Cicero's level of success within the senate fluctuated throughout the period of his Philippic orations. These fluctuations reflect the very divisive nature of the conflict with Marcus Antonius, and the ever-changing circumstances that Cicero confronted. The orations themselves record Cicero's improvisational responses to these developments and allow us to study Cicero's range of persuasive techniques over a period of eight months, from September 44, when Cicero delivered his first Philippic, through to April 43, when he delivered his last. There has been a growing body of scholarship dealing with the Philippics, but there remains work to be done on the ad hoc nature of senatorial debate. Manuwald's recent study of praise and blame within the Philippics has provided a starting point, since she identifies strategic elements within the collection as a whole and how these elements functioned in terms of persuasion. She notes the short term use of praise and blame for the purpose of urging the senate to a particular course of action, but her avowed aims were not to isolate strategies within the speeches. And while Frisch provides full coverage of the historical context, he is less concerned with persuasive strategies within and between the speeches themselves. In this regard Philippics 10 and 11 provide an insight into the malleable and ad hoc nature of Roman oratory in the context of senatorial debate. We are able to follow Cicero's shifts in rhetorical strategies as he attempts to meet the exigencies of each situation. Philippics 10 and 11 have ostensibly similar rhetorical aims: to persuade the senate to appoint Marcus Brutus and Caius Cassius to powerful military commands in the eastern provinces, and yet the rhetorical strategies that Cicero employs differ in various ways. My aim is to examine what factors influenced his choice of strategy in the delivery of the two speeches.

In a recent number of the CLASSICAL QUARTERLY (viii., p. 121), under the title ‘Neaera as a Common Name,’ Mr. Postgate writes: ‘There are two undoubted instances of this use of Neaera in Prudentius which are cited by Mr. Ullman.’ This is indeed a very welcome admission, for, unless I am greatly mistaken, Mr. Postgate was formerly of the opinion that such a usage or anything approaching it was unthinkable in Latin.1 But Mr. Postgate still feels uneasy about it, for he says: ‘I imagine however that to an unprejudiced sense of Latin usage these instances will themselves seem to be strange and in need of explanation…. Now is there anything in Neaera or its history which will account for this ? Let us examine the possibilities. And first those offered by etymology…. But it may be thought that it acquired its objectionable colour through the reputed conduct of some particular Neaera of legend or history.’ We are now on common ground, for of course there can be no type-names or common names without some reason.

The peace concluded between Athens and Persia at the close of the Persian Wars (c. 449 B.C.), and usually known as the Peace of Callias, has been the subject of a new investigation by Wade-Gery, which is clearly destined to serve as the basis of further discussion of its problems. In the present article I shall confine myself to one point of special interest arising out of a novel clause which Wade-Gery reads into the treaty and formulates, exempli gratia, as follows: ‘In the area west of Sardis inhabited by Greeks, the King shall send no functionaries nor exercise any authority: his sole right shall be a yearly tribute of a fixed amount based on the survey of Artaphernes in 493.’

Cicero, Phil. 2. 9. 21

quidnam homines putarent, si turn occisus esset, cum tu ilium in foro inspectante populo Romano gladio insecutus es negotiumque transegisses, nisi se ille in scalas tabernae librariae coniecisset iisque oppilatis impetum tuum compressisset?

Lysias (XII. 73), describing how the Thirty were established in the government of Athens, begins with the sentence ναστς δ θηραμνης κλευσεν ὑμς τρι$κοντα νδράσιν πιτρΨαι τν πóλιν τῇ πολιτεᾳ χρσθαι ν Δρακοντδης πφαινεν Commenting on the last clause the judicious Thirlwall observes that ‘the precise meaning of these words is very doubtful. There is almost equal difficulty, whether we suppose that they refer to a proposition then made, or to one which was to be made, by Dracontides.’ Thirlwall has not expressed his meaning as precisely as Lysias; the uncertainty lies, not in the words, nor in the reference intended by Lysias, but in the mind of the historian, who is conscious that, whether he refers the proposition of Dracontides to the occasion indicated by Lysias or to another, he will encounter almost equal difficulty. The difficulty however, arising from the apparent inconsistencies in the evidence of the ancient authorities on the date of the appointment of the Thirty, is not Thirlwall's only, and after a century of discussion it still vexes every student of the period.

The last play of the Varronian canon, Vidularia, is transmitted to us through two different channels. Some pages of it survive in the Codex Ambrosianus, containing the prologue and a couple of scenes from the beginning of the play. On the other hand grammarians quote fragments of a few lines out of context, as examples of idiosyncratic Latin syntax and morphology. From the combination of these two disparate sources classical scholars have reconstructed a Vidularia that is parallel to Rudens on all major points. The plot is not very different, and on the whole the consensus philologorum is correctly summed up by the Terentian sentence of Leo: qui utramve recte novit, ambas noverit (p. 10).

Horace's Asterie ode (3.7) has been somewhat neglected by critics. Fraenkel, uninterested in the erotic odes, fails to mention it, and others see it as merely counterbalancing the preceding six Roman Odes by its frivolity and light irony. However, it is one of Horace's most subtle and best-organized erotic odes, matching the more obvious conventions of Latin love-elegy with a romanticized Odyssey as an underlying framework.

Among the many codices carried by Cassiodorus when he returned to Italy from Constantinople in the early 550s was a copy of the chronicle of Marcellinus, an Illyrian who had lived for many years in Constantinople before writing his chronicle in A.D. 518/519. The chronicle covered events from 379 to the death of Anastasius (518) and was later continued by Marcellinus to 534.1 That the chronicle is preserved at all is due partly to the fact that Cassiodorus recommended it in his reading guide for monks, the Institutiones (c. 555), where it is included under the heading ‘Christian Historians’ (Inst. 1. 17). If you want to know which chroniclers to read, says Cassiodorus, then begin with Jerome's translation of Eusebius and his own continuation of Eusebius to 378. Of all the continuators of Jerome Cassiodorus recommends Marcellinus and Prosper, but in mentioning Marcellinus he digresses slightly to include some valuable and unique information which he had picked up while in Constantinople on Marcellinus' public career.

Much has been written about the problematic passage towards the end of the Medea prologue-speech, in which the Nurse expresses fear concerning the intention(s) of her mistress; problematic both in itself, especially as to the interpretation of lines 40–2, and in relation to lines 379–80, which are almost the same as 40–1; a most suspicious circumstance.

The uneasiness caused by deberent loqui is reflected in the variant readings and the emendations put forward. Is there in fact a personal subject? To understand iuvenes is possible but clumsy, but if the tragic poets themselves are intended, then these great writers are strangely selfish. Petronius surely is talking about the proper language for good oratory (cf. 2. 7), which depends on a healthy literary language in general. This rules outWilamowitz's too particular and Fuchs's uglier supplements: easier than deceret would be deberet, paralleled almost exactly in Petronius’ contemporary, Seneca (de Ira 3. 3. 1). Deberent and deberemus were doubtless due to a desire to provide a personal subject for the misunderstood impersonal verb.

Since geography was one of the accepted branches of Ionian Ίστορíη, it is not surprising that geographical description and discussion should play so large a part in the work of Herodotus. Nor is it surprising that, since he covered so much ground, he should occasionally borrow information from his predecessors. Apart from particular passages where comparison with the fragments of Hecataeus shows that he borrowed from this author's Periegesis, there are numerous others which, although strictly relevant fragments are lacking, by their style and manner betray the influence of Hecataeus. The so-called ΛιβυκῸσ λΌγος for example, in Book IV is full of the conventional formulae familiar to anyone who has studied the fragments; consequently Jacoby is prepared to say that it provides even more valuable material for the method and style of Hecataeus than the treatment of Egypt in Book II, where more specific evidence of borrowing is available. There are countless other passages and isolated sentences where the style suggests, if not actual dependence on the text of Hecataeus, at least adherence to the Hecataean tradition of geographical description.

Anonymous, Vita Aeschyli 9 ( =TGF 3 T Al.30–32 Radt) preserves the following startling report concerning Aeschylus:

Some say that at the performance of the Eumenides, by bringing on the chorus one by one, as he did, he terrified the audience so that children swooned and fetuses were aborted.

Philostratus remarks on the terseness of the letters of Apollonius of Tyana (Vita Apoll. 7.35, cf. 4.27), and letter 61 is a good example of that stylistic feature. Addressed to a Lesbonax, it says: ᾽Agr;νἀχαπσις ó Σκὑθης ῆν σπφóς εí δὲ Σκὐθης, ὃτι καì ϳκὐθης (‘Anacharsis the Scythian was a sage.. And if he was a Scythian, then it was because he was a Scythian that he was a sage’). In my commentary to the letters, I observed that Apollonius is drawing here on the tradition of the Scythians as an idealized race, unspoiled by the cultivations of Greek city life, and is implicitly criticizing his contemporaries in the Greek world for not living up to the high ideals of Hellenism. I compared a critical remark in letter 34 that alludes to Euripides, Orestes 485: “ἐβαπβαπὡθ” οὐ “χπóνιος ὢν ἀφ’ ‘Ελλἁδι. More can now be said.

As far as I am aware, it has generally been taken for granted that ‘Kato’ in the pentameter must be vocative. The double vocative ‘Visce’—‘Kato’ does not seem objectionable if ‘non’ were repeated as first word of the pentameter (e.g., as Professor Nisbet suggests, ‘non ego, Visce, / non quadrupla, Kato, …). None the less this is unexpected, and it seems at least worth considering the possibility that 'Kato’ might be nominative. The most plausible (if not the only) way of accounting for a nominative would be as subject of a relative clause. Further consequences would follow almost inevitably: the word-ending doubtfully read

These seem to be regarded as quite a different type of building from houses.

The terminology used of them is to a large extent distinct. The only case of extensive overlapping has probably a special stylistic reason.

The main words involved are κλισίη (soldiers' hut or herdsman's cottage), αύλή (yard or farmyard), μσσαυλος (animal enclosure), and σταθμός/–οί (the whole complex of farm buildings). The evidence is scanty: in the Iliad there are a number of passages relating to soldiers' huts, and a few mentions of farms in similes and in the Shield section. In the Odyssey there is Eumaeus' farm. This is virtually all. There is also, inevitably, a dearth of archaeological evidence for country buildings, since the remains of these are apt to be less noticeable, and often less durable, than those of large settlements.

A few years ago, as part of an investigation of the authenticity of Prometheus Bound, I published figures for the occurrence of non-Aeschylean words in that play, as compared with two undisputedly Aeschylean plays (Th., Pers.) and with one Sophoclean play (Aj.) The figures showed that Prom, contained a greater number of words not found elsewhere in the surviving plays of Aeschylus (Eigenwörter); and also that, like Soph. Aj., but unlike the six undisputed plays of Aeschylus, it contained a relatively large number of Eigenwörter that occur more than once in the play, some of them quite common and familiar words. The discrepancy between Prom, and the two Aeschylean plays chosen for comparison was quite marked; and the high rate of repeated Eigenwörter for Soph. Aj. seemed to confirm that this criterion might be a good one for distinguishing unAeschylean characteristics in a non-Aeschylean play. But the sample was very small, and I was conscious that the criterion (or the particular application of it) was somewhat arbitrary; I was therefore not very confident of the value of my findings.

At Pliny, Ep. 5. 18 we read that Macer, the recipient of that letter, has a villa which Pliny says must be lovely, because in qua [sc. villa] se composuerat homo felicior, antequam felicissimus fieret. The identity of this homo felicior is undoubtedly of some interest, but the latest commentary on Pliny's Letters (that of A. N. Sherwin-White) has nothing to say on the matter. However, B. Radice in her two translations of the Letters (Loeb and Penguin eds.) says that the person in question is Nerva, but adds as a second possibility ‘the dictator Sulla’. In this ambivalence she is at one with many of the older commentators on the Letters. Alone among the commentators examined by us, M. Gesner (following Cortius) elects to give preference to Sulla over Nerva. We believe Sulla is certainly the owner in question, but since the ambiguity persists in the scholarly tradition, a fresh look should be taken at the problem and the case against Nerva and for Sulla be put more fully than hitherto.

In using the phrase homo felicior, antequam felicissimus fieret without actually naming the person, it is clear that Pliny takes it for granted that the individual in question will be immediately recognizable to Macer, the recipient of the letter, by this description. It follows, therefore, that the phrase had become well established as a commonplace, inevitably and unambiguously linked to one person only. All of our evidence suggests that it cannot be applied to Nerva. First of all it is likely that such a phrase would need time to become accepted into the tradition so as to become readily identifiable, whereas Pliny was writing only a relatively short time after Nerva's reign.