This satire has often been accounted a poor poem, repetitive, irrelevant and self-indulgent. Rather than recover one more cultured display of refinement as disguise, this essay explores instead the fall-out that radiates from a classic text's play with the ‘loose talk’ of plebeian gossip. The proposal here is that Horace and his intimates could, and can, easily share a view of the view of ‘their’ populace, but at the price of surrendering control over the import of their intervention. This claim turns on the figure ‘Brutus’, which noises a republican politics of resistance to tyranny through what linguists term nonphonation: as we shall find, Horace both tells a dummy tale about ‘przemilczenie’ (῾not speaking about something, ‘failing to mention something’) and at the same time performs a dumbshow of his own.

When announcing the first instalment, the author made a firm declaration: ‘collegi non servato temporis ordine’. The note of elegant disdain suitably echoes a poet: ‘postmodo collectas, utcumque sine ordine iunctas’;. In fact, care for balance and variety predominates.

Nevertheless, when Pliny came to recount public transactions, he had to respect a ‘temporis ordo’, as many signs indicate. Mommsen in his classic study was able to work out the chronological framework, of the nine books, from 97 to 108 or 109. In general, his scheme stands the test — that is, apart from the notion of a rapid publication in separate books. Indeed, no argument avails to prove that the first instalment saw the light of day earlier than the end of the year 105.

Pliny was expert in finance and an alert contriver everywhere. Persons of that quality may succumb to inadvertence, although not very often. Licinius Nepos, praetor in 105, comes twice into action (4.29; 5.4), before his edict gets a mention (5.9). Again, in a letter the context of which points to 105, a consulship for Minicius Fundanus is divined ‘in proximum annum’ (4.15.5). Fundanus entered office in the early summer of 107. By contrast, Valerius Paulinus, consul suffect in the pair that followed that consulship, does not come up until 9.37. An extremely late point in the collection. It imposes a salutary warning when a number of letters in the final triad are put under scrutiny.

The exposition of Mommsen ran into criticism, sometimes hasty or even perverse. Moreover, various attempts were made to modify the dates of certain prosecutions in the Senate. The emergence of a consul on the Fasti Ostienses demolished an elaborate reconstruction that concerned two proconsuls of Bithynia. More accruing, a number of fairly close dates can now be established.

In the following two passages we read Apollo's epiphany to (respectively) the Trojan leader Aeneas and Callimachus

One of the best-known fragments of a lost Greek drama is Critias' fr. 43F19 Snell, an extended rhesis from the play Sisyphus in which the protagonist narrates how once upon a time human life was squalid, brutal, and anarchistic; as a remedy men devised Law and Justice; this expedient served to check open wrongdoing but did not hinder secret crimes; then some very clever man hit upon the idea of inventing gods and the notion of divine retribution; thus secret criminality was stopped by fear of the gods.

The prevalent understanding of Critias' motives is largely determined by the commonest interpretation of this fragment. Some authorities think the notion of divine justice as merely a human device designed to serve a socially utilitarian purpose is Critias' own invention; others regard this passage as wholly or in part a réchauffé of the ideas of others, such as Protagoras, Democritus, or Diagoras of Rhodes. With few exceptions, it has until recently been thought that Critias was, if not a sophist himself, at least a cynical disciple of Machtpolitik who differed from similar thinkers such as Thrasymachus and Callicles only in that he translated ideas similar to those these figures are made to express in the pages of Plato into brutal political action.

A handful of authorities have dissented from this view on the grounds that it is dangerous to attribute to a playwright sentiments placed in the mouths of his stage-characters (although to be sure, as we shall see, the theory that the views expressed in the fragment were the poet's own has ostensible ancient authority in the doxographic tradition). Recently the prevalent interpretation of fr. 19 Sn. has been subjected to additional criticism in two articles by German writers that may well be harbingers of a major reappraisal – long overdue, in the present writer's opinion – of Critias' beliefs.

It is commonly supposed that in the eighth century B.c. there was a ‘population explosion’ in Greece which moved the Greeks to send out colonies. A. J. Graham in the Cambridge Ancient History iii, 3 (1982) is typical: ‘The basic active cause of the colonizing movement was overpopulation’; ‘at the very time when the Archaic colonising movement began, in the second half of the eighth century, there was a marked increase in population in Greece’ (p. 157). The presumed connection between overpopulation and colonisation is not immediately obvious. The evidence for the population explosion is found in the increased number of burials in Attica and the Argolid, but Athens sent out no colony before the very end of the seventh century and Argos probably none at all, certainly none in this period. So special explanations have to be formulated for Athens' and Argos' lack of colonies while their postulated ‘population explosion’ is presumed for Greece as a whole and called in to explain the burst of colonising in the eighth century. The hypothesis is not used for seventh-century colonisation when the number of burials declines.

During the excavations of 1924–5 at Karanis a papyrus (Michigan 2745) of the second or early third century A.D. was discovered, and subsequently published by J. G. Winter (‘A New Fragment on the Life of Homer’, Trans. Am. Philol. Ass., lvi, 1925, 120 ff. and pl. A), which under its single column has a subscribed title which should almost certainly be restored as ‘Alcidamas, On Homer’. The first fourteen lines of the papyrus give most of the story of Homer's death and the riddle that caused it, which is common to all the extant Lives of Homer; the remainder is a general eulogy of Homer and a profession of transmitting his works to posterity. The interest of the discovery lies in the knowledge that it gives of a hitherto unrecorded work by Alcidamas, the rhetorician and contemporary of Isocrates, and the new fuel that it provides for an old controversy about the origins of the work known as the Certamen. The first part of this article aims at both re-examining the value of the papyrus and reopening some of the old questions on the Certamen.

It is perhaps worth briefly discussing a subject on which Demosthenes has so much to say and on which there is so little satisfactory evidence. In every speech which he delivered after 346 he referred, in greater or less detail, to breaches of the Peace of Philocrates, and this insistence on Philip's may mislead us.

The case of Cardia is suggestive. In 341, in the speech On the Chersonese, he sought to create the impression that Philip was acting in breach of the peace by sending troops to help defend Cardia against Diopeithes:

Ii is a well-known fact that the men of the Macedonian phalanx under Philip and Alexander were known collectively as or ‘foot companions’. Our first reference to the name comes from Demosthenes, who in his second Olynthiac tries unconvincingly to disparage the fighting qualities of Philip's mercenaries and Demosthenes adds no explanation, and it was left to commentators and lexicographers to unearth a relevant fragment from the Philippica of Anaximenes of Lampsacus

The so-called fourth book of Aristotle's Meteorologica is not about meteorological phenomena at all. It describes the formation out of the four elements of ‘homoeomerous’ substances, by which are meant minerals such as stones and metals, and organic substances like flesh, skin, and hair, and the changes they can undergo under the influence of heat, cold, and moisture. Most commentators, ancient and modern, have seen that it has very little to do with the first three books of the Meteorologica to which it is attached, and Alexander suggested (p. 179. 3) that it should be placed after the second book de Generation et Corruptione.

One of the ways in which a poet may show his quality is by discrimination and originality in his choice of adjectives. Poetry likes to adorn the bare noun; a noun such as ‘the sky’ calls out for an attribute. But in practice the poet has to take care to avoid the cliche. He can seldom write ‘the blue sky’; even ‘the azure sky’ has become trite. He has to search for the epithet which will be both apt and original.

There is a tendency to prune the record of restrictions on the freedom of thought and expression in fifth-century Athens. K. J. Dover has demonstrated that many of the stories of attacks on intellectuals rest on little more than flimsy speculation. Similarly there has been a reluctance to accept the historicity of the several restrictions on comedy recorded by scholiasts. Thus, for example, H. B. Mattingly has expressed doubts about Morychides' decree, and S. Halliwell has rejected Antimachus' decree as a fiction and has adopted an agnostic attitude towards Syracosius' decree. But one cannot sweep all the references aside as fallacious inferences. This short paper looks first at the evidence that Cleon initiated a legal action against Aristophanes (or possibly Callistratus) after the production of the The Babylonians, in the light of what the Old Oligarch wrote about curbs on comedians. Secondly, the historicity of Syracosius' decree will be tested by an attempt to define its nature and purpose in its political context. This exercise will show that circumstantial evidence adduced against the historicity of the decree has no compelling force.

The manuscripts of Pausanias present at III. 16, 4 the following: 'Iòντι δἐ ώσ ἐπì τἀσ πνλἀσ ἀπò τοȗ Xιτῶνοσ Xείλωνόσ ὲστιν ἡρῷον τοȗ σοΦοȗ νομιζομένον καì Aθηναίων ρω τῶν όμοȗ Δωριεȋ τῷ 'Aναξανδρίδον σταλέντων ὲσ Σικλίαν. By a change euphemistically called an emendation Madvig has replaced 'Aθηναίων ρω by 'Aθηνοδώρον, a person unknown to history, whose further acquaintance we will not pursue.

Anyone who wants to understand the very considerable art which Apuleius displays in narrating the stories of the Metamorphoses must naturally first describe the various modes of narration which he employs. Such description can scarcely be photographic: it requires its own language of categories and concepts – a language which Apuleius might, or might not, have understood. A valuable modern addition to the vocabulary has been the concept of ‘Point of View’: this concept is used to categorize modes of narration according to the relationship which they set up between reader, narrator and the narrated. The narrator may be more or less involved in the events he narrates; he may know everything about them, or very little; he may relate them as present or as past. The reader may be told much or little of what the narrator knows; he may be made to view the story from the point of view of the narrator, of one of the characters, or even, I suppose, ‘objectively’. This whole sort of categorization has been dear to many authors and critics of this century, but has only recently been taken up by critics of the ancient novels: Chariton, Xenophon, Achilles 1971 (Hägg); Petronius 1973 (Beck); Apuleius 1972 (W. S. Smith), 1978 (van der Paardt).

Several of the treatises and lectures that make up the Hippocratic corpus begin with more or less extended statements about the physical composition and operation of the world at large, and approach the study of human physiology from this angle. We see this, for example, in De Natwra Hominis, De Flatibus, De Carnibus, De Victu; it was the approach of Alcmaeon of Croton, Diogenes of Apollonia, and according to Plato (Phaedr. 270 c) of Hippocrates himself.

The work known as De Hebdomadibus would appear to be a prime example of the type. The first twelve chapters are cosmological. They are dominated by two ideas: that everything in nature is arranged in groups of seven, and that the human body is constructed on the same pattern as the whole world. In the later part of the book (13–52) we pass to the subject of fevers, their causation and treatment. But as Roscher observed, the cosmology and the pathology do not belong together.

There are certain ‘facts’ which every schoolboy knows. Every schoolboy knows, for instance, that at the Battle of Hastings King Harold was killed by a shot in his eye from an arrow; and Sir Frank Stenton's demonstration that he pretty certainly wasn't has done little to shake this conviction.1 Not every schoolboy, perhaps, but every undergraduate who studies the history of ancient Athens knows that Ephialtes was murdered. After all, that is what the books tell him. Thus in Meiggs/Bury we read that ‘Cimon's chief antagonist Ephialtes was murdered’; this is echoed by Forrest and Davies, to name just two authors of recent standard works. Hignett even knew the weapon the murderer used: ‘the dagger of the assassin removed him in the hour of his triumph’

This article is about the rules of succession in Bronze Age Greece as reflected in Greek tradition. The question as to whether or not the figures dealt with by this tradition are historical is of little relevance to the present discussion: what I seek to recover is not the history of one royal house or another but rather the recurring patterns according to which the members of these houses – no matter whether real or fictitious – were expected to behave when it came to the question of accession to the throne and transmission of the kingship to their successors.

There existed in Greek a multitude of words denoting or connoting sexual congress. The list of verbs given by Pollux (5.92) only skims the surface. In what follows I discuss words which with one exception (ληκ) are absent from this list and belong, as will be seen from their distribution, to the lower register of the Greek language. They are all demonstrably direct expressions, blunt and non-euphemistic. Only one of them, κιν, is at all common in non-sexual contexts. As for the rest, if they originated through metaphor like many more respectable verbs of intercourse, this had long since been forgotten by native speakers. They rarely undergo any significant weakening, retaining their basic sexual denotation.