A scholar usually manages at some period in his life to read Xenophon's Cyropaedia, but probably rarely re-reads it. For the Cyropaedia has suffered from a change of fashion; once it was regularly read, and an admirable school commentary upon it by H. A. Holden is still purchasable. Now it is certainly not a school book, and it was mere chance brought me upon a passage which seems to raise questions about the development and propagation of a tradition, which may interest the great and friendly scholar to whom this volume is dedicated. But the topic ranges over so many territories into which I have no right to enter that I must ask him to forgive me for offering him a short essay rather than a rigorously reasoned and documented statement; I wish merely to put before him two texts, with brief observations.

In the Cyropaedia Xenophon depicts an ideal ruler. One important thing about that ruler is that he must not only be in every way a better man than those whom he commands, but must be admittedly and visibly so.

The pompa circensis, the solemn procession that marched to the Circus Maximus on the occasion of the ludi magni, was headed by the boys and young men of the state, those whose fathers had the census equester going on horseback and the others on foot. The object of the procession was, Dionysius says, depending on Fabius for his account, to show to strangers how numerous and powerful were the youths about to come to man's estate. The martial ceremony must have been a stirring preparation for the military service that in early times was the duty of every Roman citizen. There was further preparation for such service at Rome. Cicero tells us that in former times, for a year after the taking of the toga virilis, the young tiro was trained at Rome in exercitatio ludusque campestris. This preliminary training was restored for the young noble by Augustus who felt its importance as a preparation for the military service insisted upon for all who sought political preferment. Indeed, the old tirocinium, as Rostovtzeff has shown, seems to have been lengthened from one to two years.

Cumae was the first city founded by Greek colonists on the mainland of Italy. It attained pre-eminence for a time in the Bay of Naples and its influence was exercised over a wide area for more than 500 years. Yet the detailed phases of its long history are still very nebulous and patchy. References in ancient writers deal mainly with its contacts with the rising power of Rome. Little excavation has been carried out on the site (apart from the cemeteries) and the published information is mostly of a general nature, more suited to tourist appreciation than to that of serious students. Serious students do not lack interest in the problems presented by Cumae, but they may perhaps lack familiarity with its topography. Whatever its faults of scholarship may be, this present study is at least the product of eight years' residence and assiduous delving into the archaeology of the Cuma/Bacoli Peninsula.

The story of Cumae is naturally divisible into two stages; the Greek and the Roman. Most accounts begin with a discussion about the date of its foundation, and where the colonists came from. But it is not the date that interests us here in this enquiry; it is the reason why exploring sailormen not only visited here but chose Cumae as their trading station, when there were apparently more attractive sites at Misenum and other places round the Bay of Naples; to say nothing of all the sites they will presumably have passed by on their voyage from Greece.

In the study of social structure in the Roman world of the first and second centuries A.D. nothing is more important or more complex than the slave and freed-slave classes. Their numbers are indeterminately large and predominant in many urban and some rural areas. Most have a reasonable expectation of early manumission and enjoy a high rate of social advancement. But it is important to distinguish between the different social levels of the slave classes in general in order to isolate, if possible, those elements of exceptionally high mobility which are an example and incentive to the rest. Among the most important of these in the early Imperial period are the slaves and freedmen of the Emperor, the Familia Caesaris, itself comprising groups of differing legal and occupational status. By comparing different groups of Imperial slaves both with each other and with those of equivalent legal status outside the Familia Caesaris it is possible to illustrate the extent of social differentiation within the slave classes.

Ever since Augustine narrated an account of his mother's death at Ostia, social historians have tried to adduce the identity of the person who erected Monica's tombstone, a copy of which is preserved in a ninth-century codex. Three members of the gens Anicii, all of whom were Augustine's contemporaries, have become usual suspects in the secondary literature. Throughout these debates the epitaph itself, a fragment of which was found in 1945, is frequently cited but rarely treated as a primary text. This article presents a new study of that epigraph and proposes that it was erected much later than previously suspected.

I. Introduction.—The dating of building materials at Pompeii presents a problem which is in several ways peculiar. Although more than half the city has by now been uncovered and has provided a wealth of epigraphic material almost without parallel among Italian towns, yet the number of buildings which it is possible to date from such evidence can be counted on one hand, since for the most part the inscriptions concern events which are too trivial, or persons who are too obscure, to offer any indication of their date. Furthermore, the procedure adopted in the past for excavating the town has precluded all but the most meagre help being given by pottery. Till a few years ago, Pompeian excavators for the most part stopped digging as soon as the uppermost (and latest) level had been reached, and earlier buildings, of which the foundations presumably survive under the later floors, were left unexplored. Hence, the pottery which is most useful for purposes of dating (that occurring in association with structural foundations) is not forthcoming. Pompeii, in fact, has been too much a show-piece for visitors, too little a site to be scientifically explored.

The considerable literature that has already gathered round the Palestinian inscription on violation of sepulture published by M. Cumont in 1930 leaves little new to be said. There is, however, a gap to be filled for the English reader; moreover discussion has now cleared away certain initial misconceptions, so that a restatement may be useful. I have tried to acknowledge all substantial obligations, but beg to be excused the tedium of meticulous citation. Here, once for all, are the previous publications known to me; subsequent reference will generally be by author's name only.

The Italian town of Corythus, which Virgil makes the home of Dardanus and the cradle of the Trojan people (Aen. iii, 170; vii, 209; ix, 10), has long been identified with Cortona, between Arezzo and Chiusi. It is the purpose of this paper to suggest that this identification is false; in reviving an alternative suggestion, which has not been current since the Renaissance, I hope to show too that the vexed question of whether or not the story is a Virgilian innovation admits of a decisive answer. The Aeneid itself provides our earliest evidence; it is remarkable that Virgil's own topographical indications, oblique, but not obscure, should have been so completely ignored by earlier writers on the topic.

From his ancestral throne, King Latinus addresses the Trojan embassy (vii, 195 f.): ‘dicite Dardanidae (neque enim nescimus et urbem et genus, auditique advertitis aequore cursum’. He speaks of Dardanus, ancestor of Aeneas, as ‘his ortus ut agris’ (206): the old story relates that, ‘Corythi Tyrrhena ab sede profectus’ (209), Dardanus made for Samothrace, and then Troy (207 f.). The location of Latinus’ city is indeed left uncertain, but we are clearly to envisage it as standing somewhere between the Tiber mouth and Ardea. That is about 120 miles from Cortona—enough to impose a great strain on his (206). It would be far more satisfactory if we could discover a Tyrrhenian location for Corythus that was easily reconcilable with ‘his … agris’. The fama which Latinus relates is obscurior on account of anni (205) and not because the story has percolated with difficulty through the length of Etruria.

The decline of late Roman paganism could hardly be said to have been an under-studied subject in the past, nor one which currently lacks appeal among late Roman historians: indeed, one has the impression that it is often through this, and the broader question of the ‘conflict’ between paganism and Christianity in the fourth century, that students of Roman history have acquired their interest in the late imperial period. This is all for the best: at the same time, it may be that in this, as in other aspects of late Roman history, there is a danger of ‘over-familiarity’ in the interpretation of well-known evidence.

Codex Theodosianus 3.14.1, issued in the early 370s, has been understood in the past to indicate a ban on all marriages between ‘Romans’ and ‘barbarians’. But this interpretation contradicts evidence that Roman-barbarian marriages occurred with great frequency, and the lack of any other evidence for such a ban. This study argues that the specific wording of the law, referring to gentiles (barbarian soldiers) and provinciales (residents of provinces), suggests that the ban was imposed to ensure the continued performance of specific duties incumbent upon these two classes of individuals, and had nothing to do with ethnicity-qua-ethnicity.

In this paper I propose to consider Ovid's poem as a document of literary criticism, which offers us a striking treatment of the role of the audience in reception. Ovid's concerns are twofold: on the one hand he is concerned with the ostensible manner in which his own works have been read, but he also discusses a wide range of other texts, and in doing so, offers readings of them, which, I will argue, illustrate the open-ended nature of reception and meaning.

Now, undoubtedly we are sometimes too willing to label works as ‘anti-Augustan’ or ‘Augustan’, as if that was all that could be said about them; the glib use of such terms often seems to obscure more complex and more interesting questions (the Aeneid and the Georgics are familiar examples). But with Ovid, however, such issues are at least raised by the poet himself, since the exile poems do deal with Ovid's attitude to Augustus, and the twin possibilities of writing poetry which can offend the emperor, or which can please him. Now while Ovid's famous explanation of the causes of his exile as ‘carmen et error’ (Trist. 2.207) may perhaps be a smokescreen — Ovid adducing the Ars Amatoria as his fault in order not to have to go into the details of what the error was that had offended Augustus — Tristia 2 must still be considered on its own terms; Ovid writes as if it is possible for Augustus to be offended by his poetry, and therefore the issue is an important one.

In 47 B.C., despite victory at the Battle of Pharsalus and the subsequent death of Cn. Pompeius Magnus, the Civil War continued for C. Julius Caesar. He faced hostile Roman armies in Spain and North Africa. Rumours circulated that the African army was preparing to invade Italy. Order was kept in Rome only through the force employed by Caesar's lieutenant M. Antonius. Contemporaries certainly did not believe Caesar's victory was a foregone conclusion. In the midst of these crises, Caesar faced a mutiny amongst his veteran Gallic legions billeted in Campania. These troops refused his orders to move from Italy to Africa to fight the Pompeian army that had gathered there. Instead they marched to Rome to demand back pay, discharge, and promised bonuses of money and land. Caesar's power, and his very survival, were hanging in the balance.

When Vespasian sought to give new vitality to the decadent aristocracy of Rome by admitting the local gentry of the Italian towns to the senate, he was drawing upon a class which was destined to play an important part in the government and defence of the Empire. The municipal nobility, first of Italy and later of the provinces, not only managed the affairs of all the smaller communities, but also came to fill most positions of authority, both military and civil, in the imperial administration. To understand the Empire, therefore, we must know something of this aristocracy, and must study it in that local setting which our literary authorities despise. Here Pompeii affords valuable evidence, through the comparative abundance of the material presented, and through the tragic definiteness of its chronological lower limit. It is true that this evidence, for all its copiousness, is defective, since a large part of Pompeii remains unexcavated; and our lists of magistrates and of candidates for office are compiled from casual finds, not from official sources, so that negative evidence cannot safely be used. It is true also that Pompeii, owing to its unusually favourable economic conditions, is less representative of other Italian municipia than could be wished. Within these limits, however, a study of its ruling Ordo should throw some light upon the character of these bodies in and even beyond Italy.

In the Antiquitates Romanae, Dionysius of Halicarnassus presents the Romans as a nation of Greeks. Throughout his narrative, Dionysius shows how the Romans have surpassed other Greek nations in the quintessentially Greek areas of morality and conduct. However, this assessment of Rome's cultural and ethnic identity proves to be much more nuanced when read side by side with the narrative of the concluding books of the Antiquitates Romanae, a largely unexplored section of the work dealing with the war between the Romans and Pyrrhus. The culturally-based definition of Roman ‘Greekness’ is accompanied, particularly in the last portion of the narrative, by a troubling awareness of its inherent instability as the Romans increasingly display the tendencies which eventually caused the ‘barbarization’ of Greece.

When the word ‘party’ became obscene in the context of the history of the Roman republic, it was frequently replaced by ‘faction’—or factio, to give an air of authenticity. It is the purpose of this paper to examine the occurrences of factio in writers of the republic and early principate in order to discover to what extent the usage of modern historians is justified by the sources. It will not be denied that there are numerous occasions when factio functions as a collective, with the meaning ‘group, clique, faction’. But originally factio had a verbal force, sometimes active—‘way of doing things’—sometimes potential—‘capacity to do things or get things done’. This verbal force is retained in many instances, including some where the rendering ‘faction’, i.e. ‘group’, has become standard. The precise shade of meaning may vary, but three principal connotations can be discerned: influence, concerted action, and intrigue.

In JRS 43 (1953), 77 f. I stated that in a number of passages Silius Italicus (1. 625 f.; 4. 150 f.; 6. 555 f.) seems to attest a version of history according to which not only the city but the Capitol also was taken by the Gauls. I therefore suggested that the same version I should be recognized in Ennius, Ann. 164 f.:

qua Galli furtim noctu summa arcis adorti

moenia concubia uigilesque repente cruentant.

The campaigns of Caesar and Augustus gave Italian merchants an opportunity of establishing relations with the free Germans. Intercourse was maintained after the withdrawal of the legions to the west of the Rhine, and literary references to the trade which grew up, though few in number, testify to its continuance throughout the time here to be considered. The conception of an illimitable forest primeval stretching unbroken from the borders of the empire into the furthest recesses of barbarism is very far from the truth. Great as were the forests, there existed open or lightly-wooded areas suitable for the settlements of primitive man, and communication between such inhabited regions can be traced from very early times.

The relations between the Empire and the Church are a subject of such major interest, which has attracted so much attention from historians both ecclesiastical and lay, that it would be rash to suppose anything relevant and of value still to remain unsaid. Nevertheless, if it be permissible to think that the most familiar accounts are not the most satisfactory, some service may be done by emphasizing again certain considerations which, though they have not completely escaped notice hitherto, have too often been overlooked; and for such an undertaking the present occasion is perhaps made appropriate by the interest in early Christian history which the scholar whom we honour has combined with his studies of pagan Rome.