Charge 1

Lanciani played a role in the Boston Museum of Arts’ acquisition of over 300 ancient objects from Italy, including 18 busts, 7 inscriptions, 112 terracottas ranging from vessels to architectural reliefs, and 186 coins (Chase, Vermeule and Comstock 1972; BMFA records). The state was concerned with the nature of that involvement. It asserted that Lanciani took advantage of his office as overseer of the nation’s antiquities in Rome and sold significant objects to the Americans. In Boston, Robinson acknowledged Lanciani’s role in providing counsel to the museum for its purchases, but stated that Lanciani did not directly sell to the museum (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 465). The philologist Barnabei unpacked the term counsel (consiglio) and argued that Lanciani’s actions were illegal (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 465–466).

An object’s findspot determined its fate in late nineteenth-century Rome, according to rules governing antiquities at the time. The state reserved jurisdiction over all ancient objects found on its property, including on the land acquired for the construction of ministry buildings and the river embankment. The city claimed ownership over finds on its property, including that which it appropriated to implement urban infrastructure, such as roads, rail lines, and sewers. Private owners could retain any antiquities found on their holdings, but only after giving the state the first right of refusal to purchase. If an owner retained the object but wished to sell it, he had to abide by export laws and tax requirements. These rules were derived from the Edict of Pacca of 1820 and remained in place until new legislation was passed in 1909 (Bruni 2001: 775–777; Emiliani 1999).

Certain areas of the city, such as the Quirinal, Viminal, and Esquiline Hills, were problematic because they were in the hands of large landowners who created land development arrangements with big construction companies (Quilici 1983: 49–50; Mancioli 1983: 156–162). Much to the state’s displeasure, the city made liberal deals with these owners, ceding the right to inspect new finds (Kragelund, Moltesen and Østergaard 2003: 13–14; Maiuro 2004: 51–52). In 1883, such an agreement was made with Josef Spithoever, owner of the property over part of the ancient Horti Sallustiani. As a consequence, many significant works of art from the ancient gardens on the Quirinal Hill were exported (Hartswick 2004: 83–146).

Lanciani offered General Charles G. Loring (1828–1902), director of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, two busts, one of Balbinus and one possibly of Caligula. They were identified as coming from the Horti Sallustiana (BMFA, letter 16 Feb. 1888). It was unclear if Eliseo Borghi, the dealer from whom Lanciani purchased the busts, had acquired them from Spithoever. Another possible source was the collection of Cardinal Ludovico Ludovisi (1595–1632), comprised of antiquities the cardinal extracted from his property, the Villa Ludovisi, which lay above part of the Horti Sallustiani until its destruction for the creation of residential housing in 1886. In 1883, after the death of the cardinal’s successor Prince Rodolfo Boncompagni Ludovisi, the heirs wished to sell the collection. The state, however, forbade the sale of important antiquities collections (Hartswick 2004: 21–25, 28–29; Moltesen 2012: 183–184).

Massimiano Pirani, another dealer, reported to Lanciani that he had seen some of the busts that the Boston Museum of Fine Arts had purchased in the lower level of a house used by the Ludovisi family (BMFA, letters, 3 Dec. 1888 and 6 April 1889). Lanciani understood that the busts were likely from the Ludovisi collection and therefore sold illegally (BMFA, letters, 3 Dec. 1888 and 6 April 1889). Thus, he asked Loring to be careful in constructing the records for these objects. In a similar vein, Lanciani asked Loring to alter the information about a marble head of Ajax to read that it was found on the left bank of the Tiber; he originally noted that it came from the river bed, which, according to the law, meant that it was the property of the Italian government (BMFA, records, Group VIII, 88–638–644). Barnabei’s report condemned the sale of these works.

The sale of the head of Caius Memmius Caecillus Placidus to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts was an unequivocal example of Lanciani’s illegal behavior, according to the report. The state prohibited the separation of different parts of artworks. Using Lanciani’s 1887 NS publication as evidence, Barnabei argued that Lanciani sold the head knowing that the body was in Rome. Lanciani had reported that in June 1886 the body of a statue of a male was found near Piazza dell’Esquilino and Via Cavour, and a cippi inscribed with a commemoration to Caius Memmius Caecillus Placidus was discovered nearby (NS 1887: 197). At the time of sale to the art museum, Lanciani informed Loring that a head of a male was found at or near the same spot as the cippi, and he assumed the head was that of Memmius. Lanciani may or may not have been correct. His assertion to Loring was part of a sales pitch; an ancient bust was more valuable to a collector if its identification was known with some surety. Barnabei took Lanciani’s argument to Loring at face value and claimed that Lanciani deliberately caused parts of an ancient statue to remain separated through the sale.

A few groups of objects sold under suspicious circumstances provided indisputable proof of Lanciani’s corruption, according to the report. They included five prehistoric vases from a tomb in the Servian Agger, near the intersection of Via di San Martino ai Monti and Via Cavour. Terracottas from the area around Lago Albano, including prehistoric tomb vases as well as architectural decoration from the now destroyed Villa of Quinto Voconio Pollione near Marino, were among the Boston Museum of Fine Arts’ purchases. Ex-voto terracottas from near Cerveteri and objects from the sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis at Nemi were also sold to the museum. These items were deemed important to national interests because of their great antiquity and rareness (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 469).

In the second half of the nineteenth century, objects from these significant ancient sites had left Italy in great numbers after destructive excavations (Aglietti and Rose 2005: 79–102; Lanciani 1884; Nagy 2008: 101–102; Dyson 1998: 38; Nottingham City Museums and Galleries 2016). The careful documentation and retention of these finds would have brought some clarity to Rome’s history during the times of the kingship and the Republic, and could have helped form a national identity. Barnabei insinuated that Lanciani used his office to bypass regulations by hiding them from state officials and arranging for their sale and exportation.

Lanciani was not secretive about the purchases, suggesting he did not feel his activity was wrong. He kept the items at his residence, where they were seen by his colleagues in the state service, including Giuseppe Gatti (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 458–461). Lanciani made clear to his co-workers that the items were destined for a museum in the United States. Lanciani also defended himself by noting that he secured the proper licenses, running them by the official three-person commission (BMFA, letters, 16 Feb. 1888 27 Feb. 1888, and 30 May 1888). Furthermore, he shipped items through the firm Roesler Franz, which collected the government taxes (BMFA, document, 27 July 1888).

Nonetheless, Lanciani’s correspondences with Loring reveal that he believed the state was being overly vigilant about policing exportation at this time. In early 1888, he informed Loring of a recent court case in which the dealer Augusto Castellani, brother of Alessandro, was held responsible for improprieties in exporting gold coins discovered in the foundations of the monument to Vittorio Emmanuele II, then under construction (BMFA, letter, 6 Jan. 1888). Borghi, who had purchased the coins, was also implicated; he was the dealer who recommended the works from the Ludovisi collection to Lanciani.

To be sure, Lanciani’s words to the museum director did not necessarily constitute convincing evidence against him. Lanciani characterised purchases to the museum in the best possible light. For example, a bust of Domitian was “the best he had ever seen,” and the bust of Balbinus recommended by Borghi, “exceedingly rare” (BMFA, letter 16 Feb. 1888). In a statement to the state, however, Lanciani declared that the items had little value, and some were forgeries (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 473–474). Indeed, some were forgeries. A marble head of Mercury purchased in late 1888 was deaccessioned soon thereafter; at the same time, a head of Minerva with helmet was quickly revealed as a late Renaissance counterfeit. Both were among the group of statues allegedly from the Ludovisi collection (BMFA, letter, 3 Dec. 1888; BMFA, undated typed notes on items 1571–1606).

Barnabei’s annoyance with art dealing was understandable. At this time, many significant antiquities left Italy for museums throughout Europe and America through the agency of a network of individuals who manipulated the weak antiquities exportation laws. The network included small-scale property owners and laborers who found objects and concealed them from the authorities (Cubberley 1988: 16, 68, 81, 114). More significant operatives were the shop dealers who could obscure an object’s provenance if they so desired. Some notorious characters were also in the network, including Pietro Pennelli, who had been accused of forging an Etruscan sarcophagus in 1865 (Andrén 1986: 68–69), and Anselmo Gasparini, who had been an inspector of excavations employed by the Commissione Archeologica Muncipale (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 455–456).

Lanciani identified the many dealers he engaged with from 1887 through 1889: Borghi, Pirani, Pio Marinangeli, Alessandro Fausti, Augusto Valenzi, Ferdinando Cherici, Luigi and Filippo Jandolo (of a family of dealers), and Saturnino Innocenti. Lanciani recognized the diversity of characters among the dealers when he referred to honest ones like Pirani and Mariangeli, and “clever” ones like Fausti and Valenzi (BMFA, letter, 6 April 1888).

Some proactive dealers made arrangements with landowners to perform rescue excavations in exchange for a share of the antiquities. This was the case with Luigi Boccaneri, and after 1888, Borghi, who worked with Prince Filippo Orsini’s property at Nemi, and with Prince Marcantonio Colonna’s at Marino (Bilde 1998: 36; Aglietti and Rose 2008: 88–90). Lanciani secured items for Boston from both these locations, after they had passed through the hands of second-hand dealers. Another source of antiquities, as we have seen, were impoverished aristocrats, who wished to sell objects from their family’s established art collections or from their land holdings (Moltesen 2012: 161–188).

Fueling the market were eager buyers, including private collectors and museum curators (Moltesen 2012: 143–159). Fava was suspicious of Marquand and Frothingham, then at the Princeton Art Museum, as well as Charles L. Hutchinson, director of the Art Institute of Chicago (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 453, 471; BIASA, mss. Lanciani 134, 17, 18; Palombi 2006: 134–135). Lanciani was aware that the Berlin Museum, now the Altes Museum, was a fierce competitor for antiquities (MFA, letter, 27 Feb. 1888). Some collectors secured agents who knew how to work the system to acquire antiquities. The German archaeologist Wolfgang Helbig, Lanciani’s associate at the Accademia Reale dei Lincei, was a highly successful agent. After 1888, Helbig aided Carl Jacobsen in building the Ny Carlesberg Glyptotek collection, which includes the portrait of Pompey the Great among other great works (Moltesen 2012). Barnabei had little respect for Helbig. He no doubt wanted to thwart Lanciani’s role as agent for the American museums.

Lanciani’s most vigorous counterclaims had little to do with the charge itself. He stated that 1) the state did not give him a chance to defend himself; 2) that it did not take into account his past stellar job performance; and 3) that others in the archaeological service were doing similar things. At the heart of these assertions was Lanciani’s belief that his accusers, particularly Barnabei, were on the attack out of personal enmity, and that the state should therefore not trust them. Unarticulated was the fact that Italy’s antiquities laws needed to be strengthened.

Charge 2

The second charge was that Lanciani acted without state authorisation when he collected subscriptions from Americans to fund the construction of a municipal museum in Rome. By 13 October 1886, soon after his arrival in the United States, Lanciani had raised 15,000 of the estimated 70,000–200,000 lire needed for the museum; inflation caused the cost to rise significantly at this time (Bruni 2000: 784). Lanciani did not act surreptitiously when he solicited money for the project, and the news was carried in the Italian newspapers. In garnering subscriptions, Lanciani had the support and approval of Fiorelli, his supervisor in the national service, and of Leopoldo Torlonia, the head of the city’s archaeological commission. However, that approval had less bearing when fortunes turned for both men while Lanciani was in America. The state replaced Torlonia with an official more sympathetic to its goals, and Fiorelli’s health kept him away from his duties.

Barnabei claimed that the sale of subscriptions to Americans brought shame to the new Italian government. The government became increasingly cautious about taking foreign money for archaeological projects, including museums, because it would give foreigners a stake in Italy’s cultural patrimony and make the government beholden to them. In fact, at this time, legislation to tighten the nation’s control over its cultural patrimony was moving through the Italian Parliament (Emiliani 1999; Bernini 1997: 7–8, 33–34).

Rome lacked adequate storage to house and display the great number of archaeological finds unearthed in the city since 1870. A new municipal museum to supplement the Capitoline Museum was clearly needed. A temporary solution was realized in 1876 when a wooden pavilion was built in an open space in the Palazzo dei Conservatori. However, it quickly became inadequate to hold the growing municipal collection (Arata and Balistreri 2010).

Meanwhile, there was no state museum other than the Museo Kircheriano, acquired by the state in 1873; an eclectic collection of Latin inscriptions, Egyptian figurines, fossils, stuffed animals, and optical instruments (Bernini 1997: 7–9). One of Lanciani’s duties was to find suitable places to store and display the vast amounts of materials added to the state’s holdings.

The history of these temporary museums is complex. For example, by 1878, the Museo Tibertino was established in the Orto Botanico, along the Lungara, to house the most prestigious objects found in the river and its vicinity. The frescoes from the ancient villa found on the grounds of the Palazzo Farnesina were housed there, as were the remains of the Pons Valentinianus (NS 1879: 180–181, 267–269; Cubberley 1988: 68–69; Bruni 2001: 778–779). It was opened to the public for a short time in 1880, but because of new construction in the area, its contents were transferred to the Baths of Diocletian in 1883. Other temporary museums established after 1879 included the Colosseum collection, located in the ex-convent of Sta. Francesca Romana, and the Forum collection, held in the ex-convent of SS. Cosmos and Damian. Artifacts from the Palatine Hill, once stored in the Farnese garden pavilions, were transferred to the Baths of Diocletian in 1882, when Lanciani had the buildings demolished during his excavations in the Forum.

In 1884, newly appointed Minister of Public Instruction Michele Coppini and representatives of the municipal government developed a shared plan for one grand museum for all antiquities found in Rome (Arata and Balistreri 2010: 269–282). Both parties agreed that this would solve the issue of displaying items from different collections that belonged together from an educational point of view. The projected museum was designed with two distinct sections, one to house objects related to the city and its suburbs, and the other, objects related to the provinces. To finance such a building, the government agreed to be responsible for one third of the expense, with the municipal government picking up the remaining costs (Bruni 2001: 783)

The project was tabled in October 1885 after it met with considerable opposition in the Parliament. In January 1887, the body looked anew at the project, and it was revised and revamped (Bruni 2001: 784). However, with the appointment of Crispi as Prime Minister in late July 1887, it was again thwarted. In 1888, it was definitively dismissed, and Coppino resigned in frustration (Bruni 1984: 124–125; Sommella 1992). Barnabei was a vocal critic of the project, calling it the brainchild of clerics and speculators. He held very specific ideas for two national museums, one for Roman objects, and the other for pre-Roman objects. These were approved by the Parliament in 1889; the Villa Giulia was operating soon thereafter while the museum in the Baths of Diocletian took longer to implement (Bernini 1997: 32).

During the four years that the Parliament deliberated the proposal for a shared archaeological museum, the municipal government had made plans for a building to house some of the city’s collection (Bruni 2001: 784–785). Thus, when Lanciani was in America in October 1886, he sought money for the museum with what he believed was the approval of both city and state authority. His efforts were halted after he received a telegraph from Torlonia informing him to stop his fundraising immediately (BIASA, mss. Lanciani 134, 4–5).

Only in 1894, long after Lanciani left the state service, was an annex to the Capitoline Museum built, on the Celian Hill, on a stretch of land between the Colosseum and the church of San Gregorio al Celio. The Antiquarium, as it was soon called, displayed epigraphic and sculptural fragments from the municipal collection (Sommella 1992: 146–147). Speaking at the inaugural celebration, Lanciani lamented the project’s failure to meet expectations (Lanciani 1894). In 1925, after the ouster of the German Embassy from the Palazzo Caffarelli on the Capitoline Hill, the Capitoline Museum was expanded and objects from the Celian location were moved there. A collection of minor arts was retained in the Antiquarium until 1939. Today, the building stands abandoned.

This charge against Lanciani did not make it to the final report. It seems the matter was too much in flux for it to be sustained. The issue of museums in Rome provoked great antagonism between the city and the state, prompting the question of who had the better stake in owning, caring for, and showcasing Italy’s grand cultural patrimony. Arguably, the issue is still alive today.

Charge 3

The third charge was that Lanciani was helping foreigners excavate on Italian soil and export objects abroad. This charge was directly related to Lanciani’s open letter in The Nation, a liberal American weekly, which appeared the day before he set sail for Italy after his American tour (Lanciani 1887). Lanciani’s letter incited Americans to excavate in Italy by announcing that other foreigners were already at work there. For example, he had stated that Sir James Savile Lumley dug at Nemi, in the sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis. Lumley’s collection of over 4,000 objects from that site is currently in England (Nottingham City Museums and Galleries 2016). In addition, Lanciani noted that many Germans, Austrians and French easily obtained licenses to dig. He wrote that he would help secure permissions for Americans by pleading their cause to the proper authorities in the Italian government.

Lanciani had written the letter in response to Joseph Thacher Clarke’s open letter in the same journal, which was critical of Italy’s restrictive policies (Clarke and Emerson 1887). Clarke was a problematic member of the AIA whose excavation efforts were often ill-advised or executed. Although he had the support of Norton, some of his colleagues were less enthused by his actions, specifically by his disastrous excavation campaign at Assos (Allen 2002a). Clarke was upset because he had recently been evicted from his illegal excavations at the Temple of Juno Lacinia at Croton, in the Magna Graecia. The functionaries of the Minister of Public Instruction escorted him from the site, and his finds were confiscated.

Lanciani’s reply to Clarke’s criticism was that “no country is more liberal” than Italy in awarding the right to excavate for scientific purposes (Lanciani 1887: 362). Foreigners need only to notify the Italian government in advance, and thereafter periodically, of their activities. Lanciani noted that the excavators did have some right to the findings and could export them, with proper permissions and fees. However, the Italians retained the right to purchase “what it considers to be of national interest” at a pre-determined price (Lanciani 1887: 362).

In his defense, Lanciani referred to a private letter he had sent to Norton a year earlier, in which he advised the AIA president how to obtain excavation licenses in Italy (HUHL, bMs Am 1088 (4124), letter, 26 July 1886). In it, he suggested:

• Asking permission of the Italian Minister of Public Instruction, and submitting a copy of the request to the American ambassador in Rome, John B. Stallo, or to some higher authorities in Washington, DC
• Making the request under a private name rather than under the AIA
• Identifying a specific site and time of excavation
• Submitting the request two weeks in advance of excavation
• Supplying all materials for the process, e.g., workmen’s salaries and tools, etc.
• Dividing the found goods between the property owner and the excavating party (and using a third-party to mediate any disputes between the two)
• Avoiding any “difficulties for the exportation of antiquities,” by involving the US Legation, which “enjoys the diplomatic freedom [from] duties (or taxes).” This is where the conservative Stallo’s cooperation was necessary.

Lanciani’s private letter to Norton preempted William Stillman’s published correspondence in The Nation, in which the journalist suggested that Taranto in the Magna Graecia would be an excellent archaeological site (Stillman 1886). The comment was an aside in Stillman’s public argument with Clarke about where Americans should excavate. Stillman noted that the “Italian Government is most cordially disposed to any researcher in archaeological practice and would no doubt materially aid” the Americans (Stillman 1886). In order to make Taranto a viable location, Stillman recommended that the US purchase property there. Lanciani, however, strongly warned Norton against establishing excavations at Taranto, and counselled him to not even approach the Italian state about it. The site was near a national military base then under construction, and any foreign presence in the area would be suspect. In addition, Lanciani noted that the excavations there had been yielding prehistoric finds, which were of special interest to the Italian government.

Barnabei stated that there were no foreign excavation sites in Italy, and he accused Lanciani of conveying misleading and damaging untruths in a public forum. Furthermore, because Lanciani was a state employee, the offer to help foreigners was unethical. Lanciani’s reply to this charge was that it was not sound. He noted that his advice was correct, and that the state was being dishonest if it claimed that it did not approve licenses to foreigners. He was correct. However, in Parliament, in the short time between Lanciani’s return from America and his dismissal in 1890, efforts were in place to make Lanciani’s advice obsolete (Moltesen 2012: 71).

Charge 4

Lastly, the report claimed that Lanciani deliberately tampered with the archaeological record. He failed to submit his drawings of the excavation sites to the state archives, and instead he redirected them to city archives. In other words, he privileged one of his employers over another. Lanciani was also accused of misrepresenting or withholding data about the sites and objects. Sometimes he did this by publishing in BCAR, rather than in NS. Other times he published for personal profit and fame in venues for his English-speaking audience. This included notices in The Athenaeum, an English journal in which Lanciani had been publishing with some frequency since 1876 (Cubberley 1988), and following his American tour, in a book for a Boston publisher (Lanciani 1889).

In some sense, this is the most frivolous of the four charges. Lanciani himself noted that given the hectic pace of the construction and archaeological activity in Rome and the demands of his publishing schedule for NS and BCAR, there inevitably would be gaps and mistakes. He claimed that in the chaos, he and his team of workers could “not follow the results of the work” (JHU, letter 19 May 1886). Given the bulk of information he amassed, it is understandable that some things were not reported well. In addition, since his two employers, the state and the city, were at odds with one another, there were bound to be dissatisfactions among the parties with his work. As for his English-language publications, the profit was not insignificant, but it was also not exorbitant (HUHL, various). The issue at the heart of this charge was that he shared information indiscreetly with foreigners.

In another sense, this is the most serious of the charges. It implies that Lanciani’s records could not and currently cannot be trusted. Although one should always be skeptical of received knowledge, the report suggests Lanciani’s published work should be approached with caution. Barnabei’s claim resonates in recent times when there have been disturbing revelations about Lanciani’s scholarship. For example, Kragelund, Moltesen and Østergaard (2003: 58–60) made some disquieting observations about Lanciani’s reports regarding the Lincian Tombs. Hartswick (2004: 58, 68–72, 88–89) reports similar inconsistencies in his records.

Lanciani presents as a man obsessed with facts. He had a habit of relaying numbers, e.g., how many tons of dirt was removed from the Forum or how many objects were fished from the Tiber, and his small and careful drawings seem well conceived and highly detailed (Lanciani 1885; 1889: x–xi, among other places). On the other hand, Lanciani was an entertaining storyteller who incorporated a dubious anecdote in some instances to liven up his presentation of ancient Rome. Further studies on his scholarship should provide fresh insight into the matter of Lanciani’s trustworthiness.

As to the question of where Lanciani archived his site drawings, the answer is unclear. The Archivio di Documentazione Archeologica (ADA), the online database being created by the Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Roma, is still under construction. It will be helpful in ascertaining how much of Lanciani’s material is in the state archives. However, the bulk of Lanciani’s notes are in two other archives in Rome. At his death, Lanciani’s daughter Marcella was given the task of splitting his papers between the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana and BIASA (Misiti 2010). The first holds historical notes and sketches, including his own, of Rome’s ancient monuments, organized by location; they served as source material for Storia degli Scavi, the multi-volume reference work on the excavations in Rome since the year 1000 (Buonocore 1997–2002; Lanciani 1902–1912). The second contains Lanciani’s collection of prints and drawings related to Rome’s artistic history and its monuments, as well as his personal documents (Muzzioli and Pellegrino 1994).

Postscript

By January 1891, more than half of Lanciani’s livelihood was gone. His career, however, was not ruined. Although he resigned as secretary of the Commissione Archaeologica Comunale in 1890, he was immediately reinstated in a more prominent role (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 474–475). He continued to publish in BCAR, as well as with the Accademia Reale dei Lincei, in which he had been an active associate since 1878. He completed two major publication projects, Forma Urbis Romae and Storia degli Scavi, which synthesized an extraordinary amount of information about ancient Rome’s excavations; both are still seminal reference works (Lanciani 1893–1902; 1902–1912). When excavations in the Roman Forum were restarted under Giacomo Boni in 1899, Lanciani was appointed to the advisory commission. He published six more English-language books with Houghton & Mifflin in Boston (Lanciani 1893; 1897; 1901a; 1906; 1909; 1924), and one with Macmillan Press in London (Lanciani 1901b). After a highly productive and successful life, which included being named Senator, he was given state honors at his funeral in 1929 (Palombi 2006: 149–264).

Barnabei was himself forced to resign from his position in 1900 on charges of misrepresenting the archaeological record. He was accused of muddling objects from the Faliscan tombs of Narce, in a display at the Villa Giulia. Helbig made the accusation in a published guide to the museum, and the denunciations of Barnabei’s integrity were intensified in the scholarly community, which included Lanciani (Barnabei and Delpino 1991: 21–24, 218–221, 443–448; Moltesen 2012: 77–82). Lanciani kept track of the affair (BIASA, mss. Lanciani 134, 122–123).