The wounds inflicted by Homer's warriors fascinate readers, since they are vividly described and often curious or even grotesque. Commentators have struggled to explain some of them since commentaries began: some of the explanations are more curious than the wounds. Not surprisingly, the commentaries have not usually been graced by a high standard of anatomical or, especially, physiological background knowledge, and are often misleading in these respects. When such knowledge is applied, some wounds which have appeared problematic become realistic, but some which have been accepted as straightforward become problematic.

The sea god Poseidon is taken for granted as such in Classical Greek literature and iconography. Yet one does not have to look far in the literary or iconographical sources to find material that conveys a somewhat different impression. This has been noticed, and in the past there have been some interesting attempts to surmise Poseidon's origins and significance from the evidence at hand. This paper is not an attempt to reconstruct a putative Mycenaean deity, but will examine certain episodes of the Homeric Iliad to suggest possible reasons for the inconsistencies and anomalies that appear.

I shall argue for two complementary theses: firstly that ‘Homer’ was not the name of a historical poet, but a fictitious or constructed name, and secondly that for a century or more after the composition of the Iliad and Odyssey there was little interest in the identity or the person of their author or authors. This interest only arose in the last decades of the sixth century; but once it did, ‘Homer’ very quickly became an object of admiration, criticism, and biographical construction.

It is well known from the sources that three Athenian factions were organized after Solon's reforms. Herodotus writes as follows:

In the course of time there was a feud between the Athenians of the coast under Megacles son of Alcmeon and the Athenians of the plain under Lycurgus son of Aristolaides. Pisistratus then, having an eye to the sovereign power, raised up a third faction. He collected partisans and pretended to champion the hillmen (συλλέξαՏ δ­ σταƣώταՏ ĸαì τѽ λóγω τѽν ύπεραĸρíων προστάЅ). (Her. 1.59, trans. A.D. Godley [Loeb])

Unresolved questions surround Simonides fr. 531, which eulogizes the Greeks who fell at Thermopylae. To what genre do these lines belong, what were the original conditions of their performance, and does Diodorus Siculus, who preserves the fragment, transmit just an extract (as seems most likely) or the complete piece? Commentators even differ as to where Simonides’ lines began: for some the words τŵυ ༐υ Θερμοπὐλαιζ θαυóυτωυ form part of the original composition, for others they conclude Diodorus' prose introduction. In my reading of the fragment, I aim to address some of these puzzles by focusing chiefly on issues that allow for greater certainty: the structure and sentiments of the lines, and the cohesion between the song's contents and the conventions found in near contemporary commemorations of men fallen in battle on their country or polis’ behalf. As the comparative material will suggest, Diodorus’ designation of the lines as an encomion, something ‘properly’ delivered in praise of living men, should perhaps not be dismissed out of hand. Simonides‘ words may have been embedded within a composition as much designed for the purpose of praising, exhorting and inspiring the living as for memorializing the dead.

The tragic or ‘instantaneous’ aorist usually has a paragraph to itself in the grammar books, as a distinct but not especially important use of the aorist. It is most common in Athenian drama of the second half of the fifth century, although there are possible examples in Homer and some learned revivals later. The present article offers an entirely new account of these aorists, and entails a new interpretation of the tone of some 75 lines of tragedy and comedy.

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’.

In the study of education, as in many more travelled regions of Classical scholarship, democratic Athens is something of a special case. The cautions formulation is appropriate: in the case of education, surprisingly few studies have sought to establish quite how special Athens was, and those which have, have often raised more questions than they answered. The subject itself is partly to blame. The history of education invites comparison with the present day, while those planning the future of education rarely fail to invoke the past. The place of Classical Athens in European culture has ensured a place for Athenian education in almost every debate from the relation between education and democracy to the value of education versus training, and as the original champion of causes as varied as mass education, co-education, and the national curriculum. Desirable as it is to be in demand, such treatment is not calculated to produce the most circumspect account of the subject. The study of education is further hampered by the fact that our knowledge of Athenian culture is so vibrant and diverse in some ways and so partial in others. Plato and Aristophanes present a vivid fictional picture of education in the late fifth century. If we add a few passages from Xenophon and Aristotle, a large number of vases depicting men, women, and children reading, playing the lyre, and doing athletics, and one or two archaeological finds of an educational appearance, it is tempting to take the result as a clear portrait of a society at school.

In recent years, there has been considerable debate about the reliability of Herodotus: the attack on his honesty led by Fehling, the defence by Pritchett. The debate, it seems, may have begun at least as far back as Thucydides, but now Thucydides himself may have joined the school of liars. Badian has produced a new reading of Thucydides’ description of the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, arguing that Thucydides deliberately set out to mislead the reader, misrepresenting the Spartans as the instigators of the War and carefully masking the Athenians’ own responsibility.

29–33. Phaedra's ἒρως must at first (at Athens) have been without betraying symptoms, by contrast with the change at Trozen to symptoms of νόσος (still unexplained) as described in 34–40. We need to be told that explicitly, in preparation (μέν) for 34ff. (ἐπєὶδὲ…) and in conjunction with the potentially revealing foundation of a temple to Aphrodite. We therefore need not only Jortin's ὀνομάσουσιν for ὠνόμαζєν in 33, but also my ἂδηλον for ἒκδηλον (v.l. ἒκδηλον) in 32. The nearby ἒκδηλον in 37 will have played a part in the corruption.

Our only fully extant satyr play begins (Silenus προλογίζει) with the following address to Dionysus and his statue:

In a previous article I attempted to trace the way in which, for Xenophon, homosexual liaisons might or might not affect the discipline of military life, and the emphasis which he placed upon the virtue of self-control (έγκράτεια) in dealing with desires of this kind. The present paper seeks to broaden the enquiry into a study of Xenophon's attitude to male same-sex affairs in general.

Perhaps more than any other dialogue, Plato's Laws demands a reading that is at once historical and philosophical. This text's conception of the ‘rule of law’ is best understood in its contemporary socio-political context; its philosophical discussion of this topic, in fact, can be firmly located in the political ideologies and institutions of fourth-century Greece. In this paper, I want to focus on the written lawcode created in the Laws in the context of the Athenian conception and practice of rule by written law. How are the Athenian laws authorized, disseminated, and implemented, and how does Plato's lawcode reflect and/or depart from this model? What is the status of the ‘text’ of each lawcode? How—and how well—do the citizens know the law? When and by whom can the lawcode be altered? Recent work on literacy and on rule by written law in fourth-century Athens invites a serious reconsideration of Plato's lawcode and the polity it is designed for. Certainly Plato's Laws is grounded in a serious meditation on Athenian legislative practices. But Plato adds a novel ingredient to his legislation—the ‘Egyptian’ practice of ‘doing things by the book’ exemplified by (among other things) the institution of laws which compel doctors to treat patients in strict accordance with venerable and, indeed, sacred medical texts. As I will argue, the ‘Egyptian’ medical and textual practices offer a model for the rule of law quite different from that found in Athens.

At lines 7–10 the description of the sea-battle appears to involve the destruction of the oars of the enemy ship (accepting Page's ῥηγì[κωπ] ος at 9), with the result that the sailors fall over (9–10 suppl. Danielsson). We would expect lines 11–13 to provide some sort of contrast with this description, since εἰ δέ at 11 contrasts with 7 ảλλ’ εἰμέυ, but the exact sense is not quite clear.

The characters in Plato's Socratic Dialogues and the sociocultural beliefs and assumptions they present have a historical dramatic setting which ranges over the last quarter of the fifth century b.c.—the period of activity of the historical Socrates. That this context is to an extent fictional is undeniable; yet this leaves open the question what the dramatic interplay of (mostly) dead politicians, sophists, and other Socratic associates—not forgetting Socrates himself—signifies for the overall meaning and purpose of individual Dialogues. Are we to assume, with a recent study, that Plato is entirely concerned with his contemporary world and is, as it were, borrowing his characters from the fifth century, or does the fiction reveal something of his real involvement in the values and debates of the recent past? The aim of this paper is to argue that a detailed study of the characterization and dramatic structure of one particular Dialogue, Laches, strongly suggests that Plato is using a perceived tension between past and present to generate not only a philosophical argument but also a commentary on the cultural and political world of late fifth-century Athens and in particular Socrates’ position within it.

Scholarly opinion has been divided over the interpretation of τοîς ἀπò χρησμῶν τι ἰσχυρισμένοις μóνον δὴ τοῦτο ἐχυρῶς ξυμβáν at Thucydides 5.26.3. On one hand, Dover and others maintain that Thucydides emphasizes the oracle's fulfilment, and adopt a somewhat neutral definition for ἰσχυρισαμένοις (‘venture to affirm’), while Marinatos argues that ‘By ἰσχυρισαμένοις Thucydides is diverting attention away from the oracle and instead focusing on those who made claims based on it.’ This paper studies the interpretations of ἰσχυρισαμένοις and will suggest a more precise understanding of the word.

In editing Plato's Sophist for the new OCT vol. I, ed. E. A. Duke, W. F. Hicken, W. S. M. Nicoll, D. B. Robinson, and J. C. G. Strachan (Oxford, 1995), there was less chance of giving novel information about W = Vind. Supp. Gr. 7 for this dialogue than for others in the volume, since Apelt's edition of 1897 was used by Burnet in 1900 and was based on Apelt's own collation of W. The result was better than the somewhat confused information printed by Burnet, even in his 1905 reprint, for W for the other dialogues in vol. I. (This seems perhaps to have arisen from some misinterpretation by Burnet of Kral's method of reporting W.) But in the Sophist as elsewhere in vol. I collations largely due to Dr W. S. M. Nicoll added new facts about all of BDTWP and their correctors, and the search for testimonia largely carried out by Dr E. A. Duke added new facts in that area. A reviewer counts 66 changes in our text of the Sophist, which may perhaps be a slight over-estimate. Classification of changes as substantive or as falling into different groups is sometimes difficult, but I think plausible figures are as follows. We (myself aided in the earlier sections by Nicoll) have in 25 places made a different choice of readings from the primary mss. and testimonia. We have printed conjectures where Burnet kept a ms. reading in 17 places, but conversely we have reverted to a ms. reading where Burnet had a conjecture in 8 places. We have printed alternative conjectures to conjectures adopted by Burnet in 6 places. So we have actually departed from the primary sources on at most 9 more occasions overall than Burnet. What must be noted is that Burnet had already printed conjectures (including readings from secondary mss.) on something like 87 occasions (12 from secondary mss., 75 from modern conjectures from Stephanus onwards), so our percentage addition to Burnet's departures from the primary sources is modest. Moreover Burnet printed about 25 readings from testimonia; we have followed him in 20 or so of these cases, and this in turn implies that the primary mss. are in error at these further 20 places. It needs to be underlined that though Burnet undoubtedly deserved to be regarded as a safe and cautious editor, nevertheless he departed from the primary mss. on average about twice per Stephanus page in this dialogue. Sometimes, of course, testimonia showed him right to do this, but testimonia cover only a quite small part of this dialogue. Otherwise Burnet accepted almost 90 conjectures. For the Politicus the figures are fairly similar; Burnet accepted 22 Byzantine conjectures and 35–40 more modern ones. The new OCT there adds 15 or so more (not all new) conjectures. (On the Politicus in the new OCT see Robinson [1995].)

Philoxenus of Cythera's dithyramb, Cyclops or Galatea, was a poem famous in antiquity as the source for the story of Polyphemus' love for the sea-nymph Galatea. The exact date of composition is uncertain, but the poem must pre-date 388 B.C., when it was parodied by Aristophanes in the parodos of Plutus (290–01), and probably, as we shall see below, post-dates 406, the point at which Dionysius I became tyrant of Syracuse (D.S. 13.95–6). The Aristophanic parody of the work may well point to a recent performance in Athens, perhaps the first, and it is hard to identify any more significant reason for mentioning the poem. Previous accounts of the poem have concentrated on two main points, its supposed satirical purpose, and the possibly dramatic nature of its performance, but there has been no attempt to consider these two points in relation to each other, or to assess in detail the value of the source-material. I argue that although there is some evidence to support the satirical reading of the poem, the main value of this tradition is that it reveals Philoxenus' comic treatment of his subject, and that while the Galatea motif has previously been considered the essential element in this comic treatment, it was probably a small part of the plot, perhaps only briefly alluded to. Finally I provide reasons for doubting the prevalent view that the performance included dramatic elements.

The law of Athens prohibited any but full citizens from owning land or houses. Thus the law also impeded the bequeathing of real property to those who were not citizens. This law seemed to preclude those who were the real backbone of the trading and banking businesses from owning land and, therefore, from lending and borrowing by using it as a security.