When Saint Chrysostom's Prayer asks that the petitions of the Lord's servants be fulfilled as may be most expedient for them, it expresses what, in traditional autocracies, was expected of every ‘good king’ by his subjects. St. Louis, the model of a medieval king, would go regularly with his courtiers to the Bois de Vincennes, there to hear his subjects' petitions, seated under an oak. Dr. Millar has pointed out that Roman emperors were expected to be accessible to their subjects, especially those of humble station, in much the same way. The evidence shows that much of the emperors' time was taken up with answering petitions (in the form of libelli) from private individuals or from groups of humbler people, and that it was only ‘bad’, lazy emperors who neglected this task. Not only was there a secretarial department for handling petitions, as distinct from epistles, but its head, the a libellis, was, according to Seneca, deluged with work. Literary sources, however, tell us little or nothing of value about the actual methods of accepting and handling petitions. For information on such topics we have to turn to the surviving texts of the ‘subscripts’ (subscripttones), the imperial replies to petitions (very few actual petitions survive). By far the largest number of these from the period of the Principate is to be found in the Code of Justinian, and they are mainly the work of the Severan and later third century emperors. In the process of transmission many of these texts have been abbreviated, and the formal elements have been omitted or garbled as a result, and it is from these formal elements that most can be learned about the procedures for handling petitions. One is therefore thrown back on the epigraphic and papyrus texts, in which these formal elements are often preserved.

In March 1973, a Roman milestone was discovered in a cultivated field, several hundred metres from the western edge of the town of Afula in the Valley of Jezreel. The stone was found broken into two pieces. The column was removed by a farmer belonging to the settlement of Balfouria, who transferred it to the garden of his home, where we had the opportunity to examine it. The base and lower part of the column remained on the spot. The inscription, incised on the column above the fracture, consists of six lines of irregular lettering.

The paper is a bibliographical and critical survey of the archaeological research on ancient Ostia and Portus in the decade 2004–2014. The first part deals with some general themes, such as cults, architectural typologies and urban history, decoration: wall-paintings, mosaics and marble, the guilds and their seats, trades, etc. The second part is a survey of individual monuments and buildings which have been the subject of recent excavations and interpretations. The critical problem of late antique Ostia is treated separately, as well as the archaeology of Isola Sacra and Portus, with the Imperial harbours.

The constitutional position of M. Minucius as a result of the plebiscitum of Metilius in 217 B.C. has never been satisfactorily defined; this is due to the vagueness of the ancient authorities. Polybius does indeed make the explicit statement that there were two dictators appointed to carry on the same campaign, a thing unprecedented in Roman history. On the strength of this passage, it has often been assumed that the formal title of ‘dictator’, with all that it implied, was conferred on Minucius by the proposal of Metilius. But the other authorities are not so explicit, and their language seems to contradict Polybius. Livy, for example, refers to the rogatio of Metilius as a proposal ‘de aequando magistri equitum et dictatoris iure’ (XXII, 25, 10), or ‘de aequato imperio’ (26, 7). Nowhere does Livy refer to Minucius as Dictator; in fact, he seems deliberately to avoid doing so. In this respect Plutarch, too, seems to follow Livy. In his Life of Fabius he states that Metilius proposed that Minucius should share the command with Fabius and have equal authority in conducting the campaign; he concludes by saying that the People conferred on Minucius a power equal to that of the Dictator. To judge from the language of both Livy and Plutarch it would appear that whatever position Minucius may have held as a result of the rogatio it was not that of Dictator.

A geoarchaeological coring survey of the Forum Boarium has shed considerable light on Rome's archaic landscape. We present the first empirical evidence that substantiates ancient and modern assumptions about the existence of a river harbour and ford in early Rome. Prior to the growth of the city, the riverbank — reconstructed as a high ledge at the base of the Capitoline Hill and a low-lying shore north of the Aventine — was particularly advantageous for river-related activities. However, the river valley changed significantly in the sixth century b.c.e., as a result of complex fluvial processes that were arguably spurred by urbanisation. Around the beginning of the Republic, Rome's original harbour silted up, and a high, wide riverbank emerged in its place. The siltation continued until the Forum Boarium was urbanised in the mid-Republic. In order to build their city and maintain river harbour operations, the Romans therefore had to adapt to dynamic ecological conditions.

On the second day of January 63 B.C. Cicero, with the full dignity of a consul, appeared in the Forum to address the Populus at a contio (assembly). This occasion, when he voiced his opposition to the agrarian legislation moved by the tribune Rullus and his colleagues, can be remembered because a text of the speech has survived as De lege agararia II. His words were apparently persuasive, since the bill was defeated in the subsequent voting of the tribal assembly. Eloquence was Cicero's greatest political asset and the De lege agraria II might be read as testimony to the power of words alone. Yet while it might be tempting for a literary critic to imagine that ‘when he stood before his audience, Cicero had at his disposal only words and the stylistic genius to construct from those words arguments that would shape men's opinions and move their hearts’, the words and genius, although powerful as political weapons, operated in conjunction with the physical presence and ideological pre-eminence that the consul brought to the Rostra. There Cicero engineered persuasiveness by presenting a congruence between his verbal argument and his dignity as speaker. Since knowledge of Rullus' legislation is wholly dependent upon Cicero's representation of it, Cicero's speech might best serve then to illustrate what this embodied rhetoric suggests about the relations between a political actor and those who heard and saw him.

The epigraphic evidence from the Forum of Trajan shows that this forum was the most important public venue for the honorific statues of senators in the city of Rome in the fourth and fifth centuries a.d. These dedications celebrated the achievements of individual senators, and thereby helped to promote an image of a coherent senatorial order whose members were defined by their civil offices, literary accomplishment, outstanding personal virtues, and the approbation of their peers and the emperor. In contrast, statuary honours in the Roman Forum continued to be largely restricted to emperors and, in the fifth century, to the powerful generals who increasingly controlled imperial policy. This pattern in the distribution of statues suggests a basic differentiation in the use of the two most important representational spaces of late antique Rome.

One of the most peculiar features of Roman law was the father's dominant position. In theory, he exercised an almost absolute authority, patria potestas, over his descendants until his own death. The uniqueness of their family system did not escape the Romans themselves. In his mid-second-century legal textbook Gaius explained:

Item in potestate nostra sunt liberi nostri quos iustis nuptiis procreavimus. Quod ius proprium civium Romanorum est; fere enim nulli alii sunt homines, qui talem in filios suos habent potestatem, qualem nos habemus. Idque divus Hadrianus edicto, quod proposuit de his, qui sibi liberisque suis ab eo civitatem Romanam petebant, significavit. Nec me praeterit Galatarum gentem credere in potestate parentum liberos esse. (Inst. 1.55)

Again, we have in our power our children, the offspring of a Roman law marriage. This right is one which only Roman citizens have; there are virtually no other peoples who have such power over their sons as we have over ours. This was made known by the emperor Hadrian in an edict which he issued concerning those who applied to him for Roman citizenship for themselves and their children. I have not forgotten that the Galatians believe that children are in the power of their parents. (Translated by W. M. Gordon and O. F. Robinson, The Institutes of Gaius (1988))

This account immediately raises at least one fundamental question: If patria potestas was a distinctive feature of Roman society, how did the other peoples of the Empire react to it after the universal grant of the Roman citizenship in A.D. 212?

Two events have conspired to redirect the attention of scholars towards the Zealots, who played so decisive a part in the Jewish rebellion against Rome between A.D. 66 and 73: the discovery of the Judaean Desert manuscripts, and the total excavation of Masada (1955–56; 1964–65). Both events have cast new light on the Zealot movement, but, as is so often the case with new discoveries, they have also created new problems, and neither can furnish a substitute for the careful examination of, and reflection upon, the character and origins of the movement. The important material has for long been available to scholars. Despite this, agreement has been rare. However conscientious historians have wished to be, they have tended to be influenced by the traditions to which they are the heirs. Denounced by their enemies in the ancient world, the Zealots, it may be thought, have also been exposed to subtler misunderstandings on the part of modern historians.

The object of this paper is a reconsideration of the relationship in the Augustan poets between experience and convention, between individual life and inherited forms of expression. The problem, which haunts the Sonnets of Shakespeare and the poems of the Romantics no less than Horace and Propertius, has notoriously been answered in very different ways at different times. Scholars like Zielinski and Wili, for example, created romantic stories about Lydia and Cinara, and worked out Horace's feelings for them, the chronology of the affairs, and the way it all ended. In revulsion from these excesses, some influential modern writers go to an opposite extreme; they distinguish on the one hand ‘Greek’ or ‘Hellenistic’ elements, which are ‘unreal’ or ‘imaginary’, from ‘Roman’ ones which are ‘real’. Thus, to give a few examples at once, Professor G. Williams, in his important book, writes that ‘Horace's erotic poems are set in a world totally removed from the Augustan State’, while Professor Nisbet and Miss Hubbard, in their indispensable Commentary, say ‘The “love interest” of Horace's Odes is almost entirely Hellenistic’, and, of Odes I. 5, ‘Pyrrha herself is the wayward beauty of fiction, totally unlike the compliant scorta of Horace's own temporary affairs’. The argument here will be that this view is over-schematic and makes a distinction false, in this form, to the poets and to their society. It will, I think, prove possible to argue the point without falling into sentimentality or self-indulgence. The aim is not to reconstruct the vie passionelle of the poet, but to discover the setting and the tone in which he means his poems to be read.

During the 1965 and 1966 campaigns of excavation at Aphrodisias in Caria, conducted under the aegis of New York University, investigations of the large Theatre of the city were initiated. The Theatre lies mostly buried along the eastern slope of the ‘acropolis’, a conical hillock in the southeastern part of the site. Dr. Elisabeth Alföldi-Rosenbaum supervised four initial trenches and soundings (Theatre I to IV) excavated on the north side of the building, which revealed the proscenium, the adjacent lowest tiers of seats, the north parodos and the analemma. In August, 1966, two adjoining pieces of a large block of coarse-grained local marble inscribed with a letter from Gordian III were discovered. The lower piece of the inscription was found built into the analemma, facing the north parodos at a height slightly above eye-level. The upper fragment came to light on the parodos floor and was removed to the surface and photographed by Dr. E. Alföldi. Progress in the excavation of the parodos in 1967 and 1968 allowed careful inspection of the lower portion which remains in situ. The two fragments (inv. nos. 66–608 A and B) are well-preserved and constitute virtually the whole block, although some damage is evident on the upper left-hand corner of the face and along the break. The total measurements are 1·53 m. × 0·72 m. × 0·72 m. It cannot be entirely excluded that the block may have been reused in the analemma wall since there is some evidence of repairs in this area. The letters average 0·025 m. in height and are cut in a style typical of the later second and third centuries A.D. at Aphrodisias; particularly characteristic is the form of B, see Pl. I.

Milestones, they are more numerous than needed. They may tell very little, often merely certifying stages and intervals on roads already known, traced and trodden: or, less instructive, the names and titles of an emperor.

There are happy exceptions. From time to time the miliaria, by registering an imperial legate, contribute usefully to the study of the governing class. A new discovery can offer a sudden and welcome illumination. For example, the milestone set up on a strategic road in Palestine in the second half of the year 69: the road from Caesarea by Caparcotna to Scythopolis. At the head stands the name of the pretender, styled ‘Imp. Caesar Vespasianus Augustus’, and this stone was erected by M. Ulpius Traianus, the legate commanding the legion X Fretensis.

The document is variously instructive, not least for the career of that legate. In the narrative of Josephus, Traianus was last heard of in the early summer of 68 when, after the subjugation of Peraea, he brought his army corps to join Vespasian at Jericho. The next fact is his consulate in 70, revealed by a small fragment of the Fasti Ostienses. He followed as suffectus the great Licinius Mucianus (the second consulship of that person). The honour was deserved. Like another legionary legate, Aurelius Fulvus, who commanded III Gallica in Moesia, Ulpius Traianus (the inference is easy and painless) had a hand in the intrigue that led to the proclamation of Vespasian. Both were legates of some seniority. Fulvus is attested in 64, under Domitius Corbulo in Armenia (ILS 232).

Civil wars are not always murderous to the upper order in society. Many of the nobiles managed to weather the storm and prosper thereafter in the years of peace, happily exploiting the new dispensation. Some had ancient pedigree and nothing else to commend them, but the stock of the dynasts Sulla, Pompeius, and Crassus enjoyed high prestige and carried dynastic pretensions: peers and rivals to the Caesars of the Julian and Claudian line. Their alliances and vicissitudes are a large chapter in the annals of the first imperial epoch. Discreet, obscured or held down by Caesar Augustus, the descendants of Pompeius Magnus begin to come up again in the last decade of the reign (after A.D. 4), and enjoy favour with his successor.

The Gospel according to Luke contains two passages which allude, with some particularity, to a forthcoming siege and destruction of Jerusalem; viz. XIX, 42–4, XXI, 20–4.

The latter of these two passages (with which we may conveniently begin) stands in a context where Luke, to all appearance, is using the Gospel according to Mark as a source. The Marcan parallel to Luke XXI, 20–24 forms part of what is often called the ‘Synoptic Apocalypse’, or, more appropriately, the ‘Apocalyptic Discourse’, since its literary form is not that of an apocalypse; it is in the main a Mahnrede making use of apocalyptic motives, and concluding with a few sentences of straightforward prediction in the apocalyptic manner (XIII, 24–7).

Livy preserves two explanations of the Senatorial decision of 445 B.C. to suspend the election of consuls and to confer imperium consulare upon tribuni militum. One, which he himself accepts, is that it was a political compromise designed to appease agitation for plebeian representation in the consulship. The other is that the military situation demanded the appointment of at least three holders of imperium. Until some forty years ago the majority of scholars, even if ready to admit that the reform had military advantages, joined with Livy in laying the chief emphasis on the political motive. More recently, however, the tendency has been to disown the connection between the innovation and the struggle for office. The change is explained as necessitated wholly by growing military commitments or administrative needs. My purpose here is merely to defend once again the traditional account that the decision of 445 B.C. marked an important stage in the Struggle of the Orders and to remove the major difficulties which have discouraged its acceptance.

I will begin this investigation by summarising Mommsen's views on the powers of governors, as I understand them. According to Mommsen, the task of the Republican governor was to administer civil justice and to maintain the obedience of subjects and slaves. He was as little a criminal judge as the Roman praetor, whose title he originally bore. His capacity to employ coercitio against non-citizens (and citizens also, until the appeal laws and the Sempronian law were issued) was derived from his military imperium and was quite distinct from criminal jurisdiction. Criminal justice was dispensed for aliens by the local communities and for Roman citizens in the provinces by the courts in Rome.

With the Empire came two innovations (Mommsen thought). First, local autonomy was restricted. Subject cities lost to the governor their prerogative of imposing serious penalties; even Roman municipia surrendered much of their criminal jurisdiction. Secondly, military imperium, already checked by Republican laws (above), was further limited by the Augustan law on public violence. This development, implying in itself that the governor had become a fully-fledged criminal judge, ensured that capital jurisdiction over citizens was concentrated, as before, in Rome.