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Shovels Out: Excavating Augustus and Partisan Historiography on the Palatine

2020, Mnemosyne

Review of: T. P. Wiseman, The House of Augustus: A Historical Detective Story. This engaging and accessible book conclusively puts to rest the longstanding misidentification of grand ruins on Rome’s Palatine Hill as the “House of Augustus.” Wiseman defends the view that Augustus’ buildings on the Palatine carefully differentiated between private modesty and public munificence while aligning the princeps with Romulus through their various imprints on this storied landscape. Sound archaeological arguments are couched within a less convincing attempt to reframe Augustus as a populist hero.

Review Article for Mnemosyne I am self-archiving my author’s draft of this review article (which predates editing, typesetting, publication, and the addition of other value by the journal) in accordance with Brill policy. Please refer to and cite the final printed version, in a spring 2020 issue of Mnemosyne. Shovels Out: Excavating Augustus and Partisan Historiography on the Palatine Nandini Pandey University of Wisconsin-Madison Department of Classical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies nandini.pandey@wisc.edu Abstract Review of: T. P. Wiseman, The House of Augustus: A Historical Detective Story. This engaging and accessible book conclusively puts to rest the longstanding misidentification of grand ruins on Rome’s Palatine Hill as the “House of Augustus.” Wiseman defends the view that Augustus’ buildings on the Palatine carefully differentiated between private modesty and public munificence while aligning the princeps with Romulus through their various imprints on this storied landscape. Sound archaeological arguments are couched within a less convincing attempt to reframe Augustus as a populist hero. Keywords Augustus – Palatine – Roman archaeology – myth and history – Romulus Wiseman, T. P. (2019). The House of Augustus: A Historical Detective Story. Princeton, Princeton University Press. 264 pp. Pr. $35.00 (hb). ISBN 9780691180076. 1 Knives Out T. P. Wiseman is the rare classicist who needs no introduction among scholars and has even penetrated the public consciousness. His Wikipedia page, an index to modern mythology if there ever was one, documents speculation that he inspired the character of Dumbledore after teaching J. K. Rowling at Exeter. It also quotes Mary Beard’s description of Wiseman’s methodology in Remembering the Roman People (2009), words that speak equally to the visionary power of now-classic studies like Remus: A Roman Myth (1995) and the ambitions of this latest: To find what he is looking for, Wiseman must read the sources against the grain, searching out hints of a different view of events, and looking for the cracks in the conservative story through which a glimpse of a popular tradition might be seen. … In 1 doing this, he not only depends on a rare familiarity with Roman literature, from the mainstream to its remotest byways, but also on a capacity for bold historical speculation that takes him right to the edge of (and in some cases beyond) what the surviving evidence can reliably tell us.1 Given Wiseman’s imaginative talents, I half-hoped that The House of Augustus would indeed be a “historical detective story” – about the mystery of Ovid’s exile, perhaps, or the sexual escapades of the Julias, or the various conspiracies against Augustus’ life. Such sordid details, however, have no place in the glowing portrait of Augustus as populist savior that emerges from and impels this book. That I happen to consider this particular vision of Augustus a creative fiction does not diminish my appreciation for Wiseman’s real and enduring accomplishments with this book. First and foremost, he publicly rights the archaeological record on the area of the Palatine still shown to tourists as the “Casa di Augusto.” In the process, he presents an alternately ingenious and provocative account of Augustus’ home, temple to Apollo, and other architectural interventions on the Palatine, interpreted against this hill’s wider mythohistorical, archaeological, and literary backdrop. Wiseman’s verbal unpeeling of this site’s onion-like layers takes admirable intellectual and structural risks while aiming to engage even non-specialist readers in open scholarly questions. In its swift pacing, palpable partisanship, and plot hole within a plot hole, Wiseman’s “detective story” rejects history sine ira et studio in favor of something more akin to the 2019 murder mystery Knives Out. This film stars Daniel Craig as the folksy detective Benoit Blanc, piercing through aristocratic hypocrisies to vindicate misunderstood virtue. In similar vein, the true hero of House of Augustus is Wiseman himself, rescuing Augustus from what he presents as centuries of character assassination and in the meantime showing the Muggles how history is done. Like any good whodunnit, this book interweaves the story of what we know with the question of how we know it. In Wiseman’s view, the belief that Augustus was Rome’s first emperor has biased archaeologists’ interpretation of what they found on the Palatine. If we instead understand Augustus in his own terms as princeps, and believe literary evidence that his home was modest, we will see Augustus as a true man of the people, take our knives out of his back, and aim them instead at the “arrogant oligarchs” who wrecked the Republic. 2 Cross-Examination Wiseman announces a return to the sources themselves. However, rather than proceed inductively, building his case from an accumulation of evidentiary detail, Wiseman operates deductively, lending his argument an elegant circularity. This book takes Augustus at his word that he returned ownership of the res publica to the people, then uses this as an explanatory principle to interpret Rome’s literary and material landscape. Since this landscape is characterized by absences and silences – including a lack of positive archaeological evidence for Augustus’ home, and tacit constraints on literary speech2 – it can do little to resist. Wiseman’s habit of calling ancient sources to “witness,” but dismissing contradictory testimony as “biased,” frames him less as a detective than as a defense lawyer for Augustus. Though his conclusions are 1 2 Beard 2009: 8. See, e.g., Feeney 1992 and Pandey 2018: 24. 2 based on decades of scholarship, readers may well wish to see more of his work, especially given its stance as a case study in historical method. Likewise, the copious scholarship that offers reason to doubt Augustus’ rosy self-portrait, or to differentiate between popularis and Caesarian politics, on is buried in the back if mentioned at all. Though Wiseman proudly accepts the label of “pusillanimous empiricist,”3 he makes bold imaginative leaps throughout, guided by convictions that (to his credit) he does not try to disguise. Wearing my own on my sleeve in respectful reciprocity, I appreciate the resultant edifice’s impressive height and internal solidity – though it may seem built on quicksand to readers who have not drunk the Augustan Kool-Aid. At the risk of re-litigating the old pro-/anti-Augustan debate,4 I worry that such treatment steamrollers a richly polyvocal literature into choral monotone. My stake in the matter will be clear from my 2018 monograph, The Poetics of Power in Augustan Rome, exploring the vigorous, often critical conversation that writers from Vergil to Ovid conduct about the princeps and his iconography just beneath the surface of their texts. In my view, the respect and gratitude that Wiseman detects among these poets is tempered with doubts about the expansion of Augustus’ powers, not only over the state but also over private lives and public speech and space. Propertius 2.31-32 and Ovid’s Tristia 3.1, for instance, both read the new Palatine temple as an index to Augustus’ growing hegemony over Roman topography, culture, even the gods. These poems suggest that ancient observers could, and did, see through the careful separation between private modesty and public munificence that is a lynchpin of Wiseman’s argument. But I am no likelier to change Wiseman’s view on this matter than he is to change mine, and readers will decide for themselves. These differences aside, I thoroughly enjoyed House of Augustus and recommend it without hesitation to anyone interested in Roman antiquity, topography, or the interconnections among space, myth, and history. Even confirmed pessimists like me will find much to learn, admire, and think about on every page. And on the key archaeological claim, the identification and orientation of Augustus’ house, Wiseman convinced me already in his 2012 paper in JRA as well as the 2011 Durham and 2014 Lisbon conferences he credits with inspiring House of Augustus (p. xvi). It is a shame this book bears so little trace of the many compelling arguments voiced there and elsewhere for questioning and complicating Augustus’ image, as sincere engagement with the opposition would have strengthened its case. 3 Widening the Tent? House of Augustus’ laudable ambition to engage a broad audience with open scholarly questions is palpable from its first page. The hardback is gorgeously produced and divided into ten tripartite chapters averaging 15-18 pages each, crammed with historical detail alongside general thoughts on how historical narratives are made and unmade. Copious illustrations prove essential to understanding the argument, though some might be positioned closer to the relevant discussion or more succinctly captioned. Classical passages in translation are prominently labelled in the margins, lending a paratextual air of rigor, and topics and passages are indexed at 3 4 Re-appropriating a phrase from Carandini 2008: 148, cited on p. 28. Already tired by the time of Kennedy’s 1992 intervention. 3 the end. All Latin and Greek texts, however, and most engagement with prior scholarship are relegated to pp. 169-222, in notes arranged by page rather than keyed to endnotes. This renders the main text tidy and approachable, but it has some unfortunate side effects. For one, it tends to bury others’ positive contributions to the scholarly archaeology of the Palatine; with a few exceptions, authors are mentioned primarily when Wiseman thinks them wrong. It also creates the impression (save for some respectful citations of Amanda Claridge) that our hero is swashbuckling single-handedly through an old boy’s club. An author of this eminence has the power to reshape scholarly landscapes and to welcome others into an exclusionary field. For this reason, it would be nice to see more of a spotlight on the archaeological contributions of Irene Iacopi and Giovanna Tedone, or other women whose work in adjacent intellectual terrain deserves not just to cite but to be cited. While Amy Russell makes the cut, Valentina Arena, Penelope Davies, Emma Dench, Lisa Mignone, Kristina Milnor, and Jennifer Rea are among many conspicuous absences. This book also misses opportunities to broaden the tent through content: I for one would have enjoyed more discussion of Livia and the Julias, or the Danaids and Vesta, given women’s increasing prominence in the imperial household. 4 A Pro-Augustan Palatine Chapter 1, “Understanding Augustus,” conducts an unabashedly pro-Caesarian recap of the last days of the Republic and establishes the principate as the focal point and temporal baseline for the rest of the inquiry, which cuts forwards and backwards in time. Though this introductory chapter upholds the importance of literary sources, it regularly dismisses optimates like Cicero as “biased” without acknowledging the other side’s equal investment in their own version of events. (After “the People’s vengeance was carried out at Philippi,” Antony is swept under the rug as more or less a “foreign enemy” at p. 7.) Wiseman castigates “men who claimed the right to decide who should or should not be allowed to live, without reference to the laws that bound the rest of the Roman People” (p. 4), when their victim was Caesar. Only two pages later, he sheds nary a tear for the triumvirs’ proscription and extrajudicial execution of Cicero. The insistent moral binaries between senate and plebs, optimates and populares, are more polemical than persuasive. Chapter 2, “History and Archaeology,” argues that scholars’ expectations of imperial palaces have led them astray in identifying Augustus’ home; the princeps’ anti-oligarchical politics necessitated architectural modesty, and specific literary references seem to bear this out (p. 16). Wiseman does not address the possibility of confirmation bias in the other direction given the lack of definite archaeological evidence. Instead, in a brief history of the politics of Roman building, Wiseman again wields antithesis as argument: while Cicero ran afoul of his own dictum that the Romans hated private luxury and loved public magnificence (Pro Murena 76), Augustus got the porridge just right by living humbly next door to the grand temple he built for Apollo. The argument gains vigor as Wiseman begins unpacking scholarly errors, beginning with Gianfilippo Carettoni’s 1958 excavations of an aristocratic house that he wrongly believed to be connected via a ramp to the temple above. This passed via Paul Zanker’s seminal 1987 Augustus und die Macht der Bilder into the communis opinio that this structure was the palazzo di Ottaviano. The argument that it was actually an older aristocratic residence demolished to 4 build the Apollo temple – substantiated by Iacopi and Tedone, though they do not come off kindly at pp. 27-28 – is persuasive. But the comparative modesty of Augustus’ home must be understood in the context of his conflation of public and private space, as amply documented by Zanker, Karl Galinsky, and others. A note at p. 176 cites but does not contend with Russell’s claim that under Augustus “public space … was defined out of existence” (2016: 192), a point that Ovid anticipates with his accidental-on-purpose confusion of Apollo’s temple and Augustus’ own home (Pandey 2018: 114-33). 5 The Hole within the Hole Chapter 3 (“The Palace”), an “eclectic canter through the centuries” (p. 46), revolves around the donut hole within the donut hole – to borrow Benoit Blanc’s metaphor for the concentric mysteries of Knives Out. This was the great fire of 64 CE, which in destroying Nero’s Domus Transitoria paved the way for the Golden House and a realignment of the Sacra Via into a monumental avenue from the Forum to the Palatine. Wiseman discusses later imperial rebuildings that resulted in the topography familiar to visitors today, as well as the detachment of the term “palace” to apply to any imperial residence. The final section covers the Palatine’s Nachleben from late antiquity and the middle ages up past Napoleon III’s 1861 purchase of the Farnese gardens for excavation by Pietro Rosa. Particularly evocative are testimonies by Lord Byron, Henry James, and H. B. Morton of the ruined Palatine’s imaginative pull over generations of visitors. To Wiseman, the Neronian fire was “Year Zero” for the Palatine site, destroying so much that “there is no point working back from what survives now” (p. 47). Accordingly, Chapter 4 takes an imaginative journey back into “Palatine Prehistory,” before the House of the Vestals cut into the lower slope to create a hole in the archaeological record. It is no surprise, given this area’s defensibility and strategic value, that humans inhabited the Capitol from at least the 14th century BCE and the Palatine a century later. What did surprise me is how much these two hills and the valley between changed around them, as revealed by Albert Ammerman’s geomorphological studies. Given the deep gully that originally cut the Palatine off from the Velia, initial access to the Palatine and Capitoline was via the Velabrum, on shoulder-like outcroppings created by landslides of cappellaccio. Romans therefore accessed the Palatine from the Forum via the Nova Via before Neronian construction cut off this route, effacing the old Porta Mugionis and temple of Jupiter Stator. Rejecting Varro’s conjectures about a “protourban” Septimontium (p. 56), Wiseman argues that the 7th-century landfill that created the Roman Forum first brought Palatine residents into a larger community that would take its name from rhōmē, the Greek for “strength.” 6 Romulus as Augustan Paradigm Chapter 5 (“Palatine Legends”) postulates that Augustus chose to live on the Palatine in conscious imitation of Romulus, though it does not discuss the dialogue between princeps and senate that resulted in rejection of this regal name (p. 65). Wiseman’s main interest is tracing the mythographical threads that weave the Palatine into Rome’s earliest stories, from Homer and Hesiod to Stesichorus’ account of the labor that brought Hercules to Evander’s Pallantion and Vergil’s reworking of the tale. This wide-ranging subject could easily occupy a book of its own, 5 and indeed, the subject intersects with Remus (1995). Wiseman variously argues that “Romulus” was an onomastic and mythographic back-formation invented to bypass Greek origins for Rome’s name; that he had no attested sibling until 296, when Livy places the famous statue of the she-wolf and twins at the Ficus Ruminalis (10.23.11-12); and that Romulus was originally Aeneas’ grandson through Ilia before recalculations of the dates of the Trojan War and Rome’s foundation forced the invention of the intervening kings. Some may wish for more documentation of particulars (e.g., of the identity of Magna Mater and Rhea Silvia, 77), or more engagement with other studies of Aeneas’ tangled family tree (most recently, though too late for citation, Quint 2018). I also question whether Rome’s rustic simplicity in Aeneid 8, culminating with Evander’s advice to scorn wealth, can be taken as a simple compliment to Augustus given the pride he took in turning Rome from brick into marble (Suet. Aug. 28.3). Chapter 6, “The Romulus Paradigm,” attempts to locate events in the lives of Romulus and Remus within Roman topography, with particular concern for Romulus’ hut and “Roma Quadrata” as symbols of the reverend rusticity to which Augustus aspired. In hunting down mentions of the hut prior to a fourth-century CE gazeteer (p. 85), Wiseman leads us on a tour of Palatine environs associated with Romulus, including the Magna Mater temple, the Scalae Caci, the Lupercal, and the slope facing the Circus Maximus. But, using accounts by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Varro as remembered by Julius Solinus, two Byzantine authors, and a fragmentary mythographer based in Cappadocia, Wiseman locates the hut of Faustulus from which Romulus conducted his augury on an open area at the top of the hill. Wiseman’s use of sources so far distanced in time and space to reconstruct a fictional event can feel like a wild goose chase at times, but it leads us up to an analysis of “Square Rome” that identifies this sacred region with the 240 square Roman feet that Augustus would clear in front of the Apollo temple, with his own home’s façade on the perpendicular (see Figure 42, p. 96). Less convincing is Wiseman’s suggestion that Agrippa played Remus to Augustus’ Romulus, following his argument that early legends presented the twins as colleagues before the fratricidal version gained popularity during the civil wars (p. 95). I am not sure Romulus could so easily shed the blood-guilt he had acquired in Roman imaginations. 7 Back to the Future With Chapter 7, “Commander Caesar and His Gods,” Wiseman returns to 44 BCE and the future Augustus’ assumption of Julius Caesar’s inheritance, name, and military force. Among the young man’s military affectations were his use of the title imperator and, according to Wiseman, his replication on the Palatine of the layout of a military praetorium. The Palatine proved even more useful to his religious self-fashioning. Wiseman tracks the delays and recalculations that surrounded the Secular Games, from Vergil’s anticipatory Eclogues 4 to Augustus’ editing of the Sibylline books, before they were finally celebrated in 17 BCE. This overarching narrative brackets a catalogue of moments in the Palatine’s emerging design: Augustus’ vow to build the temple in 36 BCE, the addition of Lysias’ four-horse chariot with Apollo and Diana (viewed as gesturing toward Augustus and his long-suffering sister Octavia, p. 111), the iconographical choice to emphasize Actian Apollo (to avoid reminding Rome of Antony’s “sad” death at Alexandria, p. 111), the addition of the edited Sibylline books to the temple (how soon is “now,” p. 111?), Augustus’ triple triumph of 29 BCE and dedication of the temple the following year (why no fuller discussion of the apparent anachronism on Aeneas’ 6 shield?),5 and the doors featuring Apolline vengeance against the Gauls and Niobids (connected at p. 115 with an insult against Augustus’ mother Atia). Livia and the two Julias get only brief parenthetical aside, no doubt since they inconvenience Wiseman’s cause (Augustus “did his best to present his own family life as exemplary,” p. 121), but the final image of the chorus of boys and girls singing Horace’s Carmen Saeculare resonates beautifully with the themes and architectonics here described. Wiseman returns to his most effective forensic work – unpacking cumulative scholarly errors – in Chapter 8, “The Temple and the Portico.” He convincingly argued in 2012 that the Apollo temple faced out toward the Forum, not southwest onto the Circus Maximus as often thought. What is new here is the tale of this mistake’s entrance into the record, from Pietro Rosa’s 1865 misidentification of the temple to Giuseppe Lugli’s 1950 misprision of its façade. Wiseman substantiates Amanda Claridge’s 1998 hunch that the orientation was wrong via Tristia 3.1’s implication that the façade faced visitors arriving from the Forum. Ovid also mentions giallo antico columns that, Wiseman speculates, may have been rescued from the same late republican mansion that Carettoni mis-labelled “the house of Augustus” (p. 128). This residence and the so-called “house of Livia” nearby, Wiseman suggests, were demolished in the 30s BCE to build up the base for the Apollo temple and adjoining piazza and portico. His argument relies on the presence of a terracotta plaque depicting naked Luperci, whereas Augustus’ revival of this ritual provided for goatskin loincloths. The logic is clever, though it left me wondering about the possibility of deliberate archaism. Wiseman goes on to survey possible uses of the Palatine’s newly created public spaces, from the area Apollinis to the famous Danaid portico (possibly containing a grove that replaced the old cult site of Diana Noctiluca, “though the evidence is very indirect,” p. 134) to the library where Augustus convened the senate. 8 Poets on the Palatine Chapter 9, “Palatine Poets,” imagines the area Palatina as a space for festivals and performances, from the quadrennial Actian ludi to the games honoring the deified Augustus where Caligula was murdered by the Praetorian Guard (p. 140). This chapter’s novel goal, “to guess which classic texts” were first performed on the Palatine (p. 140), differentiates it from work by John Miller, Carole Newlands, and myself, among others, on poetic representations of the Palatine. A preliminary discussion of the history and evidence for public recitations might have been useful in substantiating some of Wiseman’s claims. It does not necessarily follow that all poems “addressed to the Roman People … must therefore have been delivered on public occasions” (p. 141), though Wiseman is on solid enough ground when it comes to Horace’s Roman Odes, and deftly lays out ways they respond to the Palatine environs. Certain particulars remain questionable. For example, even if Odes 3.4 makes reference to events of 29 BCE, this does not fix the date of the poems (as suggested at p. 143) but provides only a terminus post quem. Dating Odes 4.15 to 20 BCE by similar logic (p. 144), Wiseman suggests that the Parthian standards were housed in the Palatine temple of Jupiter Victor prior to Mars Ultor’s completion. Tibullus 2.5 and Propertius 4.1 and 4.6 are sensitively interpreted in light of Palatine rituals and iconography, but I am not convinced that each poem’s imaginative engagement with Apollo necessitates its public recitation on the Palatine – least of all Ovid’s Ars Amatoria 2 and Remedia 5 See Miller 2000. 7 Amoris, given that poet’s contentious relationship with Augustan power. Wiseman’s inability to think ill of Augustus makes him miss the subversive bent of Ovid’s comparison between Jupiter on Olympus and Augustus on the Palatine in Metamorphoses 1, and the autocratic implications of Ovid’s “new and powerful idea, that the whole of the Palatine was the princeps’ residence” (p. 149). The final section treats literary competitions, with an interesting excursus on the epitaph of an imperial recitator, though readers may have a hard time squaring the Augustan poets’ emphasis on privacy and exclusivity here with the preceding analysis. Fortunately, there is no lack of scholarship on the careful calibration of public and private among the elegists in particular, beginning with Gallus (whose quotation on p. 150 should be negated by the non at line 8; cf. text and translation of Hollis 2007: 224). 9 The Bitter End “As promised, we have followed where the evidence leads,” begins the tenth and final chapter (“A Miscarriage of Justice”), “and at last it has led us inside the house of Augustus” (p. 155). But “where he lived himself is no longer to be found” (p. 155). It’s a twist worthy of Benoit Blanc’s eureka moment in Knives Out: “I thought your story would be the donut hole in the donut’s hole, but now I see that there is a hole in the middle of the donut hole! Or perhaps it’s actually just a very small donut.” Wiseman fills the building-sized hole at the heart of this study with a brief meditation on the dynastic house of Augustus. The film version of this chapter might be entitled Knife’s Edge: Wiseman walks a fine line as he seeks to rescue Augustus from the negative judgments that resulted from his successors’ abuses, without allowing the evidence to undermine his argument. The facts that Augustus hated to be called dominus (Suet. Aug. 53.1), that he cultivated respectful but not sycophantic modes of address (as modelled by Horace, Epistles 2.1.1-4), and that he constrained Roman speech less than later emperors (Seneca, Controversiae 2.4.13) do not prove that he truly was a “citizen among citizens.” Rather, they evince a ruler with the money, power, and influence to shape how people spoke of him. This makes it all the more interesting that signs of resistance and critique survive in the literary and historical record, if not in House of Augustus. Much in keeping with the class critique of Knives Out, Wiseman observes that “it is almost inevitable that the children of self-made men grow up taking privilege for granted” (p. 156, though “self-made” is a questionable epithet for the “boy who owed everything to his name,” Cicero, Philippics 13.11). Wiseman is right to ask whether Lucius or Gaius would really have been much better rulers than Tiberius (p. 158). This of course brings us to the fatal flaw in the imperial system: the problem of succession. Even Augustus could not ensure Rome would remain in good hands after he died, and indeed, the political system he bequeathed to Rome would ultimately replace the turmoil of the late Republic with previously unimagined forms of violence and depredation. Wiseman argues passionately that later writers from Lucan and Tacitus to Gibbon and Syme are overgenerous to the optimate cause and prejudice our own reconstructions of history. But it is still worth wondering why their versions of history persuaded and persisted, and hardly unfair to judge leaders by the results of their actions and provisions for the future. While this engaging study does not ultimately walk us through the house of Augustus, it offers a stimulating tour of the mind of Wiseman, inspired and unconventional as always. 8 Though some readers will quibble with particular premises, arguments, and interpretations, there is no doubt it will challenge and reshape our understanding of the Palatine for a long time to come. In the end, though, even Wiseman’s vatic reimagining cannot escape Byron’s “subterranean damp.” In noting that Syme’s anti-populism was informed by his experience of 1930s totalitarianism, Wiseman seems to position his own populist historiography as a corrective, dialectical reaction. His criminal-justice conceit insists on the importance of objective evidence and rigorous analysis in an era of “alternative facts.” Days before Kellyanne Conway used this term to exaggerate attendance at Donald Trump’s presidential inauguration, Barack Obama had warned against “accepting only information, whether it’s true or not, that fits our opinions, instead of basing our opinions on the evidence that is out there.” Yet Wiseman’s very use of this anecdote (p. 166) illustrates the inescapable contingency of our views of past and present, truth and bias, the bidirectional relationship between “information” and opinion. My own personal experiences have made me more skeptical than Wiseman about evidence that aligns too precisely with what people in power want us to think – whether it concerns the universality of their consensus or the size of their inaugural crowd. When future revisionist historians look back on the era of Trump, and sift through the media elite’s liberal biases, will their detective stories align as closely with the White House’s wishful self-portrayal as Wiseman’s does with the Palatine’s? Bibliography Ammerman, Albert J. (2016). “On Giacomo Boni, the Origins of the Forum, and Where We Stand Today.” Journal of Roman Archaeology 29: 293–311. Beard, Mary. (2009). “Men of the forum.” Times Literary Supplement. 15 May, pp. 7-8. Carandini, Andrea. (2008) Archeologia classica. Vedere il tempo antico con gli occhi del 2000. Turin. Dench, Emma. (2005). Romulus' Asylum: Roman Identities from the Age of Alexander to the Age of Hadrian .Oxford. Feeney, Denis. (1992). “Si licet et fas est: Ovid’s Fasti and the Problem of Free Speech under the Principate.” In: Anton Powell, ed., Roman Poetry and Propaganda in the Age of Augustus, Bristol, pp. 1-25. Galinsky, Karl. (1996). Augustan Culture: An Interpretive Introduction. Princeton. 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(2012). “Roma Quadrata, archaic huts, the house of Augustus, and the orientation of Palatine Apollo.” Journal of Roman Archaeology 25: 371-87. Zanker, Paul. (1987). Augustus und die Macht der Bilder. Munich. 10