As political unrest seethed in late Republican Rome, a series of violent acts were perpetrated against well-known buildings, public and private, by the people (the plebs) and their elected representatives, the tribunes. On the rare occasions when scholars mention these events, they tend to treat them as random, isolated acts of vandalism; conspicuously missing is any accounting for them in commentaries on Rome's built environment. In Vandalism and Resistance in Republican Rome, Penelope J. E. Davies assesses these acts against a broad spectrum of political activism over the ages, as well as in the narrower context of contemporaneous politics, when strict, exclusionary norms governed the sponsorship of public architecture. She argues that the destructive acts were, in fact, deliberate, ideologically driven attempts by Rome's less powerful to defy and circumvent the language of power established by the dominant class.

In 122 BCE, Roman officials erected seating in the Forum to accommodate paying spectators at the upcoming gladiatorial games (Figure 1).1 One of the people's tribunes, Gaius Sempronius Gracchus, then ordered the seats removed so that the poor, too, could watch the show. To quote Plutarch, a Greek biographer of the imperial period:

Since no one paid any attention to his command, he waited till the night before the spectacle, and then, taking all the workmen whom he had under his orders in public contracts, he pulled down the seats, and when day came he had the place all clear for the people. For this proceeding the populace thought him a man, but his colleagues were annoyed and thought him reckless and violent.2 

This is one of a set of episodes recounted by ancient authors involving late Republican acts of violence against built structures, temporary and permanent (Figure 2). These acts have been discussed, along with other forms of violence (such as rioting and bodily assault), by modern political historians such as Wilfried Nippel and Andrew Lintott, but they have never, to my knowledge, been addressed in histories of Roman architecture.3 In assessing the destruction of buildings during the Kosovo conflict of 1998–99, architectural historian Andrew Herscher suggests a reason for this: although violence has entered artistic and architectural discourse as a resource for cultural production, especially in the early twentieth-century avant-garde,

destruction usually displaces architecture from the architectural discourse, if not the domain of “culture” more generally, and positions it in the domain of “violence,” and so, in typical formulations, in radically different disciplinary sites and epistemological frameworks. The underlying assumption, characteristic in humanist discourse, is that “culture” and “violence” stand in unmediated opposition to one another.4 

Violence, Herscher contends, seems fairly apparent: when rational, it is already interpreted; when irrational, its interpretation often relies on contextualization. Architecture, by contrast, attracts critical interpretation—that is, until its destruction. At that point, its context examined, it becomes “a mere surface expression of supposedly ‘deeper’ social, political, or economic conditions”—the realm of violence scholars. Focus passes to agents or catalysts, while the buildings themselves receive only passing mention.5 

Figure 1

Forum Romanum (Roman Forum), with the Curia (Senate House) on the right, current state (author's photo).

Figure 1

Forum Romanum (Roman Forum), with the Curia (Senate House) on the right, current state (author's photo).

Figure 2

Map of Rome, ca. 44 BCE, showing demolished structures and (in gray) vandalized structures: 1, Saepta Iulia (voting enclosure); 2, Temple D, Area Sacra di Largo Argentina (Temple of the Nymphs); 3, Temple of Concordia; 4, Basilica Porcia; 5, Curia (Senate House); 6, Forum seating area; 7, Regia; 8, precinct of Vesta; 9, Temple of Castor; 10, Temples of Fortuna and Mater Matuta at S. Omobono; 11, house of Cicero; 12, Sanctuary of Magna Mater; 13, theater on the Palatine (created by Penelope Davies and Onur Öztürk).

Figure 2

Map of Rome, ca. 44 BCE, showing demolished structures and (in gray) vandalized structures: 1, Saepta Iulia (voting enclosure); 2, Temple D, Area Sacra di Largo Argentina (Temple of the Nymphs); 3, Temple of Concordia; 4, Basilica Porcia; 5, Curia (Senate House); 6, Forum seating area; 7, Regia; 8, precinct of Vesta; 9, Temple of Castor; 10, Temples of Fortuna and Mater Matuta at S. Omobono; 11, house of Cicero; 12, Sanctuary of Magna Mater; 13, theater on the Palatine (created by Penelope Davies and Onur Öztürk).

In this article, I aim to characterize late Republican acts of violence against architecture as something more than vandalism. Viewed in their historical and political contexts, these acts express broad discontent with the status quo (as Lintott argues regarding violence more generally), and in this they are clearly ideologically driven. The choice of targets suggests as much, too. But more important, perhaps, is that when these violent acts are set against the background of architectural sponsorship patterns, it becomes clear that they were part of a calculated strategy to challenge those in political authority. They were a form of cultural production, or antiproduction: in their own right, they constituted part of an architectural discourse, a counterlanguage, that, through architecture's destruction, defied and circumvented the language of power established by the dominant class. In other words, where the dominant built, the dominated destroyed. This language, in turn, takes its place in a long tradition encompassing (inter alia) the French Revolution and Britain's late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century women's suffrage movement, as well as the Kosovo conflict and the events of 9/11; it also reverberates through current efforts to confront vandalism, which inform city planning.6 My claim is predicated on the extraordinary power of public architecture, for which there is probably little need to build a case. But it is still worth noting that in ancient Rome public architecture developed as a means, if not the means, of communicating elite ideology long before the written word.7 Here, I hope to amplify a nonelite voice; where other scholars have assessed nonelites as agents of nonelite works, I propose the possibility of discerning agency on behalf of, and sometimes by, nonelites in the realm of state architecture.8 

Acts of Vandalism in the Late Republic

Some years after the Forum seating incident, other acts of vandalism occurred. In 100, so the mid-first-century Roman historian Sallust relates, Lucius Appuleius Saturninus served, like Gracchus, as the people's tribune—an office set up in the fifth century to protect the people from abuse by elected officials (known as magistrates). Saturninus championed a bill proposing that the state buy and store grain and sell it to the public below market price. When it came to a vote in the Forum, the city quaestor (supervisor of the treasury), Quintus Servilius Caepio, balked. Saturninus responded by smashing the pontes—the “bridges” onto which voters climbed to cast their ballots—and scattering the ballot boxes.9 Later that year, when Saturninus hoped to install his ally Gaius Servilius Glaucia as consul, his agents clubbed to death one of the other candidates. Gaius Marius, then consul, locked Saturninus, Glaucia, and their supporters in the Senate House, supposedly for their own protection. Furious crowds ripped roof tiles off the building and hurled them down below, effectively stoning Saturninus and Glaucia and other officials to death.10 

Further episodes occurred in the mid-first century and clustered around the person of Publius Clodius, a young man of patrician descent who was tribune in 58.11 First, as a populist protest, Clodius commandeered the Temple of Castor in the Forum as a rallying point for his gangs of supporters and as a place to store weapons (Figure 3). His supporters trampled down the building's doors and purportedly, at one point, ripped up its steps.12 On a separate occasion, at the trial of Publius Vatinius, Clodius and his followers incited crowds to drive the presiding praetor (a magistrate tasked, inter alia, with overseeing courts, usually in the Forum) from the tribunal, scatter his benches, overturn the ballot boxes, and impose general chaos on the court's physical apparatus.13 Next, having convinced the Senate to legalize Cicero's voluntary exile on the grounds that, as consul in 63, he had falsified the Senate's wishes by executing the Catilinarian conspirators without trial, Clodius confiscated the orator's Palatine residence and arranged for its sale at auction.14 Clodius took possession of the house, which rioters had pillaged on Cicero's departure, and began to demolish and burn it and distribute its appurtenances as plunder. He then invited his brother-in-law, Quintus Pinarius Natta, the most junior pontiff, to authorize a shrine to Libertas (Liberty) on the site, and he expropriated an adjacent portico that Quintus Lutatius Catulus had erected around 101 to house spoils of war. When Gnaeus Pompeius (Pompey), one of the most influential men in Rome, agitated for Cicero's recall, Clodius staged an assassination attempt against him. Pompey barricaded himself inside his house for the rest of the year, with Clodius's gangs lurking ominously outside and Clodius threatening to deal with Pompey's house as he had Cicero's.15 

Figure 3

Temple of Castor in the Forum Romanum (Roman Forum), current state (author's photo).

Figure 3

Temple of Castor in the Forum Romanum (Roman Forum), current state (author's photo).

Two years later, in 56, Clodius was aedile (a magistrate in charge of city maintenance, as well as the games and the corn supply). Insinuating that Pompey, now in charge of the grain supply, was slashing the dole list, one of Clodius's henchmen, Sextus Cloelius, incited a food riot, and Clodius's supporters set fire to the Temple of the Nymphs in the southern Campus Martius (probably Temple D in Largo Argentina) (Figures 4 and 5).16 Finally, in January of 52, as Clodius and his entourage were returning to Rome from Aricia along the Via Appia, they encountered Clodius's rival Titus Annius Milo and his men. A fight broke out, and Clodius was murdered. The city erupted into turmoil. Overnight, crowds gathered in the house where his body lay, and just before dawn they moved it, naked, to the speakers’ platform in the Forum, where tribunes proclaimed lamentations over it. The result was explosive. In the words of historian Cassius Dio (155–235 CE):

The populace, as a result of what it both saw and heard, was deeply stirred and no longer showed any regard for things sacred or profane, but overthrew all the customs of burial and burned down nearly the whole city. They took up the body of Clodius and carried it into the senate-house, laid it out properly, and then, after heaping up a pyre out of the benches, burned both the corpse and the building.17 

Consumed in the flames with them, so Asconius (a first-century CE historian) recounts, was the adjacent Basilica Porcia. The crowd also launched attacks on the houses of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, who was interrex (a short-term authority in the absence of elected consuls) and Milo.18 

Figure 4

Temple D, Area Sacra di Largo Argentina (Temple of the Nymphs), Rome, current state (author's photo).

Figure 4

Temple D, Area Sacra di Largo Argentina (Temple of the Nymphs), Rome, current state (author's photo).

Figure 5

Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, Rome, ca. 100 BCE, showing (from right) Temples A (Iuturna), B (Fortuna Huiusce Diei), C (Feronia?), and D (Nymphs) (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 5

Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, Rome, ca. 100 BCE, showing (from right) Temples A (Iuturna), B (Fortuna Huiusce Diei), C (Feronia?), and D (Nymphs) (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Defining the Aggression against Architecture

To convey ideological motivation for aggression against painted or sculpted images (e.g., during religious conflicts in Byzantium and the Protestant Reformation), scholars use the term iconoclasm.19 Aggression against architecture, however, usually falls under the rubric of destruction—a term that implies completeness—or vandalism.20 The latter term, often used to characterize the sorts of events recounted above and evoking the Germanic tribe(s) that sacked Rome in 455 CE, was coined in 1773 by the French revolutionary Joseph Lakanal to denigrate both the act and its agents, associating them with barbarism. With similar objectives, Abbé Henri Grègoire was the first to use the term in print some twenty years later.21 In the eyes of these men, to be a vandal was to destroy French patrimony and was therefore against the aims of the new state. Yielding to destructive ignorance, so-called vandals were said not to be revolutionaries; conversely, truly “revolutionary” destruction could not be called vandalism. Thus conceived, the term vandalism—implying barbarism, blindness, ignorance, baseness, lack of taste—allowed revolutionaries to exert legitimate forms of violence against suspect or “enemy” architecture and artworks while branding unauthorized forms of violence as vandalism and excluding the perpetrators from civilized society.22 

This pejorative charge persists into the present. Social scientist Alison Ravetz concluded in 1983 that for many people the term vandalism implies perpetrators who are little more than thugs.23 While Cicero and his peers would probably have been satisfied with this characterization of Clodius and his ilk (and, such is the influence of Cicero's voice, many still are), Dario Gamboni, historian of the French Revolution, insists that the word's connotations make it inappropriate for use in more objectively aimed interpretive contexts.24 At the very least, we should qualify the term. Sociologist Stanley Cohen does this when he distinguishes “conventional vandalism” (its motives being “unavowed”—e.g., greed, envy, intolerance, stupidity, and the “bestial instinct of destruction”) from “ideological vandalism” (which is driven by motives that are “avowable,” such as religion, prudishness, sentiment or aesthetics, and politics).25 How destruction is characterized is, thus, a matter of perception. As art historian Martin Warnke cautions, iconoclasm, broadly conceived, is “a privilege for the victors, and a sacrilege for the vanquished.”26 The challenge, then, is to determine motives while also reckoning with outcomes.

Late Republican Violence: The Political Context

That the late Republican episodes noted above should be identified as ideological vandalism seems evident from their political context.27 These episodes fall into two phases, corresponding with peaks in activism on the part of the tribunes and the plebs as cooperation and collaboration broke down and new strategies for political engagement emerged. The first phase, during the last quarter of the second century, was the culmination of a development that began at midcentury, when tribunes willfully defied the conservative majority in the Senate. Thus, when Lucius Licinius Lucullus, a consul (one of the two principal magistrates in charge of the city and the armies) of 151, proposed a levy to address growing resistance to military service during the war in Spain, tribunes cast him into prison. A similar event occurred in 138.28 Whatever their personal goals, the tribunes did achieve some successes for the plebs through these tactics (improved army conditions, a permanent extortion court beginning in 149, the secret ballot in 139–137); official efforts to rein them in bear witness to their growing autonomy.29 Tribunician activism reached its crescendo in 133 and 123–122 with Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus, whose agitation for popular causes (agrarian reform for the first, a grain dole for the second) and unorthodox tactics (taking bills to the people's assembly rather than the Senate) exposed the enormous power of the office. The result was their deaths—Tiberius lynched by members of the Senate, Gaius by his own hand in the midst of an uprising—along with the execution of thousands of partisans. Their actions also led to an abiding tension between those members of the governing elite who pursued their agendas through traditional senatorial means (the optimates) and those, like the Gracchi, who took their agendas to the assembly (the populares). Gaius Gracchus's dismantling of Forum seating in 122 and Saturninus's demolition of the voting galleries in 100 fit this pattern of tribunician defiance through innovative strategies. The people's abuse of the Curia in the same year followed their cues.

To contain the tribunes, Publius Cornelius Sulla, during his dictatorship of 82–81, drastically curtailed their powers. The second phase of destructions followed the restoration of those powers in the 70s.30 In the next decade, tribunes, now the principal agents of political change, learned to exploit the weight of the neighborhoods (vici), where old discontents—underemployment, poor housing, debt—had been exacerbated by an influx of new citizens after the Social War of 91–88.31 In 67, one tribune, Gaius Manilius, scheduled an election concerning the assignment of freedmen into voting tribes late on the day of the new-year neighborhood entertainments (ludi Compitalicii, or Compitalia), when those who were assembled for the games could be mobilized to vote en masse. The bill passed, fighting ensued, and the law was overturned. But the incident fired the political consciousness of the plebs, and by 64 the Senate saw the neighborhoods as so volatile and so ripe for subversive activity that it dissolved all local clubs and guilds (collegia) that it judged contrary to the state's well-being and banned those that remained from celebrating the Compitalia.32 

Against this backdrop, Clodius came of political age. By 59, he had sufficiently championed popular issues to cultivate a following among the lowest social ranks in the vici. Apparently, he saw this as his path to a political career. Ineligible for the people's tribuneship on account of his patrician birth, he made the extraordinary move of changing his status to plebeian. Winning the office in 58, he used it, whatever his personal goals, to reward the people for their support (providing, among other things, a free monthly corn dole at crippling expense to the state) and to challenge leading senators through alarmingly aggressive tactics.33 His incitement of acts of violence against architecture was one such tactic. Again, the people followed.

As Lintott puts it, by the late Republic, most Romans would not have regarded political violence as primitive barbarism. They would have recognized it as a political weapon.34 Similarly, I suggest, they would have seen violence against buildings as something more than simple vandalism. They would have understood it to be ideological.

Choice of Target

Target selection drove this point home, making the acts easily decipherable to an urban population already keenly attuned to architectural messages. When sponsoring buildings, magistrates made calculated choices regarding building types, deities to be honored (for temples), designs, and locations. Over the Republic's duration, a finely tuned language of competitive construction developed, with incontrovertible signs of architectural intertextuality—where new buildings referred to and gained meaning from preexisting ones. The juxtaposition of temples sometimes signaled family connections, alliances, or rivalries. In other cases, divinities were rehonored to emphasize lineage or to display bitter ironies. Aqueducts vied in munificence. Even a road like the Via Appia of 312 could be a site of competitive topographical expropriation through successive repavings.35 

All the targets for aggression were located in or on the fringes of Rome's principal political centers, the Forum and the Campus Martius. Some constituted evident markers of wealth and/or social inequity. In the courts (such as the Basilica Porcia, built in 184 by Marcus Porcius Cato), which were disrupted by Clodius and burned in 52, the rich had a history of looking after their own. In election venues, too, the votes of the wealthy carried greater weight than those of the poor.36 Forum seating further represented wealth inequality and the clear articulation of Rome's profoundly hierarchical social order. In 191, at the inauguration of plays in honor of Magna Mater and at the Roman Games, the censors (magistrates in charge of assigning public contracts) instructed the aediles to segregate senators from the rest of the audience, a practice that was maintained thereafter.37 The Temple of the Nymphs, selected as the venue for a riot that resulted in arson, was where censors probably stored census lists and the state sorted citizens into rank by wealth.38 T. P. Wiseman notes that Clodius's partisans may have been targeting Pompey's new grain dole lists when they attacked the building, these lists having been intended as a corrective to Clodius's controversial grain policy.39 

Other targets were senatorial icons. By Clodius's time, the Temple of Castor, commissioned in about 496 and one of the oldest of the Republic, had long been the seat of the consuls and a bastion of the Senate. Successive restorations had rendered its cella gradually less accessible, with a conversion from tetrastyle to hexastyle façade around 130, and finally to octastyle along with the removal of its axial staircase in about 117 (Figures 6, 7, and 8).40 This building's frontal tribunal and lateral staircases, added in ca. 130, may also have accommodated elections, allowing citizens to ascend to the voting gallery on one side, cast their votes on the tribunal, and return to ground level on the other. In this case the temple may have been designed to maintain elite control over the ballot even once it was secret.41 Storming the temple and tearing down its doors in a popular revolt, Clodius's supporters exerted their right to enter, and with the destruction of the steps, they defended their new headquarters while visibly denying entrance, symbolically reversing traditional hierarchies of access to political authority and the gods (as Cicero recognized in an appeal to the Senate).42 

Figure 6

Temple of Castor, Rome, ca. 496 BCE (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 6

Temple of Castor, Rome, ca. 496 BCE (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 7

Temple of Castor, Rome, as restored in the second half of the second century BCE (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 7

Temple of Castor, Rome, as restored in the second half of the second century BCE (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 8

Temple of Castor, Rome, as restored ca. 117 BCE, showing lateral and frontal steps targeted for vandalism (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 8

Temple of Castor, Rome, as restored ca. 117 BCE, showing lateral and frontal steps targeted for vandalism (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Cicero's house, in turn, was the dwelling of one of the most vocal of the senatorial majority, for whom it served as a headquarters.43 With that building's destruction, Clodius exulted in Cicero's exile, and with the expropriation of the portico of Lutatius Catulus the elder, he rejoiced in the death, in 61, of Quintus Lutatius Catulus the younger, chief representative of the Sullan old guard and princeps senatus (head of the Senate). The long history of this much-contested site added to the impact of Clodius's act: at the time of construction, Lutatius Catulus's portico had replaced the house of Gaius Gracchus's cohort Marcus Fulvius Flaccus, which was demolished after his assassination.44 Clodius could claim that the shrine to Liberty and the portico reappropriated the property in the name of the people's freedom from tyranny. The house of Aemilius Lepidus was similarly charged, while that of Milo, like its owner, stood in for his patron, Pompey.

Most iconic of all was the Curia Hostilia, constructed in archaic times, purportedly by King Tullus Hostilius, as a meeting place for his council.45 It later served as the headquarters of the Republican Senate. When Sulla doubled the size of this body from three hundred to six hundred, reinvigorating it and returning it to authority in all public spheres, he rebuilt the structure, enlarging it and renaming it the Curia Cornelia. More than any building, this spacious hall, dominating the people's assembly place on the northwest edge of the Forum (the Comitium), communicated Sulla's vision of the Senate's place in government and vis-à-vis the people and their tribunes.46 For Cicero, the building was metonymic with the dictator and his reforms.47 So its destruction in 52 was no accident. As Cassius Dio wrote, “They did not do this under the stress of such an impulse as often takes sudden hold of crowds, but with such deliberate purpose that at the ninth hour they held the funeral feast in the Forum itself, with the senate-house still smoldering.”48 Making it Clodius's pyre, the people gave their martyred hero his own version of the extraordinary state cremation with which the Senate honored Sulla more than twenty-five years earlier, substituting paraphernalia of state—senators’ benches—for aromatic flowers and incense.49 

Violence against Architecture as an Act against the State

In a study of Roman arson, Steven Johnstone argues that the ideological force of arson derived from the identification of the state with its architecture. If public architecture represented the state, then acts of violence against architecture were the acts of outsiders.50 I would extend this to other forms of architectural destruction as well. Indeed, the equivalence between the state and its architecture was exceptionally close in Republican Rome because of unusually restrictive patterns of architectural patronage. From the early Republic, the governing elite recognized that architecture bestowed authority on its sponsors and perpetuated that authority. These were the ends to which kings had used architecture, and the ends to which those in power continued to use it throughout the Mediterranean for many centuries to follow.

To contain architecture's exploitation within an elective system, the elite established that public buildings could be commissioned only by elected officials, and specific ones at that: aediles for entertainment venues, infrastructure maintenance (such as street surfacing and minor restorations), and occasionally temples; dictators or consuls, in their capacity as generals, for most temples; and censors for major civic initiatives (such as aqueducts and basilicas). These officials, who did not include the tribunes of the people, acted on the state's behalf. Even given their authority, they labored under constraints that informed their building projects: most were in office for only a year's term (about eighteen months for censors), and their use of state resources was subject to senatorial supervision. A single structure was usually buildable in a short time and with a limited budget, but the sorts of massive projects carried out by Hellenistic kings and later emperors were not. The resultant architecture was more than a representation of the state; the cityscape, composed of a multiplicity of independent buildings sponsored by a multiplicity of talented individuals, mirrored the state's leadership structure and ideals.51 

Yet even if Rome's architecture did not represent a monarchy's power, it did exert that of an oligarchy—the Senate. And just as the sponsorship system helped the political elite to self-regulate and kept wealthy private individuals from buying visibility through building, so it barred everyone outside the senatorial class—the great majority, even many of the rich, and the tribunes, men of wealth and political ambition who represented the plebeians and who saw building as a means to power—from harnessing a potent language of authority to challenge a system heavily biased against them.

Late Republican episodes of ideological vandalism posed a direct challenge to this system. They served as a response to the dominant language of authority expressed and perpetuated through construction. Denied access to that language by the constraints of state sponsorship, the tribunes and the people defied it and devised an architecturally based counterlanguage of their own, which replaced construction with alteration and destruction. Where those in authority built, they, lacking authority, demolished. They recognized, as Gamboni puts it, that the very images (or buildings) that were used to express, impose, and legitimate power could be misused to challenge, reject, and delegitimate that power.52 Their destructions, then, should be seen as a means of communication in their own right, even if the materials they used were already the vehicles of other people's expression and communication.53 

Earlier Acts of Ideological Destruction in Rome

Although these late Republican destructive acts are the first recorded instances of ideological vandalism in Rome, they were not the first politically motivated architectural demolitions. Signs of deliberate destruction are apparent at the beginning of the Republic in two places: the Area Sacra di Sant’ Omobono in the Forum Boarium (the commercial district by the Tiber), and just beyond the east end of the Forum. At the end of the sixth century, buildings at these sites seem to have been willfully leveled before they were reconstructed in slightly modified forms. The structures (a temple probably dedicated to Fortuna in ca. 580–570, rebuilt and enlarged in ca. 540–520; the Regia, in a fourth phase of construction dating to ca. 530; the precinct of Vesta, in a second phase of construction ca. 575; and an adjacent structure identified with the Domus Publica) were probably all closely associated with regal patronage. Their treatment may have been conceived as an erasure of monarchy, expressing the notion of a res publica defined by the absence of a king.54 

Much later, the censors of 154, Gaius Cassius Longinus and Marcus Valerius Messalla, commissioned Rome's first stone theater on the southwest slope of the Palatine.55 According to the Periochae, this building was close to completion when “on motion of Cornelius Nasica it was torn down by order of the Senate, on the ground that it was inexpedient and would be injurious to the public character; and for some time thereafter the people stood to see theatrical performances.”56 Unlike Greeks, who took seats for their assemblies at the bouleuterion (council house) and during entertainments, and whose meetings fostered discussion, Romans remained standing during comitial meetings, and their contiones (political assemblies), always convoked and supervised by a magistrate, were organized to constrain audience participation. Only designated speakers presented their views, and no debate was tolerated. As tensions rose in Rome, Cornelius Scipio Nasica, a high-ranking senator, may have persuaded the Senate that a permanent theater would encourage political gatherings in the Greek style, allowing Romans to assemble without a magistrate's oversight, engage in populist debate, and challenge the social hierarchies that earlier forms of audience segregation articulated.57 More than that, it was in the theater that Greek monarchs and strategoi conflated drama and reality to frame and perform their leadership before their seated subjects; so the theater might prove the perfect Roman venue for social subversion and crowd control by populist agitators and transgressive generals such as Cassius Longinus.58 In the construction of a stone theater, the Senate may have feared a threat of power from below (the populus) and from above (an autocracy)—a threat to its own place in the running of the state.

Other documented destructions targeted private residences. By Cicero's time, tradition told of the Senate ordering the demolition of the houses of those condemned of, and executed for, aspiring to kingship. According to one tradition, one of the first consuls, Publius Valerius Poplicola, started building a stately house on the Velia, a ridge beyond the eastern edge of the Forum where the kings Ancus Marcius, Tullus Hostilius, and Tarquinius Priscus had purportedly lived, before tearing it down to quell suspicions of regal aspirations.59 Spurius Cassius's house was purportedly demolished on his death in 485, as were Spurius Maelius's house on the Capitoline after 439 and Marcus Manlius Capitolinus's after his execution in ca. 384.60 Scholars have cast doubt on all these instances, judging it unlikely that the Senate would have destroyed the inherited property of Roman families and suggesting that tales of destruction evolved by analogy with a Greek practice and as etymological elaborations of traditional place-names.61 Used as exempla, these stories were rhetorically embellished during and after the Gracchan upheavals. More credence might be given to the demolitions of the Palatine residences of Gaius Gracchus's cohort Fulvius Flaccus and Marcus Vitruvius Vaccus, a citizen of Fundi whose house was destroyed after his execution in 329 for leading the Fundani and Privernates in revolt against Rome.62 

The common denominator in all these instances, historical or not (with the exception of Valerius Poplicola's case), is that the agent was the Senate, which was acting against a perceived threat to the Republic (that is, the action was state sanctioned). Architectural destruction was therefore commonly conceived as ideological. Gracchus was the pioneer of deploying this strategy without the state's sanction and against senatorial conservatives as a means of circumventing his lack of a building mandate. Clodius was its master, a demolition man who played to the populace while maneuvering to diminish his eminent rivals. As for the people, when they attacked the Senate House, they harnessed architecture's symbolism to express rage at their lot and at urban lawlessness in the only way open to them, pressing blame on the Senate with a destructive force learned from their tribunes. If public buildings represented the state, destruction signified that the perpetrators were not of the state.63 Perhaps the claim is better turned on its head: if the sponsorship process meant that public buildings represented the state, destruction signified that the state was not of the perpetrators.

Alternative Forms of Protest

Demolition and destruction were not the only means of using architecture as a vehicle for protest. Plutarch claimed that the people called on Tiberius Gracchus to recover public land for the poor “through writings upon porticoes, walls, and monuments.”64 When Lucius Opimius sponsored his Temple of Concordia after Gaius Gracchus's suicide and the murder of his partisans, someone etched onto it, “A work of mad discord produces a temple of Concord.”65 Graffiti, like arson, offered relative anonymity. Inscriptions on statues made them speak, so the writers could stay silent. Anthropologist James Scott describes graffiti as a “hidden transcript,” a “discourse that takes place ‘offstage,’ beyond direct observation by power holders.”66 Graffiti was ubiquitous in Rome during this period, and Roman attitudes toward it differed from modern-day attitudes. The act of defacement was not judged a crime, so it was not considered vandalism. Resistance resided not in the act but in the message inscribed.

More overt and institutionalized, ritual protests (a term coined by anthropologist Setha Low to describe fiestas, parades, and carnivals) might invert hegemonic meanings of public space much as they did social structures, although only temporarily.67 During parades for the cult of Magna Mater, imported from the east and a nonelite favorite, foreign priests (Galli) in bright, luxurious robes brandished knives to symbolize their self-castrated state, begging for alms in Magna Mater's name and playing loud music to an unfamiliar Phrygian meter. The cult's Phrygian adherents, the Corybants, resplendent in crested helmets, leapt about, shaking their heads and clashing armor, while fervent crowds showered their path with money and roses.68 Every April, these raucous processions transformed the hallowed Palatine into the people's realm. Other rituals could alter space more permanently, as they did in the early days of tribunician activism. Standing on the Rostra to champion a bill for elective priesthoods in lieu of co-optation in 145, Gaius Licinius Crassus turned his back on the Comitium to address the crowd in the Forum; or, in an alternative version of the event, he led the crowd out of the Comitium to vote in the piazza.69 Either way, history was made and the Comitium, dominated by the Senate House, began to recede as a political space in favor of the larger piazza. Conservative authority was diminished.

There were also moments when tribunes, lacking a building mandate, contrived populist adjustments or contributions to the urban landscape through their bills. It was probably by virtue of his position on the agrarian commission that Tiberius Gracchus brought bills for road and granary construction.70 In 119, Marius championed a bill to narrow the voting bridges to reduce abuse and interference by patrons during elections.71 To build his shrine to Liberty, Clodius probably claimed the authority of the exile law.72 His creativity was on fullest display, however, when he was aedile, a post many Romans exploited furiously for visibility through construction. Although Vettius Cyrus, Cicero's architect, cleared his books of commitments in anticipation of Clodius's contracts, Clodius apparently built nothing at all.73 By not complying with the expectations of his mandate, he defied established order.

Still, arson and other forms of destruction remained the most aggressive and public strategies. For the perpetrators, there was much to recommend such actions, as criminologists Robin Griffiths and J. M. Shapland suggest:

Vandalism is one of the safest and most anonymous of offences. Rarely is there a personal complainant (since public property is such a ready target) and the offender does not have to carry away or dispose of property. Nor does he have to carry an instrument of destruction with him—simply hands or feet, or the use of an object lying ready to hand at the scene will often suffice. … Unless the vandal is caught at the time, the chances of escaping detection altogether are extremely good.74 

Such acts were also loud and far-reaching. Experienced firsthand, destruction—sometimes carefully staged—is a spectacle: blinding clouds of commotion, the swinging of axes, abandon in the release of anger.75 Fire brings primal fear and fascination; it dashes or wanders with changes of the wind. Unbidden and unseen, the noise of fire travels and beckons. Smoke and flakes of ash, dancing lazily through the air, creep silently into taverns and bedrooms, reaching for the uninvolved, the uninformed, angering some, drafting others to join this “mythic present” of revolutionary consciousness, to savor, momentarily, the self-realization of this collective act. For participants in a destructive act, community is born around a sacred new consensus; in the foundational moment, history is made—the past defined as an ancien régime—and progress is performed.76 As the building crumbles, its past significance is constructed, intensified, in a way that justifies and necessitates its destruction.77 And after the moment: odors linger, of charred wood and acrid stucco; ash settles, a dissident's unmelting snow. The city bears its scars: hacked timbers and smashed stones, piles left uncleared, burned-out shells of former glory, torched with blackened edges. Here the abstract becomes real, while the real becomes a revolutionary legend.78 

Immediate Outcomes

Did the acts of destruction in Rome achieve anything? Perhaps not, for if they had, history would cast them as modernization or progress rather than vandalism.79 Violence against buildings failed, in fact, to create a viable consensus (just as it did two millennia later, when the costs of suffragettes’ destructions helped to alienate the perpetrators from a wary public).80 Indeed, it is Gamboni's view that vandalism tends to entrench rather than challenge the balance of power to which it reacts, precisely because the agents can be cast as enemies of culture and society—so much so that charges of targeting visual culture can become a propaganda weapon. In Rome, charges of arson, which reverberated loudly in a city dependent on wood construction, were leveled against internal opponents thought to be vying for control of the state.81 “The illegality,” Gamboni writes, “but even more the illegitimacy of ‘vandalism’ … make it a dominated reply that reinforces domination.”82 

The various strategies for resistance did provoke reactions, however. In the short term, the clearest indications of success followed graffiti. Plutarch believed that “most of all, the energy and ambition of Tiberius Gracchus were fired by the people's graffiti,” but the graffiti urged action on the part of a single dissident, not consensus among the many or concessions from those in power.83 Most reactions were negative. In spaces that had been transformed through use, temporarily or permanently, the Senate reasserted hegemonic power.84 By the end of the second century, a redesigned Sanctuary of Magna Mater, credited to a member of the Caecilius Metellus family, figureheads among senatorial conservatives, contained and controlled processions (Figure 9); access to the temple could even be shut off.85 

Figure 9

Sanctuary of Magna Mater, Rome, ca. 100 BCE. The procession probably moved along the Clivus Victoriae (path shown on the left) through a covered road under the forecourt to join the Scalae Caci (Steps of Cacus) on the right; from there it ascended to the Temples of Victoria (right) and Magna Mater (left) (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

Figure 9

Sanctuary of Magna Mater, Rome, ca. 100 BCE. The procession probably moved along the Clivus Victoriae (path shown on the left) through a covered road under the forecourt to join the Scalae Caci (Steps of Cacus) on the right; from there it ascended to the Temples of Victoria (right) and Magna Mater (left) (hypothetical reconstruction by John Burge).

As for destructions, Plutarch cites a (disputed) claim that the Forum seating demolition cost Gracchus a third tribuneship.86 In other cases, the boot of oppression stamped firmly down. Thus, after Cicero's return from exile in 57 and his lengthy appeal, the Senate restored his house to him; the site, however, remained contested, with another phase of violence by Clodius's followers.87 The Temple of the Nymphs, meanwhile, was magnificently restored from the ground up (see Figure 5). Its huge new podium (23.5 by 37 meters) extended back beyond adjacent temples—all the more remarkable given that podia were rarely destroyed by fire and the standard practice was reuse—and its unusually large cella occupied almost two-thirds of the podium's length and its entire width.88 The restoration was grand enough to be seen as a pointed rebuttal to Clodius's vandalism and sufficiently spacious to house a new census archive. As for the Curia, symbolism was answered with even more deafening symbolism: as violence raged after Clodius's death and cremation inside the building's walls, and the Senate charged Pompey with levying troops, one of the Senate's first orders of business was to assign the Curia's rebuilding to Faustus Cornelius Sulla, a conservative and son of the dictator. For Cassius Dio, the reason was evident: “It was the Curia Hostilia, which had been remodeled by Sulla; hence they came to this decision about it and ordered that when restored it should receive again the name of the same man.”89 The Senate restored order after Sulla's model, through its own visible reempowerment.

Long-Term Outcomes

In the longer term, it is tempting to suppose that the cost and danger of destructive acts—discontent with the state made manifest—helped to lead Gaius Julius Caesar (who had crossed the Rubicon in the name of the tribunes’ freedom) to urban policy that, like his calendrical and legislative reforms, improved the lot of the city populace.90 Caesar strove to increase homeownership, compiled regulations for municipal administration, prescribed street maintenance and limitations on traffic, and aspired to enhance the city's overall grandeur.91 Still today, homeownership, regular building services (cleaning, maintenance, and so on) and general visual appeal are all deemed crucial to the prevention of vandalism.92 For debt relief, Caesar remitted low-end rents for 46, and he revised the census list vicus by vicus to manage the grain dole more efficiently.93 

Whatever his motives, Caesar, too, used the language of architecture to empower the people in the sometime spaces of their protest. His initiative to monumentalize the wooden voting enclosure on the Campus Martius (previously known as the ovile and henceforth as the Saepta Iulia) and his magnificent new Forum Iulium (built for legal business), both begun in 54 and clad in Carrara marble, exalted the people's sovereignty and the very institutions—elections and the law—that might promote their cause.94 Caesar visibly marginalized their constant target, the Senate, most obviously in 44 when he moved the Rostra from the northwest corner of the Forum, adjoined to the Comitium and overshadowed by the Curia, to the west end of the Forum (Figure 10).95 There, picked out in vivid colored marble—slabs of pink portasanta from Chios and decorative pilasters of black Lucullan stone, one of the earliest uses of colored stone in permanent public architecture in Rome—against the pale travertine pavement and surrounding buildings, and separated from the Curia, the structure was literally and symbolically released from senatorial will and supervision.96 A new east–west axis governed the Forum, framed by lateral basilicas (the Basilica Sempronia, now named Iulia for Caesar); the Rostra and the people's assembly place dominated. Off axis entirely, the Senate House, still under construction, was sidelined. In fact, when the Senate gave Caesar the charge to assume construction of the new Senate House in 45–44, he indulged in a second design phase in his Forum, extending it to the east so the buildings would be integrated.97 The Curia, now an appendage to the Forum Iulium, hung between the city's growing powers: the Forum Romanum, where the people were sovereign, and Caesar's Forum, drenched in his presence.

Figure 10

Plan of the Forum Romanum (Roman Forum) and environs, ca. 44 BCE, highlighting buildings erected or restored by Julius Caesar: 1, Capitoline substructure (“Tabularium”); 2, Southwest Building; 3, Basilica Opimia; 4, Temple of Concordia; 5, Carcer (prison); 6, Basilica Porcia; 7, Comitium area; 8, Curia Iulia (Senate House); 9, Forum Iulium (Forum of Caesar); 10, Macellum (market); 11, Basilica Aemilia; 12, Regia; 13, Domus Publica; 14, precinct of Vesta; 15, Temple of Castor; 16, Basilica Iulia; 17, Temple of Saturn; 18, Rostra Caesaris (Rostra of Caesar) (created by Penelope Davies and Onur Öztürk).

Figure 10

Plan of the Forum Romanum (Roman Forum) and environs, ca. 44 BCE, highlighting buildings erected or restored by Julius Caesar: 1, Capitoline substructure (“Tabularium”); 2, Southwest Building; 3, Basilica Opimia; 4, Temple of Concordia; 5, Carcer (prison); 6, Basilica Porcia; 7, Comitium area; 8, Curia Iulia (Senate House); 9, Forum Iulium (Forum of Caesar); 10, Macellum (market); 11, Basilica Aemilia; 12, Regia; 13, Domus Publica; 14, precinct of Vesta; 15, Temple of Castor; 16, Basilica Iulia; 17, Temple of Saturn; 18, Rostra Caesaris (Rostra of Caesar) (created by Penelope Davies and Onur Öztürk).

If under Caesar the voice of the people drew strength, the rise of the young Gaius Julius Caesar—Augustus—brought suppression, achieved again through architecture. Like Caesar, Augustus modified the Forum, only now to shut it down. At the site's southeast corner, his triple-bayed Parthian Arch, vowed around 19 and probably completed by 6, controlled and restricted access from the lower Via Sacra; by the late first century, a pendant arch probably spanned the Via Sacra's northern branch, connecting the Basilica Aemilia and the Temple of Divus Iulius (Figure 11).98 As for the Forum buildings, the Temple of Castor, site of popular protest, was neutralized in the 30s, when the Temple of Divus Iulius was sited so as to jut into the assembly space out in front of the Temple of Castor.99 

Figure 11

Plan of the Forum Romanum (Roman Forum) and environs, ca. 14 CE, highlighting buildings erected or restored by Augustus: 1, Capitoline substructure (“Tabularium”); 2, Southwest Building; 3, Basilica Opimia; 4, Temple of Concordia; 5, Carcer (prison); 6, Comitium area; 7, Curia Iulia (Senate House); 8, Forum Iulium (Forum of Caesar); 9, Forum Augustum (Forum of Augustus); 10, Macellum (market); 11, Basilica Aemilia; 12, pendant arch; 13, Temple of Divus Iulius (Temple of Deified Caesar) with Rostra; 14, Regia; 15, Domus Publica; 16, precinct of Vesta; 17, Parthian Arch; 18, Temple of Castor; 19, Basilica Iulia; 20, Temple of Saturn; 21, Rostra Caesaris (Rostra of Caesar) (created by Penelope Davies and Onur Öztürk).

Figure 11

Plan of the Forum Romanum (Roman Forum) and environs, ca. 14 CE, highlighting buildings erected or restored by Augustus: 1, Capitoline substructure (“Tabularium”); 2, Southwest Building; 3, Basilica Opimia; 4, Temple of Concordia; 5, Carcer (prison); 6, Comitium area; 7, Curia Iulia (Senate House); 8, Forum Iulium (Forum of Caesar); 9, Forum Augustum (Forum of Augustus); 10, Macellum (market); 11, Basilica Aemilia; 12, pendant arch; 13, Temple of Divus Iulius (Temple of Deified Caesar) with Rostra; 14, Regia; 15, Domus Publica; 16, precinct of Vesta; 17, Parthian Arch; 18, Temple of Castor; 19, Basilica Iulia; 20, Temple of Saturn; 21, Rostra Caesaris (Rostra of Caesar) (created by Penelope Davies and Onur Öztürk).

Other buildings would be adapted to refer to Augustus's victory over Marcus Antonius at Actium in 31, a mark of his autocracy: a new East Rostra, with ships’ prows from Actium, mirrored the West Rostra, with prows from the Battle of Antium in 338; the Curia Iulia, completed by Augustus, featured Victory atop an orb at the peak of the pediment, draped figures holding naval implements as corner acroteria, and another statue of Victory inside; and acroteria in the form of tritons blowing conches adorned a restoration of the Temple of Saturn, begun by L. Munatius Plancus in 42 but apparently completed in the early 20s (Figure 12).100 The emperor's family was featured heavily: magnificent reconstructions of the Temples of Castor and Concordia Augusta were undertaken by Tiberius, Augustus's adoptive son and eventual heir, and rededicated in his name along with that of his deceased brother, Drusus (in 6 and 7 CE, respectively). Augustus also built a portico in honor of his grandsons Gaius and Lucius Caesar in front of the Basilica Aemilia.101 In short, if Caesar turned the Forum into the people's voting space in lieu of the Comitium, Augustus circumscribed and controlled that space. Indeed, by historian Nicholas Purcell's estimation, by the time of Augustus's death in 14 CE, the Forum had become a symbol of imperial power, a place of display. For the Augustan geographer Strabo, it was “reduced to being a venerable and grand forecourt to the new heart of the city,” meriting only passing mention as an appendix to a description of Rome.102 

Figure 12

Denarius, 29–27 BCE, with reverse image showing the façade of the Curia Iulia (Senate House), Rome, as completed by Augustus (Numismatik Lanz, Munich, Auction 154, lot 287).

Figure 12

Denarius, 29–27 BCE, with reverse image showing the façade of the Curia Iulia (Senate House), Rome, as completed by Augustus (Numismatik Lanz, Munich, Auction 154, lot 287).

Use of public space was controlled to a similar end. Accelerating a process begun by Caesar in an apparent attempt to expand the Forum, Augustus ensured that functions once accommodated there were transferred to, or duplicated in, other venues, such as the Forum Augustum (after 2) and his own Palatine residence.103 Still a site for gladiatorial games in the early Augustan era, the Forum seems to have been stripped of these, too, after its repaving in the last decade BCE. Writing in the early second century CE, the imperial biographer Suetonius claimed that, on seeing a crowd of men in dark cloaks (pullati) at a public meeting, Augustus cited a line of Virgil (“Behold them Romans, lords of the world, the nation clad in the toga”) and instructed the aediles to ensure that nobody appeared in the Forum or its vicinity unless clad in a toga and uncloaked.104 Long a marker of citizen status, the toga was encoded, through variations in ornamentation, to communicate rank within the citizenry.105 Consisting of an ample swath of white wool, a toga was beyond the financial reach of many of the less affluent, and most Romans who could afford a toga rarely wore one, except on ceremonial occasions. The likely effect of the dictate, then, was to “cleanse” the Forum of many from the working classes, whose remonstrations rang the loudest. As for Caesar's glorious reconception of the voting enclosure on the Campus Martius, completed under the first emperor, the most noteworthy events there in Augustus's time, according to Cassius Dio and Suetonius, were gladiatorial games held in 7, a mock sea battle, and the public display of a rhinoceros.106 Topographical context helped convert meaning: if once the Saepta stood adjacent to the Villa Publica, headquarters of the censors, it found new Augustan neighbors in structures designated for leisure—Agrippa's magnificent lake, gardens, and heated baths.

In the end, the people's newfound ability to articulate concerns through their own architectural language—destruction— was ruthlessly quelled. When arsonists targeted the Forum in 7, “the blame for the fire was laid upon the debtor class, suspected of having contrived it on purpose in order that they might have some of their debts remitted when they appeared to have lost heavily.”107 Augustus reorganized the city's administration, encircling the four regions attributed to Servius Tullius with an additional ten. Within those fourteen regions, he established extensive bureaucracies at the vicus level. Inspired, perhaps, by Caesar's neighborhood-by-neighborhood census, Augustus designed these new agencies ostensibly to administer food and water distribution and to address the threat of fire, but their reach stretched further.108 Managed separately to preclude the unification of the vici against the center, they were manned by a network of magistri vici (neighborhood officials) who reported to the aediles, tribunes, and praetors. This scheme may have stemmed vandalism by involving residents in the maintenance of their neighborhoods.109 The officials who ran it, however, drawn from the lowest ranks of society, wore their status as a source of pride; they paraded it through the streets of their vici on designated days, each escorted by a pair of lictors and wearing the toga praetexta (with a purple border stripe, the privilege of magistrates and priests). Some even erected marble altars at street corners (such as the monument from the Vicus Aesculeti now in the collection of the Centrale Montemartini); carved with their names and with symbols associated with the new regime (laurels, oak wreaths, and shields of virtue), these altars functioned as silent reminders of their watchfulness (Figure 13).110 This elevation in rank, unattainable by other means, assured the officials’ loyalty to the emperor. Acting as his eyes and ears in the vici, they allowed him to know Rome—and thus to control it.111 

Figure 13

Altar from the Vicus Aesculeti, 2 CE (Centrale Montemartini, Rome, inv. 855; Deutsches Archäologisches Institut).

Figure 13

Altar from the Vicus Aesculeti, 2 CE (Centrale Montemartini, Rome, inv. 855; Deutsches Archäologisches Institut).

The following year, Cassius Dio wrote that when “the masses, distressed by the famine and the tax and the losses sustained in the fire, were ill at ease, and they not only openly discussed numerous plans for a revolution, but also posted at night even more numerous bulletins,” their pleas fell on deaf ears.112 Again Augustus refused debt relief and instead instituted the vigiles, a corps whose duties included firefighting. In this, he improved the material welfare of the urban plebs, but the vigiles were, first and foremost, a military force, indistinct from any other. Their role was not simply to control arson but also, through a crackdown on places and means of sedition, to suppress its larger context: political and social turmoil.113 Faced with the people's resistance, Augustus entrenched and proclaimed the mobilization of force in the city as solely the state's right.114 Whatever chance the people once had for collective political action was over; whatever voice they had found was silenced.

The history of Roman state architecture is usually written as the history of the powerful, and for good reason: the voices of the dominant resonate loudest in our sources, while the voices of the dominated rarely rise to audibility. In this article I have described the mechanisms that made popular protest through architecture so difficult, but I have also considered the means by which tribunes and the people they represented, far from accepting domination, used acts of purposeful vandalism—their language of defiance—to defy it publicly. These acts have a rightful place in Roman architectural history. Although repressed in their immediate aftermath, protests through architecture's destruction may have gained some ground for the urban plebs under Caesar. Setting a different course, Augustus silenced them, leaving Cicero's voice to echo through the ages with a charge of mindless vandalism.

Notes

Notes
1.
I am grateful to Onur Öztürk for assistance with maps, and to Keith Eggener and an anonymous reviewer for JSAH for their insightful comments on the text. All ancient dates in this article are BCE unless otherwise indicated.
2.
Plutarch, C. Gracchus 12.3–4, trans. Bernadotte Perrin.
3.
Wilfried Nippel, Public Order in Ancient Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Andrew Lintott, Violence in Republican Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).
4.
Andrew Herscher, Violence Taking Place: The Architecture of the Kosovo Conflict (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2010), 4. See also Robert Bevan, The Destruction of Memory: Architecture at War, 2nd ed. (London: Reaktion Books, 2016).
5.
Herscher, Violence Taking Place, 4–6. See also Keith Bresnahan, “On ‘Revolutionary Vandalism,’ ” Architectural Theory Review 19 (2014), 280.
6.
For instance, in the 1970s a British group of local authorities, the Consortium for Method Building, cautioned that the siting of school buildings and their relationship to play areas and circulation spaces can influence the likelihood of vandalism. See David White, “Vandalism in Housing Estates: Where It Occurs and How It Can Be Prevented,” in Designing against Vandalism, ed. Jane Sykes (London: Heinemann Educational Books, 1979), 43–53; see also other essays in the same volume.
7.
See Harriet I. Flower, The Art of Forgetting: Disgrace and Oblivion in Roman Political Culture (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 51–62; Penelope J. E. Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).
8.
See, for instance, Diana E. E. Kleiner, Roman Group Portraiture: The Funerary Reliefs of the Late Republic and Early Empire (New York: Garland, 1977); Natalie Kampen, Image and Status: Roman Working Women in Ostia (Berlin: Gebr. Mann Studio-Reihe, 1981); Lauren Hackworth Petersen, The Freedman in Roman Art and Art History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Others have explored iconographic representations of the nonelite in elite art, and the nonelite presence in elite spaces; see John R. Clarke, Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans: Visual Representation and Non-elite Viewers in Italy, 100 B.C.–A.D. 315 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003); Sandra R. Joshel and Lauren Hackworth Petersen, The Material Life of Roman Slaves (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014).
9.
Auctor ad Herennium 1.21; Sallust, Historiae 1.62; Lintott, Violence in Republican Rome, 68.
10.
Appian, Bella civilia 1.32.
11.
The patricians were a group of aristocratic families who controlled Rome in the early Republic. Nonpatricians were known as plebeians. See T. J. Cornell, The Beginnings of Rome: Italy and Rome from the Bronze Age to the Punic Wars (c. 1000–264 BC) (London: Routledge, 1995), 242–58.
12.
Cicero, In Pisonem 23; Cicero, De domo sua 54.
13.
Cicero, Oratio in P. Vatinio 33–34; Cicero, Pro Sestio 135; Scholia Bobiensia 140, 150; Michael C. Alexander, Trials in the Late Roman Republic, 149 B.C. to 50 B.C. (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1990), trial no. 255, 125–26; Jeffrey W. Tatum, The Patrician Tribune: Publius Clodius Pulcher (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999), 140–41.
14.
On the exile law, see Cicero, Post reditum in senatu 33; Cicero, De domo sua 21, 96; Cicero, Pro Sestio 42; Velleius Paterculus 2.45.1; Plutarch, Cicero 30; Cassius Dio 38.14.4; Appian, Bella civilia 2.15; Livy, Periochae 103; Philippe Moreau, “La lex Clodia sur le banissement de Cicéron,” Athenaeum 65 (1987), 465–92; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 111–13, 136, 156–58; Luca Fezzi, “La legislazione tribunizia di Publio Clodio Pulcro (58 A.C.) e la ricerca del consenso a Roma,” Studi Classici e Orientali 47 (2001), 245–340; Robin Seager, Pompey the Great: A Political Biography (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002), 101–2.
15.
Cicero, De domo sua 67, 110, 129; Cicero, Pro Sestio 69, 84; Cicero, De haruspicum responso 49, 58; Cicero, In Pisonem 16, 28–29; Cicero, Pro Milone 18ff., 37, 73; Cicero, Post reditum in senatu 4, 14, 29; Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum 2.12.2; Plutarch, Pompeius 48.4–49; Christian Meier, Caesar: A Biography (New York: Basic Books, 1982), 227, 233–34; E. Frézouls, “La construction du theatrum lapideum et son contexte politique,” in Théâtre et spectacles dans l'antiquité (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1983), 98–99; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 174, 181.
16.
Cicero, Pro Caelio 79; Cicero, Pro Milone 73; Cicero, Epistulae ad Quintum fratrem 11.3.2; Cassius Dio 39.24.1–2; Claude Nicolet, “Le temple des Nymphes et les distributions frumentaires à Rome,” Comptes rendus des séances de l'Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres 120–21 (1976), 29–51; Nippel, Public Order in Ancient Rome, 76–77; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 211; Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 292. On Pompey and the grain supply, see Meier, Caesar, 266–67; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 172–74, 180–81, 184–87, 196; Seager, Pompey the Great, 106–15, with ancient sources.
17.
Cassius Dio 40.49.2–3, trans. Ernest Cary. See also Asconius, Pro Milone 32C; Fergus Millar, The Crowd in Rome in the Late Republic (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1998), 182.
18.
Asconius, Pro Milone 2.34; Cicero, Pro Milone 13, 64; Meier, Caesar, 298; Millar, Crowd in Rome, 182.
19.
Dario Gamboni, The Destruction of Art: Iconoclasm and Vandalism since the French Revolution (London: Reaktion Books, 1997), 31–32; Bresnahan, “On ‘Revolutionary Vandalism,’ ” 280. On iconoclasm, see, for instance, Alain Besançon, The Forbidden Image: An Intellectual History of Iconoclasm, trans. Jane Marie Todd (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000); Bruno Latour and Peter Weibel, eds., Iconoclash: Beyond the Image Wars in Science, Religion and Art, trans. Charlotte Bigg et al. (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002); Leslie Brubaker, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era, c. 680–850: A History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011).
20.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 19.
21.
Henri Grégoire, Mémoires, ed. H. Carnot (Paris, 1837), 1:345; Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 18–19; Keith Bresnahan, “Remaking the Bastille. Architectural Destruction and Revolutionary Consciousness in France, 1789–94,” in Architecture and Armed Conflict: The Politics of Destruction, ed. J. M. Mancini and Keith Bresnahan (London: Routledge, 2015), 58–71, 282.
22.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 13; Bresnahan, “On ‘Revolutionary Vandalism,’ ” 282, 286.
23.
Alison Ravetz, “Deviance and Disciplines: A Review of Recent Works on Vandalism,” Town Planning Review 54, no. 2 (1983), 223–29.
24.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 19.
25.
Louis Réau, Histoire du vandalisme: Les monuments détruits de l'art français (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1959), 1:16–25; Stanley Cohen, ed., Images of Deviance (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1971); Colin Ward, ed., Vandalism (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1973); Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 22.
26.
Martin Warnke, Bildersturm: Die Zerstörung des Kunstwerks (Frankfurt: Fischer Wissenschaft, 1977), 11, Gamboni's translation.
27.
Lintott, Violence in Republican Rome, 67.
28.
Cicero, De legibus 3.20; Livy, Periochae 55; Lily Ross Taylor, “Forerunners of the Gracchi,” Journal of Roman Studies 52 (1962), 19–27, esp. 26.
29.
On the secret ballot, see Cicero, De legibus 3.15–16/34–35; Lily Ross Taylor, Roman Voting Assemblies (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1966), 34; Millar, Crowd in Rome, 25–27; Alexander Yakobson, “Popular Power in the Roman Republic,” in A Companion to the Roman Republic, ed. Nathan Rosenstein and Robert Morstein-Marx (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006), 389–90.
30.
On the curtailment of the tribunes’ rights, see Asconius 78; Appian, Bella civilia 1.100. On the restoration of those rights, see Sallust, Historiae 3.48.8, 10; Plutarch, Pompeius 21.4–5, 22.3. See also Erich S. Gruen, The Last Generation of the Roman Republic (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 7, 23–26, 28–35; Theodora Hantos, Res publica constituta: Die Verfassung des Dictators Sulla (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1988), 73, 79–89; Millar, Crowd in Rome, 70; Arthur Keaveney, Sulla: The Last Republican (London: Routledge, 2005), 140–44, 171–72.
31.
Millar notes that only one of the laws passed in these years was clearly passed by a consul, and none by praetors; tribunes passed approximately fifteen laws during this period. Millar, Crowd in Rome, 92–93. See also Lintott, Violence in Republican Rome, 78–83.
32.
Cicero, In Pisonem 8; Asconius, In Pisonem 6–7; Frézouls, “Construction du theatrum lapideum”; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 117; J. Bert Lott, The Neighborhoods of Augustan Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 36, 47–60; Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 264–69.
33.
On Clodius's change of status, see Cicero, Pro Sestio 15; Cicero, De haruspicum responso 45; Cicero, De provinciis consularibus 42; Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum 8.3.3; Plutarch, Cato Minor 33; Cassius Dio 38.12.2. On the corn dole, see Cassius Dio 38.13. See also Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 104, 108–13, 120–24; Seager, Pompey the Great, 91–92, 101.
34.
Lintott, Violence in Republican Rome, 175.
35.
Examples of temples whose juxtaposition was significant include Lutatius Catulus's Temple of Fortuna Huiusce Diei of ca. 101, built adjacent to what was probably his ancestor Gaius Lutatius Catulus's Temple of Iuturna of ca. 241, and the side-by-side temples to Hercules Musarum and Juno Regina on the Circus Flaminius, dedicated by rival censors Marcus Fulvius Nobilior and Marcus Aemilius Lepidus in 179. An example of rehonoring for irony is Lucius Opimius's temple for Concordia, built to celebrate the suppression of the “populist” Gracchi in 121. Concordia had previously been the subject of a shrine built by Gnaeus Flavius in 304 to celebrate plebeian gains against patricians. Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome.
36.
On the function of the Basilica Porcia, see Jean-Michel David, “Le tribunal dans la basilique: Évolution fonctionelle et symbolique de la République à l'empire,” Architecture et société: De l'archaïsme grec à la fin de la Républic romaine—Actes du colloque international organisé par le Centre national de la recherche scientifique et l’École française de Rome (Rome 2–4 décembre 1980) (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1983), 219–45, esp. 223 and 227; Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 133. For a contrary argument, see Katherine E. Welch, “A New View of the Origins of the Basilica: The Atrium Regium, Graecostasis, and Roman Diplomacy,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 16 (2003), 5–34.
37.
Livy 34.44.4; Valerius Maximus 2.4.3. On theaters and social order, see Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 166–69. Patrizio Pensabene and Alessandro D'Alessio argue that the huge podium and staircase of the Temple of Magna Mater on the southwest corner of the Palatine were designed to accommodate audiences for plays staged on the platform in front. Patrizio Pensabene and Alessandro D'Alessio, “L'immaginario urbano: Spazio sacro sul Palatino tardo-repubblicano,” in Imaging Ancient Rome: Documentation, Visualization, Imagination, ed. Lothar Haselberger and John Humphrey (Portsmouth, R.I.: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 2006), 30–50.
38.
On the temple's identification, see Fausto Zevi, “Minucia frumentaria, crypta Balbi, circus Flaminius: Note in margine,” in Res bene gestae: Ricerche di storia urbana su Roma antica in onore di Eva Margareta Steinby, ed. Anna Leone, Domenico Palombi, and Susan Walker (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 2004). For contrasting views, see F. Coarelli, Il Campo Marzio: Dalle origini alla fine della Repubblica (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 1997), 258–68; F. Coarelli, “Lares Permarini, aedes,” in Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 6 vols., ed. Eva Margareta Steinby (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 1999–2001), 3:174–75. On the census lists, see D. Van Berchem, Les distributions de blé et d'argent à la plèbe romaine sous l'empire (Geneva: Georg & Cie, 1939); Nicolet, “Temple des Nymphes”; Catherine Virlouvet, “La topographie des distributions frumentaires avant la création de la Porticus Minucia Frumentaria,” in L'urbs: Espace urbain et histoire—Ier siècle av. J.C.–IIIe siècle ap. J.C. Actes du colloque international, Rome, 8–12 mai 1985 (Rome: École Française de Rome, 1987), 175–89; Coarelli, Campo Marzio, 303–8. On the destruction of archives in Kosovo, see Herscher, Violence Taking Place, 11–12.
39.
T. P. Wiseman, “The Census in the First Century B.C.,” Journal of Roman Studies 59 (1969), 64n48.
40.
On the temple's use, see Cicero, In Verrem 2.1.129; Taylor, Roman Voting Assemblies, 28. On its design changes, see Inge Nielsen and Birte Poulsen, eds., The Temple of Castor and Pollux 1: The Pre-Augustan Temple Phases with Related Decorative Elements (Rome: L'Erma di Bretschneider, 1992); Gilbert J. Gorski and James E. Packer, The Roman Forum: A Reconstruction and Architectural Guide (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 291–93; Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome, 19–24, 102–4, 160–61, and passim.
41.
Taylor, Roman Voting Assemblies, 34n2; C. Nicolet, The World of the Citizen in Republican Rome, trans. P. S. Falla (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), 267–77; Roger B. Ulrich, The Roman Orator and the Sacred Stage: The Roman “Templum Rostratum” (Brussels: Latomus, 1994), 91–92; Nathan Elkins, Monuments in Miniature: Architecture on Roman Coinage (New York: American Numismatic Society, 2015), 24.
42.
Cicero, De domo sua 54.
43.
Cicero, 53–55, 100; Matthew B. Roller, “Demolished Houses, Monumentality, and Memory in Roman Culture,” Classical Antiquity 29 (2010), 117–80, esp. 134; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 188.
44.
Cicero, De domo sua 102, 38; Valerius Maximus 6.3.1; E. Papi, “Domus: M. Fulvius Flaccus,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 2:105. On the location, see Birgitta Tamm, Auditorium and Palatium: A Study on Assembly-Rooms in Roman Palaces during the 1st Century B.C. and the 1st Century A.D. (Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1963), 32–36; Andrea Carandini, Schiavi in Italia (Rome: Nuova Italia Scientifica, 1988), 359–87; E. Papi, “Porticus (monumentum) Catuli,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 4:119; Steven M. Cerutti, “The Location of the Houses of Cicero and Clodius and the Porticus Catuli on the Palatine Hill in Rome,” American Journal of Philology 118 (1997), 417–26, esp. 422; Daniela Bruno, “Regione X. Palatium,” in Atlante di Roma, ed. Andrea Carandini and Paolo Carafa (Milan: Electa, 2013), 230–31.
45.
C. M. Amici, “Evoluzione architettonica del comizio a Roma,” Rendiconti della Pontificia Accademia Romana di Archeologia 77 (2004–5), 351–79, esp. 352–54; Varro, De lingua Latina 5.155; Cicero, De republica 2.17.31; Livy 1.30; Horace, Carmina 4.7.15; De viris illustribus 4.3; Varro in Aulus Gellius 14.7.7; F. Coarelli, “Curia Hostilia,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 1:331–32; Alessandro Delfino, “Il foro di Cesare nella fase Cesariana e augustea,” in Giulio Cesare: L'uomo, le imprese, il mito, ed. Giovanni Gentili (Milan: Silvana, 2008), 52–54.
46.
Appian, Bella civilia 1.59; Sallust, Bellum Catilinae 37.6; Keaveney, Sulla, 145–48; G. L. Grassigli, “La curia nei progetti urbanistici di Silla, Pompeo e Cesare: Architettura e lotta politica a Roma nel I secolo A.C.,” Palladio 8 (1991), 39–50.
47.
Cicero, De finibus 5.2; Cicero, Pro Scauro 46; Catharine Edwards, Writing Rome: Textual Approaches to the City (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 17; Flower, Art of Forgetting, 96.
48.
Cassius Dio 40.49.2–3, trans. Cary.
49.
Appian, Bella civilia 1.105–6; Plutarch, Pompeius 15.3; Plutarch, Sulla 38.1; Granius Licinianus 36.25–26; Cicero, De legibus 2.57; Pliny, Naturalis historia 7.187; Keaveney, Sulla, 174–75.
50.
Steven Johnstone, “On the Uses of Arson in Classical Rome,” Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History 6 (1992), 42, 48–49.
51.
Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome. For the argument that magistrates merely fulfilled a senatorial program, see Eva Margareta Steinby, Edilizia pubblica e potere politico nella Roma repubblicana (Rome: Jaca Book, 2012); and for a contrasting view, see Seth Bernard, “Politics and Public Construction in Republican Rome: Review of E. M. Steinby, Edilizia pubblica e potere publico nella Roma repubblicana,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 26 (2013), 513–19.
52.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 27, 35. See also Erika Naginski, “The Object of Contempt,” Yale French Studies 101 (2001), 44; Bresnahan, “Remaking the Bastille,” 62.
53.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 27. Sheena Wilson, notes that (twentieth-century) vandalism is generally committed by those who are deprived of control over their own lives. Sheena Wilson, “Observations on the Nature of Vandalism,” in Sykes, Designing against Vandalism.
54.
G. Pisani Sartorio, “Fortuna et Mater Matuta, aedes,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 2:281–85; N. Terrenato, P. Brocato, G. Caruso, A. M. Ramieri, H. W. Becker, I. Cangemi, G. Mantiloni, and C. Regoli, “The S. Omobono Sanctuary in Rome: Assessing Eighty Years of Fieldwork and Exploring Perspectives for the Future,” Internet Archaeology 31 (2012), https://doi.org/10.11141/ia.31.1 (accessed 4 Oct. 2018); Jason M. Urbanus, “A Brief Glimpse into Early Rome,” Archaeology, May/June 2014, http://www.archaeology.org/issues/132-1405/trenches/1982-reexcavation-rome-earliest-temple (accessed 4 Oct. 2018); John N. Hopkins, The Genesis of Roman Architecture (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2016), 66–84, 146–52; Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome, 9–12. A deposit of the temple's terracottas at Sant'Omobono may represent ritualized catharsis.
55.
Frank B. Sear, Roman Theatres: An Architectural Study (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006).
56.
Livy, Periochae 48, trans. Alfred Cary Schlesinger. See also Appian, Bella civilia 1.28.12; Valerius Maximus 2.4.2; Augustine, De civitate Dei 1.32; Orosius 4.21.4; Velleius Paterculus 1.15.2; M. Sordi, “La decadenza della Repubblica e il teatro del 154 A.C.,” Invigilata lucernis 10 (1988), 327–41; Erich S. Gruen, Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1992), 205–22.
57.
A. Rumpf, “Die Entstehung des römischen Theaters,” Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 3 (1950), 40–50; Frézouls, “Construction du theatrum lapideum,” 195–97; Gary Forsythe, “Review of Erich S. Gruen, Culture and National Identity in Republican Rome (1992),” Bryn Mawr Classical Review 94.02.11 (1994); Molly Dauster, “Roman Sumptuary Legislation, 182–102,” in Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History, vol. 11, ed. Carl Deroux (Brussels: Latomus, 2003), 65–93, esp. 70; Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 160–69; Amy Russell, The Politics of Public Space in Republican Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 170–71; Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome, 141–43.
58.
For instance, Plutarch, Demetrius 34.3; also Plutarch, Aratus 23.1–4; Plutarch, Sulla 11. See also Henner von Hesberg, “The King on Stage,” in The Art of Ancient Spectacle, ed. Bettina Bergmann and Christine Kondoleon (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1999), 65–75; Ufuk Soyoz, “Drama on the Urban Stage: Architecture, Spectacles and Power in Hellenistic Pergamon” (PhD diss., University of Texas at Austin, 2010).
59.
Cicero, De republica 2.53; Plutarch, Poplicola 10.3ff., 6; Livy 2.7.6ff.; Valerius Maximus 4.1.1; Dionysius Halicarnassensis 5.19.1f.; De viris illustribus 15.2f.; Servius, Aeneid 4.410. See also F. Coarelli, Il Foro Romano: Periodo arcaico (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 1983), 79–83.
60.
On Spurius Cassius, see Cicero, De republica 2.60; Cicero, De domo sua 101; Livy 2.41. Valerius Maximus (5.8.2, 6.3.2, 16) records a discredited account implicating his father in the destruction. On Spurius Maelius, see Cicero, De domo sua 101; Cicero, De divinatione 2.17.39; Varro, De lingua Latina 5.157; Livy 4.13–16; Dionysius Halicarnassensis 12.2–4; Diodorus Siculus 12.37.1; Valerius Maximus 6.3.1C; Quintilian 3.7.20; De viris illustribus 17; Flower, Art of Forgetting, 48. On Manlius Capitolinus, see Livy 6.20.13; Cicero, De domo sua 101; Ovid, Fasti 6.183–5; G. Giannelli, “Il tempio di Giunone Moneta e la casa di Marco Manlio Capitolino,” Bullettino della Commissione archeologica Communale di Roma (1980–81), 7–36; A. Ziolkowski, The Temples of Mid-Republican Rome and Their Historical and Topographical Context (Rome: L'Erma di Bretschneider, 1992), 71–73; S. P. Oakley, A Commentary on Livy, Books VI–X (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 566–67; Andrew Meadows and Jonathan Williams, “Moneta and the Monuments,” Journal of Roman Studies 91 (2001), 27–49.
61.
Gary Forsythe, A Critical History of Early Rome (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 259–62; Flower, Art of Forgetting, 46–49; Roller, “Demolished Houses.”
62.
On Fulvius Flaccus, see Cicero, De domo sua 114. On Vitruvius Vaccus, see Cicero, De domo sua 101; Livy 8.19–21; Katariina Mustakallio, Death and Disgrace: Capital Penalties with Post Mortem Sanctions in Early Roman Historiography (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1994), 59–64; John Bodel, “Monumental Villas and Villa Monuments,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 10 (1997), 1–35; Flower, Art of Forgetting, 50; Roller, “Demolished Houses.”
63.
Johnstone, “On the Uses of Arson,” 48–49; Bresnahan, “On ‘Revolutionary Vandalism,’ ” 286.
64.
Plutarch, Tiberius Gracchus 8.7.
65.
Plutarch, Gaius Gracchus 17.6, trans. Bernadotte Perrin.
66.
James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1990), 4. See also Robert Morstein-Marx, “Political Graffiti in the Late Roman Republic: Hidden Transcripts and Common Knowledge,” in Politische Kommunikation und öffentliche Meinung in der antiken Welt, ed. Christina Kuhn (Heidelberg: Franz Steiner, 2012), 191–218; Tom Hillard, “Graffiti's Engagement: The Political Graffiti of the Late Roman Republic,” in Written Space in the Latin West, 200 BC to AD 300, ed. Gareth Sears, Peter Keegan, and Ray Laurence (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 105–22.
67.
Setha M. Low, On the Plaza: The Politics of Public Space and Culture (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2000), 184.
68.
Lucretius 2.601–43; Dionysius Halicarnassensis 2.19.2–5; see also Polybius 21.37.4–6; Ovid, Fasti 4.389–92; Ovid, Amores 3.2.43–57; Susan G. Davis, Parades and Power: Street Theatre in Nineteenth-Century Philadelphia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 1–22; Lynn E. Roller, “The Ideology of the Eunuch Priest,” Gender and History 9 (1997), 542–59; Lynn E. Roller, In Search of God the Mother: The Cult of Anatolian Cybele (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 289; Jacob Abraham Latham, Performance, Memory and Processions in Ancient Rome: The Pompa Circensis from the Late Republic to Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016).
69.
Cicero, Laelius de amicitia 96; Varro, De re rustica 1.2.9; Taylor, Roman Voting Assemblies, 23–25; Nielsen and Poulsen, Temple of Castor and Pollux 1, 86; Ulrich, Roman Orator, 91.
70.
Plutarch, Gaius Gracchus 6.3; Festus 370L; G. Bodei Giglioni, Lavori pubblici e occupazione nell'antichità classica (Bologna: Patron Editore, 1974), 98–101; D. Palombi, “Horrea Sempronia,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 3:47.
71.
Cicero, De legibus 3.38; Taylor, Roman Voting Assemblies, 39.
72.
Moreau, “Lex Clodia”; Fezzi, “Legislazione tribunizia.”
73.
Cicero, Epistulae ad Quintum fratrem 2.2.2; Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum 2.3.2; Cicero, Pro Milone, 46; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 198.
74.
Robin Griffiths and J. M. Shapland, “The Vandal's Perspective: Meanings and Motives,” in Sykes, Designing against Vandalism, 15.
75.
On violence staged as spectacle, see Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 22. On fire, specifically, see Herscher, Violence Taking Place, 82.
76.
Lynn Hunt, Politics, Culture, and Class in the French Revolution (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), 27; Albert Boime, “Perestroika and the Destabilization of the Soviet Monuments,” ARS: Journal of the Institute of Art History of the Slovak Academy of Sciences 2–3 (1993), 211–26, esp. 212 and 218; Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 71; Bresnahan, “On ‘Revolutionary Vandalism,’ ” 281; Bresnahan, “Remaking the Bastille,” 62.
77.
Herscher, Violence Taking Place, 18, 88; Bresnahan, “Remaking the Bastille,” 287–88.
78.
Bresnahan, “Remaking the Bastille,” 59.
79.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 214. Baron Haussmann's destructions, defended in the name of urban development, earned him the moniker artiste démolisseur. See also Herscher, Violence Taking Place, 25–26.
80.
C. J. Bearman, “An Examination of Suffragette Violence,” English Historical Review 120 (2005), 365–97. See also Paul Burall, “Introduction,” in Sykes, Designing against Vandalism, 7.
81.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 188–89; Johnstone, “On the Uses of Arson,” 41.
82.
Gamboni, Destruction of Art, 189. See also Herscher, Violence Taking Place, 51.
83.
Plutarch, Tiberius Gracchus 8.7.
84.
Low, On the Plaza, 184.
85.
Ovid, Fasti 4.348; Valerius Maximus 1.8.11; Julius Obsequens 39; M. Gywn Morgan, “ ‘Metellus Pontifex’ and Ops Opifera: A Note on Pliny ‘Naturalis Historia’ 11.174,” Phoenix 27 (1973), 238–39; see also F. Coarelli, Palatium: Il Palatino dalle origini all'impero (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 2012), 251–52. On attributions, see Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome, 154, 161–65. On disruptions in 165, see Terence, Hecyra, prologue; Gruen, Culture and National Identity, 205–22; Roller, In Search of God, 289.
86.
Plutarch, Gaius Gracchus 12.4.
87.
Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum 4.2.5, 4.3.2; Papi, “Porticus (monumentum) Catuli”; Tatum, Patrician Tribune, 181, 193.
88.
Fausto Zevi, “Tempio D nel Largo Argentina: Tempio delle Ninfe in Campo?,” Archeologia Laziale 12 (1995), 135–43. See also F. Coarelli, “Topografia e storia,” in L'Area Sacra di Largo Argentina I, ed. I. Kajanto (Rome: Tipografia Poliglotta Vaticana, 1981), 9–51, esp. 18.
89.
Cassius Dio 40.50.2–3, trans. Cary.
90.
Caesar, Bellum civile 1.5.5, 1.8.1; Meier, Caesar, 342–46.
91.
Tabula Heracleensis. See Allan Chester Johnson, Paul Robinson Coleman-Norton, and Frank Card Bourne, Ancient Roman Statutes (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1961), 93–97; Olivia F. Robinson, Ancient Rome: City Planning and Administration (London: Routledge, 1992), 17; Michael H. Crawford, Roman Statutes (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 1996), 355–62; Diane Favro, The Urban Image of Augustan Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 75–76; Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome, chap. 7.
92.
Burall, “Introduction,” 7–9; Wilson, “Observations on the Nature of Vandalism”; Ravetz, “Deviance and Disciplines,” 225. Low notes that when the city plan of San José, capital of Costa Rica, was being overhauled, the minister of culture introduced changes to municipal laws to hold landlords responsible for the maintenance of their buildings and the sidewalks in front of their properties. Low, On the Plaza, 195.
93.
Cassius Dio 42.50; Suetonius, Caesar 38.2; Cicero, De officiis 2.83–84; Meier, Caesar, 418; Angela Donati, “Cesare e il diritto,” in Gentili, Giulio Cesare, 38–41, esp. 39.
94.
On the Saepta, see G. Gatti, “Saepta Iulia e Porticus Aemilia nella Forma Severiana,” Bullettino della Commissione archeologica Communale di Roma 62 (1934); G. Gatti, “Saepta Iulia in Campo Marzio,” L'Urbe 2, no. 9 (1937), 8–23; Coarelli, Campo Marzio, 155–64, 580–82; E. Gatti, “Saepta Iulia,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 4:228–29. On the Forum Iulium, see Alessandro Delfino, Forum Iulium: L'area del Foro di Cesare alla luce delle campagne di scavo 2005–2008—Le fasi arcaica, repubblicana e cesariana-augustea (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2014).
95.
Cassius Dio 43.49.
96.
Michael H. Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 1:473; F. Coarelli, Il Foro Romano: Periodo repubblicano e augusteo (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 1985), 237–57; P. Verduchi, “Rostra Augusti,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 4:214–17.
97.
Cassius Dio 44.4–7. According to a different tradition, the Senate merely promised to name the Curia after Caesar. Amici, “Evoluzione architettonica”; C. M. Amici, “Problemi topografici dell'area restrostante la Curia dall'età arcaica all'epoca tardo-antica,” in Lo scavo didattico della zona retrostante la Curia (Foro di Cesare): Campagne di scavo 1961–1970, ed. C. M. Amici et al. (Rome: Bonsignori, 2007), 161–68; Paolo Liverani, “Cesare urbanista: L'uomo, le imprese, il mito,” in Gentili, Giulio Cesare, 44–46; E. Tortorici, “Curia Iulia,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 1:332–34. See also Coarelli, “Curia Hostilia”; Meier, Caesar, 467–68; C. Morselli and E. Tortorici, Curia, Forum Iulium, Forum Transitorium (Rome: De Luca, 1989), 229–37; Delfino, “Foro di Cesare,” 53–54.
98.
Cassius Dio 54.8.1–3; Eutropius 7.9; Florus 2.34.63; Orosius 6.21; Gorski and Packer, Roman Forum, 24–27, 301–11. A Fornix Fabianus dating from soon after 120 BCE spanned the Via Sacra just before it branched: Davies, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome, 168. On the basic outcomes of public protest, see Low, On the Plaza, 184.
99.
Inge Nielsen, “Castor, aedes, templum,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 1:242–45; Inge Nielsen and Birte Poulsen, eds., The Temple of Castor and Pollux 3: The Augustan Temple (Rome: L'Erma di Bretschneider, 2009); Gorski and Packer, Roman Forum, 284–99.
100.
On the Curia, see Herodian 5.5.7, 7.11.2; Cassius Dio 51.22; Suetonius, Augustus 100. On the Temple of Saturn, see Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.8.4; Patrizio Pensabene, Tempio di Saturno (Rome: De Luca, 1984), 10; Tortorici, “Curia Iulia”; F. Coarelli, “Saturnus, aedes,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 4:234–36; Gorski and Packer, Roman Forum, 117–32, 147–54, 159–64, 225–38.
101.
Suetonius, Augustus 29.4; Monumentum Ancyranum 20; A. M. Ferroni, “Concordia, aedes,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 1:316–20; Gorski and Packer, Roman Forum, 165–84, 239.
102.
Strabo 5.236, trans. Nicholas Purcell. See also Nicholas Purcell, “Forum Romanum (The Imperial Period),” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae, 2:336–42, esp. 339.
103.
Purcell, “Forum Romanum.” Within two months of taking office as pontifex maximus, Augustus had installed a shrine to Vesta in his house on the Palatine, leaving the old temple and the eternal flame on the edge of the Forum, but reorienting the cult to the imperial house. Inscriptiones Italiae 13.2: 452.
104.
Suetonius, Augustus 40.5.
105.
Shelley Stone, “The Toga: From National to Ceremonial Costume,” in The World of Roman Costume, ed. Judith Lynn Sebesta and Larissa Bonfante (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2001), 13–45, esp. 17; Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 42. See also Quintilian 3.137–44.
106.
Cassius Dio 55.8.5; Suetonius, Augustus 43.1, 43.3; Gatti, “Saepta Iulia,” in Steinby, Lexicon topographicum Urbis Romae.
107.
Cassius Dio 55.8.6–7, adapted from the translation by Cary.
108.
Suetonius, Caesar 41; Lott, Neighborhoods of Augustan Rome, 61–65; Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 269–76.
109.
Burall, “Introduction,” 9–10.
110.
Lott, Neighborhoods of Augustan Rome, 136–48; Stone, “Toga,” 13.
111.
Wallace-Hadrill, Rome's Cultural Revolution, 276–90.
112.
Cassius Dio 55.27, trans. Cary. See also Johnstone, “On the Uses of Arson,” 58.
113.
Cassius Dio 55.8; Ramsay MacMullen, Enemies of the Roman Order: Treason, Unrest, and Alienation in the Empire (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1966), 164; Johnstone, “On the Uses of Arson,” 56–58.
114.
Ian Harrison, “Catiline, Clodius, and Popular Politics at Rome during the 60s and 50s BCE,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 51 (2008), 118.