman elegies in which he describes Rome’s growth and development. In Propertius’ tour of Rome, his hospes sees that the city fostered a steady supply of warriors, and the population fought and won the battles that allowed them to expand their territory and assimilate neighbouring tribes into their population. This is in direct contrast to Evander’s tour of Rome, where the site is a refuge from the conflicts that rage outside of its borders. Propertius does not use this landscape to contrast the past with the present. Rather, his soldier-citizens and culturally diverse population would have had much in common with Rome’s Augustan community, as they were making the transition from community-at-war and divisive factions into a peaceful, united society.46 Welch asserts that Propertius 4.1, when presenting the significance of Roman monuments to an audience, ‘does so by offering many ways,

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 often contradictory, of explaining them’, but as she points out, the meaning of Roman monuments was not fixed and could change with each new viewer’s perspective.47 This is especially important to remember in a post-Actian society at Rome, as the culturally diverse population began the process of deciding how to remember the past. Propertius restored the archaic landscape in a way that conformed more easily to his impression of his present-day city. In order to demonstrate how the success of the present developed out of past achievements, his archaic landscape closely resembles the archaicAugustan landscape of Rome in his own time, as sine arte casa mingles with aurea templa in his verses, just as the huts of Romulus stood near the Temples of Apollo and Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Palatine and Capitoline. Propertius 4.4: Tarpeia on the Capitoline The Capitoline is at the centre of Propertius’ legendary Rome, just as it was for Vergil. But unlike Vergil, who covers the Capitoline in foliage and alludes to its future greatness, Propertius’ Capitoline raises key questions about the individual’s role within the Roman community. The subject of 4.4 is Tarpeia, whose crime in this poem will be the betrayal of the city to the Sabine leader Titus Tatius, a transgression made worse by the fact that she is a Vestal Virgin, sworn to protect Rome, not betray it. The story of Tarpeia would have been well known to Propertius’ audience.48 In Livy’s version of the story, Tarpeia’s betrayal of the city follows Livy’s narrative about the rape of the Sabine women and Romulus’ dedication of the Temple of Jupiter Feretrius on the Capitoline hill. The Sabine enemy attacks Rome and the story of Tarpeia’s betrayal ensues (Livy 1.11.5-9): Novissimum ab Sabinis bellum ortum multoque id maximum fuit; nihil enim per iram aut cupiditatem actum est, nec ostenderunt bellum prius quam intulerunt. Consilio etiam additus dolus. Sp. Tarpeius Romanae praeerat arci. Huius filiam virginem auro corrumpit Tatius ut armatos in arcem accipiat; aquam forte ea tum sacris extra moenia petitum ierat. Accepti obrutam armis necavere, seu ut vi capta potius arx videretur seu prodendi exempli causa ne quid usquam fidum proditori esset. Additur fabula, quod volgo Sabini aureas armillas magni ponderis brachio laevo gemmatosque magna specie anulos habuerint, pepigisse eam quod in sinistris manibus haberent; eo scuta illi pro aureis donis congesta. Sunt qui eam pacto tradendi quod in sinistris manibus esset derecto arma petisse dicant et fraude visam agere sua ipsam peremptam mercede. The most recent attack originated from the Sabines, and it was the greatest by far. For nothing was done through anger or desire, and they displayed no aggression before they attacked. An element of deceit also

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Legendary Rome added to their plan. Spurius Tarpeius commanded the Roman citadel. Tatius bribed his young daughter with gold to take armed men into the citadel; by chance she had gone outside the walls to seek water for the sacrificial rites. Once they had been taken in, they killed the outnumbered girl with their shields, whether to make it seem as if the citadel had been captured by force or to show by example that there would never be trust for a traitor. A story is added, because the Sabines commonly had gold bracelets of heavy weight on their left arm and jewelled rings of fine quality, that the girl had demanded what they had on their left hands. Therefore in place of golden gifts they offered their shields pressed together. There are those who say that she sought their weapons as payment immediately after negotiating for what was on their left hands and when by her deceit her true nature was revealed, she was destroyed by her own payment.

In this passage, Livy (1.11.9) reports an alternate version of the story as told by Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. 2.40) in which Tarpeia demands the Sabine shields in order to leave the men defenceless on the hill. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, citing Fabius Pictor, relates that in Fabius’ version, Tarpeia might have been killed due to her excessive greed; angered by the ample reward of gold she claimed to be her rightful prize for opening the gates, the Sabines hurled their shields at her in response to her demands (Ant. Rom. 2.40.2). At the end of his narrative, Dionysius says that Tarpeia was honoured by the Romans with a monument and yearly libations, but cautions his audience to judge for themselves what they think may have happened since there were many different versions of Tarpeia’s death. Although Livy tells his audience Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ rendition of the story, his own version is a stark reminder that Tarpeia was a traitor to Rome and that the Sabines killed her for it. Livy frames the Tarpeia episode with the story of the Sabine women. As a consequence of Tarpeia’s betrayal, the Sabines are able to seize the Capitoline hill. Right after Tarpeia’s actions allow the capture of the Capitoline by the enemy, the Romans battle the Sabines and take the hill back (1.12). They are still engaged in combat with the Sabines when the Sabine women intervene and beg them to stop the battle (1.13). The Sabine women as a group are loyal to Rome; Tarpeia alone as a Roman vestal exhibits treacherous behaviour that endangers her city and hastens her death.49 Her behaviour causes the centre of Roman religious and political space to be violated by the enemy, and the Tarpeia episode in Livy demonstrates how one traitor jeopardizes the safety of the entire community. In Propertius 4.4 Tarpeia falls in love with Titus Tatius after seeing him while making a trip to the well and decides to allow him to gain access to the hill. For her great crime against the Romans she was crushed by the Sabines’ shields and the Romans afterwards named a nearby cliff on the Capitoline the Tarpeian rock.50 Since the Capitol was

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 the stronghold of the city, her crime was a serious one, as the Romans would no longer have had a nearly capture-proof vantage point from which to fight the enemy on higher ground. Although Propertius has Tarpeia behave in a way that is not appropriate for a Roman, let alone a Vestal, the story he tells is one of community development, even if it is by violent means.51 The poem is about violence, transgression, and the death of a Roman woman, but in the end, the consequence of this is that the community expands to include the Sabines. Propertius begins his elegy by telling his audience about Tarpeia’s disloyalty to the city that allowed Jupiter’s sacred space on the Capitoline to be violated (4.4.1-8): Tarpeium nemus et Tarpeiae turpe sepulcrum fabor et antiqui limina capta Iovis. lucus erat felix hederoso conditus antro, multaque nativis obstrepit arbor aquis, Silvani ramosa domus, quo dulcis ab aestu fistula poturas ire iubebat ovis. hunc Tatius fontem vallo praecingit acerno, fidaque suggesta castra coronat humo. Tarpeia’s crime and Tarpeia’s shameful tomb I shall relate, and how the threshold of ancient Jupiter was seized. There was a favourable grove set in an ivy-covered hollow, and many a tree resounded from the natural waters, the twig-covered home of Silvanus, where away from the heat, the tuneful pipe was ordering the sheep to go and drink. Tatius here ringed his spring with a maple blockade, and to be certain, encircles it with piled earth.

Propertius employs what seems like a deceptively peaceful atmosphere as the setting for violence. The shade, trees, and pleasant springs create a locus amoenus where Tarpeia can gaze upon the object of her affection.52 At the end of the preceding passage, however, Propertius has Tatius wall off his encampment. Propertius then gives the impression that Rome is actively involved in expanding its territory through military action (9-14): quid tum Roma fuit, tubicen vicina Curetis cum quateret lento murmure saxa Iovis? atque ubi nunc terris dicuntur iura subactis, stabant Romano pila Sabina Foro. murus erant montes: ubi nunc est Curia saepta, bellicus ex illo fonte bibebat equus. What was Rome then, when the trumpeter of Cures with a prolonged blast shook the nearby hills of Jove? Where now justice is dispersed to the subject lands there stood Sabine spears in the Roman forum. The hills

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Legendary Rome formed a wall; where now the Senate house is enclosed, the war horse was drinking from that spring.

The comparison between Rome’s past and present emphasizes the laws and walls that constitute improvements for the Augustan city. In Propertius’ time, the civil wars have ended and the Romans have established their Empire and the rules for living within it. As Rothwell points out, however, the past landscape changes from pleasant vignette to reflect a war-camp, as the bellicus eques (14) comes to drink at the stream, and later the poet describes Tatius’ field as the sandy and infertile harenosis campis (19). Propertius’ details indicate that the site is not a place where Tarpeia’s love will find refuge: ‘The locus amoenus may be superficially attractive, but offer false security.’53 A Vergilian allusion is added since Tarpeia’s arms are cut by hirsutis } rubis (28). The hill is thick with brush, just as it was in Vergil’s description of the hill at Aen. 8.348 where the Capitol bristled with thorny bushes (olim silvestribus horrida dumis). Tarpeia proceeds to behave in a thoroughly un-Roman manner. Her love-songs are abhorrent to Jupiter (30). Yet the hill has become her citadel; instead of the site serving to protect the entire community, it has become her private spot from which to plot how to win the heart of Tatius, the non-Roman (29-30): et sua Tarpeia residens ita flevit ab arce vulnera, vicino non patienda Iovi: } and seated thus, from her citadel Tarpeia mourns her love-wounds, intolerable to Jupiter nearby.

Tarpeia’s behaviour foreshadows a later episode in Livy. Since the Capitoline was the domain of Jupiter, the god whose earliest function was to protect the entire community and defend it from outside attack, Tarpeia is compromising the centre of political power for the Romans by using it as a site from which she will plot how to betray the city. Moreover, as Stahl suggests, it is from this site, ‘her state’s territory’, that she longs for ‘the enemy camp’.54 Welch has pointed out that the Romans did not occupy this space before their battle with the Sabines, but instead guarded the Palatine, and suggests that Tarpeia is placed on the Capitoline as an example of ‘how the state threatens the individual’. The Capitoline, according to Welch, represents many Roman institutions and contains many monumenta that Tarpeia’s betrayal would violate: the hill’s associations with the temples of Jupiter Optimus Maximus and Feretrius, the triumph, and even Rome’s status as the seat of an eternal empire were all at stake.55 There is another way to interpret the story; Propertius deliberately placed Tarpeia on the Capitoline because it was an illustration of the dangers of using the hill, a

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 spot sacred to Jupiter, for individual profit. As Livy’s history has demonstrated, any attempts to use the hill for personal reasons can be seen as threatening to the entire Roman population. In the early days of the Republic, when Livy has Manlius gather the plebeians into his private residence on the citadel, for example, the Senate considers it to be a threat to their libertas.56 When the Romans perceive Manlius as a threat to Rome, he is cast off the Tarpeian rock. Tarpeia too will compromise the libertas of the Romans if she allows the enemy on to the Capitoline. The Romans will soon be celebrating their native festival of Parilia (4.4.31-52), just as they did in Tibullus 2.5, but the effect here is very different, since ‘the labor in 4.4 bears no fructus; moreover, Tarpeia’s treachery is an especially insidious way of annulling the labor of others’.57 But before she does, she insults Romulus by saying Tatius is more worthy to wear the toga picta than a motherless child nursed by an uncivilized she-wolf’s harsh teat (53-4). Her final act of betrayal, made possible by Romulus giving the guards the day off, takes place on the hill when she lets Tatius on to the Capitoline (85-94): Omnia praebebant somnos: sed Iuppiter unus decrevit poenis invigilare suis. prodiderat portaeque fidem patriamque iacentem, nubendique petit, quem velit, ipsa diem. at Tatius (neque enim sceleri dedit hostis honorem) ‘Nube’ ait ‘et regni scande cubile mei!’ dixit, et ingestis comitum super obruit armis. haec, virgo, officiis dos erat apta tuis. a duce Tarpeia mons est cognomen adeptus: o vigil, iniustae praemia sortis habes. Sleep left everything unguarded: but Jupiter alone declared a punishment for the wakeful maiden. For she betrayed the gate’s faith and her country caught off guard, and she sought from him the wedding day of his choice. But Tatius (for the enemy did not grant honour to crime) said, ‘Wed, and climb into my regal bed!’ As he spoke, he crushed her from above with the massive shields of his company. This, maiden, was a fit dowry for your duties. From this guide the mountain acquired its name: O watchful one, you have the reward of an unjust death.

In Tarpeia’s eyes, Tatius is worthy of occupying Roman space. She imagines that a marriage between her and Tatius will bring reconciliation to the two opposing parties, but does not see that the Sabine enemy might view her actions as a betrayal in the same way as a Roman citizen would. In the end, Tatius’ behaviour makes him a noble enemy, since he puts the welfare of the entire group before individual desire, and denounces her treachery by killing her. Titus Tatius, while using Tarpeia to gain access to the Roman territory, does not reward her

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Legendary Rome behaviour. Instead he recognizes that she has betrayed her own community and must die for her crime. Ultimately, the Capitoline hill is named the Mons Tarpeius for Tarpeia’s treachery (4.4.93-4). Propertius’ audience will remember the ending of the story in Livy: her act of betrayal sets in motion a course of events that eventually lead to a Sabine-Roman unification,58 as the ensuing battle will unite the Romans and the Sabines into one mighty army. In Propertius’ time, the community of Augustan Rome would have been well aware of Livy’s version of events and how he makes the Capitoline a ‘fixed point of reference for a discussion of continuity and change in civic memory’.59 In Propertius’ version of the story, he has located the Roman soldiers on the Capitoline, and they occupy the centre of Roman space. In doing so, he is recalling Livy’s cautionary tale of Manlius Capitolinus, whose behaviour on the Capitoline led to his downfall. Tarpeia also behaves in a similar manner. While Tarpeia was punished for her attempt to marry a foreigner,60 which would seem to be the kind of behaviour that contributed to the city’s successful growth and expansion, her use of the Capitoline as the setting for this, like Manlius’ appropriation of the site, is inappropriate. Her actions would have caused the Sabines to enter Roman space and to endanger the Romans in their own territory. Unlike the Roman soldiers who are camped on the hill in 4.4, Tarpeia’s use of the hill is personal, not communal, and her death as a result of this transgression is inevitable. In spite of, or perhaps as a result of Tarpeia’s efforts, Rome will continue to flourish under the direction of Numa, the first Sabine king.61 Roman deaths, the betrayal of values, and the violation of boundaries were themes that would have been on the minds of the Romans. Propertius’ vision of this story reinforces the message that as the destruction of old boundaries changes the face of the city, Rome emerges as a better and stronger place, destined to become a great empire. Propertius 4.9: Hercules comes to Rome In the last of Propertius’ three poems, Hercules arrives at Rome, kills Cacus, and dedicates the Ara Maxima. This story is the first one told by Evander to Aeneas, but it is the last one Propertius shares with his audience. In Vergil’s lengthy version of the story (Aen. 8.184-301), Hercules kills the giant Geryon and takes his cattle to the Tiber. When he falls asleep on the riverbank, Cacus, a local strongman, leads some of the herd backwards into a cave, so that their hoofprints will not give away their location. But Hercules finds the missing animals and strikes Cacus dead with his club. In the Aeneid, the Hercules story comes at the start of a series of events that will set Rome on the future path to becoming a great

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 empire.62 When Aeneas comes to Pallanteum, Evander and his men are making a sacrifice to honour Hercules (Aen. 8.102-3). After the introductions are made, Evander begins to tell Aeneas how Hercules saved the city from a monstrous creature (Aen. 8.184-99): Postquam exempta fames et amor compressus edendi, rex Evandrus ait: ‘non haec sollemnia nobis, has ex more dapes, hanc tanti numinis aram vana superstitio veterumque ignara deorum imposuit: saevis, hospes Troiane, periclis servati facimus meritosque novamus honores. iam primum saxis suspensam hanc aspice rupem, disiectae procul ut moles desertaque montis stat domus et scopuli ingentem traxere ruinam. hic spelunca fuit vasto summota recessu, semihominis Caci facies quam dira tenebat solis inaccessam radiis; semperque recenti caede tepebat humus, foribusque adfixa superbis ora virum tristi pendebant pallida tabo. huic monstro Volcanus erat pater: illius atros ore vomens ignis magna se mole ferebat. }’ When their hunger was removed and their love of eating sated, King Evander said: ‘Superstition, empty and ignorant of the gods, did not impose this ritual, this customary feast, and this altar to the great divine power on us; it is because we have been saved from cruel dangers, Trojan guest, that we conduct these rites and renew these worthy honours. First of all look how this cliff hangs over the rocks, see the faraway scattered heaps and the abandoned mountain-home, the toppled together rock piles, here was a cave with such depth that it never saw the light of day. The half-human Cacus, unbearable to see, lived there, and the dirt floor was forever warm with fresh blood, while he fixed on his outer doors men’s faces, pale with wretched rot. Vulcan was father to this lumbering monstrosity, from his mouth he spews forth black fires. }’

Evander continues with a description of how Hercules killed the monstrous Cacus and explains that the altar to Hercules, the Ara Maxima, was built in the Forum Boarium.63 Vergil’s treatment of the story emphasizes the importance of labor for Hercules, and labor is one of the main elements in the story that establishes a connection between Hercules, Aeneas, and Augustus.64 The parallels between Augustan Rome and the past are also evident. Hercules’ removal of Cacus from proto-Rome highlights the benefits of ridding the city of dangerous elements, such as unwanted despots. Reason and heroic behaviour are victorious over madness.65 The similarities in Vergil between Hercules and Augustus and Antony and Cacus make the violence of the recent civil war seem all the more relevant and meaningful, because Hercules’

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Legendary Rome actions are of heroic and epic proportions.66 Although in the East Antony had cultivated similarities between himself and Hercules to the point where he was equated with the god,67 in post-Actian Rome Augustus appropriated Hercules for his own use.68 Soon afterwards, Hercules occupied a prominent position in the Augustan programme: Augustus celebrated the festival of Hercules on 12 August 29 BC, and this was followed by his triple triumph on 13, 14, and 15 August.69 The narrative recalls Augustus’ own deliberate association of himself with Hercules. In 4.9 Propertius casts Hercules in a less than flattering, though comic, light.70 Hercules in this poem does not replace chaos with civilization; Propertius has removed the heroism of Hercules by having him break into the shrine of Bona Dea, just as he broke into Cacus’ cave.71 But by withholding the appearance of Hercules until after the tour of Rome in 4.1 that showed the similarities between past and present, and the disgrace of Tarpeia in 4.4, which showed how the betrayal of the city made it stronger in the end, this final story also reinforces the message that from its earliest origins, Rome has always been populated by morally dubious figures.72 The Golden Age is conspicuously absent from Propertius’ early Rome, as no one lives without labor in an idyllic landscape. But the form of labor that Hercules offers Rome will be comic more than it will be constructive to building a great empire. In spite of his efforts, Rome endures and flourishes. Rome is barely in existence and is underdeveloped when Hercules arrives (4.9.1-10): Amphitryoniades qua tempestate iuvencos egerat a stabulis, o Erythea, tuis, venit ad invictos pecorosa Palatia montis, et statuit fessos fessus et ipse boves, qua Velabra suo stagnabant flumine quoque nauta per urbanas velificabat aquas. sed non infido manserunt hospite Caco incolumes: furto polluit ille Iovem. incola Cacus erat, metuendo raptor ab antro, per tria partitos qui dabat ora sonos. At that time when the son of Amphitryon had driven his steers from your stalls, O Erythea, he came to the sheep-covered Palatine, its slopes unconquerable: here, weary, he stopped his worn-out cattle, at that place where the Velabrum pooled with its own river, and the sailor was raising his sails over the urban waters. But the cattle did not remain unharmed, as Cacus was an untrustworthy host, and he violated Jupiter with his theft. Cacus was an inhabitant there, a bandit who, from his fearful cave, spoke from three distinct mouths.

Propertius’ landscape has more in common with the landscape of Tibullus 2.5 than Aeneid 8.73 It is not as well-defined as Vergil’s setting and

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 contains allusions to Tibullus’ early Rome. The Palatine is pecorosa (3), which recalls Tibullus’ herbosa (2.5.25) and Propertius also includes the Velabrum (5) in this scene, which is one of only three monuments that Tibullus specifically names as part of his archaic landscape (2.5.33). The main difference between the two bucolic settings is that within Propertius’ rustic landscape, there is labor, of a comic sort. Hercules’ labor, after killing Cacus, appears to be breaking into the shrine of Bona Dea and quenching his thirst, and it is not clear whether dedicating the Ara Maxima at the end of the poem will redeem him.74 At the end of Vergil’s tour, Evander invites Aeneas into his house, where a triumphant Hercules had already crossed the threshold, and his last words to Aeneas are: te quoque dignum/ finge deo which can be translated as ‘be yourself worthy of the god’ (Aen. 8.363-4), or as Williams suggests, the text could be saying ‘be worthy of being a god’.75 In this poem, Hercules utters words that are minora deo, or ‘unworthy of a god’ (32) as he requests water from the priestess of Bona Dea.76 Following a reply from the priestess of Bona Dea denying him the right to drink the water, he knocks down the doors to the shrine (61-70): sic anus: Ille umeris postis concussit opacos, nec tulit iratam ianua clausa sitim. at postquam exhausto iam flumine vicerat aestum, ponit vix siccis tristia iura labris: ‘Angulus hic mundi nunc me mea fata trahentem accipit: haec fesso vix mihi terra patet. Maxima quae gregibus devota est Ara repertis, ara per has’ inquit ‘maxima facta manus, haec nullis umquam pateat veneranda puellis, Herculis aeternum ne sit inulta sitis.’ Thus the old woman spoke. But with his shoulders he knocked over the shady gates, and the closed door could not fend off his fierce thirst. But after he had slaked his thirst and had drained the last drop from the stream, with lips scarcely dry, he made a stern declaration: ‘This part of the world now receives me dragging my life, although I am tired, this place scarcely welcomes me. This is the greatest altar, dedicated on the return of my flocks, made strong through my efforts. May it never extend its hospitality to be worshiped by women, so that the thirst of Hercules may not remain unavenged for all time.’

The poem ends with the story of the origin of the god Sanctus during the regency, which brings Hercules’ story closer to the historical period (4.9.71-4).77 Propertius distances the dedication of the Ara Maxima from the slaying of the monster Cacus, and gives Hercules an undignified reason for dedicating the altar. For Propertius’ audience, this story would have alluded to comparisons in the deeds of Hercules and the behaviour of Antony, who claimed to be descended from the god and

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Legendary Rome whose recent actions had been seen as self-serving and tyrannical.78 It also looks forward to the Augustan regime, where Augustus adopts the myth of Hercules for his own purposes. His use of the myth incorporates themes of vengeance, reconciliation, and the integration of foreign elements into the empire.79 The poem is striking for its lack of detail: the landscape is barely formed, the details of Cacus’ murder are pared down to a minimum, and the political elements, although hinted at, are never directly mentioned. Propertius does not have to use Hercules as an inspiration for Aeneas or Augustus. His Hercules resembles Antony, and the lumbering mock hero who smashes down shrines provides an additional note of comic relief in a landscape populated by some of Rome’s most notorious figures. His Hercules is uncivilized and destructive, adding to his portrait of Rome’s morally ambiguous origins and poking fun at conventional themes of restoration and renewal. Despite the city’s dubious origins, Rome has a strong foundation and it will endure. Rome does not need Hercules to be the hero at this point in time; Propertius has already told the story of Rome’s foundations to the hospes, and he has demonstrated Rome’s resilience despite Tarpeia’s betrayal. Conclusion Propertius’ emphasis on martial law and less-than-virtuous behaviour in Book 4 suggests that Augustan Rome develops from a flawed city, since the poet populates his proto- and early Roman landscape with characters whose actions take on a dubious moral quality.80 The lack of a Golden Age existence in Propertius’ early Roman landscape also contributes to the sense that the city is flawed from the start. Therefore, instead of reading the past as leading to a state of decline in the poet’s own time, there is another possibility to consider.81 Some of the defining characteristics of the Golden Age, in addition to a peaceful existence, are a lack of weapons, wars, and borders, and of course, a lack of gold and other metals. But Rome in Propertius’ time contains aurea templa, a sign of Rome’s wealth and splendour, and the city has well-defined walls and borders. Propertius is not above realizing in his own time that the peace that he and the rest of the community profit from comes at a price and that some of the elements that were previously excluded from a Golden Age existence must now be part of the equation of renewal and restoration in order to maintain concord within the city. Thus, he does not require origins derived from an idealized pastoral landscape, nor does he envisage a bleak existence for himself and his peers derived from an Iron Age past. Instead, Propertius’ three poems about Rome’s foundations can be evaluated on the basis that the poet does not see the past as a hindrance to progress in his own time. Vergil and Tibullus envisage early Rome in a far more moderate setting that contains pastoral elements yet eventually evolves into civilization out of neces-

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5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 sity for Rome’s moral and societal improvement.82 Propertius’ Rome starts out harsh and uncivilized, but his description of archaic Rome suggests that violent transformations of the landscape over time do not preclude the city’s future stability and permanence.

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Conclusion: Rome Restored In ‘A Touch of Murder’, the first episode of the BBC mini-series, ‘I, Claudius’, the imperial family and their guests, including Augustus, Livia, Marcus Agrippa, and Marcellus, are relaxing after a meal, reclining on their couches, when Augustus announces that, as part of the celebration of the seventh anniversary of the battle of Actium, he has commissioned a cake made in the shape of Agrippa’s ship and a poetry recital to honour the occasion. A fight breaks out between the senior statesman Agrippa and his rival for imperial power, the younger and inexperienced Marcellus, when Marcellus doubts that the battle was important enough in Rome’s history to commemorate, let alone remember year after year through tiresome tributes. Marcellus tells Agrippa that in his opinion, Actium barely qualifies as a military engagement, and that he knows this as an avid student of history. Agrippa replies that when Marcellus has experienced his own military campaigns instead of just reading about the deeds of others, then he will be qualified to discuss Actium with him. Later in the episode, Augustus confidently sends Agrippa off on a campaign to the East, as he is certain that domestic affairs at Rome can run smoothly without him. Marcellus’ ennui towards Agrippa’s military exploits makes for entertaining television, but it is not an accurate reflection of the real significance of Antony’s defeat at Actium: the battle marked the start of a new era for the Romans. From that point on they observed the gradual and complicated rise to power of their new emperor. In truth, Rome was just beginning to show signs of stability seven years after Actium. In 23 BC Augustus, who was almost forty years old, was able to step down as consul and rely upon the tribunician powers he had been granted to maintain his imperial rule. But a year later in 22 BC he was forced to return to Rome when a food shortage caused riots in the city. After solving the problem, he departed for the East later that year.1 Three years afterwards in 19 BC, his power appeared more secure upon his return, but he still needed to face the fact that the process of healing from the recent civil wars would be a long and painful one for the culturally diverse Roman population. As this work has shown, the process involved a return to Rome’s past by some of the poets who had lived through the crisis and were in the process of redefining what it meant to be part of the Roman community in Augustus’ time. But one

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Legendary Rome poet in particular, Publius Ovidius Naso, was only twelve years old when Augustus defeated Antony at Actium. Much like the fictionalized version of the historical figure Marcellus in ‘I, Claudius’, his perception of Rome was coloured by the fact that he had not been old enough to see his contemporaries die in the civil wars. This does not mean that life in Ovid’s Rome was free of hardships.2 Ovid’s Rome was past the crisis point of war but remained a dynamic and evolving city, even as the Pax Augusta was taking shape. Ovid also contributed to the dialogue on community and identity in a city that was undergoing many changes and adjustments. Ovid and the Augustan poets In many ways a brief look at Ovid’s Fasti, with a particular emphasis on the first book, provides a logical closing point for this study of the foundations of Rome in Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius.3 The surviving portion of the Fasti, which consists of the first six books, was revised after the death of Augustus in AD 14.4 The last datable reference in Ovid’s Fasti (1.63) was, in all likelihood, an allusion to Germanicus’ triumph in AD 17.5 Ovid’s poem presents a calendar of stories about Rome’s religious rituals and their origins in past time. It is at once a sophisticated treatment of Roman historical traditions and legends as well as an exploration of Roman monumental spaces and characters. Ovid also injects humour into his portrait of early Rome, and like the works of his fellow poets, there is much dispute over how to interpret the Fasti, and how to deal with the various tensions that emerge as the work unfolds.6 As many scholars have noted, like the emperor Augustus, the Fasti is very hard to pin down. In the first book of the Fasti, Ovid takes a look at Rome in legendary time with Janus as narrator of Rome’s early development. The protoRoman community was not noble nor were they particularly to be admired for their values, since it was poverty that drove them to economize.7 Even in the time of Saturn, the community knew the value of money, and when Janus is asked why cash, in addition to the honey and other gifts, is left at his temple as an offering at the start of each year, he explains that Rome-prior-to-Romulus was hardly more virtuous than the present-day community (1.191-6): risit et ‘o quam te fallunt tua saecula,’ dixit ‘qui stipe mel sumpta dulcius esse putes. vix ego Saturno quemquam regnante videbam, cuius non animo dulcia lucra forent. tempore crevit amor, qui nunc est summus, habendi: vix ultra, quo iam progrediatur, habet.’

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Conclusion: Rome Restored He laughed and said, ‘O how your century tricks you, if you perceive honey to be sweeter than a handful of coins. I scarcely saw anyone during the rule of Saturn who did not have in mind desirable profits. The love of ownership, which is now at the height of its frenzy, increased over time, it is scarcely able to grow any more.’

Immediately afterwards, Ovid’s description of early Rome shows the poverty and simplicity of the people (1.197-204): Pluris opes nunc sunt, quam prisci temporis annis, dum populus pauper, dum nova Roma fuit, dum casa Martigenam capiebat parva Quirinum, et dabat exiguum fluminis ulva torum. Iuppiter angusta vix totus stabat in aede, inque Iovis dextra fictile fulmen erat. frondibus ornabant quae nunc Capitolia gemmis, pascebatque suas ipse senator oves. Now wealth is valued more than in the early times, when people were impoverished, when Rome was new, when a small hut contained Marsborn Quirinus, and river grass made a small mattress. Jupiter barely used to stand upright in a close shrine, and in the right hand of Jove rested a clay thunderbolt. They decorated the Capitol with foliage as they do now with jewels, and the senator himself put his own sheep out to graze.

This description of the early site of Rome in Ovid retains the same qualities found in the landscapes described by Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius; in all three authors the founder’s hut is not specifically named as Romulus’ hut on the Palatine in the passages which describe Rome’s foundations, and if Jupiter appears in early Rome, it is in his guise as the thundering god on the Capitol. The hut of Romulus, here called Quirinus, is not given a specific location and Jupiter can be found cramped in a too-small temple, clutching a thunderbolt.8 As Ovid’s description of archaic Rome contains elements that are also familiar to the Augustan city, such as the hut of Romulus, it is possible that hunched-over Jupiter clutching a thunderbolt could also be an allusion to the Temple of Jupiter Tonans9 on the Capitoline. Although there was no Temple to Jupiter Tonans on the Capitoline before the Augustan Age, the thundering god had always played a role in the early community’s development. The narrow bed of Romulus in his tiny hut and the close quarters of the god Jupiter on the Capitol further emphasize the economy of the times. The Palatine and the Capitoline remain the focal point for the archaic city. This passage can be read as debunking the myth of moral decline from the past to Augustus’ time, since it was poverty, and not a desire to live a more virtuous lifestyle, that caused the early Romans to live as they did,10 but it can also be seen as a way

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Legendary Rome to bring the past closer to the present, because topographical evidence of the archaic city was still in evidence on the Palatine and Capitoline in Ovid’s own time, and because the emphasis is on Romulus as the war-god Quirinus and Jupiter as the protector of the community. Ovid sets up a comparison between Romulus and Augustus that leaves his audience questioning whether a founder-figure who came to power through murdering his brother is a suitable role model for the emperor to follow. Romulus must step aside to allow Augustus, who did a better job of defending the city walls, to rule (2.133-44). But Ovid’s portrait of Romulus gradually unfolds into a figure who is warlike and who reigns over a society with arma (3.37-80; 85-6; 179-232). Unlike other Roman authors,11 Ovid never portrays Romulus as a king who has any common ground with his successor, the priestly Numa. Ovid reminds Romulus that he is seen as responsible for his brother’s death, te Remus incusat, at 2.143 but later Ovid recalls the version of Remus’ death at the hands of Celer, and in Ovid’s version, Romulus is tearful and laments the loss (4.843-8).12 Throughout the Fasti, allusions to violent strife between the brothers, to civil war, and to the similarities that Augustus appeared to cultivate between himself and Romulus leave the reader with the impression that the violence of the civil wars was still very much a part of the community dialogue on how to recover from conflict and reform the society in Ovid’s time.13 Civil strife remains fresh in their memory. Tarpeia in Ovid’s Fasti is given a much smaller role than in Propertius 4.4, as she is not at the centre of the story. Rather, the focus is on Janus and how he helps the Romans by obstructing Tatius’ path with a stream of boiling water (1.259-76).14 Tarpeia’s efforts in early Rome’s development are reduced to a brief mention as Janus tells the story (1.259-72): ille, manu mulcens propexam ad pectora barbam, protinus Oebalii rettulit arma Tati, utque levis custos, armillis capta, Sabinos, ad summae tacitos duxerit arcis iter. ‘inde, velut nunc est, per quam descenditis,’ inquit ‘arduus in valles per fora clivus erat. et iam contigerat portam, Saturnia cuius dempserat oppositas invidiosa seras: cum tanto veritus committere numine pugnam ipse meae movi callidus artis opus oraque, qua pollens ope sum, fontana reclusi sumque repentinas eiaculatus aquas. ante tamen madidis subieci sulpura venis, clauderet ut Tatio fervidus umor iter. }’ With his hand he smoothed the beard which fell to his chest, immediately he spoke of the weapons of Oebalian Tatius, and how the flighty custodian

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Conclusion: Rome Restored who was captivated by bracelets led the silent Sabines to the height of the Arx. ‘From that point, through which you descend, just as it is now, there was an arduous slope through the fora into the vales. Tatius had already reached the gate whose barring bolts spiteful Saturnia had withdrawn. Since I feared to begin battle with such a divine force, I skilfully made use of my own talent; I unlocked the mouths of springs and at once sent them bursting forth; I have this sort of power. But first I threw sulphur into the flowing channels, so that the boiling liquid would block the route for Tatius. }’

Tarpeia, the levis custos, is far more concerned with armillae than arma, as she was in previous versions of the story.15 She is not even mentioned by name, and the scene is no longer the narrative of how she hastened the warfare between the Romans and the Sabines. The event is ‘bloodless’ and more about how Janus handled the potential threat of a Sabine attack on the Capitoline. It is no longer Tarpeia’s tale.16 Ovid’s tale of Hercules’ rescue of the cattle is a brief but violent look at the hero’s slaying of Cacus (1.543-87). Hercules arrives at the house of Evander with the cattle of Geryon. He is sound asleep when the theft of his cattle occurs (1.543-58). During his battle with the terrifying Cacus he uses his club to fight off the fire-breathing monster and eventually kill him (1.59-78). A ‘son of Jupiter’ (1.559), he will be Rome’s divine protector once he has completed this task.17 Hercules’ final effort is to build the Ara Maxima in the future site of the Forum Boarium (1.580-2). Barchiesi argues that since in Ovid’s version of the myth, Hercules erects his own altar, he has set up a hero-cult to himself that alludes to Augustus’ own emperor-cult: ‘Like Hercules before him, Augustus clearly occupies a position between the divine and the human.’18 Green’s discussion of Vergil’s impact on Ovid considers how Ovid retains many of the Vergilian details of the story: in both authors the description of the monster, Cacus, and Hercules’ fight-to-the-death with him are told on a grand scale. In Vergil, this allows the audience to see how Evander’s settlement was saved from a fierce threat and in Ovid, the epic proportions of the fight scene make the deification of Hercules seem all the more worthy.19 This is in contrast to Propertius’ version of the story, where the only thing that was on an epic scale and of fierce proportion was Hercules’ comic behaviour. Ovid’s recounting of the foundations of the city (proto-Roman and archaic settlements, Tarpeia, and Hercules) retains the order of Propertius’ ‘tour’ but restores the Vergilian grandeur to the myth. The community that Janus rescues and Hercules saves from the monster welcomes the salvation their actions bring.

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Legendary Rome Multiple associations for Rome’s foundations Often when a community is in the process of redefining its origins, a great deal of emphasis is placed on rediscovering what made the foundations of the city noteworthy and memorable. The legends of the foundations of Rome, for example, mark what makes the city exceptional and distinct from other surrounding societies. The memories that the poets preserved about the founders of the proto-city and legendary Rome are, in part, a recollection of the ideal cultural values that those who founded the city would exemplify. Their memories describe how the city grew into the community of Augustan Rome because its first settlement became an ordered social group that developed laws and lived under the direction of a leader who modelled a modest and virtuous existence. Moreover, the memories serve the purpose of defining who can be a part of the community. Thus, the members of the community – past and present – are the ones who follow the rules for a civilized society and contribute to the success of the city.20 This act of defining who is part of the community can be used to justify how whoever is not making a positive contribution to society is not a member worthy of inclusion. In particular, what set Rome apart and made it unique from its neighbours was its leaders’ recognition that assimilation rather than subjugation was the best way to deal with outsiders.21 Gary Miles considers why this process of remembering the city’s origins occurs during times of dramatic change or social upheaval for a community: Foundation stories are typically generated not at the time of foundation, but after the fact, in an effort to address changes in self-perception associated with other changes in the community. They may be efforts to inhibit change, calls for a return to essential values in danger of being lost, efforts either to support innovation by presenting it as a return to traditional values, or to redefine the community by claiming to displace a false story of foundation with ‘the true story’. Similarly, because foundation stories concern the essential identity of a community and who can belong to it, a great deal is at stake in these stories, and they are often highly contested. Consequently, a community’s foundation stories may not only proliferate over time; several of them may compete for acceptance at any given moment, especially during times of intense political, social, or cultural disturbance.

According to Miles, this redefinition of community is accomplished by a return to traditional values that are often preserved in the memory of a community’s foundation story.22 In order to build a bridge between Rome’s past and the Augustan present, the community as a whole needed to find a way to embrace the past and return to what Miles has labelled the ‘essential’ or ‘traditional’ values. The events leading up to the end of the Republic were characterized by loss and chaos, and it

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Conclusion: Rome Restored would take a long time for the community to trust that there would be the return to a time of prosperity and security. As the poets’ literary visions of a cultural and social renewal explored the theme of Rome’s early origins, their texts examined an Augustan Rome that highlighted many of the values and virtues thought to be present in the early proto-Roman communities. The social and political upheaval that took place at the end of the Republic and the start of the Empire served as a catalyst for the kind of replication of foundation stories that Miles is describing here: there was a need in post-Actian Rome to re-establish the rules for who could belong to the community and identify who was Roman and who was not. The not-Romans, however, often had the potential to be assimilated into the community. Indeed, ten years after Augustus celebrated the triple triumph in 29 BC, the memory of Actium became less about recalling a civil war and more the commemoration of a fight against a ‘foreign foe’.23 Both Vergil (Aen. 8.675-730) and Tibullus (2.5.115-22) also reference foreign conquests. The signs of continuity are evident, just as the description of Saturnia in Aeneid 8 demonstrated, beginning with the settlement of Saturn, Rome has always and will continue to civilize groups that can learn the laws of its society. Both memory and vision would play an important part in the community’s recovery from the civil wars. For Aeneas, looking at the past would motivate him to finish his mission, and his remembrance was equivalent to being ‘linked to the past visually’.24 When the audience learned about the various and sometimes conflicting foundation stories involving the city of Rome, it enabled them to create their own cultural identity in the age of Augustus.25 Putnam argues that the act of seeing archaic Rome alongside Augustan Rome would have highlighted the ideological changes that had taken place in the city since its early development.26 Learning about the significance of place contributed to this process because the recollections of the past were never straightforward, just as multiple meanings were also created for present events: ‘it is important to know and to remember the entire history of a place, because a single place can point back to multiple and contradictory memories.’27 Aeneas has the memory of Troy’s destruction in mind and his own loss and flight as he creates an understanding of the events he sees unfolding.28 His efforts will set Rome’s destiny in motion, but he will never fully realize what his labour and many sacrifices have accomplished.29 It is the struggle to found the Empire that appeals to Vergil, and all of his heroes and founders whom Evander mentioned on the tour, including Romulus, have something in common with Aeneas: establishing peace in Latium by means of war.30 Vergil’s audience would apply their own experiences to the text as they came up with individual readings, but the sacrifices made during the civil war and afterwards in order to be able to live in peace cannot have been far from their minds as they read or heard his work.

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Legendary Rome The community and the landscape There remains much in common about the way in which we view landscapes in modern times and the way in which the ancients viewed their surroundings. One of the problems that the ancients faced when they contemplated new designs and building plans for the city was how to incorporate new structures into an already existing landscape. Diane Favro argues that urban landscapes are ‘scripted’ and she describes the process in a way that is similar to Bryson’s concept of visuality. A visual culture develops within a given space, she points out, because the designer must consider the impact of a new structure or structures on the existing landscape, which would already contain elements that present a certain message. At the same time, she indicates that the patron retains control over the message. Favro notes that, accordingly, the considerations for urban design include the idea that landscapes are not static. They are always in a state of flux. The appearances of buildings and civic spaces can change depending upon time of day, and other factors, such as whether or not the place is occupied. Any additions to the cityscape must take these conditions into account, in order to ensure a harmonious fit with any prior structures and the natural elements of the landscape. While the landscape in ancient Rome was not experienced by an observer in quite the same way as a text, the fact that there was at this time a desire to create a coherent narrative and a conceptual design for the spaces that the community moved through offers a basis for comparison between the literary narrative and the visual one. Thus, a carefully considered visual plan for the city, that the community would have identified itself with, or at least reacted to, indicates the importance of visual markers within the physical setting of an urban landscape. The development of a narrative framework for Augustan Rome would have been at least one factor that Rome’s inhabitants would have taken into consideration when determining how to process and understand the changes taking place around them. Favro stresses that the environment in antiquity required a visual awareness of the natural features of the landscape that the modern observer does not have: unlike modern urban environments, street signs, addresses, and maps were not common features within the cityscape at that time. This meant that navigating through the city required the use of monuments and other noticeable features within the landscape to find specific locations. This kind of movement through the physical landscape resulted in the creation of what Favro calls ‘environmental memories’. It was possible, and entirely probable, for ancient travellers to make an in-depth inspection of a city. They moved through the environment at a slower pace, which permitted an unhurried inspection. Moreover, the environment did not change as rapidly as it does today, allowing for

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Conclusion: Rome Restored more opportunities for repeated viewings of the same scene.31 Careful observation of physical monuments and built environments within the landscape was far more of a necessity in antiquity. Previously, I mentioned that orators constructed memories by using sites on physical landscapes as mnemonic devices. Rhetorical training, as part of the education of the privileged strata of society, also contributed to the ability to read cues from a landscape. Favro notes that this led to a tendency to ‘look for an underlying, coherent narrative in built environments’. The parallels between the visual images in literature and the visual appearance of landscapes also contributed to a tendency to see visual prompts within a physical setting. She argues: Even more explicitly than rhetoric, storytelling relied upon visual images as organizational cues. Familiar locales grounded the storyline in long epics; descriptions of environmental ambience set the tone for events to come. In the real world, observers learned about politics, religion, and cultural norms from the messages conveyed by physical objects.

Favro establishes a link between narration, storytelling, and physical landscapes which suggests that the message a monument or specific place would evoke to passers-by could be an effective way to communicate a shift in the values that defined the culture or current political climate. But even members of the community who did not have rhetorical training could make connections between a physical object and the visual message it conveyed. Favro cites not only training, but also daily experience, and in particular the visual stimuli that the city provided, as key reasons why all members of the society were constantly looking for visual messages in their surroundings and finding coherent narratives to experience: In effect, the familiar representations in sculptures, coins, and other art forms served as the lingua franca of the Roman world. Buildings and cityscapes were likewise texts meant to be read by people of all classes and backgrounds.

Favro’s description of this process places heavy emphasis on the idea that an environment is read in a way that is very similar to a work of literature.32 And because viewers could return to a landscape repeatedly and experience it under a variety of conditions, it remained an interactive learning environment. Augustus used the physical topography of the city to his advantage: through the reorganization of the urban environment of Rome, he effectively communicated that a change had taken place.

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Legendary Rome Summary In this book I have attempted to demonstrate to a contemporary audience the process by which the Romans coped with reforming their cultural identity following a period of intense and bloody conflict that forced the members of their society to take sides and form divisive factions. An examination of the interconnections between place, memory and Roman cultural identity has demonstrated how, in the years following 31 BC, the various members of the Roman community came together to reflect on the past and create new public memories that were attached to monuments within their city. Their method of commemoration has much in common with the way in which modern societies deal with similar crises. The Romans existed in an era of plural identities and recognized multiple versions of the past, and the preservation of monuments and commemorative public spaces was crucial as they provided a forum in which the Romans were able to come together to negotiate their differences. I examined visuality, or the idea that the poets were participating in a visual culture that permitted them to see the monuments in the context of how others have seen them before them. In particular, I applied this idea to the poetry of Tibullus and Propertius in order to determine how they were seeing Rome in light of Vergil’s earlier vision of the landscape. The poets’ ability to communicate their perceptions of the landscape on the Palatine and Capitoline in a way that was conscious of the social milieu that was already in existence made their perception meaningful to themselves and others and serves as an example of how visual culture works. When the poets undertook revision of archaic Rome in their texts, it is the fact that they were composing their works at the same time as they were participants in the daily life in the city around them (i.e., seeing the city as providing a social context for what they were viewing) that made the experience of seeing the archaic city brought back to life so memorable and worthy of evoking a response. Their ability to react through verbal means to the visual culture in which they were immersed demonstrates that they had learned to see socially. I also explored Victor Turner’s theory of social drama and how it can be applied to the transitional phase from Republic to Empire. A consideration of the topographical changes on the Palatine and Capitoline and the literature that addresses these changes as a kind of social drama helps us to understand how Roman cultural identity was reshaped and re-established after Augustus came into power. Through the use of ritual, the application of performance, and the emphasis on close identification of a cultural group with a specific individual, social drama allows a community to work through a crisis by exploring ways to recall the past that will keep the society together, rather than encouraging it to form factions and splinter groups. Conse-

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Conclusion: Rome Restored quently, defining the community’s reaction to the formation of the Roman Empire as a form of social drama provides another way to understand how the Romans would have participated in this process of redefining their role within the new Roman Empire. This conflict meant that the entire society now had to face the fact that they no longer were in agreement about how they wanted to remember their past. They also had to confront the consequences of the violence that had nearly destroyed their society. My consideration of the poets’ reinvention of this mythic landscape represents a significant departure from previous studies because I chose to focus on the landscape of the Palatine and Capitoline hills and the foundations of the early community in both the Augustan restoration of the landscape and within the texts of Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius. A systematic study of the potential impact the Augustan restorations on the Palatine and Capitoline hills had on the poets’ reinvention of archaic Rome has led to a much more exhaustive discussion of how the return of the archaic landscape contributed to the restoration and healing of the community within Augustan Rome than has been previously been considered. For the community of Augustan Rome the past was easily reconstructed in multiple locations. This meant that the physical landscape of the city took on significance as the dramatic setting for events; descriptions of the various locales held memories of the city’s past experiences imprinted on their monuments and in their topographical features.33 The transfer of a memory from one locale to another re-contextualized and selectively edited prior versions of the account of an event.34 This can be seen in the comparison of the poetry of Vergil and Tibullus: the Capitoline remains the focal point in 2.5 as it did in Aeneid 8, yet a significant detail has changed because Tibullus transferred proto-Rome from the Palatine to the Capitoline. A careful study of this shift in location yields a more sophisticated depiction of the Capitoline and Jupiter in 2.5 than has previously been assumed. Tibullus’ protoRome, moreover, reverses many of Vergil’s key details: Saturn’s age is a threat to humans, the Palatine is unpopulated, and the Capitoline is the occupied area. Tibullus’ use of the landscape encourages his audience to recognize the role the hill played in the concept of an urbs aeterna during Augustus’ reign. Therefore, the rustic setting of the Capitoline as humiles in Iovis arce casae is not merely an idyllic scene. Instead, Tibullus makes a significant change to the landscape when he places the hut of Evander on the Capitoline. The new setting encouraged the Romans to bear in mind other traditions for the death of Remus, including Remus as a sacrificial victim rather than a murder victim, and allowed for a consideration of the Capitoline’s civil and religious functions at the same time as it recalled Augustus’ hut of Romulus on the Capitoline. Thus, 2.5 demonstrates how the dynamic

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Legendary Rome nature of memory transforms the story of Rome’s origins over time. Moreover, the Propertian vision of early Rome, when reconsidered as a response, at least in part to the changes taking place in the topography of the city of Rome at this time, suggests that the archaic model of the early community is more optimistic than prior studies have argued. Propertius’ portrait of the early city differs from the versions which Vergil and Tibullus created in that the early city is neither pastoral nor a rural retreat. Instead, soldiers occupy his Rome and references to violence dominate the landscape scenes. At first glance, it appears as though the Vergilian echoes of the ancient past in Propertius do not lead to praise of the Augustan city. Yet Propertius’ portrait of the city is actually a careful and deliberate reversal of Vergil’s tour that allows his audience to see how the violent events that took place in the ancient city are what gave the city its stable and prosperous appearance in Propertius’ time. Because the community was forced to overcome adversity, Propertius’ text demonstrates how Rome was made better and stronger through triumphing over hardships and enduring wars. Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius all explore in detail the moral and political significance of both the Palatine and Capitoline hills. The poets confirm the sites’ primacy as a religious and political focal point for the city during the development of Rome’s early origins. But there is another issue that comes to the forefront when looking at the city’s legendary past: present in the works of Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius is a reminder that the archaic landscape contained the elements necessary for the city to develop into a great empire. An element of violent strife is present from the city’s first foundations. In all three poets, however, proto-Rome is neither a paradise that gives way to decline nor a pastoral retreat: the landscape always contains the memory of wars and conquest. Rome as a civilization, even in the earliest stages of its foundations, is never presented as free of crime, strife, or the struggle to maintain borders and boundaries. It follows that a great empire would only be achieved once Augustus directly confronted and conquered any elements that would weaken the community, even if this meant resorting to violence. This process was a dynamic one that showed how he transitioned from a triumphal leader who claimed his power over the community through military means to an imperial ruler whose divinity-sanctioned rule promised to restore peace and bring social order to the community. This does not mean, however, that the criminal or less desirable elements of Rome’s foundation story were erased from memory after the transition was made from Republic to Empire. As a result, the ongoing discourse about Rome’s origins directly confronts the contradictions that occur when the memories of a violent past that include the foundation of the city by Romulus are juxtaposed with the promise of a return to a Golden Age, which had previously existed only in the proto-Roman

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Conclusion: Rome Restored version of the city but now was being brought back to life in Augustus’ time. Significantly, this act of remembrance, even if it does involve the multiple versions of the foundation story – with elements of both a Golden Age society and murder and civil strife – that the poets have created, is part of the process of moving past the memory of civil war. It is through this kind of dialogue and exchange of competing or contrasting reminiscences that the healing process begins. By investigating how the emperor Augustus’ building programme on the Palatine and Capitoline along with the poets’ reinvention of the topographical landscape of early Rome played a significant role in shaping memories, this work has attempted to answer the question, ‘How did the community of Augustan Rome remember the past through its monuments?’ What a comparative study of the poetry of Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius offers to a contemporary audience, consequently, is the opportunity to explore how these sites were used as a starting point by these poets for an exchange of ideas on continuity and change, and unity and divisiveness. When these three foundation stories of Rome are read together, it is possible to see how this vision changes over time and gradually evolves into a set of varying perspectives on what it meant to found Rome and be part of the community of Augustan Rome.

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Notes Introduction 1. Grandazzi 1997, 213. 2. An overview of post-Actian Rome may be found in Gurval (1995, 1-17) and Syme (1939, 294-312). See also Southern 1998, 99-101. 3. Southern 1998, 102-4. 4. Edwards (1996, 49) cites Gros (1976, 26): ‘As Gros stresses, the first temples to be restored were not necessarily the most prominent in the city, but were rather ones with particular symbolic links to Rome’s earliest history: the Temple of Jupiter Feretrius (associated with Romulus) that of Victoria (associated with Evander) and that of Saturn (associated with Hercules).’ An excellent discussion of Augustus’ religious reforms can be found in Scheid (2005). 5. Zanker 1988, 195. 6. I will discuss the significance of the changes Augustus made to the Palatine and Capitoline and how the new structures interacted with the other buildings on the hills in greater detail in Chapters 1 and 2. 7. Maltby 2002, 292: ‘The origins of Rome had been dealt with in prose by Cato, Varro and the Roman historians, including most recently Livy, and in verse by Naevius and Ennius }.’ 8. This work offers to a contemporary audience a look at how an ancient society coped with reforming its cultural identity following a civil war. An examination of the interconnections between place, memory, and Roman cultural identity demonstrates how, in the years following 31 BC, the various members of the Roman community came together to reflect on the past and create new public memories that were attached to monuments or locales within their city. Their method of commemoration through the use of public space has much in common with the way in which modern societies deal with similar crises, as both past and present societies often have had to cope, in the aftermath of a war, with memories of the conflict creating divisiveness and causing rival factions to compete for control of the past. As Gillis (1994, 18-20) has argued, since we exist in an era where persons accrue plural identities and recognize multiple versions of the past, the preservation of monuments and commemorative public spaces is crucial as they create a forum in which to come together to negotiate our differences. See also Fowler 2000, 202-4. 9. White (1993, 182-90) also discusses Augustus’ building programme as the inspiration for the three poet’s works. 10. This is the first book-length study to offer a comparative treatment of the reinvention of legendary Rome in Vergil’s Aeneid 8.314-69, Tibullus 2.5, and Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9. It will be Romulus’ foundation story and not Aeneas’ that will be the central focus of this investigation because this study is concerned primarily with the creation of memories of early Rome that are tied specifically to the city’s foundations on the Palatine and its early development

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Notes to pages 6-8 on the Capitoline. Vergil, while giving Aeneas a prominent role in early Rome’s development in the Aeneid, credits Aeneas as the founder of Lavinium. Tibullus and Propertius give Aeneas only a marginal role in their narratives of Rome’s legendary past. 11. While the defeat at Actium in 31 BC can be called a defining moment, as Eder (1990) notes, the shift from Republic to Empire involved a period of transition for Rome in the years following the 30s BC. 12. See Barchiesi (1997, 110), who argues that ‘Augustus has presented an image of himself as a brake on the excesses of modernity and as a guarantor of the past’. 13. For the ‘rewriting’ of Rome by Augustus, see Barchiesi (1997, 69-73). As the past is rewritten, it appears to confirm the promise of the Augustan Age as an era of renewal and peace. 14. See Zanker (1988) for a comprehensive discussion of the art, monuments, and architecture that characterized the Golden Age renewal in the Augustan Age. See also Favro (1996) for the conceptual design of the city in Augustus’ time as a unified, urban image of prosperity and the revitalization of archaic Roman tradition in building design. See also Millar (1984); Binder (1988); and Eck (2003, 105-12) for Augustus’ transformation of both the city and the culture. 15. Favro 1996, 29-41. 16. Bascom 1965, 4. My use of the term ‘legendary past’ in this work in reference to the historians’ events recalled about Romulus and the founding of Rome follows Bascom’s definition of a legend as a ‘prose narrative’, often populated with human characters that is ‘set in a period considered less remote, when the world was much as it is today.’ Zerubavel (1994, 118n.1) points out that legends do not have to be believed by everyone in order to be preserved. I follow Wiseman’s definition of a ‘myth’ as a ‘story that matters to a community, one that is told and retold because it has a significance for one generation after another’. According to Wiseman, it does not matter whether the myth is by modern definition ‘historical’, ‘pseudo-historical’, or ‘totally fictitious’ as long as it warrants repetition. See Wiseman 2004, 10-11. 17. Gowing 2005, 152. 18. Gowing 2005, 17-27 and 148. 19. For other recent studies of the importance of how monuments presented a way to preserve key memories for the Romans, see, for example, Feldherr (1998, 35-9) and Jaeger (1997). A recent and useful analysis of the role memories played in the post-war community in ancient Athens is found in Wolpert (2002). 20. Gowing 2005, 11. 21. All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. 22. See Gowing (2005, 9-17) on Cicero’s use of the terms ‘memory’ and ‘history’ and for a more detailed discussion of the use of the terms in antiquity and by modern scholars of memory. See also Shrimpton 1997, 15. 23. See Shotter (1990) for the social-constructionist approach to memory. In his survey of memory studies, Boyarin (1994, 1) has noted that, while there has been increasing interest among scholars in the act of remembrance, ‘The French have already moved on from memory to forgetting}.’ For a recent study of the interplay between memory and forgetfulness in ancient Greece, see Loraux (1997). 24. Middleton and Edwards 1990, 7-8. For a discussion of the ‘invention of tradition’ and the adaptation of the past that takes place in modern society, see Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983).

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Notes to pages 9-14 25. Halbwachs 1992, 53. 26. Halbwachs 1992. For the problems with Halbwachs’s definition of collective memory, see Boyarin (1994, 22). 27. Gowing 2005, 14-15. As Gowing has recently provided an extensive examination of why the Romans placed such a great value on past memories of the Republic at the start of the Empire, and an excellent survey of previous studies on historical memory, both modern and ancient, I have restricted my introductory comments on memory solely to those relevant to my particular argument. 28. Yates 1966, 2-4. See also Edwards 1996, 29-30. 29. Favro 1996, 4-6. 30. Dupont 1992, 71-5. 31. The poetry of Horace and Ovid, although they lived during Augustus’ reign, will not be a focal point of this study because the scope of this project does not allow for a thorough investigation of all of the Augustan poets. I have chosen to look at the poetry of Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius as a representative, but not comprehensive, look at the restoration of the archaic landscape in the city. In the conclusion of this work, however, I will take a brief look at Ovid’s Fasti. 32. According to Brunt and Moore (1967, 10) the ancient historians Appian (B Civ. V.132), Orosius (VI.18.34), and Dio Cassius (XLIX.15.6, LI.19.6, LIII.32.5) all report that Augustus received the tribunician powers at some point during the period from 36 to 23 BC. But there is still some dispute among the sources as to whether Augustus gradually received the powers associated with this office in a process started in 36 and completed by 23, or whether, before he assumed the office in 23, he had at some specific point in time gained complete tribunician powers but did not formally assume the office before then. See also Brunt and Moore 1967, 10-13 and Southern 1998, 85 and 122-3. 33. See Suet. Aug. 81.1. 34. Augustus also waited until Lepidus’ death in 13/12 BC to become Pontifex Maximus (Suet. Aug. 31.1). Southern 1998, 123. 35. Cf. Galinsky (1996, 37) for example, who asserts that a ‘concern for values and morals’ became ‘the touchstone of senatorial selection just as it was the hallmark of much of the culture in general’ at this time during Augustus’ reign. 36. Smith 2005, 3. 37. I will discuss the dating of the poets’ works in Chapters 4 and 5. 38. See Gros 1976, 97 and Galinsky 1996, 213. 39. For more on Pollio and a discussion of Livy as an ‘Augustan’ author, see Fornara (1983, 73-5). 40. Classen (2002) summarizes the poets’ tendency to play with historical details. See also Fox 2002 [1996]. 41. Livy (praef. 5). 42. Fox 2002 [1996], 140. 43. See Veyne 1988. 44. Wiltshire 1989, 23 (citing Pöeschl 1962, 39). 45. Page references that refer to secondary sources quoted within the text are either cited immediately following the quote, or if I am discussing the quote further they can be found in the next footnote to follow in the text. For more on the debate on authorial intent, see Nappa (2005, 4-6 and 234n.11). See also Kennedy 1992; Martindale 1993, 1-34; Barchiesi 1997, 4-8; and Edmunds 2001. For alternative views on the ways in which readers find ambiguity and multiple perspectives within Vergil’s Aeneid, see Thomas (2001, 1-14) and the response in Galinsky (2003).

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Notes to pages 15-23 46. Johnston 1980, 2-3. 47. The poets were not, however, simply responding or reacting to the changes taking place within landscape around them. As Galinsky (1996, 225 and 244-79) argues, they were also active contributors to the dynamic and creative discussion that was taking place in the city. 48. Nappa 2005, 222-3. 49. Cf. Nappa (2005, 168) on Octavian’s need to come to terms with the opposing sides of this issue: ‘Octavian would be faced with the problem of sorting out such a contradiction: on the one hand, he would have to push the civil wars into the past, since their memory, if fresh, might inspire further violence; on the other, he could not afford to deny their existence outright or let people forget just how bad they had been, since his regime was positioning itself as the peaceful alternative to a state of continuous civil conflict.’ 50. Galinsky (1996, 318) convincingly argues that Augustus avoided direct comparison with Jupiter within Rome due to his wish to avoid appearing in charge of a ‘theocratic monarchy that was far more absolutist than the principate.’ See also Fears 1981a and Williams 2003. 1. The Palatine: The Casa Romuli and the Domus Augusti 1. See White (1993, 321n.89) and Miller (2002, 130) for the poets’ frequent mention of the Palatine. 2. Syed (2005, 211) points out that Cicero’s sense of what it means to be Roman is enriched by Varro’s text. 3. Both Livy Book 1 and Verg. Aen. 8 use detailed descriptions of the city’s early foundations on the Palatine in their narratives. Plut. Rom. 20.5-6 also mentions that Romulus lived on the Palatine. Stambaugh (1988, 9) explains why the Palatine was a focal point for authors writing about the city’s foundations: ‘These writers could feed their imaginations on a couple of archaeological monuments and a set of old customs which preserved a sense of earliest Rome.’ 4. See Bickerman (1952) and Wiseman (1995, 44 and 160-8) for the variations on Rome’s foundation story. See also Fox (2002 [1996]) and Grandazzi (1997) for their treatment of Rome’s foundation myths. 5. Peroni 1988, 7. 6. Carandini 1990b; Carandini 1992; and Steinby 1993-2000, 3: 315-17 (entry by N. Terrenato). 7. The post-holes from the huts are all that remains on the Palatine today. For evidence of Rome’s early origins on the Palatine, see Claridge (1998, 119 and 125-6). See also Richardson 1992, 279-81; Coarelli 1997, 148-66; Steinby 1993-2000, 4: 14-22 (entry by G. Tagliamonte) and Haselberger 2002, 184-7 (entry by E.A. Dumser). For more on the archaeological discovery of material culture remains that can be dated to the eighth century BC Rome, see Smith (2000, 23-4). 8. Claridge 1998, 125. 9. Claridge (1998, 125-6) posits that the hut of Romulus is set off by marked boundary walls adjacent to the Domus Augusti: ‘Possibly its location is marked by the rectangular enclosure, which belongs to a general transformation of the area in C4 and C3 BC following the construction of the Temple of Victory (Victoria).’ 10. For more on the modern dispute over the proposed location of the hut on

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Notes to pages 24-26 the Palatine see Steinby 1993-2000, 4: 14-22 (entry by G. Tagliamonte) and Haselberger 2002, 83 (entry by E.A. Dumser). See also Castagnoli 1964; Balland 1984; and Pensabene 1990/91, 115-35. 11. Richardson 1992, 281. Claridge (1998, 119) gives a detailed account of the occupation of the Palatine in Rome after Romulus: ‘In Roman tradition the Palatine was where Rome began, the original city founded by Romulus in 753 BC on the site of a pre-existing settlement, and indeed, excavations at the top SW corner, matched by the new finds on the north slope, have encountered a continuous sequence from the C9 BC onwards. Although only small pockets of the older levels have been explored elsewhere, all suggest increasingly dense occupation down to the late C1 BC.’ 12. Smith 2000, 23-9. See also Ampolo 1980 and Drews 1981. 13. See Stambaugh 1988, 14-15. See also Cornell 2000, 42-51. Cornell (2000, 43) notes that by the early fifth century, however, a decline in new building projects indicated that the population was experiencing less prosperity. While Livy records the sack of the city by the Gauls in 390 BC as completely devastating to the city (Livy 5.42-43.1, 5.55), Cornell dismisses Livy’s account, as the archaeological record lacks any evidence of the total devastation of the city. 14. For the dates and descriptions of the Temple of Magna Mater and Victory, see Claridge 1998, 126-8. For the Temple of Magna Mater see also Steinby 1993-2000, 3: 206-8 (entry by P. Pensabene) and Haselberger 2002, 163-4 (entry by E.A. Dumser). For the Temple of Victory see Steinby 1993-2000, 5: 149-50 (entry by P. Pensabene) and Haselberger 2002, 266 (entry by E.A. Dumser). See also Pensabene 1988 and 1990. 15. A second Temple of Jupiter Stator was located on the Circus Flaminius. The exact location of the Palatine temple is still subject to much debate: see Richardson 1992, 225; Steinby 1993-2000, 5: 271 (entry by J. Arce) and 3:155-7 (entry by F. Coarelli); Claridge 1998, 143: Haselberger 2002, 157 (entry by E.A. Dumser). 16. For the Clivus Victoriae see Richardson 1992, 91; Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 288 (entry by T.P. Wiseman) and Haselberger 2002, 92 (entry by E.A. Dumser). For the Temple of Victoria Virgo see Steinby 1993-2000, 5: 150-1 (entry by P. Pensabene) and Haselberger 2002, 266 (entry by E.A. Dumser). 17. For an exhaustive survey of the theology of Victory in Rome, see Fears (1981b) and Richardson (1992, 420). See Wiseman (1981) for the location of the precinct of Victory. 18. Fears 1981b, 775-6. For a more exhaustive description of the connection between Victoria and Jupiter, see Fears (1981b, 740-78). 19. Fears 1981b, 777-82. Fears (1981b, 782n.218) cites the following as sources for Romulus’ association with Jupiter Stator and Victoria: Cic. Cat. 1.33; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.32.3; Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 2.50; Livy 1.12; Ov. Fast. 6.793; and Plut. Rom. 18. 20. This change happened gradually as the city expanded beyond the confines of the Palatine. See Smith (2000, 31-34) for the city’s growth in the seventh century. See also Guidi 1982. Cornell (2000, 45-7) discusses the growth of the city in the late fourth century. 21. Thébert 1993a, 210-11. 22. Wallace-Hadrill 1988, 46. For further discussion of the distinction between public and private lives as well as public and private spaces, see Dwyer (1991); Ellis (1991); and Thébert (1993b).

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Notes to pages 27-33 23. Wallace-Hadrill (1988, 58) points out that within a Roman house in antiquity, the concepts of public and private areas existed within a spectrum, so specific places could be considered more or less public or private in relation to the spaces around them. 24. Cicero himself admits to his own profligate building plans in QFr. 2.4. 25. See, for example, Cic. Phil. 3.12.30 and Plin. HN 34.2.5. 26. Zanker 1988, 101-2. 27. See Favro (1996, 54), who notes that it was not just extravagance in public building projects but also private homes that led to ‘extravagances that shocked and alienated the public’. See also Favro 1993. 28. Zanker 1988, 19. 29. See Wallace-Hadrill (1993, 26-8) and Walker (2000, 62). See also Carandini 1986, 263-78; 1990a, 159-65; and 1990c for a detailed study of the houses on the Palatine. For more on the self-aggrandizing building habits of the late Republic, see Zanker (1988, 15-18 and 135-6). 30. Zanker (1988, 24) for example, points to the Temple of Apollo and the Mausoleum of Augustus as two examples of building projects that were created solely to glorify ‘an ambitious general, with no regard for the traditions of the Republic’. 31. Apollo and the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine will not be a focal point of my discussion of the Palatine as Apollo is not one of the gods who is associated with Rome’s legendary foundations by Romulus. For a discussion of the Temple of Apollo in relation to the rest of the Palatine complex, see Zanker (1988, 49-53) and Galinsky (1996, 213-15). See also Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 54-7 (entry by P. Gros) and 5: 225 (entry by A. Claridge) and Haselberger 2002, 46-7 (entry by G. Varinlioglu). 32. For a detailed description of the house, see Steinby 1993-2000, 2:46-8 (entry by I. Iacopi) and 5: 225 (entry by A. Claridge) and Haselberger 2002, 104-6 (entry by G. Varinlioglu). Taylor (1931, 190-1) and Fraschetti (1994, 345-74) also have discussions of the use of public and private space within Augustus’ house. 33. McKay 1975, 70-3. McKay notes that after Augustus’ death the house was kept intact as a display. See also Richardson 1992, 117-18. 34. See, for example, Castagnoli 1964; Carettoni 1983; and Wiseman 1994, 101. Newlands (1997, 67) suggests that after the fire of 3 AD the house may have been rebuilt on a much larger scale. 35. Walker 2000, 62. 36. Renaud 1990, 13n.22. 37. Coarelli 1972, 63. 38. Wiseman 1994, 102. 39. There is some dispute over whether or not the laurels are bushes or boughs. See Gagé 1955, 559-60. Curran and Williams (1981, 209-11) argue for laurel boughs because of the long-standing tradition that shrines and other important buildings were decorated with laurel branches, and Augustus’ house could have been considered worthy of a similar public honour. 40. Favro 1996, 203-4. 41. Wiseman 1994, 99. 42. Wiseman 1994, 99-100. 43. For Augustus’ use of Apollo in his political programme, see Taylor (1931); Gurval (1995, 87-136) and Galinsky 1996, (188-9, 215-19, and 297-9). 44. Zanker 1988, 51.

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Notes to pages 34-39 45. See Fears 1981a, 62. 46. Galinsky 1996, 215. 47. Wiseman 1994, 106. See Tamm (1963, 44-57) for a more extended overview of the importance of the entrance to the house. 48. Wiseman (1994, 107) notes that this change in orientation after the fire demonstrated that Augustus shifted the emphasis of his building programme away from the monarchical associations with Romulus’ house. After the fire, Augustus’ home on the Palatine faced the city centre and looked to the Capitoline as well. During the Republic, the Capitoline had always been the centre of religious and political power, and it began at the start of the Empire to take on a new significance as the place where the origins and the survival of the community were commemorated. See Zanker (1988, 79-82) for a discussion of how Augustus transformed the Roman Forum. 49. Wiseman 1994, 109. 50. Coarelli 1997, 160. 51. Claridge 1998, 128-30. See also Steinby 1993-2000, 2: 130-2 (entry by I. Iacopi) and Haselberger 2002, 110-11 (entry by G. Varinlioglu). 52. Fears 1981b, 808. See Wiseman (1984) for an excellent discussion of how Augustus’ placement of his home on the Palatine next to the precinct of Victory and the Temple of Magna Mater was a deliberate attempt to encourage observers to see the associations between Augustus, Victory, and the founding of Rome. For the date of the restoration of Magna Mater, see Richardson (1992, 242) and Galinsky (1996, 295). 53. Fears 1981b, 804-9. See also Galinsky 1996, 214-15. 54. On the date, see Galinsky (1996, 214-15): ‘By selecting this particular site for his temple, therefore, Octavian associated himself both with Victory } and with some of the most hallowed traditions of the founding of Rome.’ For the reference to the anniversary in the Fasti Consulares Praenestini, see Ehrenberg and Jones 1955, 49. 55. Syed 2005, 211. 56. Cf. Oliensis (1998, 108-9) who remarks that, in order to ensure the longevity of the Empire, Horace warns that moral restraint and modesty (i.e., burying gold under the Capitoline instead of making an ostentatious display of it) should serve to keep imperial ambition in check when commemorating military victories on the Capitoline (Carm. 3.3.42-52). 57. Cf. Galinsky 1996, 282: ‘} our Roman sources also cite the lack of respect for the gods and religion as characterizing the period of the civil wars. Augustus, who was both Numa and Romulus, brought back the remedia of both religious restoration and the expansion of the empire by foreign conquests.’ 58. Zanker 1988, 207. 59. See Scott 1925 and Gagé 1930. 60. See also Zanker (1988, 201-10) for a discussion of Augustus’ selective use of the narrative of Romulus’ life. 61. Edwards 1996, 34. 62. Edwards 1996, 39. 63. See Wiseman 1995, 61 and 76. Romulus alone, however, is mentioned by Alcimus in the mid-fourth century, and a Greek account of a single founder of Rome was known by the sixth century BC. For a discussion of the role that oral tradition played in the preservation of early Rome, see Wiseman 1989. 64. Wiseman 1995, 72. 65. Wiseman 1995, 107. Wiseman (1995, 5-6) also acknowledges what he calls

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Notes to pages 39-45 the ‘minority tradition’ in which Romulus and Remus rule together. He cites Cassius Hemina (f. 11P), who gives the following account: Pastorum vulgus sine contentione consentiendo praefecerunt aequaliter imperio Remum et Romulum, ita ut de regno pararent inter se. [The body of shepherds, without disagreement and by common consent, appointed Romulus and Remus as equals in power, so that they could decide the terms of their reign between themselves.] 66. Edwards 1996, 43. 67. See Wiseman (1995, 89-128) for the archaeological evidence and historical traditions that account for the emergence of Remus’ story around 296 BC. 68. Williams (2003, 218 and 232-3) points out that Romulus is recognized as the inventor of laws and as a peacemaker in the Aeneid. 69. Six birds appear for Remus and twelve for Romulus in Livy 1.6.4-7.1. See Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom 1.86.3-4 and Plut. Rom. 9.5 for the story in which Remus saw six birds fly by, and Romulus merely lied about seeing twelve. Wiseman (1995, 7-8) points out that both Plutarch and Dionysius of Halicarnassus provide versions of the story where Romulus is extremely fortunate despite his deception: when Remus came to demand proof of his claim, Romulus’ twelve birds appeared in front of both brothers. 70. See Gagé 1930. 71. For the programmatic theme of the Forum Romanum, see Zanker (1972); Zanker (1988, 210-15); and Galinsky (1996, 198-9 and 379-82). 72. Gurval 1995, 172. 73. Wiseman (1995, 118) also cites Zonaras 8.1 as the source for the ominous portents, which included blood running from the altar of Jupiter Capitolinus and a bronze statue of Victory in the Forum that appeared to have moved from its pedestal to the ground. 74. See Wiseman 1995, 119 and 125. 75. Wiseman 1995, 103-28. For more on the origins of the Romulus and Remus myth, see also Cornell (1975). For the grave under the Temple of Victory on the Palatine, see Vaglieri (1907, 189-91). For the temple dedication, see Fears (1981b, 773-4). 76. Gruen (1990, 409-11) argues that Augustus’ reign was based on expansionism. See also Moynihan 1985. 77. See Suet. Aug. 22; Aug. RG 4; and Dio Cass. 54.12.1-2. Gurval (1995, 19-39) provides a detailed description of the significance of Augustus’ triple triumph, and Southern (1998, 231n.11) examines the primary sources that provide the evidence for the decline of the triumph. See also Miller 2000. 78. Walker 2000, 69-71. 79. Smith 2000, 31. 2. The Capitoline: Jupiter Tonans Restores the Past 1. Fears 1981a, 19-22. 2. Jaeger 1997, 4-5. 3. See Fears 1981a, 18-27. For more on Jupiter Feretrius and the ritual of the spolia opima, see Lammert (1929); Springer (1954); and Versnel (1970, 306-13). 4. Edwards 1996, 83. 5. Fears 1981a, 41. 6. See Fears 1981a, 59; Balland 1984, 75-6; and Edwards 1996, 36-7. 7. For Jupiter’s role as a lawgiver in Vergil’s Aeneid, see Williams (2003). See also Wlosok 1983.

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Notes to pages 45-49 8. Favro (1996, 201-5) has argued that, after the start of the empire, the Palatine surpassed the Capitoline in importance, and that the Capitoline became a public museum of antiquities that recalled the former glory of Jupiter. Both Fears (1981a, 66-7) and Renaud (1990, 61n.211) point out that Jupiter retains his honoured role in Augustan literature, even as they suggest his role in official religious ceremony was significantly diminished by this time. For example, both Ovid (Tr. 5.2.47-8; Met. 15.858-70) and Horace (Carm. 3.1.5-8) celebrate Augustus’ close relationship with Jupiter. See also Balland 1984, 67-70; Edwards 1996, 37 and 71-2; and Galinsky 1996, 318. 9. Fears (1981a, 27) also calls the god ‘the pre-eminent force securing the prosperity of the Roman community’. 10. Cf. Nappa 2005, 230. 11. In this work I will use ‘Capitolium’ for the southern part of the hill and ‘Arx’ for the northern part; but a great deal of dispute remains among modern scholars over how the terms were used in antiquity. Claridge (1998, 229) champions the argument that Arx and Capitolium ‘are often used interchangeably by ancient and modern writers to mean the whole hill’. For more on the argument that the use of the term Arx referred solely to the northern part of the hill, see Haselberger 2002, 57 (entry by A.G. Thein). For the identification of the structures on the Arx, see Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 127-9 (entry by G. Gianelli). Richardson (1992, 40) notes that ancient authors sometimes recorded the difference between the two peaks by using, ‘for example, in arce aut Capitolio (Livy 6.20.13, Val. Max. 6.3.1a)’ to make a distinction between the two sites. I also use the term ‘Capitol’ when I am talking about the entire hill. Edwards (1996, 69-70), adds that the definition of the term ‘Capitol’, which is another term for the Capitoline hill, changed over time: ‘The term Capitol is ambiguous, reflecting the ambiguity of Capitolium in ancient Roman usage. Sometimes the latter term designates the southern part of the Capitoline hill in contrast with the northern part, the arx }. Sometimes, particularly in texts of the principate, the term refers to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, who housed the three deities, Jupiter, Juno and Minerva, known as the Capitoline Triad (and by extension to such temples in other towns).’ See also Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 232-3 (entry by C. Reusser) and Haselberger 2002, 78-9 (entry by G. Varinlioglu). Richardson (1992, 68-9) points out that the southern part of the hill (Capitolium) was called the Mons Saturnius at first and then was also named the Mons Tarpeius because it was the place from which criminals were thrown when they were found guilty of having committed a capital offence. 12. Feldherr (1998, 80) calls the sack of Rome by the Gauls ‘one of the most controversial events in early Roman history’. See Edwards (1996, 86) who cites Skutsch (1968, 138-42) for the alternate tradition that states that the Gauls did capture the Capitol. Ogilvie (1965, 719-20) argues that the Capitol was never taken. 13. Edwards 1996, 46. 14. Claridge 1998, 229. 15. For an overview of the topography of the Capitoline see Colini 1965; Richardson 1992, 68-70; Favro 1996, 33-4; Claridge 1998, 229-31; and Smith 2000, 29-31. For the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, see Martinez-Pinna 1981; Steinby 1993-2000, 3: 148-53 (entry by S. De Angeli) and 144-8 (entry by G. Tagliamonte); and Haselberger 2002, 155-6 (entry by A.G. Thein). For the Temple of Juno Moneta, see Giannelli 1980/81; Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 321 (entry by G. Giannelli); and Haselberger 2002, 153 (entry by A.G. Thein). For the

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Notes to pages 49-55 Auguraculum, see Steinby 1993-2000, 3: 148-53 (entry by S. De Angeli) and 144-8 (entry by G. Tagliamonte) and Haselberger 2002, 155-6 (entry by A.G. Thein). 16. Richardson 1992, 31-2. See also Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 114-17 (entry by C. Reusser) and Haselberger 2002, 53-4 (entry by A.G. Thein). 17. See Edwards 1996, 71 and Claridge 1998, 237. 18. The exact locations of the temples of Ops and Fides remain in question. For the temple of Ops, see Steinby 1993-2000, 3: 362-4 (entry by J. Aronen) and Haselberger 2002, 184 (entry by A.G. Thein). For the temple of Fides, see Steinby 1993-2000, 2: 249-52 (entry by C. Reusser) and Haselberger 2002, 123-4. For the temple of Saturn, see Gjerstad 1962; Pensabene 1984; Steinby 1993-2000, 4: 234-6 (entry by F. Coarelli) and Haselberger 2002, 220 (entry by C.F. Noreña). For the Clivus Capitolinus, see Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 280-1 (entry by T.P. Wiseman) and Haselberger 2002, 89-90 (entry by A.G. Thein). For Jupiter Feretrius, see Steinby 1993-2000, 1: 114-17 (entry by C. Reusser) and Haselberger 2002, 53-4 (entry by A.G. Thein). 19. See Favro 1996, 25. 20. See Colonna 1981. 21. At 5.54.7 Livy mentions that in addition to Terminus, Iuventus also would not allow the deconsecrating of his shrine. Plin. HN 35.108 states that Iuventus had a shrine in Minerva’s cella. 22. See Bourgeaud 1987. 23. See Fears 1981a, 27. 24. For more on the role of Terminus in the early community, see Gagé (1970) and Piccaluga (1974, 201-12). 25. See Fears (1981a, 27) for the evidence of Jupiter’s cult on the Capitoline having its origins in early Latium. 26. Michels 1962, 442. 27. Fears 1981c, 831. 28. Feeney 1998, 94. 29. See Fears 1981a, 20-4 and Skutsch 1968. 30. See von Mueller and Latte (1960, 126) and Dumézil (1974, 190-2) for Jupiter and warfare in the early community. But as Fears (1981a, 35) points out, Jupiter was not the only god the Romans called upon in battle. 31. Latte (1960, 79) has a discussion of Jupiter as a weather god. See Fears (1981a, 33) for Jupiter as the god who served the community. 32. As Jupiter Stator, the god defended the city against enemies who threatened the political and social structure of Roman society. See Fears 1981a, 48. 33. Fears 1981a, 49. 34. Jaeger 1997, 83. 35. Jaeger 1997, 84. 36. See Fears 1981a, 44. 37. See Jaeger 1997, 145-55. For the use of the Capitoline and other spaces within the Roman city as crucial locations for the trial, see Jaeger (1997, 145-76). 38. See Zanker 1988, 108. Galinsky (1996, 297) notes that the cult spread beyond Rome: a statue of Jupiter Tonans was substituted for the cult image of Jupiter Optimus Maximus at Pompeii. 39. Fears 1981a, 59. 40. See Richardson 1992, 226-7. 41. See also Dio Cass. 54.4 and Galinsky 1996, 296.

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Notes to pages 55-59 42. Favro 1996, 201. See also Latte 1960, 305-6. 43. See Balland (1984, 66), who notes that there is no direct mention of the Palatine hut of Romulus in any of the major authors of this time. 44. See Richardson 1992, 74 and Haselberger 2002, 53-4 (entry by A.G. Thein). 45. See Edwards 1996, 37. 46. Coarelli (1997, 44) finds evidence of a Bronze Age settlement in the area. 47. Edwards 1996, 42. 48. Edwards 1996, 35-9. 49. Cicero’s dream also appears in Plut. Cic. 44 and Dio Cass. 45.2. 50. Galinsky 1996, 318. 51. See Fears (1981a, 65) for a discussion of Jupiter and preservation of the Roman commonwealth. 52. See Galinsky (1996, 47-8), who argues that the opening statements of the Res Gestae ‘were not intended as a precise historical representation but were meant to be understood in terms of the larger meaning and significance that Augustus wanted to convey by referring to these events’. 53. Feeney (1998, 113) in his discussion of Hor. Carm. 1.12 observes that the status of Augustus by this time was closely linked to his relationship with the god Jupiter: ‘Augustus is not just a man who is the heir of Republican tradition, and not just the son of a god like Romulus, but one who enjoys a unique relationship (verging at times on identification) with the supreme god himself.’ See also Pollini 1990 and Feeney 1991, 220. 54. See Maderna (1988, 173-4) for a discussion of Augustus’ assimilation to Jupiter. Maderna (1988, 122-3) also provides a detailed look at how statues of Augustus show him taking on the characteristics of Jupiter rather than an exact resemblance. See also Galinsky 1996, 312-22. 55. Jaeger 1997, 58. 56. Galinsky 1996, 288. 57. Galinsky 1996, 309. 58. Many traditions associated with the Capitoline were moved to the Palatine hill or elsewhere in the city. Augustus cleared the Area Capitolina of statues, for example, but, as Favro (1996, 201) points out, this practice was also evident in the Republic. Suetonius (Calig. 34) recalls how Augustus set the votives up in the Campus instead. The Sibylline books, which had been kept in the temple since the time of Tarquinius Superbus, were relocated to the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine in 17 or 12 BC (Suet. Aug. 31.1). For more on the date of the transfer of the books from the Palatine to the Capitoline, see Zanker (1988, 108) and Murgatroyd (1994, 164). During Augustus’ reign, Mars Ultor became the meeting place of the Senate and the site of the ceremony of the triumphator, when victorious generals placed their spoils in a temple as an offering to the god. Augustus also moved the Ludi Saeculares to the Palatine. For a discussion of the transfer of the political and military functions of the Capitoline during Augustus’ reign, see Fears (1981a, 60-1) and Zanker (1988, 108). 59. Fears (1981a, 7) comments that the community is bound together and realizes certain objectives based upon its reliance on ‘a myth of supernatural character, a legitimization beyond military, economic and socio-political bases of power’. See also Gruen (1985, 52-5) for Augustus as the peacemaker whose list of achievements can be quantified. For more on the relationship between community building and communal worship, see Berger (1969, 3-51) and Brand (1978).

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Notes to pages 59-70 60. See Dumézil (1974, 473-4) for a discussion of Ennius’ theodicy of Jupiter. See also Cic. Nat. D. 2.64. 61. Nappa 2005, 54. 62. See also Nappa (2005, 54-65) for a discussion of this parallel between Jupiter’s world-order and Augustus’ rule. Hardie (1986, 85-156) considers the use of political imagery involving Jupiter during the Augustan Age. 63. Since one of the versions of the Golden Age has gods and men coexisting, this smaller temple could also have been an attempt to offer the impression that once again Jupiter was present in the promise of a return to a Golden Age. 64. Edwards 1996, 80. 65. Edwards 1996, 82: ‘The Capitoline hill in Tacitus’ account of the civil war becomes the place where the Roman capacity for self-destruction reaches its culmination – unmissably spectacular and irretrievably devastating (though the temple is rebuilt under Vespasian (4.53), the scars of civil war can never be fully healed).’ 66. Fears 1981a, 29-34. 67. Edwards (1996, 33) uses the term ‘new founder of Rome’ to describe Augustus in her work. I prefer to use the term ‘new founder of a renewed Rome’ because Augustus’ ideology emphasized restoration and renewal of the past. 68. Favro 1996, 105-16. 69. Beard 1987, 10. 70. Seaford 1994, xii. 71. Eder 1990, 84. 3. Thinking in Images: Preserving the Past for the Present 1. Bryson 1988, 92 as quoted in van Eck and Winters 2005, 1. 2. van Eck and Winters 2005, 6. 3. van Eck and Winters 2005, 3. 4. Edwards 1996, 29. See also Vasaly (1993, 26-35) for further discussion of how certain places within the city were used in oratory to evoke emotive responses from an audience. 5. See Edwards 1996, 27-43. 6. Alcock 2002, 1. For more on the concept of memory as a tool by which a shared identity is formed, see Assman (1992, 48-66) and Fentress and Wickham (1992, 25). 7. Alcock 2002, 2-19. 8. Alcock 2002, 86-8. 9. Alcock 2002, 36-98. 10. I follow the arguments offered by Garnsey and Saller (1987, 109) and Alföldy (1988, 148-50) and thus prefer to use the vocabulary that Hope (2000, 127-36) employs in her essay on status divisions, including the terms ‘non-privileged’, ‘high strata’, and ‘low strata’. See also Hope 2001. 11. See, for example, Roddaz 1984; Zanker 1988; Kellum 1990; and Favro 1996. 12. For a recent study of the relationship between the developing landscape in Augustan Rome and a renewed sense of social responsibility towards it, see Lott (2004). For discussions of the connection between urban development and community building, see La Gory and Pipkin (1981). See also Lynch (1960) for an analysis of how urban environments evoke memories.

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Notes to pages 71-78 13. Lott (2004, 2-27) provides an excellent overview of the social hierarchy and organization of neighbourhoods in Augustan Rome. 14. Lott 2004, 119-20. 15. Lott (2004, 31) cites Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.14.3-4 as the source for the origin of the festival of Compitalia in the time of Servius Tullius. See also Lott (2004, 30-7) for more on the early traditions associated with this festival. 16. See Lott 2004, 10-11. 17. Wifstrand Schiebe 2004, 142. Scheid (2005, 177) rightly points out that one of the most important things that Augustus restored was ‘pietas among citizens’ in addition to bringing about the return of pietas towards the gods. See also Liebeschuetz (1979, 55-100) for an overview of the ways in which Augustus provided innovative religious reforms. 18. See Beard et al. 1998, 139. 19. Lott 2004, 35. 20. Lott (2004, 37-8) also notes that, according to Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Tarquinius Superbus forbade the celebration of the Compitalia and any other holiday that permitted public assembly due to the potential for political unrest (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 4.43.2). 21. Galinsky 1996, 300. 22. See Lott 2004, 101-14. For a more detailed discussion of how Augustus renovated neighbourhoods as well as the more public sites in Rome, see also Favro (1992); Favro (1996, 110-40); and Lott (2004, 84-106). 23. Lott 2004, 106. 24. See Lott 2004, 120-1. See also Niebling 1956; Alföldi 1973; Hano 1986; and Lott 1995, 132. 25. For a discussion of how Augustus reorganized the fire and police forces, see, for example, Robinson (1992, 184-95). 26. Cf. Lott 2004, 118-19: ‘Augustus was well aware that the urban populace could be extremely disruptive to civil order and politically hazardous to the new regime.’ 27. See Galinsky (1996, 366), who cites Dio Cass. 53.22.2 and Suet. Aug. 30.1 as evidence that Augustus encouraged generals and senators to take an interest in road repairs, and Lott (2004, 74) for a discussion of senatorial reluctance to undertake city repairs. For more on neighbourhood reform at the start of the Empire, see also Eck (1984). 28. Turner 1982, 69-76. 29. Turner 1982, 69. 30. Turner 1982, 10. 31. Turner 1982, 70. 32. Meier 1990, 54-6. 33. Southern 1998, 45. 34. Southern 1998, 91-4. 35. One of the more curious features of the Golden Age in Augustan Rome is Augustus’ role in this return to a better life. Several significant works that celebrated the start of Augustus’ reign, such as the Carmen Saeculare, for example, do not even mention the myth. Putnam (2000, 84-5) discusses the use of Golden Age symbolism in the poem, but the term ‘Golden Age’ is not mentioned by Horace in the Carmen Saeculare. Nor does Augustus mention the return of the Golden Age in the Res Gestae. See also Barker (1996, 435). 36. Barker 1996, 434. See, for example, Brenk 1980; Wallace-Hadrill 1982; Barker 1993; Barker 1996; and Galinsky 1996, 90-121. Galinsky (1981, 193)

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Notes to pages 78-85 correctly points out that while it is likely that Augustus encouraged the concept of a return to a Golden Age, it is not possible for us to determine the extent to which Augustus was involved in this process. 37. Evans 2003, 300. 38. See also Wallace-Hadrill 1982, 29. 39. Turner 1982, 69. 40. See Brenk 1980, 81-2: ‘As mythical reality, term, and symbol, the Golden Age in classical culture is most complex. Its first appearance is in Hesiod’s Works and Days, where strictly speaking it is not an age, but a generation of men called the Golden Race who lived in harmony with the gods in primitive simplicity, while the earth gave forth its fruits without effort’. See also Gatz 1967, 28-48. 41. Johnston (1980, 19-20) points out that, unlike the invention of the Golden Age in Augustus’ reign, the participants in Hesiod’s vision are passive and cannot influence the outcome of their lives 42. See Brenk 1980, 94. My thanks also to Andrew Riggsby for suggesting to me the connection between the Golden Age, physical boundaries, and ‘Roman’ and ‘non-Roman’ space. 43. Turner 1982, 70-1. 44. Wallace-Hadrill 1982, 32. 45. Turner 1982, 10. 46. Turner 1982, 70-2. 47. Wallace-Hadrill 1982, 24-5. 48. Wallace-Hadrill 1982, 21-5. 49. Wallace-Hadrill 1982, 22. 50. Wallace-Hadrill 1982, 29. 51. One modern example of this could be the Vietnam War and the subsequent struggle that followed as Americans tried to find in this conflict a meaning and reason that could make sense to an entire nation. The Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. and the rituals associated with it have become part of the visual post-Vietnam narrative that influences how our society perceives the war today. 52. Turner 1982, 87. 53. Turner 1982, 71. 54. See Meier 1990, 66-70. 55. Eder 1990, 87. 56. Wallace-Hadrill 1997, 9-10. See also des Bouvrie 1984, 93-111. 57. Smith 2005, 90-1. 4. Urbs Aeterna: Reinventing Rome in Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8 1. An earlier version of this chapter will appear as my forthcoming article ‘Finding Archaic-Augustan Rome in Tibullus 2.5’, to be published in Scholia 16 (2007). 2. Recent studies of the interplay between allusions to the Augustan city and depictions of proto-Rome in Tibullus and Vergil, are found in Rothwell (1996); Maltby (2002); and Papaïoannou (2003). The preceding scholars have suggested that the vague topography in 2.5 restricts the interpretation of Tibullus’ protoRome, and, in particular, Maltby defines proto-Rome as a pastoral vignette. I find that, since Tibullus does mention several sites of mythic and historical interest in

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Notes to pages 85-89 2.5, his use of topography serves not just as part of a pastoral background but also as a significant setting for the early history of Rome. 3. Gosling (1987), however, finds elements in the poem that suggest Tibullus is providing social commentary on Augustan Rome. See also Solmsen 1962, 309-10 and Putnam 1973, 43-6 and 182-95. 4. Tibullus also briefly mentions the Velabrum at 2.5.33. 5. Murgatroyd 1994, 163-6. 6. For the argument that Book 8 of the Aeneid influenced Tibullus 2.5, see Buchheit (1965); Gerressen (1970, 65-70); Ball (1975); Bright (1978, 66-71); Smith (1979, 445); and Levin (1983, 2085-180). For the date of Tibullus’ death, see McGann (1970). 7. Cairns 1979, 68n.17 and Della Corte 1984, 247-53. Cf. D’Anna (1986, 37-450), who argues that Tibullus 2.5 demonstrates an awareness of the Aeneid, and Book 8 in particular, but does not conclude that there is enough inspiration from Vergil to allow a reading of 2.5 as a markedly derivative poem. Rothwell (1996, 830) and Papaïoannou (2003, 682n.5) argue that there is not enough evidence to determine which came first, Tibullus 2.5 or Aeneid 8. 8. Bright 1978, 69-70. 9. Maltby 2002. For a thorough investigation of how Tibullus used the Hellenistic ktiseis tradition in his work, see Cairns (1979, 65-86). 10. For the influence of the ktisis poem from Hellenistic literature on the work of the Augustan poets, see Wimmel (1960, 227-66); Rostagni (1963, 372-82); Clausen (1964); Van Sickle (1974/75, 119-24); Cairns (1979, 11-24 and 65-86); Miller (1982, 371-8); and Cameron (1995, 454-83). 11. See Cairns (1979, 13-14), who suggests that in both the Hellenistic Age and the Augustan period there was a communal sense of pride felt by the inhabitants concerning the illustrious past of their city: ‘But the Hellenistic Age seems to have felt an overwhelming sense both of the distinctness of contemporary society from the past and of its continuity with the past, and to have derived an intense and sophisticated enjoyment from its cultural heritage. Again the Augustan Age reproduced this sentiment.’ 12. Maltby 2002, 292. 13. See Zanker 1988, 172-238. See also Galinsky (1996, 80-140) for the ideals that defined the return. See also Ryberg 1958 and Pavan 1985, 412-18. 14. Wifstrand Schiebe 2004, 142. 15. Wifstrand Schiebe 2004, 142. See also Wifstrand Schiebe (1981) for her treatment of pessimism and the Golden Age in the Augustan authors. 16. Wifstrand Schiebe 2004, 142-4. 17. Wifstrand Schiebe (2004, 142) cites ‘the basic inventions of civilization, such as agriculture, house-building, and law-giving’ as constructive examples of how humans evolved from the precultural existence under the guidance of founding-figures such as Saturn. See also Wifstrand Schiebe 1997. Williams (2003, 217-35) investigates the role that Saturn, Jupiter, and Romulus play in the Aeneid as lawgivers and the ways in which Augustus used religion and law to identify himself with these figures. 18. See Miles 1999, 234-6. See also Boyle (1986) and Quint (1993) for further studies of ethnicity and identity in Book 8. 19. Cf. Williams (1983, 150) for the ways in which the Evander episode emphasizes the importance of the ‘theme of the moral excellence of simplicity and moderation.’ 20. Syed 2005, 214.

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Notes to pages 90-95 21. Syed 2005, 218. 22. Both Grimal (1948) and Renaud (1990) provide detailed arguments on the important role the landscape played in the development of the early city. See also Gransden 1976, 24-41. 23. Edwards (1996, 36) suggests that, for Vergil’s audience, this description of Evander’s hut on the Palatine, here called regia, or ‘palace’, recalled the hut of Romulus and, by extension, Augustus’ imperial residence. 24. See Renaud 1990, 10. Gransden (1984, 88-9) suggests that Aeneas must learn to trust in the future, as he does not fully understand what he sees. 25. Renaud 1990, 94. 26. The role of Hercules in Aeneid 8 will be discussed in detail in Chapter 5. 27. Clausen 2002, 166. 28. See Otis (1964 [1995], 337) for a discussion of the contrast between Evander’s Arcadian Rome and the pre-Saturnian settlement that came before it. 29. In an interesting and recent discussion of the ways in which the Golden Age is continually reinvented and redefined within the Vergilian corpus, Perkell (2002, 30-2) points out that, according to Latinus at Aen. 7.203-4, the Saturnian Age does not require law for the community to be just, yet in this passage laws are what civilize the community. Since Book 8 emphasizes the conditor as the civilizer, Saturn, in his role as proto-founder, must demonstrate how laws functioned as part of ordered society. See also Wifstrand Schiebe (1986, 44) for her argument that Saturn’s reign ‘was created in order to make the initiation and propagation of a new Golden Age appear a “historically” justified, specifically Roman concern’. 30. Thomas 1982, 97. 31. Jenkyns 1998, 554-5. Johnston (1980, 63) and Scully (1988) discuss Saturn’s existence as an agrarian god. 32. See Renaud (1990, 114) for a discussion of the Capitoline as a focal point for the tour. 33. Gransden 1976, 130-1. For the theme of social order, as established by Romulus and reinforced by Augustus, in the Aeneid, see Williams (2003). 34. Perkell (2002, 20) notes that it is not Hesiod but rather the Roman poets who first envision the Golden Age as a community that acquires a sense of social responsibility. 35. The differences between the age of Saturn and the age of Jupiter will be discussed later in this chapter. Neither age in the Vergilian corpus is presented as an ideal. See, for example, Thomas (1999, 168-72) for a discussion of how the agricultural success of the age of Jupiter in the Georgics is seen as warfare against the land, and the results are therefore morally corrupt. Yet as Thomas points out, the age of Jupiter is timeless, since agriculture and the struggle to produce food will always exist. 36. Later at 8.654, the hut will appear on the shield, but it will be specifically named as Romulus’ hut on the Capitoline. See Rees (1996) for his discussion of an alternate theory that the hut of Evander in Vergil is not a structure located on the Palatine but is instead the Regia in the Forum. The more common placement of the hut of Evander on the Palatine can be found, for example, in Fowler (1918, 72); Eden (1975, 104); Gransden (1976, 30-1); and Fordyce (1977, 246). 37. Jenkyns 1998, 519. George (1974) provides extensive discussion of the Callimachean elements in this episode. 38. Clausen 1987, 159. 39. Williams 1983, 152.

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Notes to pages 95-97 40. Eden 1975, xix. 41. I follow Gosling (1987, 333) who regards Tibullus as commenting, without being overly patriotic or nationalistic, on the new opportunities he sees for Rome with Augustus as ruler. See also Gerressen (1970, 66), who argues that the poem is meant to praise the Augustan peace. Merklin (1970) sees the poem as anti-Augustan. Gries (1951) also finds Tibullus to be unsympathetic to Augustan politics. 42. Gosling 1987, 336-9. 43. See Murgatroyd 1994, 163-8. 44. Gosling (1992, 503) argues that Apollo appears in this poem solely as the god of poetic inspiration but admits, ‘If Tibullus ever responded at all to the Augustan concept of Apollo, it was in this poem.’ For a recent argument that political history does play a greater role in Tibullus’ poems than has been previously assumed, see Wray (2003). Classen (2002, 4-5) considers Tibullus to be ignoring contemporary history in his poetry. But see Lee-Stecum (2000, 213) for the suggestion that in 2.5, references to events and historical figures that are drawn from Tibullus’ own life-experience are subject to ‘reformation and manipulation’ within the context of the elegiac world, which is ruled by amor. Therefore, Lee-Stecum concludes that the text leaves many issues unresolved, including exactly how to construe scenes that contain elements that can be interpreted as political. 45. Gosling 1987, 339. 46. For Apollo’s importance in this elegy, see Gosling (1987). 47. Edwards (1996, 70) cites the following authors who comment on the gilded decorations on the Capitoline temple: Verg. Aen. 8.348; Ov. Fast. 6.73-4; Sen. Controv. 1.6.4, 2.1.1; Sil. Pun. 3.623. 48. Edwards 1996, 71. 49. Bright (1978, 75) notes that this is the first extant mention of Apollo hymning the victory song to Jupiter. 50. Both Merklin (1970) and Bright (1978, 75-7) read this passage as a sign of Tibullus’ regret over the recent violence of the civil war; however, Cairns (1979, 85) sees this as a reversal of Tibullus’ beliefs in 1.3: ‘This represents a change of view and an acceptance of the present as an age of peace and reason.’ Gosling (1987, 336) also sees the age of Jupiter as a positive development, as ‘evil and chaos’ are displaced by his reign: ‘But we cannot escape the fact that Tibullus in 2.5 comes as close as he ever does to a political statement: that he accepts gladly the establishment of peace, and sees in it new opportunities for Rome, which he is prepared to express in terms of the saecular ideals that were current Augustan ideals.’ 51. Cf. Galinsky (1996, 93) on the first Georgic: ‘In a programmatic passage at the beginning of Vergil’s Georgics (1.121ff.), the Golden Age that existed before Jupiter is shown not to be a desirable ideal because it represented slothful existence that required no mental or physical exertion.’ See also Smolenaars (1987) for the theme of labor and the Golden Age in Vergil. 52. For additional discussion of the benefits of Jupiter’s reign over Saturn’s Golden Age in Vergil, see Galinsky (1996, 93-100) and Perkell (2002, 20-34). See also Johnston (1980, 66), who cites Ennius’ translation of Euhemerus’ Sacred History as giving a positive account of Jupiter’s overthrow of Saturn. She points out that Jupiter’s role in Italy ‘is marked by his concern with improving the life of mankind. Jupiter encourages new discoveries (ap. Lact. 1.11.32), suppresses barbaric practices such as cannibalism (ap. Lact. 1.13.2) and establishes laws and customs (ap. Lact. 1.11.14).’ See also Thulin 1923. For Jupiter’s legal authority in the Aeneid, see Williams (2003, 208-21).

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Notes to pages 98-101 53. Cairns (1979, 72) concludes that the violence associated with Romulus’ life meant that Aeneas became the more suitable founder for this poem. 54. Bright (1978, 79) finds Tibullus’s tone to be moderate in this passage: ‘Tibullus is restrained in his handling of the story, expressing himself in cautious, almost neutral terms, as if reluctant to speak of such a reversal at a time when hope is needed.’ 55. Renaud (1990, 11n.15) identifies Evander as the founder of the Capitoline settlement. For a comparison of Tibullus 2.5.26 and Vergil’s Eclogues 2.29, see Maltby (2002, 295); see also Murgatroyd (1994, 185). There is some dispute over what phase of development line 2.5.26 represents: Bright (1978, 81) argues that this is the Saturnian stage, and reads the following line as proof that Jupiter’s worship was not yet established on the Capitoline. Bright (1978, 81-3) also suggests that the pastoral world of the Eclogues inspired Tibullus’ description of the proto-city, but as Gosling (1987, 334) correctly points out, piety and peace are also very Augustan precepts. I disagree with Ball (1981, 141-2), who argues that, because Augustus does not appear in 2.5, we should not view this poem as a positive commentary on his reign. 56. Pratt 1965. Hardie (1994, 60) finds that the phrase urbs aeterna suggests an unchanging and ‘perfected’ city, which stands in contrast to a ‘primitive pastoral’ Rome. Hardie (1994, 76n.4) also notes that Livy uses an expression similar to urbs aeterna: in aeternum urbe condita in immensum crescente (‘in a city constructed for eternity and increasing without end’, Livy 4.4.4). 57. Edwards 1996, 71. 58. For an extended discussion of this passage in relation to Greek foundation traditions, see Cairns (1979, 78-83). See also Rothwell 1996, 831; Maltby 2002, 303; and Papaïoannou 2003, 683-5. 59. For the significance of the Parilia, see Ov. Fast. 4.721f. and Bömer (1957/58) ad loc. See also Beard et al. 1998, 174-6. 60. Cairns 1979, 82. See Bright (1978, 83) for his comment on the element of decline already evident in this picture. See also Mutschler 1985, 254-69. 61. See Rothwell 1996, 831 and Maltby 2002, 299. For the connection between lovers and festivals, see Riposati (1942, 33n.3). 62. I disagree with Rothwell (1996, 831) who finds the site to be interchangeable with other parts of the Italian landscape: ‘The site of Rome described here could be anywhere – Italy, Sicily, Arcadia.’ 63. See Leach (1988, 303) on Tibullus’ use of pastoral imagery: ‘His agrarian imagery juxtaposes past and present – not to further their dissiliation, but rather to effect their reintegration and to reaffirm the validity of old tradition.’ 64. Cf. Cairns (1979, 84): ‘Finally the double Parilia is intended to round off the course of Roman history in such a way as to make the present seem better than the past. } The greater length, detail and enthusiasm of the second Parilia description is intended to show that the present holds greater joys than the past.’ Both Davies (1973, 25) and Ross (1975, 154) find that this passage praises the Augustan peace indirectly. 65. Edwards 1998, 46. Cf. Miles (1988, 199-200) who points out the ways in which the Roman leader Camillus saves Rome by showing his dedication to the physical site itself and to the city’s gods. 66. This is the theory of Papaïoannou (2003, 684), who argues that the rustic festivities ‘do not function as the birthday festival of the political unit of Rome but are rather a celebration of the entire Italian countryside’ because of the lack of a detailed topography for Rome. Her interpretation of the ceremony as

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Notes to pages 101-103 generic does not, however, take into account the importance of place for celebrating a religious festival. Bright (1978, 93) points out the ways in which the scene ends on a political note since it offers a departure from conflict and war. The last lines of this section feature a brash youth who hurls drunken curses at his lover and then comes to regret his actions and seek reconciliation: ‘But at the same time the use of strife may be a final reference to the crisis of the Roman world in general – the Civil Wars (the clash is after all between those who should love each other) and the restoration of peace.’ 67. Bright 1978, 73. As Murgatroyd (1994, 232) points out, Tibullus is envisioning a future triumph of Messalinus. 68. For more on praise of Augustan ideals in 2.5 see Bright (1978, 89); Cairns (1979, 84-6); and Gosling (1987, 333-7). 69. Cairns 1979, 84: ‘It is through the wars of Aeneas that ancient Rome was founded, just as Messalinus and others like him will guarantee the present Golden Age of peace; and it, unlike the earlier Age, will be permanent.’ Although Kubusch (1986, 168) argues that Augustus is not present in Tibullus’ presentation of the Golden Age, as Cairns points out, the appearance of Messalinus in this elegy is enough to imply indirectly the participation of others (including Augustus) in the process of establishing peace. 70. As Cairns (1979, 86) suggests, ‘The Romans were realists. They knew perfectly well that the pax Romana had been won and was being maintained by war.’ 71. For the dress and appearance of the triumphator in the triumphal procession, see Ehlers (1939) and Versnel (1970, 56-7). 72. Cf. Gosling 1987, 336-7. 73. Maltby (2002, 297) argues that Tibullus’ inspiration for his settlement is not reliant on Vergil’s description but rather is based on earlier historical tradition that describes the pre-Romans as civilized shepherds. Rothwell (1996, 833) also points out that Tiberinus tells Aeneas that Evander’s men have been endlessly engaged in fighting since their arrival (Verg. Aen. 8.55), while Tibullus makes no mention of this. 74. Gosling 1987, 333. 5. Maxima Roma: Refounding Rome in Propertius 4.1, 4.4, and 4.9 1. See, for example, Rothwell 1996; Maltby 2002; and Papaïoannou 2003. DeBrohun (2003) reconciles the aetiological and the erotic themes of the fourth book in her reading of Propertius’ text. Likewise, Welch (2005) focuses on Propertius’ work as a rival to the monuments Augustus has created; her approach to the text studies the topography of the Augustan city as a source of inspiration for Propertius’ fourth book. Both DeBrohun and Welch find a greater contrast exists between the past and present than I do, moreover, their arguments do not centre on a comparison of Propertius with Tibullus 2.5 and Aeneid 8. 2. Recent studies have demonstrated that Propertius develops the theme of Rome’s greatness and celebrates Augustan achievements without overly glorifying Rome’s early traditions. DeBrohun (2003) argues that Propertius creates an early Rome that is praiseworthy for its lack of refinement. Papaïoannou (2003) finds Propertius to be following a linear model of progression, where societal decline is inevitable and the preference is for the simplicity of the past.

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Notes to pages 103-107 See Rothwell (1996) for the suggestion that the early landscape and the people who populate it resemble more closely an Iron Age existence than an early Golden Age existence. In Rothwell’s analysis of Propertius’ text, there is no suggestion that conditions in early Rome will foster a renewal or return to a Golden Age, only that harsh labour will precede a civilized existence. For a comparison of Propertius and Tibullus, see Lyne (1998). See also Maltby (2002), who argues that Propertius’ Rome is closer to the version that Vergil envisioned than the one Tibullus created. A superb study by Janan (2001) applies Lacan’s theories to Propertius’ poems in order to shed new light on Book 4. For the display of visual elements in the fourth book, see also Hubbard (1975) and Benediktson (1989). 3. Evans 2003, 300. 4. Maltby (2002, 301-2) has a more extensive description of the similarities in diction between the two authors. 5. Fantham 1997, 132. 6. For the dating of the fourth book, see Maltby (2002, 302). 7. Maltby 2002, 293. For further discussion of the Aeneid’s influence on Propertius’ fourth book, see La Penna (1950, 1951) and (1977, 176-91); Tränkle (1960, 3-57); Solmsen (1961); Van Sickle (1974/75, 116-20); and Weeber (1978). 8. See Gurval (1995, 167-208), who describes the culture of shame and disapproval that Propertius’ poetry before Book 4 expresses about the period right after the civil wars. 9. See, for example, Cairns 1984, 163-4. 10. See Stahl 1985, 260-1. 11. See, for instance, Gurval 1995, 278. 12. See Welch 2005, 96-109. 13. Maltby (2002, 293) cites Don. Vit. Virg. 32-3. 14. Maltby 2002, 299-300. 15. For a brief but recent discussion of the similarities between Aeneid 8 and Propertius 4.1, see DeBrohun (2003, 37-41). 16. Cf. Maltby 2002, 301: ‘Without mentioning Augustus by name, the opening section of Propertius 4.1 serves to celebrate his building programme, his reform of government, his revival of religious institutions and his interest in Roman history and myth.’ 17. Most scholars agree that 4.1 is one coherent poem and not, as Sandbach (1962) and Murgia (1989) argue, two distinct poems. For a convincing argument for why the two sections should be taken as one poem instead of two, see Warden (1980, 137nn.27, 28). See also Richardson (1977, 414-24) and MacLeod (1983) for readings that suggest one unified poem. See also Miller (2003, 186) and Welch (2005, 174n.1). As the second half of the poem is about the astrologer Horos warning Propertius not to compose works on any aspect of public life, my discussion of 4.1 will concentrate on the first half. 18. Cf. Rothwell (1996, 834) on the differences between the three authors: ‘Of course the discrepancies between Tibullus and Vergil are in some measure due to the differences between elegy and epic. Although Propertius seems to have looked to both models of early Rome in his fourth book (c. 16 BC), it is a third model of his own making that is best suited to his purposes.’ 19. Weeber (1978, 492) suggests that this is to make the distinction between past and present more explicit. See also DeBrohun 2003, 41-2. Fox (2002 [1996], 144) comments that the description of the city resembles Varro’s account in DLL 5.

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Notes to pages 107-113 20. Weeber (1978, 492-5) contrasts Propertius’ allusions to the Augustan city in this poem with Vergil’s lack of Augustan elements in Aeneid 8. 21. Rothwell 1996, 837 and Maltby 2002, 301. 22. Stahl 1985, 256-7. 23. Edwards 1996, 42. 24. Maltby 2002, 302. 25. See Rothwell 1996, 839 and Papaïannou 2003, 686. Maltby (2002, 302) reads 4.1 as admiring the success of Augustus’ reign as an improvement over the past. 26. Cf. Rothwell 1996, 835: ‘His distaste for landscape outside of the city is sometimes explicit: the woods and countryside are at best boring, at worst, a place for grief, isolation, or fear.’ 27. Rothwell (1996, 835) also points out that ‘if there is a typical Propertian landscape, it is the bedroom’. 28. Rothwell (1996, 838) finds Rome to be ‘morally problematic’ due to all of the violence. See also Stahl (1985, 285-300) for the way in which the scenery is a backdrop for the violent activities of the early city and the emotions they generate. 29. DeBrohun (2003, 47) also points out that the Temple of Jupiter Tonans would be evoked by this image. 30. As Rothwell (1996, 838) suggests, Remus’s death is ‘an act of expiation for his leap over the walls.’ 31. Richardson 1977, 415-16. In particular, Camps (1965, 50) denies that the hut could be the structure on the Palatine or Capitoline as the casa Romuli would not fit in well with the more elegant surroundings on the hills: ‘domus } se sustulit suggests an imposing building.’ But his insistence that the hut would be too great of a contrast to the splendour of Propertius’ Rome does not take into account the fact that in the poet’s own time, replicas of the huts stood on both hills, very close to temples and other more elegant structures. 32. Edwards 1996, 42n.41: ‘We might also read this as a reference to the hut of Romulus itself – now standing in the place of the hut of his displaced brother. The location gradibus would fit in with Plutarch’s location of the hut of Romulus besides the scalae Caci on the Palatine (Rom. 20.4).’ 33. DeBrohun 2003, 47-9. 34. Edwards 1996, 40. 35. Camps 1965, 49 and Richardson 1977, 416. Gurval (1995, 172) suggests that Remus’ name ‘continues the theme of the defeated and betokens Roman civil war.’ 36. MacLeod 1983, 204. 37. See Morgan 1998, 185-6. 38. Papaïoannou 2003, 685. 39. Rothwell 1996, 836-9; cf. Aeneid 6.773-6. 40. See Hallett 1971, 81. See also Welch 2005, 25. 41. DeBrohun 2004, 58n.42. 42. Wiseman 1995, 1-3. 43. Fox 2002 [1996], 151-2. 44. See Richardson 1977, 418. 45. Classen 2002, 10-11. 46. Although DeBrohun (2003, 51-67) finds a greater contrast between past and present because the early Romans did not have arma. 47. Welch 2005, 34.

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Notes to pages 113-120 48. See also, for example, Varro, Ling. 5.41; Dion. Hal. 2.38-40; and Ovid Fast. 1.260-1 and Met. 14.776-7 as additional sources for the story. For Tarpeia as a universal foundation figure, see Rykwert (1976, 160). 49. Miles 1995, 208-9. See also Green (2004b) on Propertius’ portrait of Tarpeia as a traitor to Rome. 50. Welch 2005, 56. 51. DeBrohun (2003, 192-6) focuses her discussion of this elegy on the significance of Tarpeia’s choice between Roma and amor and the ways in which Tarpeia’s clothing reveals that she has no place in the male world of warfare. Welch (2005, 53-78) extends DeBrohun’s discussion by examining the role that Roman topography plays in Tarpeia’s rejection of Roman values. Stahl (1985, 279-305) finds in 4.4 a rejection of Augustan themes for love elegy. King (1990) finds imaginary landscapes within this poem, but I consider Propertius to be using Rome’s topography to make a point about individual desire. 52. Rothwell 1996, 839. 53. Rothwell 1996, 840. 54. Stahl 1985, 285. 55. Welch 2005, 68-9. 56. Livy 6.19.1. 57. Rothwell 1996, 841. 58. Janan 1998, 65. See also Janan 2001, 75: ‘ } Rome’s integrity as a polity – What it means to be Rome depends on the city’s infiltration by foreigners because of women.’ 59. Jaeger 1997, 76. 60. See Janan’s compelling argument (2001, 70-84) that Propertius’ subversive retelling of the story makes it difficult to see whether or not her death was justified. 61. See Welch 2005, 59. 62. See Galinsky 1966 and 1972. The story is also told in Livy at 1.7.3-13. 63. Richardson 1992, 186-7. 64. Galinsky 1972, 132. Fox 2002 [1996], 170. 65. Putnam 1965, 130-4. See also Anderson 2005 [1969], 80: ‘When we hear this myth in Book 8, the fury of Hercules seems heroic and righteous anger appropriate to the man and his situation and we feel no sympathy for Cacus when Hercules kills him.’ 66. See Morgan (1998, 190) for the way in which Vergil makes the violence in this episode justified, just as the violence of the civil war was for good, although Fox (2002 [1996], 170) points out that Antony claimed to be a descendent of Hercules. Morgan (1998, 191) also compares Augustus and Cacus. 67. Southern 1998, 63. 68. Welch 2005, 115. 69. Gransden 1976, 16. 70. McKeown (1984, 179-80) suggests that one of Propertius’ probable sources for this story was Varro and this may account for some of the differences in the versions of Propertius and Vergil. McKeown also notes that, unlike the depiction of Hercules in Vergil’s Aeneid, Hercules in 4.9 appears to resemble the exclusus amator. 71. Anderson 1964, 4. 72. Influential articles on 4.9 include Grimal (1953); Holleman (1977); Pinotti (1977); and Coli (1978). Recent scholarship has focused on the gender and civic identity in 4.9. See, for example, Janan 1998 and 2001; Lindheim 1998;

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Notes to pages 120-127 Cyrino 1998; Fox 1998 and 1999; Spencer 2001; and Welch 2004. For a study of the use of the limen in Propertius, see DeBrohun (2003). See also Anderson (1964) for his seminal work on Hercules as the exclusus amator. 73. For further discussion of how the topography is used to convey humour, see Anderson (1992, 102), who notes that Propertius has Hercules turn his back on a ready supply of water from the Tiber at the base of the Palatine. See also Cairns (1992). 74. Rothwell 1996, 843-5. 75. Williams 1983, 152. 76. Welch 2005, 122. 77. Fox 2002 [1996], 174. 78. Zanker 1988, 44-7 and Gurval 1995, 92-3. 79. Welch 2005, 115. 80. See Rothwell 1996 and Papaïoannou 2003. 81. Cf. Morgan (1998, 185) on Vergil’s version of the Hercules-Cacus episode: ‘This is violence in the extreme: But what I want to suggest Vergil does with this violence is argue that it is, in a paradoxical way, constructive: in fact, he seems to imply that the more unqualified the violence the more constructive it is.’ 82. Cf. Rothwell 1996, 834 on Aeneid 8: ‘The urgent forces of history drive Aeneas and Evander toward a well ordered future. Romulus cannot come soon enough.’ Conclusion 1. Southern 1998, 128-30. 2. Newlands (1995, 9) describes, among other hardships, the harsh living conditions around AD 8: ‘There was a plague at Rome and famine in Italy.’ 3. Although the scope of this project did not allow for a thorough study of Ovid’s Fasti and the Augustan monuments in relation to the landscape found in Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius, there is much more to investigate. For a brief overview of Ovid’s depiction of archaic Rome and Romulus in the Fasti and Metamorphoses and Horace’s presentation of the urban landscape in Augustan times in relation to the works of Vergil, Tibullus, and Propertius, see Classen (2002, 11-14 and 22-4). See also, for example, recent works by Newlands (1995); Boyle (1997); Hill (2002); Boyle (2003); and Green (2004a and 2004c) for more detailed studies of the Fasti’s use of monuments in imperial Rome. 4. See Herbert-Brown 1994, v. 5. For the date of the Fasti, see Boyle (2003, 13). 6. Some of the main considerations centre around the political implications of Ovid’s poems. See McKeown (1984, 186), for example, whose reading of this work concludes ‘that political considerations, although important, are not paramount.’ See also Wallace-Hadrill’s response (1987) to McKeown’s reading. Although as Feeney (1992) has demonstrated, McKeown’s consideration of the role that libertas played in Ovid’s composition adds much to the reading of the Fasti that expands the question beyond one of literary tradition versus political considerations. 7. Fox 1996 [2002], 194-5. 8. Green (2004c, 101-2) asserts that it is the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitoline that Ovid is referring to here, and he argues that Janus is ‘inviting comparison’ between the smaller version of the temple before it was rebuilt after the fire of 83 BC and the temple in Ovid’s own time. The Temple of Jupiter Tonans is mentioned later at 2.67-70.

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Notes to pages 127-135 9. Barchiesi 1997, 42: ‘In all Ovid’s late work, Augustus appears with the attributes of the divinity most dear to him, Juppiter Tonans; and the cosmic powers of Augustus-Jove, concentrated in the thunderbolt’s violence, caused Ovid’s fall.’ 10. Fox 1996 [2002], 195. 11. Cf. Livy 1.15-21; Plutarch Rom. 22.1; Cicero Rep. 2.4. 12. Although Barchiesi (1997, 161) notes that in Ovid’s version of the death of Remus, although Celer kills Remus, just as he did in Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ version, Ovid adds the detail where Romulus gives the edict about jumping over the walls of the city: ‘} if Romulus has appointed a man called Celer to protect the walls, it is hardly surprising that the situation should quickly get out of hand. To ignore this name’s potentialities, and to exculpate Celer, means – in the very version that at first sight is most favourable to him – bringing Romulus back into the picture: in the place of the “censored” fratricide, here are hints of a role that is not so very different from that of “instigator”.’ Murgatroyd (2005, 45) interprets Ovid’s retelling of the story as a ‘terrible misunderstanding’ but like Barchiesi, finds that Romulus is not blameless in Ovid’s version, even if Celer committed the actual murder. 13. See Hinds (1992), who offers a thorough and excellent exegesis on the appearance of Romulus and Remus in the Fasti. 14. Murgatroyd 2005, 33. 15. Barchiesi 1997, 21. 16. Green 2004c 122-3. 17. Barchiesi 1997, 96-7. 18. Barchiesi 1997, 98. 19. Green 2004c, 249. 20. Miles 1999, 232. 21. Miles 1999, 249-50. 22. Miles 1999, 232. 23. Meier 1995, 44-5. 24. Smith 2005, 95. 25. Syed (2005) provides an exhaustive survey of the Aeneid as a national epic which fostered a sense of cultural identity for its readers. Although her study focuses primarily on the self as a gendered and/or ethnic individual, she also argues that the reader learns about Roman identity through reading about non-Roman ethnic identities within the poem. 26. Putnam 1965, 106. 27. Jaeger 1998, 77. 28. Henry 1989, 8. 29. Griffin 1986, 67. 30. Rudd 1986, 34. Cf. Adler 2003, 186. 31. Favro 1996, 230-2. 32. Favro 1996, 6-7. 33. Jaeger 1997, 19. For other discussions of the landscape as a more dramatic than realistic backdrop for events in Roman literature, see Thomas (1982) and Horsfall (1985). 34. Cf. Alcock 2002, 31: ‘Landscape analysis reveals conditions favourable for memory’s conservation or loss, or for the prompting of new memorial traditions or interpretations.’

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Index Locorum References within endnotes are included in this index if the passage is discussed in detail. References to the pages and notes of this book are in bold. Augustus Res Gestae 1.1, 57; 19.2, 35, 45; 34.1-2, 57; 34.2, 32; 35.1, 34, 75 Cicero Academica 1.3.9, 22 De Officiis 1.138, 33; 1.140, 27 De Oratore 2.9.36, 8; 2.86.351-4, 9; 2.87.357, 9 In Catilinam 3.19, 52; 3.22, 53 Institutio Oratoria 11.2.17-22, 9 Pro Murena 76, 28 Dio Cassius Roman History 48.43.4, 37; 49.15.5, 31; 53.16.4-5, 32; 54.4.3, 55; 54.29.8, 37 Diodorus 34.33.2, 24 Dionysius of Halicarnassus Roman Antiquities 1.32.5, 24; 1.79.11, 23, 37; 1.87.4, 39; 2.37.2, 111; 2.40, 114 Ennius Annales 5.580, 51 Florus 1.1.8, 41 Hesiod Works and Days 110-20, 79 Horace Epodes 7.17-20, 40 Odes 1.12, 149n53; 3.1.5-8, 147n8; 3.3.42-52, 145n56 Livy Preface 6, 13 Book 1: 1.4.7, 111; 1.6.3-7.3, 23; 1.7.1-3, 40; 1.8.4-13.8, 36; 1.8.5-6, 48; 1.10.4-7, 44; 1.11.5-9, 113, 114; 1.12, 114; 1.12.3-7, 25; 1.13, 114; 1.38.7, 49; 1.55.5-6, 50; 1.87.4, 39 Book 4: 4.4.4, 156n56; 4.20.3, 45 Book 5: 5.39.9-12, 47; 5.39.9-40.6, 46; 5.43, 47; 5.51.3-52.2, 47; 5.54.7, 48, 49

Book 6: 6.4.10, 53; 6.17.5, 53; 6.19.1, 53; 6.19.6-20.14, 53 Book 10: 10.8.2, 95; 10.23.11-12, 38; 10.26.13, 41; 10.33.9, 25; 10.36.11, 25; 10.37.15-16, 25 Book 22: 22.37, 25; 22.57.6, 41 Book 26: 26.19.7, 53 Book 34: 34.4.3, 28 Book 35: 35.9.6, 25 Book 38: 38.50.6-53, 54 Ovid Ars Amatoria 3.127-8, 97 Fasti 1.59-78, 129; 1.63, 126; 1.191-6, 126; 1.197-204, 127; 1.259-72, 128; 1.543-87, 129; 1.559, 129; 1.580-2, 129; 2.133-44, 128; 2.289-302, 97; 3.37-80, 128; 3.85-6, 128; 3.179-232, 128; 4.347-8, 35; 4.843-8, 128; 4.954, 34 Metamorphoses 15.858-70, 147n8 Tristia 5.2.47-8, 147n8 Plutarch Pompey 40.5, 33 Romulus 16.5-8, 25; 20.4-6, 23 Polybius 10.5, 53 Propertius Book 1: 1.1, 108; 1.20, 108 Book 2: 2.1, 109; 2.1.23, 40; 2.15, 105; 2.16, 105; 2.16.19-21, 109; 2.31.1-2, 108; 2.34, 105 Book 3: 3.9.48-9, 40; 3.9.50, 41; 3.11.57-8, 105; 3.16, 108 Book 4: 4.1.1-10, 107; 4.1.3, 108; 4.1.7, 109; 4.1.9-10, 40, 109; 4.1.11-38, 110-11; 4.1.49-52, 112; 4.1.50, 109; 4.4.1-14, 115-16; 4.4.29-30, 116; 4.4.31-52, 117; 4.4.85-94, 117, 118; 4.6.42-4, 105; 4.6.80, 40; 4.9.1-10, 120; 4.9.61-70, 121; 4.9.71-4, 121 Quintilian Institutio Oratoria 11.2.17-22, 9

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Indexes Velleius Paterculus 2.81.3, 31 Vergil Aeneid 1.279, 89; 1.291-6, 40; 6.791-5, 93; 7.203-4, 154n29; 8.51-4, 90; 8.102-3, 119; 8.184-99, 119; 8.306-18, 91; 8.314-69, 85; 8.319-27, 92; 8.342-4, 94; 8.347-8, 93; 8.351-4, 94; 8.357, 94; 8.359-65, 94; 8.361, 107; 8.363-4, 121; 8.675-730, 131 Eclogues 2.29, 98; 4.6, 88; 4.18-30, 88 Georgics 1.121-8, 97; 1.121-46, 88 Vitrivius De Architectura 2.1.5, 55; 6.5.2, 27 Zonaras 8.1, 41

Suetonius Augustus 5.1, 30; 7.2, 40; 29.3, 34, 55; 30.2, 71; 31.1, 149n58; 58.1, 75; 72.1-2, 30, 31; 92, 33; 94, 56; 95.2, 36 Tacitus Annales 1.1, 13; 12.24, 22-3 Historiae 3.72, 60 Tibullus Book 1: 1.3.35-50, 96; 1.3.39-42; 45-6, 88; 1.10.39-42, 89 Book 2: 2.5.5-6, 101; 2.5.9-10, 96; 2.5.15-17, 101; 2.5.23-6, 97-8; 2.5.25, 107, 121; 2.5.26, 156n55; 2.5.27-38, 99-100; 2.5.115-22, 101, 131

General Index Actium battle of, 105, 125 defeat of Antony, 3, 59, 77-8 Aeneid 8 on archaic-Augustan Rome, 89-95 and cultural identity, 90, 162n25 depiction of Saturn, 92-3, 131, 153n17 Evander’s description of proto-Rome, 23, 90-3 as foundation story, 89-90 and Golden Age, 92-3, 154n29 and Hercules, 91, 118-20, 160nn65, 66 house of Evander, 94-5 Age of Saturn, 88, 96-7 Agrippa (M. Vipsanius Agrippa), 125 Alcock, S.E. on Greeks and memory, 69 on monuments and mobility of memory, 68-70 Antiquities (Varro), 22 Antonius, Marcus (Mark Antony) comparisons with Hercules, 119-20, 121-2, 160n66 defeat at Actium, 3, 59, 77-8 Apollo, 33-4, 95-6, 101, 155n44; see also Temple of Apollo Palatinus archaic-Augustan Rome in Aeneid 8, 89-95

on Capitoline, 44-6, 54-6 defined, 4-5 on Palatine, 28-30, 42-3 in Propertius, 103-4, 157nn1, 2 in Tibullus 2.5, 98, 101 archaic Rome defence of, 46-8 founding of, 22-4 Arx location, 46, 147n11 as site of augury and residences, 48-9 assimilation of outsiders and survival of Rome, 43, 89, 111-12, 130-1 of Sabines, 36, 115, 118 Augustus altar to Vesta, 34 association with Jupiter, 44, 59-60, 149nn53, 54 Capitoline building programme, 44-6, 54-6 Domus Augusti, 31-5 and foundation stories, 21, 39-42, 70 Hellenistic influences on, 33-4, 153n11 neighbourhood reforms, 71-4, 151nn22, 27 as Octavian, 3, 15, 142n49

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Indexes Palatine building programme, 28-30, 42-3 portrayal of self in Res Gestae, 57-8 promise of renewal, 6, 7, 13, 140nn13, 14 religious reforms, 58-9, 72-4, 151n17 authorial intent, 14-16 Bryson, N., on visual culture, 67, 132 Capitoline as central Roman space, 44-5 destruction of Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, 60-1 and Jupiter, 49-54 map of, xi seat of imperial power, 49-50 site of civic functions, 48-9 as site of proto-Rome in Tibullus, 96-8 site of religious and political significance, 60-1 as used by Augustus, 54-6 used in defence of archaic Rome, 46-8 see also Tacitus; Tarpeian rock Capitolium, 46-9, 147n11 Casa Romuli, see hut of Romulus Cicero citation of Varro’s Antiquities, 22 on dangers of civil war, 52-3 dream of Octavian, 56-7 on housing and moral character, 26-7 on interrelation of memory and history, 8 civil war, 104-5 Cicero on dangers of, 52-3 see also Actium, battle of communal memory creation of, 28 and cultural identity, 9 and meaning of monuments, 68-70, 139n8 and significance of hut of Romulus, 36 community redefinition through memory of foundation stories, 130-1 renewal through restoration of shrines, 72-3 role in Tibullus’s proto-Rome, 99-100 and view of landscape, 132-3 cultural identity, 90 and Aeneid, 162n25 and monuments, 68-9, 139n8

Domus Augusti, 31-5 Edwards, C. on interpretation of hut of Romulus, 56 on monuments and communal memory, 68 environmental memory, 132-3 Evander description and founding of proto-Rome, 23, 90-3 house of, 94-5, 154n23 exiles in Latium, 89-90 Fasti (Ovid), 126-9 foundation of archaic Rome and Capitoline building programme, 54 as evoked by huts of Romulus, 21, 23, 46 foundation stories in Aeneid 8, 89-95 community memory of, 130-1 Golden Age motif, 87-9 poets’ questions about, 87 Romulus and Remus, 38-40 Tibullus, 86 as used by Augustus, 21, 39-42, 70 Golden Age Augustan Age vision of, 80-1 and Hesiod, 79, 93, 152nn40, 41 motifs, 87-9 myths, 77-9, 84 Saturn’s rule during, 92-3 Gowing, A., on memory and history, 7-8 Greeks and memory/monuments, 69 see also Alcock Halbwachs, M., on collective memory, 9 Hercules in Aeneid 8, 91, 118-19 comparisons with Antony, 119-20, 121-2, 160n66 in Ovid’s Fasti, 129 in Propertius 4.9, 105-6, 118-22 Hesiod, 79, 93, 152nn40, 41 ‘House of Livia,’ 35 housing public vs. private space, 26-8 as reflection of moral character, 26-7 shortage, 30 human sacrifice, 41-2 hut of Remus, 109-10 hut of Romulus appearance, ix, 23 communal significance of, 36-8

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Indexes on Romulus and Remus, 23, 36, 38-9, 142n3 on Tarpeia, 113-14, 118 Lott, J.B., on Augustan reforms in Roman neighbourhoods, 72-4

construction of on Capitoline, 35, 45-6, 55-6 as described by Ovid, 127 maintenance of, 37-8 restoration of on Palatine, 21-2, 29-30, 36 as symbol of Rome’s foundation, 23, 36-8, 45-6, 54 imperial building programme, 6-7, 145n48 on Capitoline, 44-6, 54-6 on Palatine, 28-30, 42-3 Jupiter association with Victoria, 25, 42 attributes, 51-4 on the Capitoline, 49-54 as community protector, 44-5, 50, 54, 57 as god of crop fertility, 44 in Ovid’s Fasti, 127-8 as protector of Augustus, 54-5, 58 role in Augustan Rome, 56-61 as symbol of law and order, 59-60 in Tibullus 2.5, 96 transfer of power to Augustus, 56-8 see also Temple of Jupiter Feretrius; Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus; Temple of Jupiter Stator; Temple of Jupiter Tonans Jupiter Capitolinus, see Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus Jupiter Feretrius, 45, 51, 98, 146n3 Jupiter Optimus Maximus association with Roman leaders, 53, 55 on Capitoline, 25, 48, 50 as community protector, 54, 57 cult of, 45-6, 50, 51 and victory processions, 33 Jupiter Stator, 24, 25, 28, 35, 143n15 Jupiter Tonans, as protector of Augustus, 44, 54-5 ktisis, 86, 99, 153nn9, 10 Lares Augusti, 73 Lares Compitales, 72-3 and Compitalia, 151nn15, 20 Livy on Cato/clay gods, 28 on defence of Capitoline, 46-8, 118 on foundation of Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, 49-50 on human sacrifice, 41

M. Manlius Capitolinus, 53, 117-18 Magna Mater, 24, 35; see also Temple of Magna Mater Marcus Manlius, see M. Manlius Capitolinus memory of civic loss, 61 communal, 9, 28, 68-70 as defined by ancient Romans, 7-8 of endurance, 56 environmental, 132-3 of foundation, 54 mobility of, 69-70 and monuments, 139n8 replication and restoration, 6 as social construct, 8-9 Messalinus, Marcus Valerius Messala, in Tibullus 2.5, 86, 95-6, 98, 100-2, 157nn67, 69 Miles, G., on community redefinition, 130-1 Mons Tarpeius (Capitoline), see Tarpeian rock monuments and cultural identity, 68-9 and memory, 139n8 restoration, 28 significance of in Propertius 4.1, 112-13 Nappa, C. on association of Augustus with Jupiter, 59-60 on authorial intent, 14-15, 141n45, 142n49 neighbourhood reforms, 71-4, 151n27 Octavian, see Augustus Ovid (Fasti), 126-9 on death of Remus, 162n12 political implications of poems, 161n6 Palatine association with Victoria and Magna Mater, 24-5 building programme of Augustus, 28-38 complex of buildings, 35 as focus of Augustan poets, 21 Jupiter Stator and, 25 map of, x

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Indexes residential use of, 24 restoration of hut of Romulus, 29-30 significance as religious and political site, 21, 28-9 as site of archaic Rome, 22-4 visual culture on, 70-6 visual impact of Augustus’ home on, 32-3 Palatium (home of Augustus), 32 Parilia, 99-101, 156nn64, 66 patronage, 26-8 Pompey, home of, 6, 26 precinct of Victory, 21, 24-5, 28, 35, 143n17, 145n52 Propertius on archaic-Augustan Rome, 103-4, 157nn1, 2, 158n16 influence of Vergil and Tibullus on, 104-5, 158nn7, 18 on outsiders entering Rome, 105-6 on Remus, 40 reversal of Evander’s tour in Aeneid 8, 103, 106 Propertius 4.1 assimilation, 111-12 comparison of proto- and Augustan Rome, 107-9 governance, worship, and military practices of proto-Rome, 110-11 landscape, 106 maxima Roma, 107 significance of monuments in, 112-13 Propertius 4.4 on assimilation of Sabines, 115, 118 and Jupiter, 115, 116-17 on Tarpeia and Titus Tatius, 113-18 Propertius 4.9 absence of Golden Age in, 120, 122 on Hercules, 105-6, 118-22 humour in, 120, 161n73 proto-Rome as described by Tibullus, 85 Evander’s description of, 90-3 in Fasti, 126-8 role of community in Tibullus 2.5, 99-100 Vergil’s vision of, 91 public space, use of in Augustan Rome, 71-6, 139n8 public vs. private space merging of, 33-4 reflection of political and social power, 26-8 use of by Augustus, 71-6 Quindecimviri Sacris Faciundis, 86, 95

religious reforms and rituals, 58-9, 70-3 Remus hut of, 109-10 multiple versions of death, 38-40 sacrifice of, 41-2 restoration of peace and prosperity, 70, 76-7 of religious rituals and traditional piety, 62, 70-3 visual images of, 29 Rome archaic-Augustan Rome, 4-5, 28-30, 42-3, 44-6, 54-6 proto-Rome, 85, 91-2, 99-100, 126-8 religious rituals and place, 58-9, 70-3 survival of, 41-2, 43, 46-8, 122 transformation from Republic to Empire, 11 see also specific locations within city Romulus in Aeneid, 94 and cult of Victoria, 25, 35 as exemplum virtutis, 36-7 first triumphator, 25 founding of Rome, 22-3 see also hut of Romulus Romulus and Remus in Fasti, 127-8 in Propertius 4.1, 111-12 as symbols of Augustan renewal, 39-42 in Tibullus 2.5, 97-8 Sabines/Sabine women, 113-18 sanctuary of Terminus, 49-50 Saturn as exile, 89 in Tibullus 2.5, 96-7 transformation and Golden Age establishment, 92-3 see also Temple of Saturn Scipio Africanus Maior, 33, 53-4 shrines to Ops and Fides, xi, 49, 148n18 significance of place, 10, 22, 48, 101 association with religious rites, 48 social drama breach and crisis phases, 76-7 defined, 76, 78 redress phase, 79-81 reintegration phase, 81-3 summarised, 134-5 Sybil, 95-6, 112 Sybilline texts, 24, 41, 95, 149n58 Tacitus, 22, 60-1, 150n65 Tarpeia in Fasti, 128-9

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Indexes in Propertius 4.4, 113-18, 160n51 Tarpeian rock, 53, 114, 117, 118 Tatius, Titus in Fasti, 128-9 in Propertius 4.4, 113-18 temples Apollo Palatinus, 30-1, 33-5, 95 Jupiter Feretrius, 45, 49, 54, 98, 113, 139n4 Jupiter Optimus Maximus, 25, 44-6, 49, 57, 60-1, 74, 93, 96, 147n11 Jupiter Stator, 24, 35, 143n19, 148n32 Jupiter Tonans, 44-6, 54-5, 59, 74, 127 Magna Mater, 24, 35, 143n14, 145n52 Saturn, 49, 139n4 Victoria, 24-5, 35, 139n4 Victoria Virgo, 25, 28, 35 Victory, 143n14 Terminus, 49-50, 148nn21, 24 Thébert, Y., on patronage, 26 Tibullus description of proto-Rome, 85-6 as influenced by Vergil’s Aeneid, 85-7, 153n7 placement of proto-Rome on Capitoline, 96-8 use of Golden Age motif, 87-9 Tibullus 2.5 on Apollo, 95-6, 101 description of Capitoline, 97-8 on Jupiter, 96-7 on Messalinus, 86, 95-6, 98, 100-2, 157nn67, 69 Parilia, 99-101 promise of Augustan renewal, 100-1 role of community, 99 on Romulus and Remus, 97-8 on Saturn, 96-7 transition from Republic to Empire, 41-2 triad of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, 49, 147n11 triumphator, 25, 96, 98, 101 procession of, 33

Turner, V., on social drama, 76-83 urbs aeterna, 98-9, 156n56 Varro (Antiquities), as cited by Cicero, 22 Vergil and authorial intent, 14-15 description of proto-Rome, 23, 85, 90-3 Fourth Eclogue, 88-9 Georgics, 59, 88 influence on Tibullus, 85-7, 153nn6, 7 Victoria, as attribute of Jupiter, 25, 35 Victory as theme in home of Augustus, 32-3 and triumphator ceremony, 25 see also precinct of Victory; Temple of Victory visual culture Augustan emphasis on, 11 and memory, 67-70 motifs, 75 on the Palatine, 70-6 visuality defined, 67 summarised, 134 Vitruvius, on housing and moral character, 26-7 Wallace-Hadrill, A., on patronage, 26 Wifstrand Schiebe, M., on Golden Age motif, 87-8 Wiseman, T.P., on Romulus and Remus, 39, 41 Yates, F., on vision and memory, 9-10 Zanker, P. on Hellenistic influences on Augustus, 33-4 on housing shortage of general populace, 30 on Romulus as exemplum virtutis, 36-7 on visual imagery of restoration, 29

180