-it is not always safe to base conclusions on the relative frequency of inscriptions belonging to different places and periods. Moreover, Eumeneia (as Ramsay has shown), was a typical orthodox town, and if an orthodox town had distinguished itself in this manner in the Great Persecution it is unlikely that so good a catholic as Eusebius would have withheld its name. The silence of Eusebius on this point, combined with the details which he gives of this frightful massacre, appears to me to point to a community of Montanist fanatics; and I would point out that Pepouza, in which a section of the Montanists awaited the coming of the Great Persecution and the Descent of the New Jerusalem foretold in the Apocalypse has, in fact, disappeared without leaving a trace. Can this be the true explanation of Epiphanius' reference to Pepouza: (The Montanists) honour a deserted place in Phrygia, formerly a city called Pepouza, but now levelled with the ground, and they assert that the New Jerusalem descends there'?1 The heretic Aëtius, we know, was banished to Pepouza (if that is the correct form of 'Petousa' which we read in the text of Philostorgius),2 in A.D. 356, and it has been argued that this disproves the statement of Epiphanius, who wrote in A.D. 375. But may we not rather enjoy the grim humour displayed in the choice of a place of exile? The interesting detail recorded by Eusebius, that these Christians died calling upon the God who is over all,' may then be referred to a context which exactly suits the Montanists. I refer to the prophecy of Joel, quoted in Acts ii. 17-21: 3 And it shall be in the last days, saith God, I will pour forth my spirit upon all flesh, And your old men shall dream dreams. ... And I will show wonders in the heaven above, And signs in the earth beneath Blood and fire and vapour of smoke. . . And it shall be that whosoever shall call on the name Of the Lord shall be saved. 1 Haer. xlviii. 14, τιμῶσι δὲ οἱ τοιοῦτοι καὶ τόπον τινὰ ἔρημον ἐν τῇ Φρυγία, Πέπουζάν ποτε καλουμένην πόλιν, νῦν δὲ ἠδαφισμένην, καί φασιν ἐκεῖσε κατιέναι τὴν ἄνωθεν Ἱερουσαλήμ. 2 H.E. iv. 8 (Bidez, p. 62). 3 The bones of Montanus were honoured in Pepouza till A.D. 550; see Holl, Epiphanius (Anc. u. Pan.), ii. p. 239. The faith of the Montanists was founded on their belief in the literalness of the prophecy in the Apocalypse, which foretold that a Great Persecution would precede the Second Advent. A community of these sectarians, when the Great Persecution actually came, would be unlikely to forget the prophecy of Joel.1 Eusebius suppresses the name of the town which was destroyed in the Persecution; Epiphanius is silent regarding the circumstances under which Pepouza was 'levelled with the ground.' Neither Eusebius nor Epiphanius had much sympathy either with Montanism or with scientific history; between the lines of their narratives I am inclined to read the fate which overtook the New Jerusalem of the Montanists in the Great Persecution. Can a similar faith, and a similar prejudice, be invoked to explain why the Christian martyrs who are gradually being restored to History by the inscriptions of eastern Phrygia are unknown to the Calendar of the Church? The Calendar has found a place for Perpetua and Felicitas, the Montanist martyrs of Africa, and a recent historian has explained that after all these ladies were Church Montanists.' Perhaps one day, in retrospective homage to Christian reunion, the Calendar-and the historians-may rise to even greater heights of catholicity. Acts. Eusebius has substituted ἐπιβοᾶσθαι for ἐπικαλεῖσθαι in LXX. and 2 See B. J. Kidd, History of the Church to A.D. 461, I, p. 286. 2 UNDER HANNIBAL'S SHADOW. BY PROF. R. S. CONWAY, LITT.D., D.LITT., Dott. Univ., F.B.A. EW of us, I think, can be too young, and certainly none of us FEW are too old, to be able look back on the four years of the war as an experience standing by itself, sharply marked off from the rest of our lives. And one of the ways in which it differs, probably, from any other four years through which we have passed is that we have comparatively clear conceptions of what then happened to us as a nation. Even now it may be that the chronological order of some things is fading from memory; but the great events and sufferings of the period are still present in our minds and still among the things which help to shape our political judgment. Probably never before those four years had we possessed in our own experience anything that we could call knowledge of what our nation was; and what conceptions we had attached to the names of foreign nations were even more vague or fragmentary. But under the shocks and stress of the war every one of us became conscious of the larger organism of which he was a part. As a nation we found ourselves, and we have not yet ceased to be self-conscious. Most of us indeed have fallen into the habit of connecting in our own minds many of the details of our daily experience with this new consciousness which has been forced upon us. It has chanced that since then one of my own duties has been to study Livy's record of the long struggle between Rome and Carthage some twenty-one centuries ago. That contest, which lasted sixteen years, shows certain features not without parallels in our own shorter ordeal. Both likenesses and differences may be worth our notice; especially if they can help us at all towards building up that more true and just and enduring conception of national life, indeed of civilised life as a whole, which is what we all earnestly, even though unconsciously, desire to 1 A lecture delivered at the Library on Wednesday, 10 October, 1923. reach, when we ponder on the war and its issues. Most of us, it is true, are rather shy of moralising in public :—and though such temptations are supposed to be especially ensnaring to Professors, I will try to escape them by the old Cambridge habit of sticking closely to my text, I mean to the stories which Livy tells us, and by leaving them to suggest their own moral. The period represented by the title of this lecture is one of twelve years' during which Hannibal with his army was in Italy, a standing danger to the power, and sometimes even to the existence, of Rome. The three preceding years had been marked by the great disasters of the Trebia, Lake Trasimene and Cannae which are familiar to all students of history. Hannibal had three times wiped out great Roman armies, and after the last defeat, that of Cannae, in 216 B.C., men said despairingly in Rome that there was no Roman camp left in Italy, no Roman army and no Roman General. Certainly for several weeks there was no Roman army there except the garrison of Rome itself. Twelve years later we find Hannibal still unconquered but recalled by his own Government to defend Carthage against Scipio who had crossed to Africa, had won various victories over the Carthaginian generals, and who was to crown these victories in the following year (202) by the defeat of Hannibal himself at the battle of Zama. My purpose is not to trace the whole chequered story of the Roman recovery; but rather to direct attention to a few smaller incidents rarely mentioned by modern historians, some of which may give us more intimate knowledge of the conduct and feeling of the Roman people itself during these years, and enable us to compare it with our experience in our own years of trial. Of course, in some sense, all wars are alike; both sides have always things to suffer, both sides prove themselves capable of some barbarous and some noble deeds. Difficulties of supply and transport, and failures through the incompetence of commanders are certain to be heard of in any long war, and upon such matters we need not dwell. We may, however, note in passing among these more external resemblances that at the outset and long after, both we and the Romans had to contend with generalship vastly superior to anything we could find 1215-203 B.C. for ourselves; that both we and the Romans had great difficulty in securing an adequate supply of munitions; that the armies of both were multiplied many times; and both took extraordinary measures for meeting the financial strain. But some of our more intimate troubles too, are not without their ancient analogues. We shall note in these twelve years the interference of political rivalries at home with the conduct of war in the field, such as partisan attacks on particular generals; troubles with objectors to military service; troubles with allies of doubtful loyalty; and there were remarkable reactions from the strain, not merely in the political but also in the religious life of the community. Note first for convenience three dates which divide the period into four parts. Immediately after Cannae in 216 B.C., the powerful city of Capua, wealthier even than Rome, threw in its lot with Hannibal. The first part of our period runs from 216 to 211 B.C., the year in which Hannibal made a dash upon Rome, though when he got there he did not venture to attack it—so strongly was the City fortified- ; in which the two elder Scipios were defeated and killed in Spain, so that what remained of two Roman armies there was without a commander; and in which, on the other hand, Capua, after a long siege which Hannibal found himself unable to break, surrendered to the Romans and was absolutely destroyed. These are the great events of 211. The next date is 207 B.C. when Hasdrubal, bringing a great army from Spain to reinforce his brother Hannibal, was defeated and slain at the river Metaurus. Finally, when the younger Scipio had crossed to Africa in 204, Hannibal was constrained to follow him in the following year. These dates will provide enough framework to carry a few pictures chosen from Livy's story. In choosing them I have been mainly guided by the wish to ascertain as nearly as we can what the Romans were actually thinking and feeling and especially to trace the instinct which seemed to guide them even in the worst moments of doubt. Some aspects of this inner life appear in incidents which Livy felt to be characteristic of the time. In a former lecture, we found that this historian, however little he cared for precision in detail or statistics for their own sake, had a singular insight into the characters of individual men and a singular power of portraying what he saw. Not less, we shall realise, I hope, from the passages now to be examined, that there stood in his |