This is, in effect, an extended footnote to CQ 34 (1984), 271. There, having occasion to discuss the ‘Aristophanic’ synopsis of Aeschylus' Eumenides, I expressed doubt about the value of such synopses in general; and I must now seek to justify this aspersion. I am not claiming any expertise in the study of Hellenistic scholarship, and shall largely be leaving it to others to decide what conclusion to draw from the facts I am pointing out; but my note will have served its purpose if it stimulates discussion.

The Res Gestae of Ammianus Marcellinus is a major source of our knowledge of the late Roman army. However, although himself a former army officer, it was not the intention of Ammianus to explain the institutions and organization of the late Roman army to his readers. We learn about these only from the incidental pieces of information which are scattered throughout his text. It was not his intention either to present us with the regimental histories of any individual units, yet repeated references to the more prominent and prestigious units were inevitable in a history such as his. This was particularly true in the case of the scholae palatinae because of their role as the bodyguard units of the emperors. It is my intention here to draw together such information as Ammianus provides about the scholae in order to demonstrate how, in a number of cases in particular, it is possible to reconstruct an almost complete list of their commanders for the period c. 353–364

MR. R. G. M. Nisbet has made the attractive suggestion that the Vinnius to whom Horace addressed his thirteenth epistle was the Vinnius Valens mentioned by the elder Pliny as a centurion of immense strength who had served in the praetorian guard of Augustus (N.H. 7. 82). To the points which he has made in support of this identification may be added the appropriateness, if Horace's Vinnius was a soldier, of the words victor propositi (II) and the fact that Horace's comparison between Vinnius and a pack-animal gains in point if Vinnius was famous for feats of strength involving wagons and beasts of burden.

The Homeric influence on two prominent avian images in the parodos of the Agamemnon—the vulture simile (49–50) and the omen of the eagles and the pregnant hare (109–10)—has long been noted. In 1979 West suggested that the animal imagery also derived in part from Archilochus’ fable of the fox and the eagle (frr. 172–81 West), and his discussion was quickly welcomed and supplemented by Janko's reading of the eagle and snake imagery used by Orestes at Cho. 246–7. Capping this triennium mirabile of critical interest in Aeschylus’ birds of prey, Davies argued that the convincing resemblances between the fable and the Aeschylean passages in West's thesis—the anthropomorphism implied in παίδων (Ag. 50) and δεγπνον (Ag. 137) and the concern of Zeus for aggrieved animals (Ag. 55–6)—derive more generally from the nature of fable rather than from any one particular tale. Thus we have, according to Davies, an example of Aeschylus ‘exploring the resources and familiar modes of expression of a popular and well-known genre’ and transforming it into ‘the purest and sublimest type of poetry’.

The question discussed in this paper is the relation of the Topics (including the Sophistici Elenchi) to the two Analytics. The smaller works are here ignored.

In a recent article in this journal M. L. West made the plausible suggestion that some features of the parodos of Aeschylusü Agamemnon, including the famous simile of the vultures deprived of their young, display the influence of Archilochusü celebrated epode in which Lycambes was admonished with the tale of the fox and the eagle. I think a passage in the Choephoroe confirms his view.

One of the Oresteiaüs most characteristic traits is the manner in which themes and images recur during the trilogy. The simile of the vultures at Ag. 48 ff. and the omen of the eagle and the hare at 112 ff. are conspicuously placed and vividly drawn, and we are not surprised to find a resumption of this imagery in the Choephoroe, when the eagleüs nestlings, Electra and Orestes, are reunited and plan their revenge (Cho. 246–51, 255–9). Here we find the image reversed: the young have lost their parents, not the parent-birds their young as at Ag.

The idea of the philosopher-statesman finds its first literary expression in Plato's Republic, where Socrates, facing the ‘third wave’ of criticism of his ideal State, how it can be realized in practice, declares2 that it will be sufficient ‘to indicate the least change that would affect a transformation into this type of government. There is one change’, he claims, ‘not a small change certainly, nor an easy one, but possible.’ ‘Unless either philosophers become kings in their countries, or those who are now called kings and rulers come to be sufficiendy inspired with a genuine desire for wisdom; unless, that is to say, political power and philosophy meet together, … there can be no rest from troubles for states.’

In his exposition of MS Vat. gr. 2226 (V) in 1888, Leopold Cohn brought to light two consecutive grammatical treatises, both attributed to Aelius Herodian: the Περ⋯ ⋯μαρτημ⋯νων λ⋯ξεων(here loc. prav.), containing seventy paragraphs, and the Φιλ⋯ταιρος (here Philet.) with 312 glosses. Both had been published in part: fifty-four paragraphs of loc. prav. by G. Hermann in 1801 from MS Mon. gr. 529 (M) and a version of fifty-nine paragraphs by J. Cramer under the title of Περ⋯ τ⋯ν ζητουμ⋯νων κατ⋯ κλ⋯σιν παντ⋯ς λ⋯γου μερ⋯ν;. Glosses 1–78 of Philet. were published by J. Pierson (1759) from a copy of MS Par. gr. 2552 (P).

Anyone who reads the opening chapters of Thucydides’ history consecutively will soon find it difficult to follow the thread of the argument. If he turns to a summary of the subjects chapter by chapter, he will not be greatly enlightened. In this paper the question is asked: why did Thucydides arrange his subjects as he did? In Part I the conclusion is reached that in the arrangement of his subject-matter he was following a clear-cut system. In Part II the implications of this conclusion are considered.

That Isidore′s etymological encyclopaedia should still remain to be edited seems strange at first sight; a book which makes a bridge between ancient and modern learning, and gives us a picture of the arts and sciences in Spain in the seventh century. Arevalo′s edition (in Migne′s Patrologia Latina) has a fair text, but practically no apparatus criticus; Otto′s (in Lindemann′s Grammatici Latini) offers the variants of a few worthless MSS. to support a very poor text. Since Otto′s, published some eighty years ago, there have been promises of editions, but no actual edition.

Many have written of imperial qualities perceived or publicized, particularly of those attached to the emperor Constantine. Although only a tediously exhaustive volume could do justice to the whole subject, and any essay which does not embrace the whole runs the risk of being faulted for some omission or other, one may yet justify a particular concern. The subject of the present paper is the tension between form and function, which appears nowhere so readily as in a series of similar literary exercises spanning a number of years, and the demonstration that form will always yield to practical necessity. For example, the rise, fall, and rehabilitation of Maximian through seven of the Panegyrici Latini clearly illustrates the many functions of a standard form. Constantine's is a more complicated case which involves two kinds of form and a certain amount of Augustan posturing.

Editors and commentators ancient and modern have not responded very well to the challenge of the two riddles which round off the contest between Damoetas and Menalcas at the end of Eclogue 3 (104–7). The first is generally regarded as impossibly difficult; the second as impossibly easy. Critics take refuge in quoting Servius' despairing statement: sciendum aenigmata haec sicuti pleraque carere aperta solutione. Yet it is most unlikely that Virgil would introduce insoluble or meaningless riddles into the Bucolica. If there is no solution the lines become pointless, even tasteless; and these are not epithets to be applied lightly to Virgil's poetry.

The purpose of this paper is to investigate the source of Plutarch's inspiration for the impressive discourse which he presents from the lips of Ammonius in the De E apud Delphos, and in particular for the following much-quoted passage

All wars have causes; some have pretexts. When Polybios (6. 6. 1–7. 3) distinguishes between the cause, the pretext, and the beginning of war, his language sounds curiously modern. When he summarizes the causes of the Second Punic War the modern reader is not so satisfied. The war was due, in his opinion, to the indignation of Hamilcar Barca, who had to accept peace when he could have continued fighting in Sicily; to the anger of the Carthaginians, when they were forced to surrender Sardinia; and to the good fortune which attended their armies in Spain. A more recent account differs from Polybios not only on matters of detail. ‘It is true that it was Hannibal's attack on Saguntum, undertaken in full knowledge of the almost inevitable consequences, that precipitated the war, but the historian must decide that, so far as attack and defence have a meaning in the clash between states, the balance of aggression must incline against Rome.’

In the course of the military operations at Pylos three major actions were fought. The first was the series of attacks by land and sea launched by the Peloponnesians against the forces under Demosthenes occupying the peninsulaof Pylos (Thuc. 4. 9–12); the second was the naval battle in the harbour (13–14); the third was the Athenian assault on the Spartans cut off on Sphacteria(29–39). The second of these actions does not appear to have had less influenceon the development of the situation or to have been militarily less interestingand instructive than the other two. The account of it by Thucydides is, however, less detailed than his accounts of the first and third major actions andmay be thought to be lacking in the clarity which is normally a conspicuousfeature of his battle narratives.

This paper is an attempt to elucidate the senses in which this place-name is used in Homer; to assign meanings to the Homeric terms Achaean, Iason and Pelasgic Arge, to ‘Argive’ as a synonym for Greek, and to establish the nature of the Argos over which Agamemnon ruled. I take the Homeric poems as the unity which they profess to be, and which they must be for historical enquiry. Whatever liberties Homer took with his materials (and I credit him with as free a hand as any one has allowed to Pisistratus)it is plain he was careful to respect events. The effort to distinguish between old and new in the Iliad and Odyssey has caused needless and fruitless encumbrance to the official historians, such as Busolt; the Unitarian position has given us the remarkable results of Professor Myres' (paper on the Pelasgians, J.H.S. 1907, 170 sqq.). The consistency of Mr. Myres' account, and I venture to hope of mine, allows a fresh inference back to the homogeneity of the poems which are their source.

To explain the meaning of the Prometheus the late Dr. Walter Headlam quoted the famous lines from theAgamemnon:

‘ Sing praise; ’Tis he hath guided, say, Man's feet in Wisdom's way, Stablishing fast for learning's rule That Suffering be her school….’ ‘This,’ he said, ‘is the school in which Prometheus himself is being gradually taught the wise humility; at present he is still in the rebellious stage. And it is with this idea that Io is introduced into the Prometheus Bound; she, too, is an example of the seeming cruelty of Zeus; but it is a blessing in disguise, for she is to be the mother of the blessed Epaphus, and it is a son of Zeus by Alcmena, a descendant of her own, that is to set Prometheus free.’

Despite a growing body of evidence to the contrary, the running slave (‘servus currens’), and particularly the often lengthy entrance monologue of the running slave, is generally considered a distinctly Roman phenomenon, an exuberant growth of the Latin soil, albeit from Greek seed.1 There are two reasons for this. One reason is the frequency with which the motif appears in the comedies of Plautus and Terence, in sharp contrast with the absence of any single undisputable New Comic example. The second reason is Eduard Fraenkel's Plautinisches im Plautus which, sixty-five years after its publication, remains the most authoritative scholarly work in the field of Roman comedy. In this book Fraenkel argues that Plautus' running-slave scenes, particularly the monologues of the Curculio (280–98) and the Captivi (790–828), are a veritable nexus of original Plautine traits.