Cicero claims that states were created for the protection of property, so a statesman should try to avoid levying property taxes. A contrary principle holds that, as long as the state is common to all, those who benefit from it most should compensate those who benefit least to maintain distributive justice. With this frame of reference, the article asks two related questions. First, to what extent does Cicero differ from Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Livy, and the Stoics, who describe compensation or common ownership as a principle of fiscal fairness? Second, how does Cicero's political theory reflect the misgivings of wealthy Romans about state power and redistribution in the absence of compensatory taxation from 167 to 43 b.c.e.? I argue that his interpretation of the Servian census entrenches the ‘pre-fiscal’ distribution of property in the Roman constitution, which compromises the impartiality of the state and weakens its ability to respond to fiscal crises.

The case of the early imperial small rural settlement of Marzuolo, in south-central Etruria, paints a micro-history of arrested developments: a couple of decades into the site's existence, an abandoned wine-production facility was converted into a blacksmithing workshop, which in turn burnt down and was abandoned soon after. But were both these endings failures? This article uses the concept of failure as an epistemic lens to examine inequality: who could fail in the Roman world, and for whom was failure not an option? It argues that failure was tied up with particular notions of the future, which were not equally distributed. Yet in contrast to modern paradigms, in the Roman world even the privileged seem not to have embraced failure as a stepping-stone towards growth.

For the emperor, quoting Homer was both a danger and an opportunity. Suetonius’ Lives shows that anecdotes of quotation circulated widely to characterise the emperor for good or for ill. Subsequently, these moments could themselves become the subject of allusion. If you quote a line of Homer that was famously quoted by the emperor, are you quoting the poet or Caesar? This phenomenon, whereby a poetic cliché could be reborn as charged reference to a prior use of that tag by a well-known figure, might be termed metaquotation. This ambiguity of reference was exploited throughout Seneca's Apocolocyntosis, and in turn by readers of that text in antiquity.

This article examines the important roles played by gods in the friezes of the Columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius and argues that they are treated in a distinctive ‘documentary’ style, comparable in certain ways to accounts of divine action in Roman historiography and designed to produce a compelling narrative effect. First, the Columns and the deities they depict are discussed. The article then looks at cognate descriptions of gods in historiographical texts. Finally, other contemporary monuments that portray the gods are briefly examined to bring out further the distinctive character of the gods on the Columns. This analysis will be seen to have wider implications for our understanding of ‘historical narrative reliefs’ and imperial representation.

This article examines how images on a sarcophagus involved Roman viewers in processes of thinking by analogy and so invited them to engage in meditation on death. This more thanatological slant is sidelined in current approaches that emphasise how exemplary figures on sarcophagi consoled the bereaved and praised the dead. Building on these approaches, together with work on the mediating role played by artefacts in thought, this article proposes that analogies on sarcophagi also invited the living to think about their own death and the possibilities and limitations of analogy for thanatological reflection. It argues, further, that sarcophagi should be read more expansively, allowing for figures and scenes to have more than one identity rather than collapsing them into one: this multiplicity reinforces meditation on death. The article focuses on Roman sarcophagi that feature Adonis, with emphasis on the Rinuccini sarcophagus; this unusual sarcophagus explicitly juxtaposes real-life and mythological scenes.

This study proposes a new reconstruction of the tripod that Pausanias (1.18.8) recorded in the Olympieion at Athens. According to his brief description, the bronze tripod was supported by Persians made from Phrygian marble. A sculptor's sketch found during the excavations of the Athenian Agora is identified as a representation of that monument. The sketch, carved from poros limestone, depicts a standing male figure dressed in eastern attire supporting the foot of a tripod. The figural type finds its closest parallels among the colossal statues from the Forum of Trajan in Rome, suggesting a new date and context for the monument in the Olympieion. The scenario favoured here is that the tripod was dedicated following Trajan's victories in Parthia, perhaps completed or commissioned by Hadrian. Cassius Dio (68.17.2) records that Trajan departed for his Parthian campaigns from Athens, where memories of Persian defeat were actively curated.

Julia Hillner's life of Helena, mother of Constantine, is the twentieth volume published in OUP's ‘Women in Antiquity’ series, launched in 2010 with Duane Roller's biography of Cleopatra. An earlier and overlapping series on the same theme — Routledge's ‘Women of the Ancient World’ — began in 2006 and adds a further half-dozen titles to the portfolio, from Olympias: Mother of Alexander the Great by Elizbeth Carney to The Women of Pliny's Letters by Jo-Ann Shelton.1 The pace of publication picked up in 2018 and two lives from the later Roman empire — of Melania the Younger by Elizabeth Clark and Sosipatra of Pergamum by Heidi Marx — appeared alongside Celia Schultz's account of Fulvia in 2021, for example. Late republican and late antique women dominate the catalogue overall, with some empresses and exotic leaders in between, and alongside a smaller set of Hellenistic royalty.2