Mommsen, writing in 1866,1 dated the marriage of Tiberius Gracchus and Cornelia to 165/4 on the basis of this passage, understanding it to mean that their twelve children came in an alternating series of boys and girls. Tiberius, with his father's praenomen, would then be either the first or second child of the marriage, and as he was born in 163/2, Mommsen concluded that the marriage must have taken place not much more than two years before that date.

Amongst the numerous difficult passages of the anonymous Constitution of the Athenians the present one, as a whole, has particularly tenaciously resisted attempts at interpretation or elucidation in spite of progress made as to a number of details. One major obstacle to a real understanding of this sentence (but by no means the only one) is the corrupt phrase in the final clause.

My suggestion that the H.A. was written during the reign of the Emperor Julian and in his interest has had, on the whole, ‘a bad press.’ Reviewers who have not thought it necessary to support with argument their doubts or their rejection of the theory are in a strong position: they remain practically unassailable. ‘The theory seems on a priori grounds improbable:’ a historical student can only reply that so is human nature—distressingly improbable, as he knows to his cost. ‘After reading this book one puts it down “met een zekere onvoldaanheid:”’ what can an author do save express his regret for having caused Dr. Van de Weerd this discomfort? But two stalwart defenders of the conservative position—De Sanctis and Lécrivain’—have sustained with detailed argument their unqualified rejection of my theory; in their cases it is possible to attempt a rejoinder.

A. E. Housman has written that the context of Juvenal 5.140 is ‘the most obscure in Juvenal’ (p. xxxii). I am primarily concerned with the following five lines, but the entire passage (132–145), and its position in the poem, must also be examined.

In a recent article I observed that Livy sees a dialectic at work in Roman history over the course of the reigns of the first four kings. The first king, Romulus, is associated with physical (i.e. military) strength and is devoted to war. His successor Numa is devoted to peace and to the advance of religion, law and the civilizing virtues. The Romulean thesis, having been answered by the Numan antithesis, reasserts itself in the reign of the third king, Tullus Hostilius. This time, devotion to war is even more intense: Tullus is ferocior (1.22.2) than Romulus. Excessive devotion to war, however, entailed the neglect of other things: towards the end of his reign, during a plague to which he himself eventually fell victim, Tullus turned to religion, hoping that the gods would end the pestilence if he could balance his Romulean devotion to war with a Numan concern for sacra. But his efforts were too late and inept. It was not until the reign of the fourth king, Ancus Marcius, that a synthesis was achieved. Ancus had a medium ingenium that fused the Romulean and Numan tendencies. The adoption of the ius fetiale by the Livian Ancus symbolizes this synthesis: the ius fetiale was a martial (i.e. Romulean) ritual, but it also acknowledged the Numan claims of religion and right.

At line 1025 of Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannus,

σὺ δ᾽ ἐμπολήσας ἢ τεκών μ᾽ αὐτῷ δίδως;,

The germ of the following paper is as old as the previous century, when in the year 1898 my attention was accidentally drawn to one of the passages discussed below. But progress was impossible until the facts of the MS.tradition of the Stromateis were properly presented–a service for which we are indebted to the excellent edition of Clement by Dr. O. Stählin (Leipzig 1906–1909).

There are a number of fragments attributed to Theophrastus, as well as titles in Diogenes Laertius' catalogue of his writings (5.42ff.), of which it is uncertain whether they should be placed among his logical or rhetorical works. In this note I want to give my reasons for excluding one of them from my forthcoming edition of his logical fragments. It is not my intention here to discuss all the questions it raises; I hope to come back to them in a later volume of my commentary.

The Lives of the Ten Orators (), preserved in the manuscripts of Plutarch's Moralia (832b–852e) but almost universally acknowledged not to be the work of Plutarch himself, have been much maligned by modern scholars, and the information they provide has been treated with extreme caution, not to say disdain. My purpose here is to demonstrate that the first of these biographies, the Life of Antiphon (832b–834b), repays close study and, far from being worthless, reliably preserves a tradition which provides useful material on its subject. Some of what appears below is inevitably going over well-trodden ground, but there is, in my opinion, sufficient material in the Life which has been overlooked or misinterpreted to justify the following re-examination.

In March 59 Caesar and Pompey presided over the adoption of P. Clodius Pulcher into a plebeian family, thereby rendering the former patrician eligible for the tribunate. The immediate purpose of the dynasts' action was to silence the contumacious criticism of Cicero, whose Pro Antonio had gravely offended Caesar. And the gesture was effective: for a time at least, Cicero withdrew to his country estates. For Cicero – like everyone else in Rome – anticipated that, once tribune, Clodius would move to exact revenge for the dishonour done him during and after the Bona Dea trial. For the remainder of the year Cicero made preparations to fend off his enemy, and principal among his resources was the personal guarantee of his friend Pompey the Great. Pompey, who regarded Clodius as his creature, took it to be a point of honour that he should shield Cicero from harm's way. But the Vettius affair changed everything. Regardless of who masterminded the scandal and despite all protestations to the contrary, the Vettius affair left Pompey estranged from Cicero, a reality that Cicero could not fail to recognize. After the Vettius affair Cicero could not prudently rely solely on the dynasts' promises – if ever he did. Yet the means by which Cicero endeavoured to secure his own safety – independent of his relationship with Pompey or Caesar – have not been adequately appreciated by modern scholars. They incline, quite naturally in view of the events of 58 which followed Cicero's exile, to see the contest over Cicero's fate primarily as a struggle between the dynasts, especially Pompey, and Clodius. Such an attitude, however, tends to cause one to overlook an often cited but infrequently discussed stratagem of Cicero: according to Cassius Dio, Cicero induced L. Ninnius Quadratus, a tribune of 58, to stand up against the legislation which Clodius promulgated upon his entering the tribunate. This arrangement indicates that Cicero was trying with considerable energy to look after his own interests. It is the purpose of this paper to attempt to explain the means by which Cicero hoped to thwart Clodius as well as the machinations by which the erstwhile patrician outwitted his opponent.

The publication of Mr. R. S. Bluck's stimulating Phaedo prompts me to ask the following questions concerning the traditional interpretation of the cosmographical passage beginning 108 e. (1) Do the terms of 108 e-109 a in combination with 110 b 5 ff. and Timaeus 40 b-c and 62 d ff. prove conclusively that in the Phaedo Plato thinks of the earth as a spherical body? (2) Granted that he does, need his description of the earth, as a setting for his eschatological myth, conform with the spherical theory?

This paper will discuss the behaviour of and in the Homeric poems. These words are allotted a variety of different ‘meanings’ by the lexicographers. For example, LSJ s.v. I. pray, II. vow, III. profess loudly, boast, vaunt; s.v. I. prayer, II. boast, vaunt, or object of boasting, glory; s.v. I. thing prayed for, object of prayer, II. boast, vaunt. I shall, of course, discuss the whole range of these words; but I begin with some observations on ‘prayer’.

It may appear at first sight that ‘prayer’ is a simple word, with only one conceivable ‘meaning’, which must have that ‘meaning’ in any language. We might suggest that ‘request addressed to a god’ is an adequate representation of that ‘meaning’, and that when we have rendered (say) by ‘pray’ in what appear to us to be appropriate contexts we have conveyed the full sense of the original.

Both and are guaranteed by the London scholia (Pfeiffer vol. i, p.3), so the gap is reduced to the tantalizingly small one of a monosyllabic feminine noun in the accusative case, most probably of four letters. The number of possibilities cannot be unlimited. My own suggestion must necessarily remain in limbo in the present state of our knowledge concerning the poet or poets whom Callimachus is talking about, but at least it seems to me less bizarre than other restorations currently in the field.

Since the publication of our article on Thucydides and the Plague of Athens, Dr Heinrich von Staden of Yale University has kindly drawn our attention to a paper by Eby and Evjen suggesting that the Plague was glanders. We do not think that this diagnosis can possibly be correct, though there are undoubtedly some points in its favour. The authors have argued their case as persuasively as possible, and the proposal has sufficient merit to deserve a serious reply.

When a poet's work survives only in fragments our judgement of its merit is bound to be strongly influenced by the arrangement given to the fragments by their editors. And yet some superficial indication of the subject-matter is not infrequently seized upon as though it were a sound basis for so responsible an operation, and horror uacui proving stronger than amor ueri, stronger even than desiderium noua docendi, the ill-founded solution is passed on from one edition to the next although it may be wholly out of character with the author's style and may make a great poet appear a wretched hack. An example of this was given in C.Q. N.S. X (1960), 188 f., where the traditional attribution of a commonplace statement to a speech which called for the very opposite of a commonplace was shown to be mistaken. The standard interpretation of the fragment to be discussed here is no less striking as an instance of injustice done to the poet, even more liable to expose him to ridicule, and perhaps of wider interest as a specimen of stylistic indications unduly neglected.

In Lucan′s second book, an old man looks back to the atrocities perpetrated in the civil strife of the eighties, chiefly on the return of Marius and Cinna to Rome in late 87 and on that of Sulla in 82 (lines 70–233). The episodes that Lucan briefly refers to are all otherwise known, and there seems no particular reason to assume that he is not drawing on Livy as his principal source, as he does for the events of his main narrative, the civil war between Pompey and Caesar. The scholia to the passage may be a different matter.

Our purpose is protreptic, to broach a subject neglected by researchers and consequently by commentators on Plautus and Terence.1 We mean the relation of rhythm and dramatic meaning in the ordinary stichic iambo-trochaic metres. It is of course a longstanding convention that a commentator writing in usum scholarum will include some account of the basic rules of scansion and prosody and a conspectus metrorum of sorts. Ambitious efforts may be made to analyse the polymetric songs in Plautus, if to label cola is analysis; but there are notorious difficulties in this, for the songs are astrophic and polymorphous, the colometry is uncertain, and it cannot be said that we fully understand the range or relationship of the elements out of which the songs are constructed, or that the rules of prosody in the cantica have been definitively established. Under the circumstances it is understandable that commentators refrain except in the most general terms from relating rhythm to dramatic context in the songs. But it is different with the iambo-trochaic metres. We are on firmer ground here, and there is more of it. Commentators will draw attention to aspects of the playwright's diction such as alliteration, assonance, triadic expression, hyperbaton, and so on, by which emphasis and dramatic ‘colouring’ may be indicated. But very little attention is given to the dramatic and tonal implications of the texture of the iambo-trochaic metres as used for whole scenes or in particular exchanges. This is a pity, because Plautus and the tragedians and even Terence can be shown to have exploited the latitude of realization allowed by ‘the rules’ to underpin the sense of a passage or an exchange.