Galen's stories about his successes in predicting the development of an illness belong to the best-known anecdotes drawn from his writings. Brilliant pieces of self-presentation, they set Galen apart from his peers, who tried to cover up their ignorance by levelling accusations of magic and divination against their superior colleague. These accusations are usually interpreted as very real threats, as Roman law punished illicit magic and divination. Pointing out that Galen sometimes likes to present himself as a mantis and a prophet, others have suggested that the accusations against Galen and his own self-presentation indicate that the border line between medicine and religion was still fluid. Both approaches correctly draw attention to the social reality that the accusations betray: they suggest that Galen belongs to a group of healers of dubious standing that populated the empire and thus show that medicine did not have a monopoly on healing. Yet such a socio-historical approach may not be sufficient. For one thing, both explanations have their limitations. Regarding the former, it can be said that Augustus' prohibition of divination aimed at controlling prediction about the emperor and one can doubt that a widespread clampdown of all forms of divination ever was intended. A possible objection to the second view is that throughout his oeuvre Galen emphasizes his medicine as a rational undertaking, even as a science (epistêmê). If one takes his self-presentation as a mantis to be more than metaphorical and to indicate the not yet fully crystallized identity of medicine as a separate scientific discipline, then Galen's usual way of understanding his own craft as a ‘science’ is in need of explanation. Besides such possible objections, a different set of questions still needs to be asked: why precisely were accusations of practising magic and divination levelled against Galen and why do they recur so frequently in his writings? Why divination and not, say, poisoning?

The role and status of the Egyptians in the army of Hellenistic Egypt (323–30 b.c.) has been a debated question that goes back to the position within Late Period Egyptian society (664–332 b.c.) of the Egyptian warriors described by Herodotus as machimoi. Until a few decades ago, Ptolemaic military institutions were perceived as truly Greco-Macedonian and the presence of Egyptians in the army during the first century of Ptolemaic rule was contested. The Egyptians were thought of as being unfit to be good soldiers. Egyptians would have been hired only as late as 217 b.c. to fight against the Seleucid king Antiochus III in Raphia. The Ptolemaic victory (in fact rather a status quo) was made possible thanks to the addition of twenty thousand Egyptians to reinforce the Greek army. For a long time the subsequent role of Egyptians in the Ptolemaic army in the second and first centuries b.c. did not attract much attention. One usually assumed that they were ‘second-rate soldiers’ called machimoi. In recent decades, the scholarship on Ptolemaic Egypt, notably Demotic studies, reasserted the role of Egyptians in the Ptolemaic army from the late fourth century onwards.

Troades has often been thought to lack any coherent structure, and this has been variously attributed to its being the last play of the trilogy and to Euripides' overriding concern to impress the horrors of war upon his fellow Athenians. More recently, however, attention has been drawn to how the constant presence of Hecuba gives unity to the play and to how it is articulated by the striking entries of Cassandra, Andromache, and Helen. Cassandra and Andromache enter in mock triumph, Cassandra waving torches in her ironical wedding song and Andromache on a waggon, while Helen is dragged out by force and her scene marked off by Menelaus' second prologue. All three women emerge from the tent, argue with Hecuba but fail to convince her, and depart for marriage in Greece. Andromache's ideal marriage to Hector (645–56) contrasts with Cassandra's perverted ‘marriage’ to Agamemnon and with Helen's destructive marriage to Paris. The departure of the Trojan women for marriage in Greece balances Helen's earlier departure from Greece for marriage in Troy.

Anyone who seeks to add to the already vast pile of literature dealing with the I.A. must needs feel apologetic, especially if he is conscious that little of what he will say is new. Nevertheless this seems to be one of those occasions when it is necessary to restate old arguments. Recent contributors to the debate about the problems of the opening of the play either fail to realize what the problems are or else attempt to explain away valid criticisms of the text with arguments that are methodologically suspect and parallels which will not hold water.

The purpose of this paper is to put forward the hypothesis that the author of ‘Herodes περ πολιτας is Kritias. The speech bears Herodes’ name: did Herodes' well-known interest in Kritias amount to the transcription of a whole speech? The speech concerns Thessalian affairs at approximately the time when Kritias was in Thessaly: is it exactly the time? and is the tone what we would expect Kritias' tone to be? We have much description of Kritias' prose style, and a few verbatim fragments: does the style of this speech correspond?

The last book we shall have from the hand of Denys Page is an edition of that ‘talented but inscrutable writer’ the epigrammatist Rufinus.1 It is a model of its kind, distinguished by all the virtues we have come to associate with Page's work - erudition, intelligence and judgement. But on the long-debated question of Rufinus’ date he may be as much as three centuries out.

This important and extensive fragment of the Catalogues is preserved on a papyrus of the third century A.D., no. 10560 in the Berlin collection. First published in 1907 by Schubart and Wilamowitz, Berliner Klassikertexte, v. 1. 31 ff. (with photograph of col. i, 1–25), it was also collated by Crönert, who published his readings (often differing from Schubart-Wilamowitz) in Hermes xlii (1907), 610 ff. The most recent edition is that of Merkelbach, Die Hesiod-fragmente auf Papyrus (1957), pp. 24 ff. The photograph mentioned above is the only one published. It covers only a small portion of the text; most of the rest is too faint to be suitable for photography.

In the largely historical and aporetic first book of the De Anima (DA), Aristotle makes what appear to be some rather disturbing remarks about the soul's status as a subject of mental states. Most notably, in a curious passage which has aroused the interest of commentators, he seems to suggest that there is something wrong with regarding the soul as a subject of mental states:

Thus, saying that the soul is angry is the same as if one were to say that the soul builds houses and weaves: for it is perhaps better to say not that the soul pities or learns or thinks, but that the man does [these things] with his soul. (DA 408bll–15)

Since being brought to light in 1853 by Adalbert Kuhn, the fact that the Homeric expression κλέος ἄφθιτον has an exact parallel in the Veda has played an extremely important role in formulating the hypothesis that Greek epic poetry is of Indo-European origin. Yet only with Milman Parry's analysis of the formulaic character of Homeric composition did it become possible to test the antiquity of κλέος ἄφθιτον on the internal grounds of Homeric diction.

It is generally agreed that the conservative character of oral composition entails a high degree of correlation between the antiquity of a Homeric expression and its formulaic character. In other words, although not all Homeric formulae are necessarily of ancient origin, it is nevertheless in the formulaic stock of the epic diction that archaic and backward-looking expressions should be sought. Consequently, demonstration that κλέος ἄφθιτον (as well as other Homeric expressions with Vedic cognates) is a Homeric formula would constitute valuable evidence for its origin in Indo-European heroic poetry. Strangely enough, however, as Parry's analysis won the recognition of scholars, κλέος ἄφθιτον was identified as a Homeric formula simply because of its agreement with the Vedic śráva(s) ákṣitam. Yet examination of κλέος ἄφθιτον from the internal standpoint of the Greek epic casts serious doubts on the formulaic and traditional character of this Homeric expression.

I Have argued elsewhere, and still believe, that the Phaedo was written before Plato's first journey to Italy, when the strong Pythagorean influences displayed in that dialogue were reaching him through the Pythagorean centres on the Greek mainland, in particular Phleius and Thebes; and that in the Republic and Phaedrus it is possible to trace equally strong Pythagorean influence but different in detail, because Plato had now come into contact with the Pythagoreans who still remained in Italy, particularly Archytas. The most remarkable of these influences from whatever source was the doctrine of the immortality and transmigration of the soul, which we know to have been held by the earliest Pythagorean society, and the account of the soul's experience in the world below.

The Stoics maintained that virtue was the only good; everything else, therefore, was not-good. On the other hand, regarded by itself, this huge class was not equally valueless. Vice, of course, was bad; but everything else was thought to be ‘indifferent’: wealth, health, for example; indifferent, that is, with regard to the summum bonum. Of these Intermediates, men, from human nature, had a leaning to some; these were , had value, were called , that is, preferred, and virtue itself lay in choice exercised among them.

LIFE offers various amusements, and anyone these days who can choose among them will come late to the study of hiatus in Greek prose. Germany in the 1880s, so it seems, was less fortunate, and few greater excitements were known to young or old than the hunt for hiatus; but now that we no longer strait-waistcoat our classical authors and the austerity of those times is discredited, few collectors of hiatus are to be found, and there are people even in Germany who have never identified a single specimen.

Yet there is nothing to be said for underrating an author' stylistic pretensions, still less for encouraging others to do the same; and the textual critic, whose path is slippery enough at the best of times, can ill afford to dispense with footholds.

There has been no broad study of hiatus in Greek prose since 1841, when Benseler in a long and original book De hiatu in oratoribus et historicis Graecis went through the text of 27 authors and attempted to determine their practice.

The second chapter of book three of the De anima marks the end of Aristotle's discussion of sense-perception. The chapter is a long one and apparently rambling in subject matter. It begins with a passage that is usually taken as a discussion of some sort of self-awareness, particularly awareness that one is perceiving, although such an interpretation raises some difficulties. This paper reconsiders the problems raised by supposing that the question discussed in the first paragraph is ‘how do we perceive that we perceive?’, and suggests an alternative interpretation which would solve many of the difficulties and have the additional merit of restoring unity to the sequence of notes which go to make up the whole chapter.

In 346 the Athenians were sadly deceived by Philip. The long war for Amphipolis had taken its toll and the people wanted relief, but the real motive of those who wanted peace in 346, both Philocrates with his principal abettor Demosthenes, and Eubulus and Aeschines, was to try to keep Philip out of Greece itself.2 In Elaphebolion the only debate was about means, whether, as Aeschines wanted, to try to get Phocis included in a Common Peace, or, as Demosthenes with a clearer view of what Philip would accept urged, to make a separate peace and alliance and leave the salvation of Phocis to the future: he probably thought that, if Philip should afterwards attack Phocis, Athens could choose between her allies and, as in 352, rush to the aid of Phocis.

The idea of a returning golden age (or, more properly, a renascent golden race1) is widely understood and commonly presented both as a staple of Augustan propaganda and as a pervasive aspiration of Augustan society. The Carmen Saeculare—an official commission for a public festival—is presented as a means by which the regime proclaimed to an enthusiastic populace the imminent renascence of the golden race. The aim of this article is to draw attention both to the failure of the Carmen Saeculare explicitly to proclaim the renascence of the race, and to the critique implicit in the poem of the very idea of a renascence. The golden race, according to this reading, might be undesirable on account of its very goldenness. The golden race was the subject of a complex myth at the centre of a complex discourse: neither the ‘official’ nor the popular response to the idea of its return can have been as simple as they are frequently portrayed.

In the preface to each book of his collected poems, the Silvae, Statius writes in the apologetic mode. Addressing his friend Arruntius Stella in the preface to Book 1, he claims that his poems are mere impromptu productions, ‘qui mini subito calore et quadam festinandi voluptate fluxerunt’, and he worries that by the time they reach publication they may have lost their only charm, that of speed, ‘celeritas’. Statius makes the same claims for impromptu production with the poem I will be discussing in this article, Silvae 3.1, which celebrates the remodelling of the temple of Hercules on the private Campanian estate that belonged to Statius' friend Pollius Felix: ‘nam primum limen eius Hercules Surrentinus aperit, quern in litore tuo consecratum, statim ut videram, his versibus adoravi’ (praef. 3).

The above passage, from Maternus' first speech, poses a number of rather intricate textual problems. J. F. Gronovius rightly divined that the meaningless vaticiniireferred to a person whose evil power Maternus had broken. Who else but Vatinius, Nero's notorious jester? To read Vatiniifor vaticiniiis intrinsically attractive, and in default of a better alternative has found almost universal approval. The contextual implications of this acclaimed conjecture have not, however, always been appreciated. It is with these that the present paper is concerned. Discussing (I) the conjecture imperante Nerone(L. Miiller), and (II) the interpretation of J. Stroux, it will attempt in the final section (III) to relate the Vatinius incident to its original political and ideological context.

‘E veramente quella sentenzia di Cornelio Tacito è aurea, che dice: che gli uomini hanno ad onorare le cose passate e ad ubbidire alle presenti, e debbono desiderare i buoni principi, e communque ei si sieno fatti, tolleragli’ – so Niccolò Machiavelli in 1531. Some four hundred years later a young Oxford scholar remarked: ‘that bad man, Eprius Marcellus, could have turned out a fine speech on the necessity for monarchy and tolerance, if we believe Tacitus – “ulteriora mirari, praesentia sequi; bonos imperatores voto expetere, qualescumque tolerare” (Hist. 4.8.2)’. It may be asked, however, to what extent the opinions of Eprius Marcellus (‘that bad man’) can be regarded as those of Tacitus himself; this is, beyond doubt, a part of a major question, i.e. to what extent the utterances of historical personalities can be seen as a means of conveying Tacitus' own judgements. It is not my intention here to deal with this large problem; rather, I think it useful to look more closely at the Tacitean passage as a whole: not only the speech of Marcellus but also that of Helvidius (to which it is a response) as well as the historical context of the affair. It is to be hoped that such examination will render the quest for the historian's own opinions a little less difficult.