This paper revisits the political history of the Roman Republic in the third decade of the first century b.c. Its central contention is that the dominant feature of the period was neither a reshuffle of alliances within the ‘Sullan’ senatorial nobility nor the swift demise of Sulla's legacy. Attention should be focused instead on some crucial policy issues which attracted debate and controversy in that period: the powers of the tribunes, the corn supply of Rome, the rôle of the Senate, the revival of the census, and the full inclusion of the Allies into the citizen body. The political strategy of M. Aemilius Lepidus (cos. 78 b.c.) and its medium-term repercussions also deserve close scrutiny in this connection.

Animal sacrifice was a central component of ancient Roman religion, but scholars have tended to focus on the symbolic aspects of these rituals, while glossing over the practical challenges involved in killing large, potentially unruly creatures, such as bulls. The traditional explanation is that the animal was struck on the head with a hammer or an axe to stun it, then had its throat cut. Precisely how axes, hammers, and knives were employed remains unexplained. This article draws upon ancient sculpture, comparative historical sources, and animal physiology to argue that the standard interpretation is incomplete, and, in its place, offers a detailed analysis of exactly how the killing and bleeding of bovines was accomplished and the distinct purposes of hammers and axes within these rituals.

The paper explores the significance of names and naming in Catullus. Catullus’ use of proper names, and in particular his play on the connotations of the names of individuals who are attacked within his poems, has not been fully explored to date, and the paper identifies several examples of such play which have not previously been recognized. The paper examines Catullan wordplay in the context of both the iambic tradition and the public abuse culture of the late Roman Republic.

Ovid's narrative of Phaethon's failed attempt prematurely to emulate his father in his unique expertise can be read as a reflection on the virtues and limits of Lucretius' philosophical poetry. The paper suggests that, while he gives much credit to the De Rerum Natura's literary quality and its striving for the sublime, Ovid also critiques the hubristic connotations of Lucretius' rejection of divine authority and agency from the workings of nature. The second part of the article explores how this particular version of the myth touches upon issues of poetic authority, political positioning, and Oedipal competition.

Among the most potent devices that Roman emperors had at their disposal to disavow autocratic aims and to put on display the consensus of ruler and ruled was the artful refusal of exceptional powers, or recusatio imperii. The practice had a long history in Rome prior to the reign of Augustus, but it was Augustus especially who, over the course of several decades, perfected the recusatio as a means of performing his hesitancy towards power. The poets of the Augustan period were similarly well practised in the art of refusal, writing dozens of poetic recusationes that purported to refuse offers urged upon them by their patrons, or by the greater expectations of the Augustan age, to take on projects. It is the purpose of this paper to put the one type of refusal alongside the other, in order to show to what extent the refusals of the Augustan poets are informed not just by aesthetic principles that derive, most obviously, from Callimachus, but by the many, high-profile acts of denial that were performed as political art by the emperor himself.

This article examines Seneca's theory of monarchy in De clementia. It focuses in particular on Seneca's appropriation and redefinition of some key terms within Roman political thought in order to present his theory as an account of the restitution of liberty to the res publica under the government of the virtuous princeps. By relocating the Roman body politic to a Stoic moral universe, Seneca is able to draw upon parts of his philosophical inheritance in order to substantiate his claim in some depth.

Seneca's Naturales Quaestiones explains the causes and functional mechanisms of natural phenomena, from common sights like rainbows to exotically out-of-reach ones like comets. The vividness with which he brings them all within the reader's grasp is certainly a literary feat as much as a scientific one, but the rhetorical power of his explanations does not cost them their epistemological validity. Analyses drawn from current philosophy of science reveal elements of fictionality omnipresent in scientific models and experiments, suggesting an approach to Seneca's ‘scientific fictions’ not as failed analogies but as a sophisticated expansion of the tradition of analogical scientific explanation.

Geography is a fundamental element of ancient ethnography, yet the account of the environment in Tacitus' Germania is notably sparse. Standard elements of geographic description are absent, or are presented in restricted (and subversive) ways. This paper examines the presentation and structuring of Germanic spaces against a backdrop of contrasting contemporary geographic writings, and considers the implications of Tacitus' rejection of geographic norms.

This article discusses the relationship of Tacitus to his younger contemporary Suetonius, challenging the view that Suetonius wrote a ‘supplement’ to the historian. Scholarly focus on this pair has led to the widespread belief that Suetonius had read Tacitus’ Annals, which is unsupported by the evidence. The prevailing consensus that the biographer may at times be subtly criticizing the historian persists in commentaries on Suetonius’ Caesars. It is argued that where their two accounts appear to meet, Suetonius is better seen as responding to the earlier common source or sources, or distinguishing himself from the conventions of historiography at large.

The fifth-century Christian writer Sozomen of Constantinople preserves a story told by certain pagans about the philosopher Sopater of Apamea, whom the emperor Constantine put to death in a.d. 333 on the advice of the Christian Flavius Ablabius, then Praetorian Prefect of the East. Constantine had consulted the philosopher — so the story goes — in an attempt to redress his guilt at having ordered the murder of some of his nearest relations, among them his son Crispus. But Sopater replied that such moral defilement could admit of no purification. Afterwards, on meeting some Christian bishops, Constantine was delighted to learn that the sins of those who truly repented could be washed away in Christian baptism. It was this that led him to adopt the faith, and to encourage his subjects to do the same.