Plutarch concludes his chapter on the Rhetra (Lye. 6) with six lines of Tyrtaios:

φο⋯βου ⋯κο⋯ςσαντες Πυθων⋯θεν οἴκαδ' ἔνεικαν1

μαντε⋯ας τε θεο⋯ κα⋯ τελ⋯εντ' ἔπεα

ἄρχειν μ⋯ν βουλῦς θεοτιμ⋯τους βασιλ⋯ας

οἷσι μ⋯λει Σπ⋯ρτας ἱμερ⋯εσσα π⋯λις

πρεσβ⋯τας τε γ⋯ροντας, ἔπειτα δ⋯ δημ⋯τας ἄνδρας

πὐθε⋯αις ῥ⋯τραις ⋯ντααπαμειβομ⋯νους.

These lines are quoted to confirm Plutarch's statement, that the Kings who added the last clause to the Rhetra (what I have called Clause III, α⋯ δ⋯ οκολι⋯ν, etc.) ‘persuaded the city [to accept this addition] on the grounds that it was part of the God's command'. On Plutarch's view, the two Kings added an extra clause to an oracle, and justified their action by alleging that Delphi had authorized the clause. It is not immediately obvious how Tyrtaios’ lines confirm this view. The Delphic utterance whose substance is given in lines 3–6 approximately paraphrases parts of Clauses I and I I (γερωσἰαν σὺρχαγ⋯ταις … τοὺτως εἰσφ⋯ρειν … δ⋯μω δ' ⋯ντααγορ⋯ααν ἦμεν), but where is Clause III ? The burden has to be borne by the one word εὐθε⋯αις: ‘the Kings and gerontes shall initiate business, the demos shall reply with undistorted rhetrai’ or ‘shall respond to the rhetrai without distorting them’ (according as we take the dative ῥ⋯τραις as instrumental or as a true dative). If εὐθε⋯αις is given enough weight, the oracle which Tyrtaios quotes may be held to forbid the ‘excessive amendment’ against which Clause III was (in Plutarch's view) aimed.

In the Antiatticista, as we call the scanty excerpt of a lexicon of the second century A.D., so abbreviated as to be often unintelligible, we find on p. 86. 20 the following article: Γενέσια ⋅ оὔσης тε έоρтῆς &lsqbтῆς&rsqb δημотελоũς 〈έν〉 &rsquoΑθήνααις, ΒоB7δρоγιѿνоς ΠέμΠтηι, Γενέσια καλоυένμς, καθόтι øησί Φιλόχоρоς καί Σόλων έν тоȊς &rsquoΑξоσι, καί тῆς тоũ όνόμαтоς χρήσεως оὔσης &rsquoΕλλ:ηνικῆς, тί κιλúει μή μόνоν έΠὶ тῆς δημотελоũς έоρтῆς á»á καί έΠί тῆςίδίας έκáσтоυ тáσσεσθα&iota. What rouses our interest in this note is not the domestic quarrel between the Atticists of a stricter and of a more lenient observance about the meaning and the use of the word, but the facts themselves, which in the present case are fortunately clear enough. The lexicographer knows two entirely different facts: a material fact, the existence of a State festival in Athens called Genesia and celebrated on the 5th of Boedromion; a linguistic fact, the ’Ελλινικǹ χαῆσις which denotes by Γενέσια not this State festival but some private celebration. For the latter, it is important to observe that by &rsquoΕλλἠνικὴ χαῆσις the lexicographer does not mean Hellenistic Greek nor the usage of his own day, but the occurrence of the word in those authors whom the strict Atticists do not take as models of style, or who are not held to be Attic writers: it is to such authors, at least, that the lexicographer appeals in the preceding gloss: he there quotes ΕὐριΠίδης “Іωνι (653; 805) for γενέθλια and Herodotos (4. 26) for γενέσια. The latter passage could be the evidence for his linguistic fact, that ‘Hellenic usage’ applies the word γενέσια to a private celebration.

[Sir Stephen Gaselee, who died in June 1943, was, as is widely known, a devoted student of Petronius. He read the book first in 1901 when he was still at Eton; two years later he already possessed nearly a hundred Petroniana and was distributing to booksellers a short bibliography which he had compiled in order that they might help to fill the gaps in his collection. Petronius was the subject of the Fellowship dissertation which he submitted unsuccessfully at King's in 1908. It comprised a copy of Buecheler's editio minor (ed. 4,1904) interleaved with foolscap sheets on which was written a critical and epexegetical commentary, and a substantial volume of typescript entitled Some Materials for an Edition of Petronius and dealing with the personality of the author, the place of his book in Classical literature, its literary history, the manuscripts, and the printed editions. The last section was presently expanded into a long paper which, with a handlist, was presented to the Bibliographical Society in 1909. In the following year appeared a large and expensive reprint of the earliest English translation of Petronius (1694) for which Gaselee supplied an introduction and a Latin text. In 1915 he published at his own cost a collotype facsimile of that part of the Codex Traguriensis which contains the Cena Trimalchionis, adding a preface and an annotated transcript of the facsimile. In 1916 Gaselee went to the Foreign Office and, except for a brief interval in 1919, worked there until his death. He continued to collect Petroniana and to note in his interleaved text parallel passages and suggestions of other scholars, but the leisure necessary for the preparation of his own edition was never at his disposal. Thenceforward his contributions to the subject are both few and slight.

Since it is only natural that lovers of a great poet's work should seek to defend their favourite from the charge of plagiarism, most of the scholars who have discussed the problem of the relationship between the Medeas of Neophron and Euripides have, whether consciously or unconsciously, approached their task in no very impartial spirit. Yet the prejudice against acknowledging Euripides' indebtedness to his predecessor is an unreasonable one, for a great tragedy or a great work of art of any kind must be aesthetically judged without regard to its forerunners. For instance, we do not think any the worse of Antony and Cleopatra or of its author when we notice that ‘The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne’, etc., and many other fine passages in that play are taken almost verbatim from Sir Thomas North. If we bear in mind then that whatever the result of our inquiry it will not affect adversely the reputation of Euripides' great work, we cannot fail to be impressed by the tenuous nature of the arguments by which scholars have convinced themselves of the chronological priority of Euripides' Medea as against Neophron's.

The notes of W. S. Maguinness on the Corpus Tibullianum contain several things which strike me as either true or at least highly plausible. In the above passage, however, I think both he and Postgate have missed the point of the first word. Tibullus has been telling the story of how Apollo turned herdsman for love's sake. He insists several times over that it is a story, not a thing he can vouch for. The infinitives in 14 a-c make it sufficiently evident that the lost pentameter began with fertur or dicitur; in 18, Artemis dicitur to have blushed for her brother's unseemly occupation; in 29, fertur that the gods used to serve Venus openly. The same line reminds us that these stories refer to old days, olim. Now comes the couplet in question.

Plutarch, Aet. Graec. 5, p. 292 B: “Τ⋯νεσ οἱ παρ' ‘Αρκ⋯σι κα⋯ δακεδσιμον⋯οισ χρηοτο⋯;” δακεδαιμ⋯νιοι Τεγε⋯ταισ διαλλαγ⋯ντεσ ⋯ποι⋯σαντο συνθ⋯κασ κα⋯ στ⋯λην ⋯π' 'αλΑει⋯ι κοιν⋯ν ⋯ν⋯στησαν, ⋯ν ἧι μετ⋯ τ⋯ν γ⋯γραπται Μεσσην⋯ουσ ⋯κβαλεῖν ⋯κ τ⋯σ χὠρασ κα⋯ μ⋯ ⋯ξεῖναι χρηστοὺσ ποιεῖν. ⋯ξηγο⋯μενοσ οὖν ⋯ 'αριστοτελησ τοὖτο πησι δυνασθαι το μ⋯ ⋯ποκτινν⋯ναι βοηθε⋯νασ χ⋯ριν τοῖσ λακωνιζονσιν τ⋯ν Τεγεατ⋯ν.

Ennius began his Annals with a prayer to the Muses:

(I.V.) Musae quae pedibus magnum pulsatis Olympum.

In this he differs from his predecessors. Livius in his Odusia had substituted Camena for Homer's Μοῦσα, and the ‘novem Iovis concordes sorores’ to whom Naevius addresses himself in the Carmen Belli Punici also bore the name of Camenae, as we may infer with some confidence from Naevius' epitaph: ‘Immortales mortales si foret fas flere Flerent divae Camenae Naevium poetam.’ The mysterious Carmen Priami likewise speaks of the Camenae: ‘Veteres Casmenas cascam rem volo profari.’ For general reasons it seems unlikely that before Ennius' time the Romans were altogether unfamiliar with the name of Musae. Evidence, however, to show that they knew it is not available. Nevertheless, even if the name Musae was known, in invoking their patronage for his poem Ennius is making a departure from the habits of earlier poetry, of which he is both conscious and proud. In the beginning of the seventh book he speaks with scorn of his predecessor Naevius: ‘scripsere alii rem Versibus quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant Cum neque Musarum scopulos…’ Now the reign of the Muses begins, and the grave virus of the Saturnian line is driven out by the munditiae of the hexameter.

The clear affinity between Quintilian's art-criticism (xii. 10. 3–9) and the comparable portions of Pliny's Natural History has often been remarked. Pliny's principal sources for his chapters on art have long been recognized as going back through Varro to the great third-century critics, Xenocrates of Sicyon and Antigonus of Carystus, the latter of whom worked over Xenocrates' treatise and incorporated new material of his own; an earlier Greek source was Duris of Samos, on whom Antigonus drew for the anecdotic element in his tradition. The careful work of many patient scholars has been successful in disentangling to a considerable extent the characteristic contributions of these and other authorities to Pliny's medley of information. On the other hand, Quintilian's incursion into the same field seems never to have been studied independently, but only incidentally to research on the Plinian sources. The purpose of this paper is to examine Quintilian's contribution afresh; my indebtedness to earlier studies, in particular to those of Robert, will be readily apparent.

Professor Fraenkel in his recent very illuminating article on ‘The Stars in the Prologue of the Rudens’ (C.Q. xxxvi. 10 ff.) has explained how a Greek poet at the end of the fourth century could describe the stars as the messengers of Zeus and as his regular and, so to speak, professional informants on the sins and evil deeds of human beings. He also comments on the idea that the sins are recorded in Heaven (eorum referimus nomina exscripta ad Iovem) and says—rightly as I hope to show—that this idea ‘though more familiar to us from Semitic sources is a genuine Hellenic belief’. Following Friedrich Marx, he quotes a fragment from Euripides' Melanippe (506 N.2).

In the above paper I suggested that in Anth. Pal. ix. 519 and xi. 12 Philip V of Macedon was himself the Cyclops and the Centaur, and that these two identifications were not only appropriate to Philip's character (as popularly interpreted), but also historically associated with the Argead dynasty. In my case for the ‘Centaur’ identification, however, I overlooked one of the most important pieces of evidence, though it had been available since 1926; and that is the meaning of the word κέντανυος In an article published that year E. H. Sturtevant showed that κέντανυος is a word of Thraco-Macedonian origin with the same meaning as the Greek ϕίλɩππος. The first part κενττ– is the κενττ– οΤ κενθ which is a constituent of several Thracian personal names, e.g. Aulu-centus, Aulu-centius, Ἐπται-κενθος, Zipa-centhus, etc. (almost a score are quoted by Sturtevant). The second half of the word, avro-, occurs in Ἀβρο-ξελμης, Ἀβρου-πολις Ἀβρο-τονον etc. (with such variants as Αὐλου-ξελμις, Ἀλλου-πορις, which led Tomaschek to suggest that ἀβρο(υ)- and αὐλο(υ)- are alternative forms of the same word). Already Tomaschek had identified κεντ- with the Greek ϕιλ-, and had argued that Thracian avro- ‘was borrowed from Iranian neighbours of the Thracians. Avestan aurva-, aurvañt (“runner, swift”) is strikingly similar in form to Thracian avro-, avrū-, and the Avestan word applies so frequently to the horse that it might easily come to mean ”horse”’. From a combination of the two forms Sturtevant gets the convincing κένταυρος (cf. the reverse form Aulu-centus) = ϕίλιππος.

A Study of the sources of a Plutarchan Life may be excused on two grounds: first, a knowledge of the sources is important for a critical evaluation of the Life's historical worth; and second, such a study is instructive for the understanding of Plutarch's methods of composition, which, in its turn, helps considerably in the historical evaluation. For this second object the Titus is particularly well suited, since the problem, owing to the survival in large part of his main source, is infinitely simpler than in many of the other Lives, and it is on these grounds that the present study seeks to justify itself.

Delia is being carefully watched and the door is locked to keep her in and her lover out (lines 5–6). It is hardly reasonable to suppose that she has in these circumstances been left in possession of the key; it is presumably in the custody of the ianitor. According to Ovid(A.A. iii. 643), what girls in this situation did was to have a duplicate key (adultera clauis) fabricated for use when occasion offered.

The Delphin Ed. note ‘Par. pro fixo habet fcdso’ may, of course, record what is merely a correction. Falso may, on the other hand, have arisen from a gloss on a reading ficto in a manuscript prior to those extant, which could easily have degenerated to fixo. This reading would sufficiently improve the sense of the passage to merit consideration, for lines 17 ff., while couched in general terms, clearly refer to the situation in which Tibullus and Delia are placed and describe the kind of behaviour by which they are to merit Venus' aid.

This famous sentence, which opens the address of the Demiurge to the created gods, has puzzled commentators both ancient and modern. We must, I think, agree with Taylor and Cornford, who both discuss it at length, that no sense can be got out of θεọἰ θε⋯ν taken together, i.e. with a comma after θε⋯ν: I need notreproduce their arguments on this point. Accordingly they punctuate after θεọἰ. Taylor, however, thinks that even so the sentence cannot be translated, and accepts Badham's proposal to read ộδων in place of θε⋯ν ⋯ν. He then takes ộδων ἒπγων as an instance of ‘inverse relative attraction’ and translates ‘Ye gods, works whereof I am maker and father, seeing they were fashioned by my hands, are indissoluble without my consent’. Cornford objects to ộδων on the grounds that it creates an objectionable hiatus between the first two words (and it is true that the Timaeus is very sparing of hiatus), and also that it destroys what he finds to be the dominant rhythm of the whole speech, and particularly of this first sentence. That rhythm is Cretic: θεọἰ θε⋯ν ⋯ν ẻγὠ δημωνπγ⋯ς πατ⋯π ἒπγων: which he compares the famous opening of the De Corona τοῖς θεοῖς ε⋯χομα π⋯δ κα⋯ π⋯δς. I am, however, doubtful about the cogency of this argument from rhythm, as I have noticed a number of places in the dialogue where a similar rhythm occurs to all appearance naturally:

58 A κα⋯ ππ⋯ς αὐτὐν πεφνκνῖα βοὑλεδθα.

66 C ⋯δὺ κα⋯ ποδφλ⋯ς παντ⋯ π⋯ν.

70 A τ⋯ν τε δ⋯ καπδ⋯αν ⋯μμ⋯των.

77 A τ⋯ς γ⋯π ⋯νθπωπ⋯νης δνγγεν⋯

81 δ⋯γκλεν αὐτ⋯ν ππ⋯ς ἂλληλα κ⋯κτηα.

J. M. C. Toynbee's study ‘Nero Artifex: the Apocolocyntosis Reconsidered’, C.Q. xxxvi, 1942, 83–93, has the double merit of questioning what had never been questioned—the dating of the Apocolocyntosis about A.D. 54–5—and of making many valuable observations on the importance of the Neronia of A.D. 60. But the attempt to transfer to these Neronia the Apocolocyntosis, the Carmina by Calpurnius, the second of the Carmina Einsiedlensia, and, to a certain extent also, Lucan's De Bello Civili, seems to me, if I may anticipate my conclusions, entirely misleading.

Every student of Plato will be inclined to admit that, among his dialogues, the Parmenides is one of the hardest to understand. The attempt to elucidate it has continued since ancient times, but even to-day we still lack a definitive interpretation. The first part of the dialogue is relatively simple; it is with the second that the great difficulty begins. Two questions are raised: firstly, how this part is to be understood, and, secondly, how it is related to the first part.

Enn. I. vi. 1. (p. 87, 1. 6) 9 π⋯ν μ⋯ν γ⋯ρ ἄμορφον, πεφυκ⋯ς μορφ⋯ν κα⋯ εἶδος δ⋯χεσθαι ἄμοιρν ⋯ν λ⋯γον κα⋯ εἴδους εἴδονς αἰσχρ⋯ν κα⋯ ἒξω θε⋯ου λ⋯γον. It is strange that no one seems to have questioned ἒξω θε⋯ου λ⋯γον which, after ἄμοιρν ⋯ν λ⋯γον is merely tautologous: and what point is there here in ‘divine reason’? Since, in these chapters on ‘beauty’, Plotinus has the Phaedrus much in mind, it is natural to suppose that what he wrote was ἒξω θε⋯ου λ⋯γον borrowed from Phaedr. 247 A.

In the foregoing parts of this paper I have sought, first (in A. Plutarch's Text) to recover Plutarch's text of the Rhetra, which I believe to be also Aristotle's text. It is evident that Aristotle knew and commented on this Rhetra: I take it as my hypothesis that his account of it in his Spartan Constitution was substantially the same as what Plutarch gives us.

It is customary to consider late Imperial historiography as a barren waste of meagre and inaccurate chronicles and incompetent rhetorical epitomes, all overshadowed by the giant figure of Ammianus Marcellinus, the greatest literary genius, as E. Stein has called him (with some exaggeration), between Tacitus and Dante. In fact, however, the fifth century A.D. produced at least one writer who was, in the words of Niebuhr, ‘second to no historian even of the best ages in talent, good faith and wisdom; elegant and very pure in style, he justly acquired praise and glory both among contemporaries and succeeding ages’. Niebuhr was referring to Priscus of Panium in Thrace, but Priscus was a member of a school of historical writing which had been founded earlier in the fifth century by Olympiodorus, an historian of scarcely less merit than Priscus and author of what J. B. Bury called ‘a highly important work’. Since even Schmid-Stahlin are not able to refer to a single essay or mono-graph on Olympiodorus, it may not be amiss to assemble the facts which are known about him and to try to discover, so far as the scanty materials permit, what sort of man he was and what sort of work he produced.

The far west in Hesiod's world is confused, and probably reflects a dim knowledge drawn from the Phoenicians in Sicily, where the Greeks bought Tartessian silver. Beneath myths and traditions we may discern a few historical facts: the dynasty of the Tartessian kings, the Phoenician wars with King Geron of Tartessos (about the turn of the ninth to eighth centuries), followed by the ‘Phoenician Thalassocracy’ and a Tartessian attempt to establish direct commercial relations with Sardinia.