The current view of the Agricolan occupation of Scotland is conveniently summed up in Furneaux's declaration that ‘it is impossible to suppose that the conquest had been as thorough as is suggested [by Tacitus].’ York is sometimes alleged to have been the farthest point that was permanently secured, and a German historian has solemnly rebuked the Roman general for the fundamental fault of pushing forward without consolidating the ground that he had won. This scepticism as to Agricola's military capacity and achievements was justifiable enough so long as the historical notices stood alone. Moreover it appeared to be perfectly consistent with the ‘perdomita Britannia et statim missa’ of Tacitus himself. And, when archaeology made its first contribution to the discussion, the new evidence promised to be merely corroborative. The little Agricolan fort on the Bar Hill, discovered by a happy accident in 1903, was garrisoned for only a brief period, and had been abandoned fifty or sixty years before Lollius Urbicus built the wall from Forth to Clyde.

Eusebius, quoting Hegesippus, records that during Trajan's reign Symeon son of Cleopas, a cousin of Christ, was martyred in Judaea as a Christian ἐπὶ … Άττικοῦ τοῦ ὑπατικοῦ —which at first sight appears to mean ‘when Atticus was consular legate’. Atticus was clearly the legate of Judaea at the time. The suggestion that he was legate of the consular province of Syria can be disregarded, as there is no reason why an event in Judaea should be dated by the governor of another province. Two problems arise—the date of Atticus' command, and his rank as legate.

The movements of the Second Legion (Legio II Augusta) in the first three decades of the Roman occupation of Britain have for long been a subject of speculation. In particular, the quest for the site of its first semi-permanent base, before the establishment of the fortress at Caerleon, has given rise to the conjecture that at Gloucester it would be found. The only evidence for this has been the size and shape of the Roman enceinte known to exist there and the general probability of the site, considered in relation to the Severn crossing. Other evidence adduced in the past by local antiquaries will not bear scrutiny in the light of modern knowledge.

Le diplôme a été découvert, à I'occasion de travaux de fondation, à Gherla (département de Cluj), sur le territoire de l'ancien castram romain, vers le début du mois d'août 1960. Des deux tablettes, seule la tabella I a été retrouvée. Elle est assez bien conservée, étant encore pourvue du fil de fer en bronze qui la rattachait à la tabella II, laquelle n'a pas été retrouvée. Sa longueur est de 147 mm., la largeur de 117 mm. et l'épaisseur de 14 mm. La tablette dégrossie pèse 146·20 grammes. Le texte, nettement lisible, est écrit en lettres hautes de 3·5 mm sur la face externe et de 4 mm. sur la face interne.

While Gibbon's Roman History and his Memoirs are established as classic works in any canon of English or historical literature, the first of his three books, the youthful Essai sur l'Étude de la Littérature (1758–61), remains the victim of comparative neglect. There has been no edition of this work since 1814, but we can ill afford to ignore a text which is at once the first fruit of Gibbon's intellectual ‘creation’ at Lausanne in the 1750s, and also serves as an indispensable general and methodological introduction to his History. One symptom of our casual attitude lies in the fact that, although the Essai is the only one of Gibbon's works which can be traced from its manuscript conception through to final publication, no attempt has been made to explore his compositional and intellectual processes by this route. Furthermore, in an age where every scrap of new text by the great historian has become a precious relic worthy of immediate publication, we have overlooked thereby the last really significant cache of his unpublished writing. Given its subject matter, one may say that the omission is not merely significant but spectacular. In a series of cancelled passages from the Essai's first draft of 1758, Gibbon dealt with topics such as the need for philosophic detachment, rather than sentimental alignment, in discussing Roman history; the role of ‘general’ or profound causes in explaining Rome's rise and fall; and the significance of Pagan corruption for the rise of Christianity.

The series of Roman inscriptions with which the present paper is concerned belongs to a familiar and extensive class, examples of which will be found in any handbook of epigraphy—stones that were erected to commemorate the completion of some more or less important undertaking of a public character. But a peculiar, if not a unique, interest has always attached to this particular group because of its intimate association with one of the great historical monuments of the Empire. Ever since the dawn of the seventeenth century, when the foundations of our knowledge of Roman Britain were being laid, the fact of this association and its broad significance have been universally recognized.

The products of a highly civilised community must always tend to drift across its political frontiers to less advanced peoples beyond. In the early centuries of our era the output of Roman workshops, following perhaps the older amber routes, was finding its way north of the Rhine and reaching Scandinavia. The same process was going on in Caledonia. The troops marching northward carried their supplies with them, and on the sites of their forts the excavator unearths their pottery and glass, their vessels of bronze, their ornaments, tools and weapons,—the familiar things of provincial Roman civilization. But out beyond the limits of the forts and camps the same products from time to time come to light—picked up near the lines of communication, gathered from the sites of native dwellings, or found far out among the hills or by coasts where the Roman soldier never penetrated, telling their tale of traffic or of plunder.

It is to be feared that the greater part of the Histories of Tacitus is lost beyond recall: Latin literature appears but rarely among the treasures of the sands of Egypt. The consequent gap in our knowledge is very imperfectly filled by the records that do remain. It is certain that many events of importance have been wholly passed over in them, while many others are referred to in such an incidental and cursory way that varying interpretations seem possible, and conjecture becomes permissible and even necessary.

We know in general that Vespasian was an energetic reformer and reorganiser: it may be possible, even with our fragmentary evidence, to trace his reorganisation of the two wealthiest provinces, Asia and Africa, somewhat more fully than has hitherto been done. With regard to Asia, the conjecture seems justifiable that Eprius Marcellus was Vespasian's agent for reform, and that his prolonged tenure of the proconsulship of Asia is to be so explained. And in Africa, there may be some reason for supposing that Q. Vibius Crispus performed a similar service, and that his proconsulship there was similarly extended.

Scholars have long discussed whether the Golden Gate is a monument of Theodosius I, as the inscription which formerly adorned it strongly suggests, or whether if was built at the same time as the walls under Theodosius II. The inscription must in the latter case apply to a minor rising of the Primicerius Iohannes in 423. However, Schneider, the last scholar who has examined the walls, points out that they were nearly complete in 422, when a rescript assigned to travelling soldiers the lower stories of the towers. Iohannes' rising was not crushed until 425; and not even Schneider has maintained that the Golden Gate was built later than the walls.

It seems more natural to suppose that the inscription refers to the conquest of Maximus by Theodosius I. In this case the gate may be assumed to have been comparable to the triumphal arches of Roman colonies, and to have stood on the original pomerium. Its existence may account for the line of the wall, which joins the Sea of Marmara after the shore has turned south-west; for the line of the fortifications is thus made considerably longer without much gain of interior space.

It is with considerable reluctance that I offer a few comments on the possible significance of the Flavian reliefs discovered between 1937 and 1939 close by the Palazzo della Cancelleria in Rome. For the interpretation of monuments such as these is largely subjective; and, in a matter on which any student may claim as good a right to his own opinion as any other, the use of space in this Journal to make suggestions which few may think convincing needs special justification. That justification must be found in the encouragement to ventilate the ideas which follow (ideas first aired before the Anglo-Swedish Classical Conference at Lund in August, 1947) given me by various friends—particularly Dr. Arvid Andrén, Professors Axel Boëthius and Einar Gjerstad, Dr. P. G. Hamberg, and Professors A. D. Nock and A. W. Persson. None of these gentlemen should be assumed to agree with any of my conclusions, but to all of them my hearty thanks for useful discussion are due and are hereby offered. Furthermore, it must be made plain that these remarks are not intended even to touch on the problems connected with the development of Roman art in the Flavian age to the evidence for which these friezes are a most notable addition. They are confined to the question, What are the reliefs about ?