In this scene Oedipus receives the delegation of suppliants who have come, under the leadership of the priest of Zeus, to entreat Oedipus to deliver them from the blight and the plague. The issue with which I propose to deal concerns the composition of this delegation.

My purpose in this paper is to reassert the traditional view that Athenian women of the classical period regularly had an association with phratries (and incidentally to clarify the nature of that association). As part (though not an essential part) of my argument I adduce an overlooked piece of evidence, a much discussed passage from the Donatus commentary on Terence; for this I provide a new interpretation.

There is some evidence that Athenian women were introduced to their fathers phrateres at birth, or to their husbands' phrateres at marriage, or both. The speaker of Isaeus 3 repeatedly asserts (73, 75, 76, 79) that a certain Pyrrhus would have presented his daughter to his phrateres if she had been legitimate (which he denies). A scholium on Aristophanes, Acharnians 146 (= Suda s.v. Apatouria) may refer to such a practice. Euxitheus calls as witnesses of his mother's citizenship phrateres for whom his father celebrated the wedding feast, the gamelia, on her behalf (Dem. 57.43, 69, Isaeus 3.79); celebration of the gamelia is regarded as proof of the legitimacy of the speaker's mother at Isaeus 8.19. Neither Demosthenes nor Isaeus says that women were formally registered among the phrateres or even present at the feast; but notices in the lexicographers do connect the gamelia with registration among or introduction to the phrateres (Harpocration s.v. gamelia, Suda s.v. gamelia, Etym. Magn. 220.50 s.v. gamelia, Pollux 8.107, Anec. Bekk. 228.5, Schol. Dem. 57.43). Many scholars have accepted these passages as evidence for normal practice at Athens in the classical period.

1. IN the C.Q.xxxiv (1940), pp. 118 ff., I wrote on ‘Some Uses of the Imperfect in Greek’ (hereafter quoted as ‘Uses’). It occurred tome to check the suggestions there made by examining all the instances in one author. I had no hesitation in choosing Herodotus, who of all authors, except perhaps Homer, presents the most baffling diversity of types (I quote by chapter and the lines of Stein's annotated edition). For purposes of comparison I also read Thucydides and Xenophon's Anabasis 1–4. It would appear that Thucydides retains something of Herodotus' freedom, Xenophon comparatively little.

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:

The contents of the sixth book of Ennius' Annals have recently become a matter of dispute. Ever since Columna's edition (1585) it had been assumed that the book was entirely given over to the story of the war against king Pyrrhus (followed perhaps by mention of some events of the next few years; so my commentary, Oxford, 1985, p. 329). That view was based on the anecdote told by Quintilian 6.3.6, that Cicero, asked to say something de Sexto Annali, a witness in a law case, replied: ‘Quis potis ingentis oras euoluere belli’. It seems as good as certain that this was the first line of Book VI, and belli was taken by all as referring to the Pyrrhus war. According to Dr T. Cornell, however, ‘unrolling the mighty scroll of war’ means that the poet is now going to describe warfare on the grand scale, thus setting the sequence of the third Samnite War, the Pyrrhus War, and (the first and) the second Punic War against the minor wars described in the first five books. I doubt if Ennius would have felt that the early Latin war with the story of Lake Regillus, the capture of Veii, the Allia, the fall of Rome to the Gauls, and the second Samnite war (the Caudine forks!) were minor wars; but I am certain that bellum in the singular, except in contrast to the notion of pax, cannot refer to war in a general sense, covering a plurality of wars.

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.’).

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

Orestes has revealed himself to Electra and sworn with her to avenge Agamemnon. He outlines his plan and leaves the stage with a prayer to his father, after warning the chorus against indiscretion (581–2). They begin:

Earth nurtures many dread hurts and fears; the sea's embrace is full of monsters hostile to man; lights in mid-air between earth and heaven also harm winged things and things that tread the earth; and one might also tell of the stormy wrath of tempests.

But who could tell of a man's unruly will, and of ruthless woman's unbridled passions, that share her heart with evil powers ruinous to mankind?3 But surpassing all is the wicked female passion whereby wedded union is worsted, among beasts and men alike.

People are beginning to think of Manilius as the spoilt child of Latin Scholarship. In England alone there have appeared editions of, or works upon, Manilius, in the seventeenth century by Sherburne and Creech, in the eighteenth by Bentley and Burton, in the nineteenth by Ellis and Postgate, and in the current century by Housman. The contribution of France also has been considerable in quality, if not in quantity—Scaliger, Huetius, Pingré: though to-day there is no eminent French student of Manilius. Of the German editors we might say what Aristophanes says of the Athenian generals:

only that Prof. Breiter, whose recent recension of the text of Manilius lies before me, has rendered services to the student of the Astronomica which entitle him to be mentioned only with respect. He is mentioned with something approaching respect even by Mr. Housman, who respects few scholars save Bentley and never fails to lay ‘significant stress upon the difference between himself and a jackass’—by which he usually means a German.

This paper discusses the problem of Democritus’ allegoresis. The question whether Democritus practised allegoresis is usually answered affirmatively. Thus, for example, Jean Pépin, in his classic work on the development of allegorical interpretation, forcefully asserts that ‘Démocrite pratiqua d'abord une allégorie physique’ and that ‘il poursuivit aussi l'allégorie psychologique’. In one way or another, this view has been embraced by Luc Brisson, Ilaria Ramelli, Ilaria Ramelli and Giulio Lucchetta, Gerard Naddaf, to name just a few scholars who have recently examined the issue. However, those who find allegoresis in Democritus are often somewhat perplexed at what they discover. For instance Naddaf, in his otherwise excellent study, assumes that ‘Democritus believed that Homer was indeed a visionary sage with a privileged utterance that he intentionally transmitted allegorically’, upon which he concludes that Democritus’ position is ‘inconsistent and disconcerting given his place in the pantheon of Ionian rationalism’. This shows that the claim that Democritus practised allegoresis stumbles upon the following problem: if Democritus was a rationalist, then the question arises how his rationalism can be reconciled with his alleged belief that Homer deliberately disguised his poems as allegorical prefigurations of various Democritean views. Indeed, one may legitimately ask how rational it would be on Democritus’ part to ascribe to Homer the intention of being interpreted as a precursor of atomist philosophy. The purpose of the present paper is to shed some light on this conundrum and to offer a reconsideration of certain accounts that have been suggested so far.

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.

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?’

O.T. 463 sq.BRUHN followed Zielinski (Philol. LV. 523) in adopting είδε from F, and used the variant together with others as establishing the value of Fas an independent source. We have already seen reason for refusing to attach much importance to the authority of this MS. (384), but it should be observed that both readings are recognized by Σ, and the question between εἶπε and είδε must be settled on its merits. Γ itself has πε written over the last syllable of είδε, and Zenodotus read εἲπ for εἰδῇ in Hom. O 207. Zielinski thinks that Eur. Andr. 998 τελουμένων δὲ Δελϕὶς εἲσεται πέτρα is an echo of this passage, but the inference is by no means certain. It may be that the original text of Trin (εἶπέτρα) points to the true solution, that πε fell out by haplography, and the isolated εἶ became εἶσε or ἣδε

I argued in § II. (Ion and Theseus) that in the lost chapters of the Ἀθηναίων Πολιτεία Aristotle recorded (in connexion with the Synoikisis) the creation by Theseus of the Eupatrid Order, from whom the Archons were chosen: that this tallies with Thuc. II. 15: that Thucydides further suggests that the continuous existence of the Areopagus Council dates from the same time: that finally Council and Order stand to each other as patres and patricii did in Rome.

‘ “I desire”’ Jebb, whose note I now take as read. In this and my ensuing discussion I seek to show that never has that meaning. The scholiast's note is a sophism, and Jebb's is another. Jebb says that the primary sense is to love; he prudently leaves unstated the next step in the fallacy, that to love might mean to have just fallen in love with; and he concludes that poetry ‘could easily draw’ the sense to desire. Actually applies as between parents and children, rulers and their subjects, and to other not necessarily amenable persons or not prima facie acceptable things with whom or which one has to associate continually (or, by extension, for a limited time); its general sense is to ‘do with’, to brook; it ranges from like to either extreme, be fond of or tolerate. In its various nuances it resembles which never means to ‘desire’.

Was there a second legion in Palestine at all ? Mommsen has raised a doubt. In his note on C.I.L. iii 6641 ‘M. Iunio Maximo Leg. Augg. Leg. X Fr….’ he says ‘Quo tempore titulus positus est (about 200 A.D.) provinciam Palaestinam una sola legio obtinuerit necesse est X Fretensis; nam Augustorum vocabulum legatis legionis non solet addi nisi simul provinciae praesunt. Legio VI Ferrata quamquam a Dione (lv 23) in Iudaea collocatur, vide ne castra habuerit in Batanaea (quo ducunt milites eius duo Capitoliade oriundi, C.I.L. vi 210 anni 208 et x 532) quae fuit sub legato Syriae Phoenices.’ On C.I.L. iii 6703 similarly he says ‘legatus legionis Augusti vocabulum raro adsumit’ But the title ‘leg. Aug.’ does seem to be used with sufficient frequency of a simple ‘legatus legionis’ to invalidate Mommsen's argument: e.g. Dessau 1026 ‘leg. Aug. leg. xi C. p. f.’; 1036, 1055, 1070, 1141 etc: and the soldiers of Capitolias might just as easily have served across the border in Palestine. Zangemeister, who first published the inscription of Iunius Maximus {Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins x 1887, 49–53) took the same view as Mommsen, that he was the provincial legatus; but later (ib. xi 138) he admitted that in that case the words ‘pro praetore’ would have been added.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Polybius’ work is the frequency with which the historian pauses his historical narrative and embarks upon digressions, including entire books devoted to the topics of geography (Book 34), historiography (Book 12) and, most famously, the discussion of the Roman constitution in Book 6. Such digressions have naturally drawn the attention of modern scholars, but in the past the tendency in Polybian scholarship had been to read such digressions in isolation, and even to deny their relevance outside of their immediate context. While it is true that these digressions cannot be regarded as strict blue-prints upon which Polybius’ historical narrative is to be precisely mapped, more recent scholarship has suggested that such passages are not as irrelevant to this narrative as they had for a long time appeared. Moreover, a parallel trend in Polybian scholarship is currently calling for a renewed focus into the composition of his historical narrative in order to apply the level of scrutiny to the text of Polybius previously reserved, for example, for his more famous predecessors, Herodotus and Thucydides. An appropriate recognition of the relationship between the more famous passages of Polybius’ work found in his digressions and the broader narrative of historical events will help to alleviate this deficiency. Careful study of the text of Polybius in this manner will reveal that his historical narrative does not simply represent a bare record of historical facts but is rather composed by the historian in a way that demonstrates and reinforces the principles presented in the more abstract digressions, which have attracted more attention.