It has long been noticed that Virgil's Eclogue 10, in which Gal I us plays so prominent a rôle, contains a combination of pastoral and elegiac elements. But this prompts the question: who was responsible for this combination? Was the fusion of pastoral and erotic-elegiac detail Virgil's own, or did Gallus himself write love-elegies with a strong pastoral colouring, a type of poetry which Virgil then echoed in Eclogue 10?

I AM glad that Dr. Fotheringham in the interesting paper which appeared in the Classical Quarterly (April, 1920, pp. 97–8) adhered to the view that ‘Caesar calculated the new moon for January 1 [45 B.C]…and that this calculation determined the inaugural day of the Julian calendar.’ As the object of my brief note, on which he commented, was merely to show that Groebe had failed to prove that the day in question was January 2, I have only a few questions to ask. But first, in justice to Judeich, I ought to say that his calculations, which Dr. Fotheringham notices, were made with the help of the assistant-astronomer attached to the observatory of the University of Strassburg. While Dr. Fotheringham admits that I was right in maintaining that the new moon of January 2, 45 B.C. (1.26 a.m.) was not visible on the evening of that day, he holds that Groebe was ‘fairly entitled to say’ that the new moon of March 24, 58 B.C. (4.40 p.m.), was visible on March 25. Dr. Fotheringham may be justified in saying that it ought ‘in normal [or abnormally fine ?] weather to have been visible that evening’; but, as I observed in my note, Groebe affirmed that in calculating the time of visibility of the crescent we should accept the mean of the Babylonian estimates, 36 hours—less, I should have added, in the early spring and the winter, more in the summer and autumn. Was he entitled to deduct 9 hours from the mean for an observation made not in the clear atmosphere of the East, but in Switzerland? Dr. Fotheringham tells us that ‘the shortest interval between a new moon and the observation of the moon by Schmidt's naked eye comes’ not, as Groebe said, to 29, but ‘to 25.7 hours.’ But forty-eight of Schmidt's forty-nine observations were made at Athens, where the atmosphere is clearer than in Switzerland. The great difference in visibility which a clear atmosphere makes must strike everyone who goes from this country or from Switzerland to the East or to Northern Africa. I realized it for the first time when I was exploring in Tunisia before the war. Has Dr. Fotheringham or any other trustworthy observer ever seen with the naked eye in an atmosphere no clearer than that of Geneva a moon not more than 27 hours old? If so, is it not remarkable that, as Dr. Fotheringham has said, ‘Hitherto it has been the practice to assume that [in the early spring or the winter and in favourable weather ?] the moon becomes visible on the first evening when she is more than 30 hours old at sunset’?

Allusions to the Panathenaia 1 in the final scene of the Eumenides have been pointed out by a number of scholars.2 Headlam identified the red robes of the Eumenides (, E. 1028) with the cloaks worn by the Metics in the Panathenaic procession.3 In Athena's pronouncement at 1030–1

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.

Since the days of Merula it has been regularly assumed by editors and critics of Ennius that, despite the express statement of Cicero to the contrary, the Annales did contain some narrative of the events of the first Punic War. Familiar as the passage in the Brutus is, it must be quoted once again: “Tamen illius quem uatibus et Faunis annumerat Ennius Bellum Punicum quasi Myronis opus delectat. Sit Ennius sane, ut est certe, perfectior: qui, si ilium, ut simulat, contemneret, non omnia bella persequens, primm illud Punicum, acerrimum bellum, reliquisset”.

Vergil has a strong idea of personal fate. A certain fate becomes attached to a certain person (or community) and follows him all his life; then the fates are spoken of as the fates of that person. As a parallel one might quote the idea in Maeterlinck's essay ‘La Chance’ (in the volume, he Temple enseveli, 1902, pp. 229 sqq.). For both Maeterlinck and Vergil men are marked out, one might almost call it annexed, by good or bad fortune; yet both authors refuse to endow this good or bad fortune with personality: they deal with personal fates which yet lack personality.

The motive of Clodius in attacking the validity of Caesar's laws in the latter part of 58 B.C. has been the subject of many conjectures on the part of modern historians. In a recent article1 Pocock has propounded a new theory as to the position and policy of the turbulent tribune, which is highly suggestive and deserving of a careful consideration. In the first place Pocock, in opposition to all previous historians, flatly denies that Clodius made any such attack at all, and offers a new explanation of the passage in Cicero's speech for his house where this is asserted. In the oration in question Cicero declares that Clodius called Bibulus before the people and by the testimony of the former consul showed that all Caesar's laws had been passed in disregard of the auspices, drawing from this the conclusion that they should all be annulled by the senate. If the conscript fathers would do this, Clodius offered to bring Cicero back on his own shoulders as the saviour of his country.2 Pocock believes that Cicero has flagrantly misrepresented Clodius and wilfully distorted his meaning. Some of Cicero's friends had denied the legality of Clodius' tribuneship and hence of the great orator's exile, and what Clodius did was to demonstrate that this denial logically involved the repudiation of all the Julian legislation. His offer to bring back Cicero was an ironical difiance, and amounted to telling the nobles that they had better not raise such a question unless they had the courage to cancel all Caesar's laws, something which he knew that they would not dare to do.

It has frequently been observed that the Prometheus Vinctus shows certain Sophoclean characteristics of rhythm. In order to vary the rhythm of his iambics and to avoid monotony, Sophocles often knits consecutive trimeters closely together by placing at the end of one line some word which looks forward to the next line, and so precludes the reader from stopping for the natural pause after the sixth foot. Sometimes he uses in this way subordinating words which introduce a dependent clause in the next line (Antig. 311); sometimes proclitics (O.C. 495) or quasi-proclitics (O.R. 267). (Sometimes, too, he even allows elision at the end of the trimeter, but this peculiarly Sophoclean device does not concern us now.)

The parodos of the Frogs is one of the most controversial passages in Aristophanes. Was it intended to parody the Eleusinian Mystery procession—or some other ritual? A writer wishing to discuss any part of the parodos must first outline his position with regard to this basic problem. I shall therefore as simply and briefly as possible state my own view and the reasons for it before dealing with the specific question posed by the title of the article.

The author of the Orphic Argonautica was, except by personal election, no poet. He was, however, a very devout reader of poetry and, had he only been Irradiated by the same Celestial Light, might well have been a Milton, for he went to work in very much the same way. Books, and not personal experience, were his guides. His mind was stored with the lines and phrases of other poets; he read his authors attentively: but he did not always understand them, and he lacked the Miltonic art of giving borrowed gems new value from their setting.

As the plan of the Oxford Bibliotheca does not allow an editor to justify his treatment of a text in detail, it is inevitable that misunderstandings should arise, and I see that even a competent Platonic scholar like C. Ritter has missed the point more than once in his recent Bericht (Jahresber. für Altertumsw., Vol. CLVII., 1912, 1). I make no complaint of that–it was inevitable–but I feel bound to put on record my views on at least the more important problems suggested by the text. First, however, I must say something about the MSS. and the use which I have made of them.

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.’).

The difficult and apparently inconsistent regulations by which certain marriages are forbidden in the Republic have not, it would seem, been consistently explained hitherto. It is the purpose of this article to prove that—if we read Plato's text without prejudice—marriages between brothers and sisters are nowhere prohibited, but expressly allowed; and that there are in the ideal city certain family groups, though I do not contend that any very great importance is to be attached to these.

The difficulty of τєἠν at 8 is notorious, and it has never been answered. The word refers back to Apollo, who has been invoked in the first line, but ‘it is not in accord with epic convention that, after the invocation, reference should be made to it’ (Seaton, CR xxviii [1914], 17). I suggest that we simply should not expect Apollonius to conform to the conventions of older epic: he does not do so in a number of other important respects. One is reminded here of the nervous restlessness of Callimachean poetry, particularly Cer. 25. There the goddess is addressed out of the blue with τìν δ’ αύτᾳ, and emendation is unconvincing. Perhaps τєἠν in Apollonius is even more abrupt than the example in Callimachus. Yet Apollonius seems on many occasions to carry further the devices of his master. The astonishing parenthesis at 1. 623 f. is a good example (for Callimachus see Lapp, De Call. Cyr. Tropis et Figuris (1965), 52 f, F. Bornmann, Call. Hymnus in Dianam, 1–li).

In C.Q. N.S. xv (1965), 293 f., in a discussion of the popularity of theyounger Pliny's Letters in the late fourth century, I adduced three passages of St. Jerome which reveal acquaintance with the Letters. The list may be extended.

Aristophanes' description of the stages of promotion in the Athenian navy recently received renewed attention, when Mastromarco and Halliwell enlisted it in their battle against the traditional opinion that Aristophanes' early career fell into two stages, a secret one of writing plays but not producing them, and a public one in which he undertook both activities. Mastromarco argues for a tripartite career, and Halliwell, who is against a too strict correlation, for a gradual development, a sort of a complex apprenticeship, which eventually he divides also into three stages similar to those discerned by Mastromarco. In summing up their position, MacDowell paraphrases the above passage according to its prevalent interpretation: ‘The nautical metaphor (541–4), with its progression from oarsman to prow-officer to helmsman, indicates that Aristophanes did not take over his task all at once, but by stages. But what were the stages?’

The Satyrica has long been associated with a Neronian courtier named Petronius, mentioned by Tacitus in his Annals. As such, the text is usually dated to the mid first century c.e. This view is so established that certain scholars have suggested it is ‘little short of perverse not to accept the general consensus and read the Satyrica as a Neronian text of the mid-60s ad’. In recent years, however, there has been a groundswell of support for re-evaluating this long-held position. Laird, after comparing the ‘form and content’ of the text to the Greek novel, came to the ‘unattractive’ conclusion that the text may be second century. Similarly, in two recent pieces in CQ, Roth argues that the manumission scene in the Cena establishes a new terminus post quem for the text; she suggests that the freedoms granted by Trimalchio closely parallel—and parody—descriptions of awarding ciuitas found in the letters of Pliny the Younger. Indeed, the three slaves manumitted in the novel are associated with a boar (Sat. 40.3–41.4), Dionysus (Sat. 41.6–7) and a falling star (Sat. 54.1–5); likewise, the three slaves that are the subject of Pliny's letter are C. Valerius Aper (boar), C. Valerius Dionysius (god of wine) and C. Valerius Astraeus (stars). Roth's argument suggests that the author of the Satyrica was not Nero's contemporary but a member of Pliny's intellectual circle, offering strong circumstantial evidence that troubles the accepted tradition on the work's authorship and date.