In 214 b.c., the army of Ti. Sempronius Gracchus defeated Hannibal's Carthaginian forces near the town of Beneventum. Gracchus, proconsul with imperium in Apulia, had led his troops from Luceria in the North-East, while Hanno, Hannibal's lieutenant, arrived with his forces from Bruttium in the South, and a pitched battle was fought by the river Calor. The Romans were victorious. According to Livy, the Carthaginian force of more than 18,000 was routed, less than 2,000 survived, and 38 standards were taken; but the truly striking fact about Gracchus' victory is that his army was largely comprised of slaves. This had been necessary, in contradiction of Roman law and custom, following the tragic and massive casualties suffered in the previous years' battles, most famously at Cannae. Exceptional circumstances called for exceptional measures: pueri donned men's armour; libertini were called to serve; criminals, too; then slaves, who were purchased to fight for the state. The status of such troops posed a significant problem, both legally as well as socially, a problem that was to have a long history.

In the autumn of 1921 a scheme for the extension of the Exchange at Bordeaux led to the demolition of certain properties in the Rue du Pont-de-la-Mousque. During the operations the workmen encountered the original Roman wall of the town, built about A.D. 300 as a result of the great invasion of A.D. 276. The Chamber of Commerce, on the enlightened initative of their President, M. Étienne Huyard, decided to follow up the discovery by a systematic and careful excavation. The decision was justified by its happy results. Many interesting objects which had been utilized as building material were brought to light. These included a votive altar with an inscription which is of peculiar importance because of the light which it throws on the early relations of Gaul and Britain. A brief account of it may not be unwelcome to readers of the Journal of Roman Studies.

The creation of curatores rei publicae is a very important factor in the history of local government in the Roman Empire. For it cuts across the division of administration into the central and professional on the one hand and the local and amateur on the other. It brought an imperial official into the heart of that local governing body which presided over the affairs of its community, and gave to him the supervision of its property and financial arrangements. That this interference was caused not by a doctrinaire desire on the part of an emperor for the enlargement of the sphere of the central service, but by the needs of the communities themselves, is indicated by the varying times at which curatores appear in the various provinces. The first known curator in Africa belongs to A.D. 196—nearly a century after the office was initiated.

Early one bright afternoon, seventeen centuries ago, Constantine stood staring at the sun. According to his self-appointed biographer Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea, who claimed to have heard the story from Constantine himself, the emperor was on campaign, when, ‘around midday, as the day was declining’ he saw a shining cross of light over the sun, with the attached text ‘By this conquer’. The understandably startled ruler slept on the matter, whereupon Christ appeared in a dream and instructed him to fashion himself a copy of the holy sign, which would protect him against his enemies. He did as he had been told, took Christian clerics as his advisers and, not long afterwards, set off for Italy to fight his rival, Maxentius. The rhetorician Lactantius, writing about twenty years before Eusebius, presented a different tale in his De mortibus persecutorum: Constantine, on the eve of his decisive battle against Maxentius in a.d. 312, at the Milvian Bridge to the north of Rome, was instructed in a dream to ‘mark the heavenly sign of God’ on his shields. Constantine's moment of epiphany, sometimes equated with his ‘conversion’, has traditionally been seen both as one of history's great turning-points and as one of its most enduring enigmas. The interpretation of Constantine's vision(s) is further complicated by an anecdote that appears in an anonymous panegyric of the emperor, delivered in a.d. 310. Having turned off from the road to visit ‘the most beautiful temple in the world’, Constantine was greeted by a remarkable sight: ‘For you saw, I believe, Constantine, your Apollo, accompanied by Victory, offering you laurel crowns, which each brought an omen of thirty years [of life or rule]’.

In discussion over the dating of the Bucolics of Calpurnius Siculus, an important role has always been played by attempts to identify the character of Meliboeus, who is to be read as a bucolic allegory of the poet's patron. By providing a new interpretation of the description of Meliboeus’ literary production, I argue that he must be the agricultural writer Columella. A consideration of other aspects of Meliboeus confirms this identification, as does the analysis of a number of significant allusions to De cultu hortorum, the poem that makes up the tenth book of Columella's De re rustica. I then establish the date of Columella and discuss the consequences for dating Calpurnius, placing some parts of his book later in the reign of Nero than has been customary.