The imagery of black and red figure pottery continues to be a valuable source of information for the social and ideological history of ancient Athens. These images have traditionally provided historians with insights into material culture, religion and daily life activities, and increasingly, in large part due to francophone archaeologists like François Lissarrague, they are also being employed as detailed evidence of the conceptual world of archaic and classical Athenians. It is striking though that in spite of the clear evidentiary value of finely painted Attic pottery, almost no sustained scholarly attention has been paid to the critical issue of whose lifestyle and ideological point of view were replicated in images by Athenian pottery painters. In light of this lacuna the recent research project of David Gill and Michael Vickers to isolate more exactly the status of red and black figure pots in Attic society would appear to be most promising. Their findings end up challenging two widely held but never fully substantiated articles of faith of classical archaeology, namely that this type of pottery was used extensively and valued highly by the Athenian elite, and that these ‘vases’ were an important and privileged medium for the development of Greek art. Gill and Vickers seek to demonstrate that the homes of upper class Athenians were crammed full of precious metal vessels and had no place for mere painted pots. They maintain instead that such fictile pieces were inexpensive, and slavishly imitated the shapes, colours and even imagery of the vastly more valuable vessels made of gold and silver. Consequently, Gill and Vickers argue that Attic finely painted pottery was entirely dependent on the artistry and inventiveness of the designers and smiths of precious metallic pieces.

The sovereignty of the people, its libertas, is the key concept in the civic and political vocabulary of republican Rome. One of the periods in which it was particularly emphasised was the last thirty or forty years of the second century B.C., to judge from the later comments made on the series of leges tabellariae passed in this period, and from the types and themes which appeared on coins issued by the relatives and descendants of those responsible for proposing the laws.

The consular fasti for the first two years of the reign of Gaius have their full complement of consuls. Degrassi lists them as follows:

1. 37* Cn. Acerronius Proculus, C. Petronius Pontius Nigrinus

   k. Iul. C. Caesar Augustus Germanicus, Ti. Claudius Nero Germamicus

   k. Sept. A. Caecina Paetus, C. Caninius Rebilus

2. 38* M. Aquila Iulianus, P. Nonius Asprenas

   k. Iul. Ser. Asinius Celer, Sex. Nonius Quintilianus (Quinctilianus)

The most noteworthy feature about these years is that in 37 there is a change in the normal pattern for allocating consulships within each year. This pattern had been established by August in 5 B.C. In those years in which an ordinarius left office before the end of the year, he did so at the end of June and was replaced by a suffectus on the first day of July who remained in office for the remainder of the year. However since the year 37 saw the beginning of a new reign, the change is not difficult to explain. It is also noteworthy that Gaius and his uncle Claudius took office for only two months and then allowed A. Caecina Paetus and C. Caninius Rebilus to assume the consulships for which they had been designated. The year 38 shows a return to the regular pattern.

This short document from the fourth century gave guidance to students who were getting an education in the tradition of the ancient Greco-Roman schools. Basil came out more strongly than any other early Church theologian in favour of the view that pagan literature, while not being authoritative, could be studied by Christians at school to their advantage. This view held good for many Christians in the Greek-speaking Byzantine world for the next thousand years and was endorsed in the West at the Renaissance when the Address was published in many editions throughout Europe. Leonardo Bruni first translated it into Latin in 1405, and it paved the way for his translation of classical texts, of Demosthenes, Aeschines, Plutarch and Xenophon, Plato and Aristotle.

A murder is always a dramatic event, and, since the dramatic nature of it depends to a large extent on it being witnessed and reported, one would hope that a good author would ensure his or her report of a murder reflected that. Agrippina's death, a matricide, has often been labelled as ‘dramatic’ by modern commentators, yet a comprehensive and satisfactory analysis of the reports as described in three ancient sources is still outstanding. A number of papers have given partial attempts at offering proof of the dramatic nature of the reports. My aim in this paper is to bring in two further significant connections between the historians’ accounts and other domains (Greek drama, rhetoric) which have to my knowledge been overlooked. These new factors force us to re-evaluate earlier attempts of finding the sources of inspiration for Tacitus, Suetonius and Dio. I will do this by spelling out certain allusions implicit in all three authors, but with special emphasis on Tacitus, showing that, despite its understated nature, his succinct account could be highly evocative to his audience, alluding to the pathos appropriate to both tragedy and rhetoric. These two strands of influence on the reports not only enhance the effect of the passage at issue, but also make a full and proper reponse of the audience to it more plausible.

Some recent treatments of the Augustan Principate have discussed the title Pater Patriae (= PP) as the expression of a relatively detached and uncontroversial idea. In earlier papers on the significance of this title, however, I have tried to describe its political volatility for both Cicero and Caesar. Cicero's title was applied to him in the wake of his execution of the Catilinarian conspirators; it was meant to characterise him as Rome's saviour, rather than as a murderous tyrant and oppressor. Caesar's title was equally a counter to accusations of murderous tyranny; he did not take Roman lives through civil war, he saved them through the exercise of dementia. Caesar's honour, furthermore, was clearly decreed to him in the form Parens Patriae – parens being a widely used, positive term for a benefactor; Cicero is referred to as both pater and parens in the fractious discourse which followed his consulship. Given the ever-present dichotomy between the father and the tyrant, and the general environment of élite competition, it appears that the form of Caesar's honour implies a deliberate contrast with the claims of Cicero, viz. Caesar's paternal role was certainly about giving or enhancing life, rather than taking it.

This article deals with three aspects of Aristotle's account of absolute rule in the Politics: firstly, the extent of Aristotle's debt to and divergence from Plato; secondly, the exact nature of the qualities which fit a man for absolute rule; thirdly, the relevance of Aristotle's account of absolute rule to his general political principles. Ancient historians will be eagerly waiting for the name of Alexander. They will not be altogether disappointed but will have to be content with a few general and inconclusive remarks at the end.

It is generally agreed that during the first century BC the Euphrates River came to represent a negotiated boundary of Roman and Parthian power in the Near East, and that this remained the case until the overthrow of the Parthians by the Sassanians in the third century AD. It was during the first century BC that the term imperium began to be used in the context of expressions of corporate Roman power; this eventually saw an additional important usage of the term evolve to that of an expression of physical territory, that is, empire, by the end of the reign of Augustus. This paper argues that it is possible to link the development of the Euphrates as a boundary of Roman and Parthian power in the first century BC with developments and changes in the usage of the term imperium. It traces the history of Roman and Parthian agreements and conflicts throughout the first century BC in the context of the development of the Euphrates as a boundary. The paper also argues that only the upper section of the Euphrates came to play this role and that previous analyses of the middle Euphrates have produced a misleading understanding of Roman and Parthian activity on this section of the river. The analysis of archaeological evidence from the first centuries BC and AD from the middle Euphrates site of Dura Europos is employed to illuminate the analysis of the Euphrates as a boundary. We arrive at a better understanding of Dura's history during this period if we considert Dura in the broader context of the Euphrates’ role in dividing Roman and Parthian power.

Ever since A. W. Schlegel the role of the Sophoclean chorus has been the subject of debate. To him the chorus was ‘the ideal spectator’, by which he meant that it moves at a deeper level than the actors and interprets the meaning of the play to us: it is as Schiller put it, ‘not an individual, but a general reflection’. This might be called one of the extreme views of the role of the chorus; even those who do not take it in general, such as Helg and Helmreich, still see some of the choral odes as a kind of parabasis, in which Sophocles lets the plot go and speaks to us in person. The main candidates are the first stasimon of the Antigone and the second stasimon of the Oedipus Rex. It is not clear whether these ‘messages’ were for posterity or Pericles; in my view these odes are entirely explicable in the dramatic context in which they occur; at least, the burden of proof lies with those who would maintain otherwise.

It is not certain that the ten annotated plays of Euripides came to be grouped by a process of selection based on some definite critical principle. In any case, it is something of a paradox that the Andromache, which has a long history of negative criticism, finds itself alongside plays, the reception of which has been much more favourable. The remark found in the second, probably Aristophanean, hypothesis: τό δέ δρμα τν δευτέρων has met with the agreement of several scholars who have found the play unsatisfactory. Verrall believed that on a straightforward reading the drama was worthless and unintelligible; Wilamowitz came to the conclusion that the play is ‘euripideisch in Gutem und Bösem und verdient die Zensur τν δευτέρων, die Aufnahme in eine Auswahl schwerlich’. According to Schmid-Stählin Euripides himself was not unaware of the drama’s shortcomings, for, as can be deduced from the scholium on 1. 445, he was too ashamed to produce it in Athens, and he did not, it seems, produce it in his own name.

There are several ancient and Byzantine accounts of the assassination of the emperor Gallienus (253-68), who was murdered while besieging a rebellious general, Aureolus, at Milan in early September 268. But few of these accounts agree fully on those who were responsible for the killing, and some are openly contradictory. Modern scholars, in turn, have not been in accord on the members of the conspiracy. A close examination of these sources demonstrates that only three men are reliably attested to have been involved: Heraclianus, Gallienus’ praetorian prefect; Claudius II Gothicus, emperor in 268-70; and Aurelian, emperor in 270-75. In addition, the investigation provides further insights into the development of the historical traditions pertaining to this period of Roman history.

Vespasian was proclaimed at Alexandria on July 1 of the year 69, in Judaea on July 3, and the legions of Syria under Licinius Mucianus quickly followed suit. After a meeting at Berytus to make plans for the war Mucianus set out with an army. The Historiae of Tacitus furnish no details of time or place for defining the itinerary – only the mention of Byzantium.

Meanwhile the Flavian partisans in the Balkan and Danubian lands, Antonius Primus in the forefront, had moved to rapid action. Not content with holding the Julian Alps, they decided, in a council of war held at Poetovio, to launch an invasion of northern Italy. They defeated the Vitellian forces in battle outside Cremona on October 24, they captured Rome on December 20. By good fortune, the first date is correct to within a day, and the second is certified.

The most commonly held interpretation of this play has been well summed up as follows: ‘Ismene utters in the words addressed to Oedipus in line 394 “Now the gods are setting you right; previously they ruined you” the object of our play.’ On this view, the main theme of the play is the divine restoration of Oedipus. ‘He whom the gods have smitten as a criminal, whom men have rejected as impious, is seen rehabilitated, venerated, glorified almost equally to a divine being, and will find a compensation for his undeserved sufferings in an apotheosis which will make of him the benign genius of a country.’ Oedipus’ sufferings have taught him humility: ‘I ask little, and get even less than that little, but this suffices me, for my suffering, my companion the length of time, and my nobility have taught me patience.’ ‘Precisely because he is a hero, he is humble.’ The combination of moral exaltation and physical degradation generates a new spiritual power which becomes increasingly evident as the play progresses: ‘Foreknowledge of the future belongs to Oedipus because he is more than man... To Creon’s taunts he replies with a declaration of his own superior power. Only a hero can do this with assurance.’ The process culminates in his mysterious end, whether we can call it an apotheosis or not: ‘We do not know precisely what his state will be, but we can be sure that he will be conscious and active, rather as Protesilaus was believed to be able to punish the wrongdoer from the grave because the gods gave him special favour.’ He is thus a kind of anticipation of Christ.

This essay seeks to establish the parameters of our uncertainty concerning one of the most difficult periods of Roman history, the period between the traditional end of the Roman monarchy and the passing of the Licinio-Sextian legislation. In addition to some methodological observations, the essay attempts to offer a model for understanding Roman choices and decisions in a period of change and transformation.

Studies of aspects of ‘the Roman family’ have developed so quickly and so prolifically in recent decades that it is already possible to write of work of the 1980s as the accepted orthodoxy and to have new, vigorous debates which are stimulating and questioning and deepening our understanding of the complexities of that central institution of Roman society. Other social histories of Rome are now taking account of this, in ways that go far beyond earlier histories' legalistic or political approach to Roman families. The role of children can now be studied against that nuanced and variegated background. There is already one full-length study (Wiedemann 1989) and I expect to have another ready soon.

In this article it is argued that Philip developed a considerable navy in the course of his reign, and that Alexander took that Macedonian navy as well as the Greek navy when he first entered Asia in 334 B.C. I shall discuss the literary testimonia in two sections, one for Philip and the other for Alexander.

1. Aeschines 2.72.

Setting out from Macedonia, Philip was contending with us no longer for Amphipolis but already for Lemnos, Imbros and Scyros, our possessions. And our citizens abandoned the Chersonese, which was by general agreement an Athenian property.

Towards the end of the first extended discussion of poetry in the Republic, Socrates and Adeimantus formulate criteria for the admission of poets into their ideal state. Dramatists are clearly excluded, but the acceptable poet is enigmatically described, according to the usual translation, as ‘the unmixed imitator of the good man’ (, 397d), and as ‘one who will imitate for us the speech of the good man’ (, 398b). ‘Imitation’ has been earlier so defined that it applies to direct impersonation such as is found in drama and the speeches of epic, and accordingly it might seem that, as an imitator, he should be himself a dramatist. This however is ruled out by the run of the argument, which requires us to associate him with a style which contains but little impersonation (396e). On the other hand, if a non-dramatic poet is in view, it seems paradoxical to call him an imitator when imitation has been defined in the way that it has.

‘As in the decade after C. Gracchus' murder, so in the decade after Saturninus’ murder popular fervor abated …’

In the unexceptional judgement quoted above Saturninus is clearly identified with the ‘popular cause’ and from that equation all sorts of assumptions flow. The presumption that Marius turned to Saturninus (as to Glaucia) because he needed his strengths, amongst which, it is assumed, was his influence with the populace, is rarely challenged. That is understandable. The presumption of Saturninus' popularity would seem to be based on ancient judgement.

Green (1978) overturned the standard view of Romans' desire to compare themselves with Alexander the Great. He especially criticised the too-credulous acceptance of Caesar's ‘Alexander complex’. Gruen (1998) and Martin (1998) extended Green's arguments to include Pompeius. This paper argues that in attempting to redress the balance Green, Gruen and Martin go too far. Alexander was a powerful icon in first-century BC Rome but the desire to be compared to him grew out of specific, not general, considerations. In the case of Pompeius and Caesar, emulation of Alexander was as much about competition between themselves as it was about any third party.

In a speech, delivered early in 59 B.C. and recorded by Dio, Pompey supported Caesar’s agrarian proposal. At the beginning of the speech, as recorded in Dio xxxviii 5. 1-2, Pompey mentioned a proposal, approved by the Senate on a former occasion, which related to the provision of land allotments for his own troops and those of Metellus: