The contention that the Homeric epics, and perhaps also the Hesiodic poems and the Homeric Hymns, are the products, directly or at a very short remove, of a tradition of orally improvised poetry is widely accepted as a basic premiss in Homeric criticism. The cogency of the argument depends on the frequency and characteristic use of formulae in the early hexameter poetry, and their rarity in the literature of Classical, Hellenistic, and Roman times, which is known or assumed to have been composed in the study. The reasoning appears to me valid, but in some respects overstated or ambiguously stated in recent publications, and the first fault arises out of the second.

Aristotle (Rhet. 3.9) distinguishes two types of style, the ‘periodic’ or ‘rounded’ (λ⋯ξιςκατεστραμμέη) and the ‘non-periodic’, ‘strung-on’ or ‘continuous’ (λέξιςε;ἰρομένη).* The latter is typical of prose in its young and unsophisticated state, and Aristotle is not much interested in it; his discussion of the periodic style is much longer, with subdivisions being introduced and numerous examples given. His basic definition of the period is not, however, clear, and the point has seen some controversy. There are two possibilities. (1) He defines the period ‘rhythmically’ (as I shall call it). The essential feature of the period is that its beginning and end are marked off by specific metrical rhythms (discussed in the preceding chapter, 3.8, where Aristotle recommends the paean).1 (2) He defines it ‘logically’. The period is a syntactic structure with an inner cohesion produced by the logical, pre-planned arrangement of its parts according to the requirements of the whole.2 The current consensus at least of written opinions is that Aristotle intended the first;3 I believe that the issue can be settled fairly decisively in favour of the second.

If Medea has attracted more readers to the Argonautica than any other character – thereby also determining which parts of the poem have become generally familiar – she has also provided critics of the poem with their major (sometimes their sole) topic for discussion. The main charge, particularly among critics writing in English, is that the various aspects of Medea – awakening love, deadly magic, fratricide – form neither a consistent nor a credible whole. One quotation, from an article which explicitly aims to summarise recent criticism, may stand as representative: ‘[Medea′s passion] produced an inconsistency [Apollonius] either ignored deliberately in the confidence of his Medea in love, or, just possibly, may not have noticed. The same emotionally immature and helpless Medea is the competent, unfrightened servant of Hecate, the cool instructress of Jason in taming the bulls, the calm soother of the dragon…the behaviour of Medea later in the [fourth] Book is, against all reason, quite untouched by what we would think of as a shattering experience, at the very least destructive of any real trust between her and Jason….It is as if Apollonius has thrown in [Apsyrtus′ murder] without care or realisation of its consequence for the consistency of her character’. Behind criticism of this kind lies both an understandable desire to relate the characters of ancient literature, if not to our own experience, at least to what instinct tells us is possible, and the whole tradition of criticism which descends from the Poetics of Aristotle. In recent years other approaches have gained currency, but in this paper I shall explore the presentation of Medea as a whole (Part I) and particularly of her flight from Colchis (Part II) within a traditional framework in an attempt to clarify what seem to me to be critical misunderstandings.

It is well known that when resolution occurs in the stichic iambics and trochaics of tragedy word-end is not found between the two shorts so produced: w or, more accurately, that the first short of resolution must not be the last syllable of a polysyllabic word. Moreover, the syllables in resolution most often form part of the same word as the following short or anceps, e.g.: Ion 1143:

The starting-point of Plutarch's dialogue de communibus notitiis is a claim made by the Stoics that Providence sent Chrysippus to remove the confusion surrounding the ideas of ἔννοια (conception) and πρόληψισ (preconception) before the subtleties of Carneades were brought into play. Unfortunately our surviving information on the subject is so much less full than could be desired that it has again returned to an obscurity from which there are only two really detailed modern attempts to remove it. The one, by L. Stein (Erkenntnistheorie der Stoa, pp. 228–276), is most unsatisfactory; the other, by A. Bonhöffer (Epiktet und die Stoa, pp. 187–232), though of the greatest value in many ways, is vitiated by the fact that it constructs a system from the use of the words by Epictetus and then attempts to attach this system to the old Stoa in the face of the evidence of the doxographers, which is emended or violently interpreted to suit Epictetus. Even if Epictetus were in general a good authority for the technicalities of Chrysippus—and in the opinion of H. von Arnim he is not— this would not be a sound method of procedure. The only safe way is to take first the statements which can be attached to the Old Stoa, and having obtained our results from these, to see whether Epictetus does in fact agree.

The introduction of the trireme into Greek navies was an event of great political importance, which may fairly be compared to the introduction of the ‘all-big-gun’ battleship into the British Navy in 1907. Heavier, more powerful, and capable of carrying more ⋯πιβ⋯ται, but making greater demands on timber supplies and manpower, the trireme not only rendered obsolete all existing Greek line-of-battle ships but gave a decisive advantage to those States whose resources in materials and men enabled them to create and maintain adequate fleets of the new type of warship.1 It is a mark of the insufficiency of our sources for early Greek history that we nowhere find an explicit statement of the date at which this revolution occurred, or of the identity of the person responsible.

at ego tibi sermone isto Milesio varias fabulas conseram auresque tuas benivolas lepido susurro permulceam, modo si papyrum Aegyptiam argutia Nilotici calami inscriptam non spreveris inspicere. figuras fortunasque hominum in alias imagines conversas et in se rursum mutuo nexu refectas, ut mireris, exordior. ‘quis ille?’ paucis accipe. Hymettos Attica et Isthmos Ephyrea et Taenaros Spartiatica, glebae felices aeternum libris felicioribus conditae, mea vetus prosapia est; ibi linguam Atthidem primis pueritiae stipendiis merui, mox in urbe Latia advena studiorum Quiritium indigenam sermonem aerumnabili labore nullo magistro praeeunte aggressus excolui. en ecce praefamur veniam, si quid exotici ac forensis sermonis rudis locutor offendero. iam haec equidem ipsa vocis immutatio desultoriae scientiae stilo quern accessimus respondet. fabulam Graecanicam incipimus. lector intende: laetaberis.

In the preface to the Anabasis Arrian explains his reliance on Aristobulus (as well as Ptolemy) because he took part in Alexander's campaigns and yet wrote after Alexander's death, when he was under no constraint or hope of gain that might lead him to distort the truth. It is in fact clear from 7. 18. 5 that Aristobulus was still writing his history after the battle of Ipsus in 301. According to Ps.-Lucian, Macrobioi 22, he stated at the beginning of his work that he was already in his eighty-fourth year; since numbers are easily subject to copying errors, it may be that the author of the Macrobioi was himself deceived by a manuscript corruption, and in any case, as the date of Aristobulus' birth is unknown, this testimony casts little light on the date of the history.

In the long section of anapaests with which they make their entry, the old men of Argos methodically deliver three essential messages to the audience:

40–71. It is the tenth year of the Trojan War.

72–82. We are men who were too old to go and fight in it.

83–103. Some new situation seems to be indicated by the fact that Clytemnestra is organizing sacrifices throughout the town.

The eschatological myth in the tenth book of the Laws (903 b–905 d) contains a paragraph which purports to explain why, in the next world, efficient treatmentof souls according to their deserts is ‘marvellously easy’

On the face of it, Plato's treatment of aisthesis is decidedly ambiguous. Sometimes he treats aisthesis as a faculty which, though distinct from all rational capacities, is nonetheless capable of forming judgments such as ‘This stick is bent’ or ‘The same thing is hard and soft’. In the Theaetetus, however, he appears to separate aisthesis from judgment, isolating the former from all prepositional, identificatory and recognitional capacities. The dilemma is easily expressed: Is perception a judgmental or cognitive capacity, or is it a non-judgmental, non-cognitive capacity? If the former, how does perception differ from belief? If the latter, is perception a faculty of the rational or irrational soul? Not surprisingly, the topic has received much scrutiny over the years. And equally unsurprisingly, the debate has turned as much on what it means for a capacity to be judgmental, cognitive, non-judgmental or non-cognitive, as on whether Plato says that it is of either kind.

It is perhaps unnecessary to defend the principle that mythical exempla in ancient poetry are not merely decorative, but serve in the expression of ‘significant emotion’ it would still be welcome to see it more frequently and more coherently applied. This paper tries to isolate one characteristic use of myth in four poems from Hellenistic and Roman authors; the last section summarizes its conclusions and briefly sets them in a context of literary history.

The famous eastern tour of inspection undertaken by Scipio Aemilianus, L. Metellus Calvus and Sp. Mummius is now generally dated 140/39 b.c., where Diodorus seems to put it. The accepted view, however, involves discounting an explicit statement by Cicero. It also presents historical difficulties. In 140 b.c. there was no need for such a high-powered Roman initiative, and scholars can discover only very minor political results. Sherwin-White indeed criticised the envoys severely, especially Scipio; they were culpably blind to the new menace of Parthia, which was steadily dismembering the Seleucid Empire east of the Euphrates. This is fair criticism only on the 140/39 b.c. dating. Did Scipio and his colleagues fail to see what is patent to us today? It is time to reexamine rigorously the underlying assumption.

In Acad. prior. 2.5 Cicero defends a Roman noble's love of Greek learning in the following terms:

ego autem cum Graecas litteras M. Catonem in senectute didicisse acceperim, P. autem Africani historiae loquantur in legatione illa nobili, quam ante censuram obiit, Panaetium unum omnino comitem fuisse, nec litterarum Graecarum nee philosophiae iam ullum auctorem requiro.

The date of the embassy must be 144/3 b.c., if we follow the logic of this passage. Scipio was censor with L. Mummius in 142/1 b.c. and their public quarrel was hardly less notable than the embassy, in which L. Mummius' brother shared. Another Ciceronian passage – written some six years earlier – seems to contradict the dating offered in 45 b.c. In de republica 6.11 the elder Africanus prophesies his grandson's future greatness in the famous dream:

Ancient Rhodes reached a pinnacle of power in the early second century B.C. For twenty years—from Apamea to Pydna—her fleet was unrivalled in the Aegean and her mainland possessions encompassed most of Lycia and Caria. Ally and helpmate of Rome in the war on Antiochus III, Rhodes gained much profit from the association, in prestige and territorial acquisitions. But her heyday was brief, her fall swift and calamitous. After Pydna, Rhodes felt the heavy hand of Rome: she forfeited most of her mainland holdings; her economy suffered ruinous setback; the island republic was humbled and humiliated. So dramatic a reversal of fortune demands explanation.

‘Now that all parts and members of the mortal creature had been fashioned into one, seeing that it must be the creature's lot for reasons of necessity to spend its life in the domain of fire and air and that it was like to waste away being continually melted and emptied by their onslaught, the gods contrived reinforcement for it. Blending a being kindred to man's being but with different shapes and senses, they brought it into life, a second kind of living creature. Trees, plants, and seeds are these, and those among them which are cultivated types to-day have arrived at their mild benevolence to man only because they have been civilized by his husbandry; formerly only the wild kinds existed, for these are older than the cultivated. Now everything that is alive, whatever it be, may perfectly correctly and of right be termed ‘a living creature’. The creature now in question has at any rate the third kind of soul which our discourse told us is situated between the midriff and the navel. This kind of soul has nothing of opining or of reasoning mind, but it has sensation of pleasant and painful with attendant desires. For continually it is subject to every impression. Its manner of birth has not granted it the power to revolve by itself in itself upon itself rejecting outside motion and asserting its own and thus by beholding all things by native endowment of soull to reason out aught of its own concerns. So it has life and is not some second being other than a living creature, but it stays fixed, rooted, motionless, for it has never been granted movement of its own initiation.’

This study offers a new analysis of the last argument of Plato's Phaedo for the immortality of the soul.

Interpretations of this argument and especially of the last section have differed considerably. Judgements on its value have usually been adverse. One scholar speaks of the ‘screen of unreal argument’ which concludes the proof, and writes that ‘from the standpoint of logic the argument has petered out into futility’. Another describes the final stage of the proof as ‘a blatant petitio principii’. A third remarks that the conclusion follows ‘if we do not look too closely’.