To speak of Roman politics in the late Republic without touching on violence would hardly be possible. But my real theme is concerned with methods of interpreting Roman history. We have seen in the last hundred years some three general attitudes or schools of thought about the study of the later Republic. It all begins with Mommsen, of course. First there were those who, following Mommsen, tended to explain Roman history in terms of the nineteenth century. The conflict of Optimates and Populares tended to be assimilated to the forms of conflict in parliamentary countries; parties, programmes, even democrats and conservatives were brought in. Then came a swing away. The stress was laid more and more on the generals and their ambitions. The terminology of parliamentary democracy was discarded as unsuitable, and the history of the late Republic was seen as an inevitable procession of great Imperatores, each foreshadowing the next. Even the Scipios were involved, then Marius, Sulla and so forth. Much less stress was laid on the popular movement. Apart from the Gracchi the tribunes were treated as tools of the Imperators and nothing more. The politics of the generation before the Social War were explained in terms of the Ciceronian age. One might cite the great chapters of the Cambridge Ancient History, and Meyer's Caesars Monarchie as characteristic.

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.

At this late date there is not much prospect of producing new and cogent emendations in Tacitus. ‘Hoc artificium periit.’ Past excesses counsel sobriety, and there has been a strong revulsion. Among the items which scholars unjustly impugned and prematurely corrected were a number of proper names, their sole offence often being rarity or an unusual shape. However strange a name may look, it should not lightly be altered. The vast and vivid nomenclature of ancient Italy invades the lower orders of the Roman Senate well before the Republic ends, and proliferates under the Caesars.

Names of a more familiar contour can still be a source of perplexity. The senatorial annals of Tiberius' principate carry a plethora of persons, among them the recurrent and aristocratic members of a few families. The consular historian, however, was adequately equipped for his task. He knew the methods of documentary inquiry, he was ferociously accurate, and he was interested in all the characters of his narrative, down to the most obscure—‘originem non repperi’ (VI, 7, 4). That being so, two Aemilii Lepidi, a Marcus and a Manius (the consuls of 6 and of 11), gave him no trouble. That he could avoid error everywhere, too much to hope. There are slips. And he might be held guilty of inadvertence. For example, it is an annoyance that the same person should appear as ‘Cotta Messallinus’ in the year 16 (11, 32, 1), as ‘Aurelius Cotta consul’ in 20 (III, 17, 4).

The excavations carried out by the Lincoln Archaeological Research Committee during 1953 dealt with two sites of a very different nature, although of the same period. Yet together they provide a useful illustration of the two principal aspects of the history of Roman Lincoln and also of two types of archaeological investigation demanded in an urban centre. The first excavation, in East Bight, was deliberately undertaken in an attempt to find answers to certain problems relating to the early military and quasi-military occupation of Lincoln and was excavated methodically and without haste; the second was a hasty examination during building operations at no. 292 High Street where a structure, apparently connected with the communal life of the town in its later period of expansion, demanded immediate investigation, without the opportunity for unhurried and detailed examination.

The first excavations of the Research Committee, in 1945–6, at Westgate and North Row (fig. 2), resolved once and for all the question of the general siting of the Claudian fortress of the Ninth Legion and, in particular, demonstrated that on north and west the legionary defences underlay those of the later Colonia. These conclusions suggested the possibility that the defences might similarly coincide on south and east also, where the line of the Colonia wall was known; but, as Professor I. A. Richmond pointed out, if this was so, the area of the legionary fortress would only have been approximately 42 acres whereas a minimum of 50 acres might have been expected.

Few historical problems have produced more unprofitable discussion than that of Hannibal's pass over the Alps. But if there is still no clear answer, some headway had at least been made in defining the question—which is half the battle. Kahrstedt put the matter as succinctly as anyone. ‘Mit Topographie ist nicht zum Ziele zu kommen, weisse Felsen and tiefe Schluchten, Flusstäler und steile Abhänge gibt es uberall. Das Problem ist literarhistorisch, nicht topographisch.’ Hence a feeling of dismay at finding the question reopened without, apparently, any realization of what sort of question it is. For in fact Sir Gavin de Beer's forthright and attractive little book, despite its ingenious attempt to introduce new kinds of evidence, never comes to grips with the fundamental issue—the relationship between Polybius' account and Livy's. This central question is dismissed with a fatal facility : ‘each account complements and supplies what was missing from the other ‘(p. 33). If one is to get anywhere with this problem one must treat it more seriously than that; and it may therefore perhaps be worth while, yet again, to reconsider the evidence and to indicate the limits within which the answer is to be sought (without any guarantee that it will necessarily be found). Such a survey can offer none of the ‘certainties’ or the excitement to be found in Alps and Elephants; it will propose no novelties; and if it is not to become unreadable, it had better avoid all but the most obvious and necessary references to a fantastically inflated modern literature.

During a brief visit to Afyon Karahisar in central Anatolia in September, 1954, my attention was drawn by Bay Süleiman Gökce, Curator of the Vilayet Museum, to a large inscription which had recently been brought to him. It had been found at Sulmenli (Eulandra ?) some nine miles away, and salvaged by local officials. Thanks to the Curator's kindness I was able to make a copy on the spot and take a squeeze and photograph. The latter was improved upon considerably by Mr. Michael Ballance, former Fellow of the British Institute at Ankara, who visited Afyon in September, 1955, at my request, with the result that many of the difficulties in reading a battered and incomplete text have been resolved.

The inscription (pls. VII and VIII) had been carefully cut on a large slab of greyish-yellow marble with a moulded edge. It had been broken on the left-hand side and below. There was a hole in the right side approximately 0·64 m. from the top for a dowel about 2 cm. square in section. There were two more holes in the back, and it is clear that the inscription had been originally fixed to a wall, perhaps in the village which won the case. Height, 0·82 m.; width at widest point, 0·69 m.; thickness, 0·12 m.; letters, 1·4–1·5 cm. for the first twenty-nine lines, and thereafter approximately 1·6 cm. The greater part of the first forty-one lines have survived, the surviving portion containing between forty-eight and fifty-six letters on each line.

Ancient historians must be thankful for what they get; but it seems a pity that the fall of Corfinium in mid-February, 49 B.C., should be the best recorded episode in Roman warfare, so far as contemporary documents are concerned. Regrets apart, however, the affair is of interest, psychological and dramatic as well as austerely military; and I think the relevant letters in Cicero's correspondence will repay further investigation. ‘quae qui legat non multum desideret historiam contextam’—if he reads perceptively.

O. E. Schmidt arranged these letters, which take up a large part of the eighth book Ad Atticum, into a narrative, and I do not propose to do that work over again. My purpose is confined to points on which I think I have something new to say. But it may be well to begin with a brief reminder of the whereabouts of the principal persons involved.

In 418 the Patrician Constantius recalled the Visigoths from Spain and settled them in the province of Aquitanica Secunda (on the western seaboard of Gaul between the mouth of the Garonne and that of the Loire) and in some neighbouring civitates. Where these neighbouring cities lay is not certain. One of them was Toulouse in Narbonensis Prima, and this became the capital of the Visigothic kings. Salvian writing in 440–1 seems to imply that the Visigoths controlled Novempopulana as well as Aquitanica II. That is an exaggeration, but it may well be that the additional cities granted to the Visigoths over and above Aquitanica II lay immediately south of the Garonne. And this is in some measure confirmed by the fact that in 439 Orientius, Bishop of Auch, acted as the Visigothic king's ambassador to Litorius and Aëtius. We may conclude that in addition to Aquitanica the Visigothic kings controlled a strip of land south of the Garonne running from Toulouse to the ocean, but this did not extend to the Pyrenees. Moreover, they did not control any land north of the Loire. Whether they allowed themselves to be dispersed uniformly over the whole of their territory or whether they were concentrated in more or less dense settlements in restricted parts of their new kingdom is obscure.

The excavation described below was undertaken by the writer on behalf of the Ministry of Works and the Royal Commission on Historical Monuments, but the present article is his own sole responsibility.

The defences of the Legionary Fortress at York were first scientifically examined by the late S. N. Miller in 1925–8 and the report on the work in 1925–7 appeared in this Journal. As a result of his work we have a satisfactory framework into which to fit subsequent and previous discoveries. The structural sequence arrived at by Miller can be briefly summarized as follows:—

Period 1. A campaigning base deduced by Miller from occupation earth in what he considered to be part of the clay rampart of Period 2 and dated by him to the beginning of the governorship of Petillius Cerialis (A.D. 71–4).

Period 2. The first defences of which Miller recognized structural evidence consisted of a massive rampart of clay, dated by him to the close of the governorship of Cerialis.

Period 3. In the early part of the second century stone gates and towers were built and linked by a stone wall. The south-east gate was built in A.D. 108–9, but some work was still being done in Hadrian's reign. The clay bank of Period 2 remained behind the stone wall.

Period 4. At the end of the second century there was an extensive restoration under Severus. A new stone wall was built, at any rate on the south-east side, immediately behind the wall of Period 2 which was completely removed except for the foundations.

Period 5. At the turn of the third and fourth centuries the south-west and north-west sides and part of the north-east side were reconstructed, with projecting multangular corner and interval towers on the river front (fig. 9).

A P. Decius Subulo appears twice in the extant books of Livy. The cognomen is only given on the first occasion and there spelled ‘Subolo’; and that may well be the correct original form. The word, we are told, is Etruscan for ‘tibicen’ and we may thus deduce, despite the Oscan nomen, a partly Etruscan (and perhaps priestly) origin for the family. It will have come from one of those regions of Central Italy pervaded by Etruscan influence—perhaps Campania; but nothing is known about it. We have no further reference to this P. Decius. It would be interesting to know whether he reached the praetorship: if he lived long enough, it is quite probable, to judge by others in similar positions; but we cannot tell.

The son of this man first appears in history in an unfortunate manner. Cicero tells us of a man whom Q. Opimius (cos. 154), at some time after his consulship, mocked for his effeminacy—a charge which, according to Cicero, was undeserved and which the. young man neatly returned. The impudent retort to a consular shows that the youth must have been of some social standing. Unfortunately his name is corrupt in our manuscripts; but with the help of a citation by Nonius, Cichorius has restored it with certainty as ‘Decius’. This same man—who, in the circumstances, must be the son of the senator P. Decius Subulo— was also the butt of a joke by Scipio Aemilianus, which Cicero greatly admired, but which we cannot understand, except to see that it was probably indecent.

In this paper Virgil's description of a plough (Georgics, 1, 169 ff.) is re-examined in the light of modern records of wooden ploughs from SW Europe, taken in a broad sense to include Italy and the Swiss canton of the Grisons, and from neighbouring Mediterranean regions. This on the assumption that Virgil is describing a single type of plough, not ‘integrating’ types; in other words, that there is such a thing as ‘Virgil's Plough’ and that one may hope to find its modern analogues. To archaeological evidence only incidental allusions are made, mainly to evidence appearing later than Gow's and Drachmann's articles.

When the passage from the Georgics is set out in separate sentences of 2 + 2 + 3 lines with their differing evocations, the field and woodland scenes evoked do not appear so closely related to each other and to the references to parts of the plough as they do if the passage, which is fundamentally a structural account of the plough, is interpreted in the light of a visit to a craftsman's shop with outdoor evocations arising from the craftsman's explanations to his visitor. The thesis now put forward is that Virgil's description arises from just such a visit, which would open quite naturally with talk about the ‘knee timber’ needed for the curved beam (buris) as the part taking the principal strain. So to-day in talks with Spanish ploughwrights, one of whom even used Virgil's verb when explaining to the writer in 1935 that, in a certain valley from which he bought the elm for his beams, ‘doman el ramito de año,’ they tie down the yearling branchlet.

The influence of Arretine on early South Gaulish potters has often been assumed, but direct evidence has hitherto been obscure and difficult to establish. The present note with the accompanying comparative drawings of Arretine and South Gaulish pottery of the Tiberian-Claudian period provides some proof of this influence, which was probably established by direct immigration of certain potters from Arezzo to South Gaul. It is clearly shown in the close imitation of their decorative details by such early South Gaulish potters as Crestus (or Crestio), Senicio with the diminutive variety Seno, Stabilio (with his acanthus or demi-acanthus), Bilicatus, Licinus, etc., and many similar cases might also be cited.

Crestvs, South Gaulish potter shows a scene depicted on an Arretine vessel stamped M PERENN TIGRANI (fig. 15, 1), representing a Dionysiac sacrifice of a sucking pig by a Satyr with a short tail. He is standing on his left leg, his right foot crooked behind his right knee, and he stabs the pig's throat with a triangular knife while holding its right foot. Facing him is a woman, holding the other three legs of the pig; and, at her feet, is a bowl to receive the blood for ritual purposes. The bowl is flanked by stalked, slender flowers, as at Arezzo (Walters, BM, L 107 with acanthus). The same Dionysiac group occurs on a marble medallion in the Naples museum (Museo Borbonico (1843), XIII, Tav. XII).

The find in Roman Britain of a Latin writing tablet bearing a still legible ink inscription is of so unusual a nature that it has seemed worthwhile to offer a provisional account of it to readers of the Journal. It is probable that more of the text will eventually prove readable than I have managed to decipher; for I have failed to obtain a continuous text. Apart from the difficulties inherent in reading Latin cursive writing, the faintness at many places of the ink, discoloration of the surface, and above all, the frequently misleading horizontal grain of the wood offer obstacles that I have failed to surmount. It is also possible that laboratory treatment will succeed at some future date in separating the ink more clearly from its background, at least for photographic purposes. Experiments to achieve this are in progress, but they must inevitably proceed cautiously and therefore slowly. I believe, however, that enough of the writing has been made out to establish with reasonable certainty the type of text concerned, and that further success in decipherment, while it will fill in details, will not change the essential framework into which those details are to be fitted. It has seemed right, in consequence, not to delay longer but to submit the results achieved so far to the judgment of colleagues and hope that their criticisms and suggestions will make good the writer's failings. The accompanying plate (XII) will supply a means of check and supplement.