The so-called Senatus Consultum of Adramyttium, a fragmentary inscription which was found in that city and has been known for some eighty years, contains part of a letter sent by a Roman authority. This letter records the report of a κρῖμα emanating from a praetor ex S.C., περὶ χώρας, ἥ|[τις ἐν ἀντι]λογία(ι) ἐστὶν δημοσιώ|[ναις πρὸς] Περγαμηνούς, and its terminus post querm was generally held to have been the Lex Sempronia de provincia Asia (123 or 122 B.C.), on which the excellent discussion by Hugh Last in Cambridge Ancient History should be consulted.

Twenty years ago A. Passerini published and discussed some other fragmentary texts, which had been found together in the Agora of Smyrna and had received only brief notice. The first contains two fragments of the Senatus Consultum and of the κρῖμα περὶ τῆς χώρας already mentioned.

One of the finest Attic sarcophagi of its class, and certainly one of the most striking pieces to have reached the western provinces, is the well-known Hippolytus sarcophagus which was found in 1891 at Trinquetaille, across the river from Aries, and which is now one of the chief ornaments of the Musée Romain in that city (pl. 1). There is no need to describe it in detail, since it has been fully published, with good photogravure reproductions of all four sides, by Robert, and again in more summary form, by Espérandieu. It will be enough in the present context to note that it is a typical example of what Rodenwaldt, in his penetrating discussion of the evolution of the Attic kline-sarcophagus, has shown to be an advanced and presumably, therefore, relatively late variant within that series. The lid, with a single male figure reclining on an embroidered mattress upon a couch with animal-headed mounts, has altered very little from the prototype; but on the body all that remains of the Caryatid figures that once supported the couch at the four angles is the pair of vestigial pedestals at either end of the recessed moulding along the base of the rear face. The mouldings, too, a delicately carved acanthus scroll along the upper border, an elaborately lobed leaf-and-tongue motif along the re-entrant surface behind the line of the heads, and a panel of conventional bay-wreath ornament along the lower border, all of these, with their very shallow relief and fluid surfaces, represent an altogether more advanced stage of development than the boldly cut, purposeful architectural mouldings of earlier practice. In these later Attic sarcophagi the emphasis has shifted decisively from the architectural framework of the design to the figures themselves, which now form a virtually uninterrupted frieze round the four sides of the body.

There is hardly a more important character in the history of the Roman Republic than the young Patrician who first laid down the lines of Roman policy in Greece and the East—and hardly a more mysterious one, despite frequent discussion. It is only the first and perhaps the most puzzling of the problems concerning him that will occupy us here; but the very fact that it is the first gives it an importance quite independent of other considerations: we are not likely to solve the others as long as this one is ignored.

How did a young man of about twenty-nine come to be elected to a consulship and entrusted with a major war that had been going badly for Rome, after holding no office higher than the quaestorship—and holding even this lowly charge so inconspicuously that Livy does not even mention him in it? The very facts make it clear that we cannot give a certain answer: the evidence is not good enough.

In this Journal, 1916, p. 96, where, in the orderly execution of a systematic study of Colonia Caesarea (Pisidian Antioch), an account of the Homanadensian war would have been in place, this was omitted on the ground that ‘the account which Cheesman has given in the Journal, 1913, p. 253 ff. of the leader of the colony in war and peace may be regarded as the execution of my plan at this point.’ In re-reading his article, however, I observe that it is devoted mainly to Caristanius himself and his family rather than to the Homanadensian war, for his subject is ‘The family of the Caristanii.’ With practically all that he says in his brief references to the war I agree; they show his opinion of that date and the general situation; but they do not constitute an account of the war (so far as this can be recovered), for that did not lie within his plan. It is therefore not without value to give here a consecutive account of the war, the circumstances which led to its outbreak, and the issue, together with a brief description of the land and the people (supplementary to what is said in H.G.A.M. p. 335, etc.).

The controversy regarding the treaties between Rome and Carthage is almost as ancient as the Punic Wars themselves, and unlike these it has not the merit of having come to an end. Strangely enough, the battle of dissertations has chiefly raged round a point of minor importance, and the key position has been the scene of nothing more than some desultory skirmishing. The question whether the first treaty between Rome and Carthage was contracted in 509 B.C. or in 348 B.C. has little or no bearing on the history of the Punic Wars. On the other hand, our judgment on the rights and wrongs of these wars must turn largely on the question whether at the outbreak of the first war there was a treaty in force which bound the Carthaginians not to interfere in Italy, and the Romans not to interfere in Sicily. This latter question was raised in the age of the Punic Wars themselves by the Greek historian Philinus, who argued that the Roman occupation of Messana was a breach of the aforesaid treaty. And the importance of this contention was realised by Polybius, who seized upon Philinus' accusation in order to polemise against it. But the success of Polybius' apparent refutation of Philinus has been so complete that the treaty invoked by Philinus has been generally discredited, and those few modern scholars who have raised the question of the treaty afresh have generally been snubbed for their pains. Nevertheless the point at issue is one which requires to be settled. The present article is an attempt to review the evidence and to make a definite pronouncement upon it.

In spite of the amount which recent publications have added to our knowledge of Roman building methods and materials, there is still some inaccuracy to be noted in the use of terms due very often to a misconception of the chemical constituents of the materials in question. In the present article will be discussed the confusion which still exists between the words sand and pozzolana. In Daremberg and Saglio, s.v. arena, Guillaume states that in the composition of hydraulic cements, “le sable fossile, noir, blanc ou rouge preféré par Vitruve, est probablement la pouzzolane.” In the recent articles by Miss Van Deman on Roman construction, one finds frequently the term pozzolana-arena, and the statement is made that “mortar is composed of pozzolana, which is called by Vitruvius arena fossicia, and lime.” In the new translation of Vitruvius, by J. Prestel, while the word pulvis is correctly translated in the text as “eine staubartige Erdmasse,” in the notes pulvis is translated as “sandreiche Erde.” Moreover, further on in the text, this same pulvis is described as a kind of sand, “Sandart.” Finally may be mentioned the reference in Delbrück's Hellenistische Bauten in Latium where it is stated that in the construction of opus caementicium, the Romans employed a “sharp volcanic sand.” This I shall hope to show to be a contradiction of terms, as “sharp” sand has nothing to do with volcanic activity.

Almost nothing is known of the provincial temple at Lugdunum beyond the bare fact of its existence within the federal sanctuary. For this information we are dependent upon the titles of the provincial sacerdotes, which at some undetermined period begin to define the high priesthood as ad templum; until then the priest had served ad aram: that is, at the celebrated altar dedicated by Drusus in 12 B.C. at the confluence of the Rhone and the Saône. Apparently the temple stood in the near vicinity of the altar, for inscriptions from the turn of the second century now give the priestly title as ad aram … apud templum … or a variant. But confirmation depends in the long run upon archaeological exploration, which has so far been precluded by the circumstance that the presumed site of the temple now lies beneath an area of dense habitation. The only other possible evidence is a medallion from the Rhone Valley that depicts games (a venatio) in progress around a central podium, bearing a small round temple, a larger gabled temple, and a column supporting a statue. Alföldi stresses the abstract nature of this composition and has suggested that the complex may represent provincial monuments at Lugdunum. If this identification is correct, the medallion would appear to confirm the existence of these structures under Hadrian or very shortly after.

The denarii of M'. Fonteius, to be dated about 107 B.C., fall into two basic varieties, the first much more common than the second:

The heads of the Dioscuri on the obverse of the first variety presumably allude to the Tusculan origin of the moneyer, the ship perhaps to the transmarine origin of the family of the founder of Tusculum; but the symbolism of the second variety, for reasons which are unclear, is considerably more complex. The letters P P are generally held to stand for Penates Publici (rather than pecunia publica) and the obverse type is interpreted as reflecting the identification of the Dioscuri and the Penates. The arguments normally advanced for this view, however, are not entirely cogent.

This tablet was found on 10th December, 1960, by Mr. Roger Wilson of Thrumpton, Notts, after ploughing had taken place on the lower slope of Red Hill in the parish of Ratcliffe-on-Soar, Notts. Roman pottery, bone counters and other objects have been found on Red Hill, which appears to be a Roman site. It is at the junction of the rivers Trent and Soar (where also Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire meet). The tablet was folded roughly into three when found. The material, discoloured by corrosion and of a browny copper colour, proved on analysis to be essentially lead (in an impure state). Its maximum measurements are 8·4 cm. in height, 5·7 cm. in width. Both sides have been lightly incised, perhaps with a needle, with Latin cursive writing. The hand is regularly formed and clear and shows skill on the part of the scribe. To judge from parallels from Egypt, it should be assigned to the end of the second or the early part of the third century A.D. For the earlier limit compare the receipt P. Lond. 730 (plate in Écriture Latine 26) of A.D. 167; and for the later, P. Oxy. VIII, 1114, a declaration of inheritance of A.D. 237 (plate ibid., pl. 7). Both of these, however, show a slope to the right, whereas in this tablet the slope is to the left in the older manner.

The fortunes of Scipio Africanus after the Second Punic War raise a difficult problem for the student of Roman history. Through his political standing and his personal gifts Scipio's influence must be considered an essential element in the public life of Rome at the decisive period of her imperialistic development; yet the glimpses in recorded history, though significant, are so fleeting that it is almost impossible to gain a complete impression. We know, of course, his Carthaginian policy and his strategy against Antiochus; but in matters relating to Gaul, Liguria and Spain, and in the internal politics of Rome, there is scarcely any evidence of his hand. Most obscure of all is the Second Macedonian War; where the questions of policy were similar to those in the Syrian War, yet Scipio had no share in them that can be directly discerned. Did he withdraw after his victory over Carthage and only re-appear to meet Syria ? Then why should his defeat of Antiochus be followed by his own dishonour, in the face of the claims of gratitude ? His fall suggests a persistent and important political activity, which could only be countered by extreme measures of opposition.

I. Dio Cassius mentions Augustus' plans to conquer Britain under the years 34, 27, 26 B.C. (49, 38, 2; 53, 22, 5; and 53, 25, 2). Dateable literary evidence supports Dio. Before 36 B.C. and after 23 B.C. there is no clear allusion in contemporary poets to any intention or desire to attack the Britons.

The unique character of Roman law has been treated for centuries; hymns enough have been sung. My purpose is different: I restrict the problem to Roman classical law and therefore have intentionally added this adjective to the title. Roman private law—and I have only private law to consider here—is not the same throughout the thousand years of its history. Modern research distinguishes in the legislation of Justinian what belongs to the Byzantine epoch from what is genuinely classical. Secondly, we now know more about pre-classical law so that we are better able to contrast classical with archaic law. A third reason for a revision of our view is the developed study of the oriental, the cuneiform, law, and some new research in Greek law. Owing to this threefold progress we can try to sketch the unique character of Roman classical law in comparison with other laws. I discern three periods of Roman law: archaic (or pre-classical) up to 150 B.C., classical from 150 B.C. to A.D. 300, Byzantine (or post-classical) from A.D. 300 to 565. These are the usual periods, except that I carry back the classical period to 150 B.C. I know that there are transitions; but if we take the years 150 B.C. and A.D. 300, we shall roughly mark the turning points and have before us three distinct periods of Roman law.

In the first part of his comments on Mr. P. W. Duff's study of Personality in Roman Private Law (Cambridge, 1938) Dr. Daube remarks (JRS 33, 1943, 88) that ‘the Fisc, as Mr. Duff explains,… was owned by the emperor. (This view, established by Mommsen, was attacked by Hirschfeld who maintained that the Fisc from the first belonged to the State. Mr. Duff, pp. 51 ff., argues convincingly in favour of Mommsen.).’ Dr. Daube's summary of Mr. Duff's account may be accepted; for Mr. Duff, though he is less dogmatic than Mommsen, begins his attempt ‘to reconstruct the Roman view’ (o.c. 59) with the words ‘it seems clear that Augustus regarded as his all taxation, confiscated property and the like, which did not go into the aerarium’. He is unmistakably on Mommsen's side; and his adhesion to a doctrine, entitled indeed by its authorship to respectful consideration but still somewhat surprisingly described by Mr. Duff (o.c. 51) as ‘orthodox’, invites some brief notice. The observations which follow will not be long; for they may be unnecessary.

Quinque consulates in 65 B.C. gave evidence against C. Cornelius, accused under the lex Cornelia de maiestate. One of them was an Aemilius Lepidus. Though not generally perceived, a problem of identity exists.