Modern knowledge of the grammarian Consentius’ De barbarismis et metaplasmis, a work valuable for the study of the Latin language, dates back to a relatively recent past: it was only in 1817 that its editio princeps was published by Ph.C. Buttmann, just a few years after the legal scholar A.W. Cramer came across a mention of the then unknown treatise in a ninth-century MS in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek of Munich, numbered Clm 14666. Based on this solitary manuscript, H. Keil published the short treatise in the fifth volume of his Grammatici Latini. With no little enthusiasm did W.M. Lindsay announce his unearthing of what, in his own words, had ‘long been a “desideratum”, a second authority’ for this text, in the MS F 15 III d at the Universitätsbibliothek Basel; this was followed by E.O. Winstedt's complete collation and M. Niedermann's critical edition. After about a century now there comes to light a third authority, surprisingly enough in a codex which has enjoyed such fame in the past decades that one might wonder how Consentius could have gone unnoticed in it for so long: this is the eleventh-century MS of Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana Lat. Z. 497 (= 1811), in which the De barbarismis et metaplasmis is contained on fols. 84vb 39 - 90va 39; moreover, a so-far-unnoticed quotation from it (32.9-14), together with one from Consentius’ De nomine et uerbo (Consent. gramm. V 353.6-7), is found on fol. 41vb 16–21 of the same manuscript in a famous grammatical florilegium. The codex, written in Romanesque minuscule and probably originating in Rome, is regarded as a handbook of liberal arts designed by Lawrence Archbishop of Amalfi, formerly a monk at Montecassino, thereafter a teacher in Florence and Rome, where he died in about 1049. Based on palaeographical evidence, F.L. Newton rightfully assumed as an exemplar for this codex a MS in Beneventan script, as some features can be detected that betray the scribal imitation of that typical South Italian script, namely the use of the distinctive abbreviation for eius as ‘ei in ligature with stroke through the descender of the i’, the Beneventan ti ligature for the assibilated sound, and the 2-shaped Beneventan interrogation sign, to which I would add the typical abbreviation for in as a long i cut by a horizontal stroke and the confusion of a and t. Interestingly enough, none of these features is found on fols. 66–95, those containing the new Consentius: from a codicological point of view, this is an autonomous section, written by a different scribe from the rest of the MS and preserving some grammatical texts generally attributed to insular authors, such as Smaragdus’ Liber in partibus Donati (fols. 66–81vb) and part of the compilation entitled Pauca de barbarismo (fols. 81vb - 84vb), which precedes the De barbarismis et metaplasmis; not surprisingly, the new text of Consentius displays numerous features of the Insular script, such as the symbols for enim, autem, eius, est, nihil and et. On this basis it is most likely that this whole section was never included in the Beneventan exemplar, but was added at the time and place of copying of our MS in order to enrich the grammatical content.

At the end of the twenty-eighth chapter of the eighth book of the Natural History Aristotle says: , and goes on to narrate a strange story of the method employed to procure the hybrid. Though the details are entirely fabulous, it has not been doubted that the Indian dog was a real animal. In de Generatione Animalium 746a34 he says more cautiously What then was this creature ? Sundevall declines to commit himself. Aubert and Wimmer think perhaps a jackal, for they hold that the θώς of Aristotle was no jackal. But apart from other considerations there is not the slightest reason for saying that θώς does not mean a jackal in Aristotle as much as in other authors; if some of his statements about it are not true, no more are most of his statements about the lion. Yet this absurd notion that the ‘Indian dog’ was perhaps a jackal is adopted in the Berlin Index 419a15. If we look to India for a dog really foreign to the Greeks we are of course at once confronted with the genus Cyon, familiar to all readers of the Jungle Books as the Red Dog; accordingly our problematical Indian has been identified also with this. One would not think that anybody who had ever seen a specimen of Cyon would dream of calling it a cross between a dog and a tiger. It is true, however, that Aristotle believed that the Laconian hound was descended from a cross between dog and fox (the ⋯λωπεκ⋯δεδ of Xen. Cyn. iii. 1 are also said to be so), and that the ancients were very reckless in making guesses of this kind; so the Arabs say that the cheetah is a ‘breed between the lion and the pard’! (Jerdon's Mammals of India, 1874, p. 114).

The Passio Typasii survives in only one manuscript and was published for the first time in 1890. It purports to describe the trial and death of a Mauretanian martyr, a military veteran by the name of Typasius, during the Diocletianic persecution. However as recently demonstrated its literary borrowings, from the Breviarium of Eutropius and the Vita Martini of Sulpicius Severus, suggest that it is a mere fiction and that it should be dated after c. A.d. 396. It is the purpose of this note to draw attention to its preservation of an otherwise unattested title, that of the praepositus saltus, and to expand upon the significance of this title for the interpretation of the work. This title only occurs fully in one passage, being elsewhere abbreviated to praepositus, and this passage is of some interest therefore.

There can be few Greek prose authors who outdo Plutarch in fondness for elaborate similes, and a determination to sustain at length vocabulary appropriate to both objects of comparison within the simile, once it is embarked upon. In the essay Quomodo adulescens (Mor. 32e) he uses a favourite image, in which a young man aspiring to be educated in quality literature is recommended to follow the example of the bee, which extracts material for its honey from the most pungent plants: μν οὖν μλιττα ϕυσικς ν τοῖς δριμνττοις ἄνθεσι κα ταῖς τραχντταις κνθαις ξανενρσκει τ λειτατον μλι κα χρησιμώτατον, οἱ δ παῖδες, ἂν ρθς ντρϕωνται τοῖς ποιμασιν, κα π τν ϕαλονς κα τπους ὑποψας χντων ἕλκειν τι χρσιμον μωσγπως μαθησναι κα ὠϕλιμον. In another such essay (De recta, Mor. 41e–42b) he elaborates this theme at greater length as follows:

In his prefatory epistle dedicating his Naturalis Historia to Vespasian, the elder Pliny takes great pains to plead that his magnum opus (which at praef. 1 he compares with Catullus' nugae!) is unworthy of the emperor: ‘maiorem te sciebam, quam ut descensurum hue putarem’ (praef. 6). Continuing in this vein, Pliny goes on to say ‘praeterea est quaedam publica etiam eruditorum reiectio’, and appeals for support to the great Cicero: ‘utitur ilia et M. Tullius extra omnem ingenii aleam positus, et, quod miremur, per aduocatum defenditur’ (praef. 7). Cicero's aduocatus is the satirist Lucilius, from whom a mangled fragment in trochaic septenarii is then quoted: ‘nec doctissimis. Manium Persium haec legere nolo, Iunium Congum uolo.’ The sense of this fragment, which Pliny very probably quoted from the now-lost beginning of Cicero's preface to his De Re Publica, can be restored from Cicero, De Oratore 2.25: ‘nam ut C. Lucilius…dicere solebat ea quae scriberet neque ab indoctissimis se neque a doctissimis legi uelle, quod alteri nihil intelligerent, alteri plus fortasse quam ipse; quo etiam scripsit “Persium non curo legere” (hie enim fuit, ut noramus, omnium fere nostrorum hominum doctissimus), “Laelium Decimum uolo” (quem cognouimus uirum bonum et non illiteratum, sed nihil ad Persium): sic ego…’. This latter passage has allowed the former to be restored, to some extent exempli gratia, to the following form in Warmington's and Krenkel's editions of Lucilius

This is our well received text of Propertius' celebrated address to the shades of Callimachus and Philitas at 3.1.1–2:

Callimachi Manes et Coi sacra Philitae,

in vestrum, quaeso, me sinite ire nemus.

Well received it may be, but scholarly worries and disagreements about the precise meaning of sacra, and indeed about the real purpose of the address, perhaps have diverted editors' eyes from a possible corruption. I would like to suggest that the pairing of ethnic adjective and personal name, Coi and Philitae, in line 1 may not be Propertian.

Terence was studied, though not so much as Virgil, in monastery-schools. Their magistri bestirred themselves to get aid for pupils. Some famous magister— we know not who—had written, between the lines or in the margins, interpretations of difficult words in at least the three opening plays of the MS. which he used—Andr., Ad., Eun.—if not in all. These interpretations (glossae) were collected from his MS. and found their way into many monastery-libraries. Goetz has published these glossae collectae of Terence from a tenth (?) century MS. (Vat. lat. 1471) in Vol. V. of his Corpus Glossariorum Latinorum, pp. 529–539; Mr. Austin (Class. Quart. XIX. 104) has added more from a Leyden MS. (67 F), written apparently in Belgium or Holland, c. 800–815 A.D. (see Palae. Lat., Part V.). Probably Dr. Theander will add a further batch from a Paris MS. (Bibl. Nat. lat. 10588, ‘saec. IX. in.’).

This article offers a new interpretation of Apuleius’ story of Cupid and Psyche. Most scholars have previously offered a second-time reading of this story, according to which the reader reaches Book 11 and then looks back at Psyche's story of fall and redemption as a parallel for Lucius’ life. Following Graverini's and other scholars’ emotional approach to the Metamorphoses, I argue that the ecphrasis of Cupid's palace within the story of Cupid and Psyche includes multiple re-enactments of the novel's prologue. These re-enactments invite the reader to undertake a first-time and immersive reading of this story, which focusses on Psyche's experience of Cupid and her reaction to his epiphany. In its use of immersion, this article draws from recent developments in cognitive narratology and pushes scholars of Apuleius to focus on the reader's immersive and emotional response in order to reassess the value of a second-time reading of the Metamorphoses.

In Thucydides' account of Melesander's expedition with six ships to Caria and Lycia (2.69.1) there appears to me to be a difficulty which is universally ignored by commentators and fudged by translators. Thucydides describes the purpose of the expedition

Suetonius records that as Vespasian lay on his death-bed his dying words were Vae puto deus fio (Vespas. 23. 4). If we assume that Vespasian could hardly have believed that he was literally destined for divinity, it is an open question what exactly he intended by this remark. As a general rule scholars seem to have interpreted it as a sarcastic sneer at deification: one reads for example such statements as ‘Historically we do not associate the reign of Vespasian with the Emperor Cult.

‘As regards the exegetai three (in number) let the four tribes nominate four (men) each (man) from their own personnel, and let them (i.e. the State) scrutinize whichever three gain most votes and send nine to Delphi to appoint one from each group of three; the scrutiny and the age-qualification shall be the same for them as for the priests. Let these be exegetai for life; as regards a vacancy let the preliminary election be made by the four tribes in which the vacancy may occur.’

The Turin manuscript containing the first three books of Oppian' Halieutica was almost completely destroyed in the fire of 1904, but a collation of it has recently come to light. In 1811 the noted classical scholar and Orientalist Vittorio Amedeo Peyron collated the manuscript against Schneider' first edition of the poem (Strasbourg, 1776) and also transcribed the scholia. He sent his results to Schneider for use in the preparation of his second edition (Leipzig, 1813), but they apparently arrived too late. Although the original plan of this second edition called for the inclusion of the scholia, Schneider published only a text of the poem and turned over his materials on the scholia to G. H. Schaefer, including no doubt Peyron' collation of the Turin manuscript. Schaefer never did manage to produce his edition of the scholia and in some unknown way Peyron' collation and some of the other material came on to the open market in 1969.

Greek had held an important place in Roman society and culture since the Late Republican period, and educated Romans were expected to be bilingual and well versed in both Greek and Latin literature. The Roman school ‘curriculum’ was based on Hellenistic educational culture, and in the De grammaticis et rhetoribus Suetonius says that the earliest teachers in Rome, Livius and Ennius, were ‘poets and half Greeks’ (poetae et semigraeci), who taught both Latin and Greek ‘publicly and privately’ (domi forisque docuisse) and ‘merely clarified the meaning of Greek authors or gave exemplary readings from their own Latin compositions’ (nihil amplius quam Graecos interpretabantur aut si quid ipsi Latine composuissent praelegebant, Gram. et rhet. 1–2). Cicero, the Latin neoteric poets and Horace are obvious examples of bilingual educated Roman aristocrats, but also throughout the Imperial period a properly educated Roman would be learned in utraque lingua. The place of Greek in Quintilian's Institutio Oratoria reveals the importance and prevalence of Greek in Roman education and literature in the late first century a.d. Quintilian argues that children should learn both Greek and Latin but that it is best to begin with Greek. Famously, in the second century a.d. the Roman author Apuleius gave speeches in Greek to audiences in Carthage, and in his Apologia mocked his accusers for their ignorance of Greek.

This article addresses the view that Cicero's Pro Roscio Amerino contains ‘criticism’ of Sulla (the ‘anti-Sulla’ thesis). It argues that there is no evidence of criticism, that Cicero had no incentive to criticize Sulla, and that his attack is aimed solely against Chrysogonus. In particular, the article draws attention to the methodological implications of the ‘anti-Sulla’ thesis, arguing that it is unsound to second-guess Cicero's meaning, to project ‘sarcasm’ onto his words, or to suggest post euentum rewrites; these views, it is argued, owe more to preconceived scholarly notions of Sulla as a tyrant than to actual indications in the text. In addition, the notion that the speech was ‘courageous’ or ‘political’ is challenged, with emphasis being placed on the identity of the nobiles supporting Cicero: these Sullans had nothing to fear from Sulla but, equally, there is little reason to suppose that they were trying to attack him.1