House of Augustus

Listen for a moment. Up here on the Palatine Hill, the noise of Rome drops away. You hear gravel under shoes, wind moving through umbrella pines, and maybe a gull far above. The air smells of dry earth and warm stone. Somewhere below you, hidden under protective roofs, are rooms where the first Roman emperor once slept, worked, and received his guests.

This is the House of Augustus. The man we call Augustus was born with the name Gaius Octavius in 63 BCE. He was the great-nephew and adopted heir of Julius Caesar. After years of civil war, he became the sole master of the Roman world. Yet the home he chose was not a vast palace. It was a set of rooms on a hill that already carried deep meaning for every Roman.

Why this hill? According to Roman tradition, the Palatine was where Romulus, the legendary founder of the city, had lived. Legend has it that his simple hut stood near the western edge of the hill. Archaeologists have in fact found postholes cut into the soft volcanic rock here, the traces of early Iron Age huts. Augustus placed his own house close to this sacred ground. The message was clear. He presented himself as a second founder of Rome.

The Roman writer Suetonius, who wrote a biography of Augustus about a century after his death, gives us a portrait of this home. He says the house had once belonged to the orator Hortensius. He describes it as modest — no marble halls, no elaborate floors. He also tells us that Augustus slept in the same bedroom for more than forty years, through summer and winter alike. It is a small, human detail. And it fits the image Augustus wanted to project.

That image was carefully built. Augustus never called himself a king. Romans hated that word. Instead, he used the title princeps, which means first citizen. A plain house supported this story. But do not be fooled entirely. The rooms you are about to see were decorated by skilled painters, and the household grew over time. Modesty, here, was partly a political choice.

In 27 BCE, the Senate honoured Augustus in a special way. According to ancient sources, laurel trees were planted on either side of his front door. An oak wreath, called the civic crown, was placed above it. The civic crown was traditionally given to a soldier who saved the life of a fellow citizen. Here, it suggested that Augustus had saved all of Rome. So even the doorway of this house carried a political message.

Next door stood something even grander. Ancient writers say that lightning struck part of Augustus's property. He read this as a sign from the gods and built a temple to Apollo on the spot. Apollo was his chosen protector. The temple was dedicated in 28 BCE, and it was linked closely to the house. Home and sanctuary sat side by side. For Augustus, private life and public religion were never far apart.

Now to the rooms themselves, and the first surprise. These walls were buried for centuries. Later emperors built enormous palaces across the Palatine, and they filled in older structures to create level foundations. That burial protected the paintings. Systematic excavation of the house began in the second half of the twentieth century. After long restoration work, the rooms opened to visitors in 2008. The colours you see survived because they were hidden.

The paintings belong to what scholars call the Second Style of Roman wall painting. This style uses paint to create illusions of architecture. Flat walls appear to have columns, cornices, and deep openings. Look at how the painters used light and shadow on the false columns. Your eye wants to believe the wall has depth. It is a kind of stage set, made with brush and pigment rather than stone.

That link to the theatre is no accident. One of the best-known spaces is called the Room of the Masks. Painted theatrical masks appear within the illusionistic architecture, as if you were looking at a stage. Another room is known for its painted garlands of pine branches, hanging between columns. Take time with the colours — deep reds, warm yellows, soft greens, and touches of blue. Two thousand years later, they still hold their strength.

Here is a second detail many visitors miss. Suetonius writes that Augustus had a private retreat at the top of his house, a small room he used when he wanted to work undisturbed. Some scholars connect a small, finely painted upper room here with this retreat, often called the studiolo, or little study. The identification is not certain. But standing near it, you can imagine a ruler escaping the crowds that filled his house each morning.

Visits are usually made in small groups, and the rooms are compact. Raised walkways and controlled lighting protect the fragile plaster. Move slowly. Let your eyes adjust to the low light before you judge the colours. Nearby is the House of Livia, linked to Augustus's wife, with its own painted rooms. If you can, visit both. Together they show how the imperial family lived before the age of giant palaces.

When you step back outside, walk to the southern edge of the hill. Below you lies the long, open valley of the Circus Maximus, where chariots once raced. Augustus could look down on that crowd from his own doorstep. Behind you, the ruins of later palaces spread across the hilltop, built by emperors who wanted far more space than he did.

Pause here for a moment. Feel the breeze off the hill and the warmth in the stone. The painted rooms behind you are quiet now, sheltered from rain and sun. They were the home of a man who reshaped an empire, but they were also simply rooms — where someone woke, worked, and slept for forty years. As you walk on, notice the pine trees overhead. Their branches look a little like the garlands painted on those ancient walls.