The Palatine is a massive hill—far more spacious than the Capitoline, and far more connected to antiquity than most. It overlooks the Roman Forum and the Colosseum beyond, and all around its peak reside the dilapidated foundations of brick villas and shops. It's a lush and fertile hill, teeming with tall trees and vibrant flowers, so it's no wonder that many Romans, the emperors included, wished to make this hill their place of residence. From Augustus to the Flavians, the emperors have built up their palaces until they appropriated a large portion of the Palatine, and it's a shame that all we have left are walls and bases of the Domus Augustana.
The Domus Augustana is confusing, though—not only for its name (I had to consult to Blue Guide to remind myself that the Augustana was the house of the Flavians—Vespasian, Titus, Domitian—while the house of Augustus is completely different, annexed to the superstructure of the Flavian palace) but for what lies beneath it. Past the Domus Augustana, a huge drop—almost like a quarry, where you would expect excavated ruins to be—reveals an oval ring (much like where chariot races would be held) and a wide expanse of grassy space. I found myself asking: this can't be the Circus Maximus, can it? It's certainly located toward the exit of the Palatine, but why would it be so small? And why would Vespasian expand his palace next to the roar of the races? And where did the seats go? Someone guessed that it was perhaps the Stadium of Domitian, but even so it still seemed strange than an emperor would choose to place any athletic structure so close to his home. No matter how long I marveled at it, I couldn't understand what it was. It was certainly incredible, huge walls rising up on all three sides—the left, straight ahead, and the right—and the vertiginous drop to the bottom, but its purpose escaped me. I couldn't even see an entrance to the area, let alone understand how so many people would be able to pile into that space.
Turns out, though, that it's not a racetrack at all. The Blue Guide identifies it as the sunken garden of Domitian, often mistaken for his stadium because of its hippodrome-like appearance. The fallen columns on the opposite side of the garden probably belonged to the two-story portico that surrounded three sides of it, and there is no entrance into it from the ground level. The fact that I mistook it for a racetrack just as other scholars had done is comforting, at least, and makes me wonder about what Domitian had in mind when he constructed it in the shape of a racetrack—especially since he also erected a stadium in his name. Perhaps it is indicative of an aggressive and extravagant personality, since not only are the gardens unreachable from the bottom level but they were constructed in the shape of a sport greatly enjoyed by Roman citizens.
The Domus Augustana is confusing, though—not only for its name (I had to consult to Blue Guide to remind myself that the Augustana was the house of the Flavians—Vespasian, Titus, Domitian—while the house of Augustus is completely different, annexed to the superstructure of the Flavian palace) but for what lies beneath it. Past the Domus Augustana, a huge drop—almost like a quarry, where you would expect excavated ruins to be—reveals an oval ring (much like where chariot races would be held) and a wide expanse of grassy space. I found myself asking: this can't be the Circus Maximus, can it? It's certainly located toward the exit of the Palatine, but why would it be so small? And why would Vespasian expand his palace next to the roar of the races? And where did the seats go? Someone guessed that it was perhaps the Stadium of Domitian, but even so it still seemed strange than an emperor would choose to place any athletic structure so close to his home. No matter how long I marveled at it, I couldn't understand what it was. It was certainly incredible, huge walls rising up on all three sides—the left, straight ahead, and the right—and the vertiginous drop to the bottom, but its purpose escaped me. I couldn't even see an entrance to the area, let alone understand how so many people would be able to pile into that space.
Turns out, though, that it's not a racetrack at all. The Blue Guide identifies it as the sunken garden of Domitian, often mistaken for his stadium because of its hippodrome-like appearance. The fallen columns on the opposite side of the garden probably belonged to the two-story portico that surrounded three sides of it, and there is no entrance into it from the ground level. The fact that I mistook it for a racetrack just as other scholars had done is comforting, at least, and makes me wonder about what Domitian had in mind when he constructed it in the shape of a racetrack—especially since he also erected a stadium in his name. Perhaps it is indicative of an aggressive and extravagant personality, since not only are the gardens unreachable from the bottom level but they were constructed in the shape of a sport greatly enjoyed by Roman citizens.
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