This paper considers Cassius Dio's account of the early worship of Augustus. Its main focus is the number of cults consecrated to the worship of Rome's new undisputed leader and his father, the now deceased and deified Divus Iulius, after the triumvir, on his way back from Alexandria in 29 b.c.e., wintered in Asia Minor. In his account of how the first official worship of Augustus was organized, Dio describes how Augustus let two separate cults inaugurate: a joint cult to the worship of Divus Iulius and the goddess Thea Roma—a Greek deity, which since the second century served as a personification of Roman rule or Roman power—and a personal cult to the worship of the victorious triumvir (51.20.6-8).

At some point before the late fifth century a.d. an unidentified writer compiled and affixed to each book of Dio's Roman History an index, most notably comprising a table of contents and an excerpt of the consular fasti. Of dubious provenance these paratexts have played a peripheral role in the editorial history of the work. Bekker and Dindorf, with somewhat puritanical zeal, removed them from the main text of their editions of the Roman History in the belief that they were not by Dio's hand. Conversely, the stereotyped edition of Dio's history produced under the auspices of Karl Tauchnitz at Leipzig in 1818 provided Latin translations of the indices, but omitted the Greek. Dio's more recent editors have restored them to their editions of the Roman History, despite questions over their origins.

In his paper ‘The wrong text of Euclid: on Heiberg's text and its alternatives', published in 1996, W.R. Knorr resuscitated the debate which had taken place in the 1880s between the orientalist M. Klamroth and the editor of Euclid's Elements, J.L. Heiberg. In nuce the debate concerned the fundamental question of which manuscript tradition of the Elements should be assigned textual anteriority: the Greek tradition or the Arabic tradition. Whereas Klamroth argued for the latter position, Heiberg, whose view became the prevailing one, endorsed the anteriority of the Greek tradition.

Ioulios Polydeukes, more commonly known as Pollux, was a Greek sophist and lexicographer active in the closing decades of the second century a.d. His Onomasticon is one of the most important lexicographical texts of the Imperial period. It is essentially a set of word lists dedicated to collecting clusters of related words on topics from a vast range of different areas of intellectual activity and everyday life. The text survives only in epitomized form, and shows signs of interpolation as well as abridgement. Nevertheless, the consensus is that the bulk of what survives is Pollux’ own work, and that reading it in Eric Bethe's Teubner edition gives an accurate cumulative impression of Pollux’ standard procedures and preoccupations, even if we cannot be entirely confident that any particular cluster of words had exactly the same form within the text's original design. It is divided into ten books, each with its own dedicatory preface addressed to the Emperor Commodus. Each book has its own distinctive focus on certain key themes, although the ordering principles are much clearer in some than in others.

A change in the form of narrative presentation divides Heliodorus’ Aethiopica in two halves, the first embracing Books 1–5, the second Books 6–10. The shift has been described in different terms: Keyes notes that, whereas the first part uses an in medias res opening, the second follows by and large chronological order. Morgan ascribes to the first half a ‘hermeneutic impulse’ that gives way to an ‘end-directed’ drive in the second half. Using Sternberg's concept of narrative time, one could say that by and large the first five books are dominated by curiosity, the second five books by suspense: after trying to fathom the prehistory, the reader then directs her attention to the further development of the plot. The shift, however, concerns not only the orchestration of time, but also the stance of the narrator: while Hefti juxtaposes the net of embedded narratives in the first five books with the predominance of the primary narrator in the last five books, Futre Pinheiro considers the shift in terms of ‘showing’ and ‘telling’. The difference between the two halves of the Aethiopica thus hinges on the central narratological categories of time and voice.

The following textual and interpretative notes were informed by the preparation of the first volume of the revised Greek Anthology for the Loeb Classical Library.

Anth. Pal. 1.20 (Claudian)

ἀρτιφανές, πολιοῦχε, παλαιγενές, υἱὲ νεογνέ,
αἰὲν ἐὼν προεών τε, ὑπέρτατε, ὕστατε, Χριστέ,
ἀθανάτοιο πατρός τε ὁμόχρονε, πάμπαν ὁμοῖε …
2 ἐὼν ex αἰὼν P

In 2007 I published the first part of some manuscript notes on the text of Menander Rhetor, which I attributed to F. Jacobs (1764–1847). I now present the second part of these notes, alongside a global assessment of all the coniectanea and corrections by F. Jacobs on the text of this rhetor.

Claudian of Alexandria's last datable poem, the Panegyric on the Sixth Consulship of Honorius, was delivered in Rome in 404, presumably on 1 January. This performance occurred in the course of the first visit to Rome by an emperor for nearly a decade and a half. Imperial visits to Rome were notoriously rare in the fourth century and, in a well-known passage of that poem, the goddess Roma herself muses on their rarity: she had only seen an Augustus three times in the last hundred years (VI Cos. 392–3). This is not quite true, but the only legitimate emperors known to have paid formal visits to Rome in that period were Constantine in 312–13, 315 and 326, Constantius II in 357, and Theodosius I, accompanied by his four-year-old son Honorius, in 389. In this article I shall begin by making an observation about the court's intentions in moving to Rome in late 403 (Section I), and then deal with two problems bound up with the interpretation of this poem and with the circumstances of imperial visits. The first problem (Section II) concerns the visit of Honorius during which the poem was first performed. In Claudian's narrative the description of Honorius' triumphal entry leads into a description of his assumption of the consulate, and scholars have sometimes asserted that he made a triumphal entry as consul on 1 January 404. This is clearly wrong: Honorius arrived in Rome weeks or months before. But even when this point is recognized, it is often asserted that the poem blends triumphal and consular imagery, and elements of the triumphal entry are confused with the assumption of the consulship (most recently by Michael Dewar in his generally outstanding commentary on the poem). My argument therefore moves from the chronology of Honorius' visit to elucidating the structure and imagery of Claudian's poem, as well as casting light on the patterns of the late antique imperial aduentus more broadly. The second problem (Section III) concerns the description of Honorius' previous visit to Rome with his father in the summer of 389. Here it has sometimes been inferred (including again by Dewar) on the basis of Claudian, and of late chronicles, that Honorius was created Caesar by his father on 13 June, the day of the aduentus. I shall show on the basis of a critical examination of the chronicle tradition, as well as a survey of contemporary numismatic, epigraphic and literary evidence, that this belief is unfounded, and that the relevant passages of Claudian require a different interpretation. However, this evidence also makes clear that signals were being sent in 389 about Honorius' imperial future.

It is an established Hellenistic topos that philosophy is the ‘medicine’ of the soul, in charge of ‘healing’ the soul in the same way as medicine is in charge of healing the body. The ‘diseases’ of the soul deemed to be in need of healing are its passions, that is, its fears and desires, and the moral ‘health’ that philosophers pledge to grant their followers is freedom from passions and hence peace of mind.

Thucydides, Diodorus and Plutarch describe the outbreak of war between Miletus and Samos in 441/440 b.c.e., ostensibly over possession of their smaller neighbour Priene, in similar ways (Thuc. 1.115-17; Diod. Sic. 12.27-8; Plut. Per. 25-8). What began as a local conflict over land escalated when Miletus appealed to Athens as hegemon of the Delian League. The Athenians ordered arbitration to resolve the conflict, but the Samians, probably concerned that the Athenians would side with the Milesians (Diod. Sic. 12.27.1), refused, which in turn led to war between Samos and Athens. Eight months later a coup at Samos started another war. When the Samians finally surrendered, the Athenians forced them to repay the cost of the siege (IG I2.293; Thuc. 1.117.3) and collected hostages (Thuc. 1.117.3).

Modern knowledge of the grammarian Consentius’ De barbarismis et metaplasmis, a work valuable for the study of the Latin language, dates back to a relatively recent past: it was only in 1817 that its editio princeps was published by Ph.C. Buttmann, just a few years after the legal scholar A.W. Cramer came across a mention of the then unknown treatise in a ninth-century MS in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek of Munich, numbered Clm 14666. Based on this solitary manuscript, H. Keil published the short treatise in the fifth volume of his Grammatici Latini. With no little enthusiasm did W.M. Lindsay announce his unearthing of what, in his own words, had ‘long been a “desideratum”, a second authority’ for this text, in the MS F 15 III d at the Universitätsbibliothek Basel; this was followed by E.O. Winstedt's complete collation and M. Niedermann's critical edition. After about a century now there comes to light a third authority, surprisingly enough in a codex which has enjoyed such fame in the past decades that one might wonder how Consentius could have gone unnoticed in it for so long: this is the eleventh-century MS of Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana Lat. Z. 497 (= 1811), in which the De barbarismis et metaplasmis is contained on fols. 84vb 39 - 90va 39; moreover, a so-far-unnoticed quotation from it (32.9-14), together with one from Consentius’ De nomine et uerbo (Consent. gramm. V 353.6-7), is found on fol. 41vb 16–21 of the same manuscript in a famous grammatical florilegium. The codex, written in Romanesque minuscule and probably originating in Rome, is regarded as a handbook of liberal arts designed by Lawrence Archbishop of Amalfi, formerly a monk at Montecassino, thereafter a teacher in Florence and Rome, where he died in about 1049. Based on palaeographical evidence, F.L. Newton rightfully assumed as an exemplar for this codex a MS in Beneventan script, as some features can be detected that betray the scribal imitation of that typical South Italian script, namely the use of the distinctive abbreviation for eius as ‘ei in ligature with stroke through the descender of the i’, the Beneventan ti ligature for the assibilated sound, and the 2-shaped Beneventan interrogation sign, to which I would add the typical abbreviation for in as a long i cut by a horizontal stroke and the confusion of a and t. Interestingly enough, none of these features is found on fols. 66–95, those containing the new Consentius: from a codicological point of view, this is an autonomous section, written by a different scribe from the rest of the MS and preserving some grammatical texts generally attributed to insular authors, such as Smaragdus’ Liber in partibus Donati (fols. 66–81vb) and part of the compilation entitled Pauca de barbarismo (fols. 81vb - 84vb), which precedes the De barbarismis et metaplasmis; not surprisingly, the new text of Consentius displays numerous features of the Insular script, such as the symbols for enim, autem, eius, est, nihil and et. On this basis it is most likely that this whole section was never included in the Beneventan exemplar, but was added at the time and place of copying of our MS in order to enrich the grammatical content.

ἔγωγε νὴ τοὺς κονδύλους, οὓς πολλὰ δὴ ᾽πὶ πολλοῖς
ἠνεσχόμην ἐκ παιδίου, μαχαιρίδων τε πληγάς

The edition of Statius which Johannes Fredericus Gronovius (1611–1671) published in Amsterdam in 1653 is acknowledged as the most significant stage in the evolution of the printed text of the Thebaid before the late nineteenth century. J.B. Hall rightly stresses that, in spite of some blemishes, it is the first edition of Statius' works which ‘shows the application of much thought to the editorial process’ and ‘deserves to be called critical in the fullest sense’. In accordance with contemporary practice, Gronovius aimed not at establishing Statius' text through a reconstruction of the manuscript tradition but, rather, at selectively correcting a printed textus receptus. The prototype used for producing the text of his edition was the text of the edition of Amsterdam 1630 (a reproduction of that of Amsterdam 1624, itself derived from Gevartius' edition of Leiden 1616). Gronovius' text is not beyond reproach, even when judged from the perspective of the textus receptus. The number of passages corrected remains indeed limited. It is, however, higher than in any other printed text between the first Aldine (Venice, 1502) and the edition of Müller (Leipzig, 1870). More importantly, Gronovius' corrections are usually of great value, and many of them promote readings that are still considered correct today. From the disappointingly short commentary (‘gustus’) in which Gronovius discussed a few problematic passages, it can be clearly seen that his corrections relied on solid information and good skills. Although Gronovius' knowledge of the textual transmission of Statius did not compare with Heinsius' knowledge of that of Ovid, his edition stands out, in the tradition of the Thebaid, for the numerous manuscripts it made use of: eleven (at least), as we learn from his commentary.

Here's a fine argument for you!

1. 1) Anyone who plans to prescribe medicines will need to be a skilled doctor;

2. 2) These people plan to prescribe medicines;

3. 3) Therefore, these people will need to be skilled rulers.

If you expected the last word of the conclusion to be ‘doctors’ instead of ‘rulers’, then you will find the rest of this note plain sailing.

Among the manuscripts of Ovid's Metamorphoses used by N. Heinsius (1620–1681) and as yet unidentified or given up for lost is the so-called fragmentum Caesenas (Cs), the collation of which was not carried out by Heinsius himself but provided for him by the Hamburg jurist Lucas Langermann (1625–1686), who was a correspondent of Heinsius, Gronovius and Vossius, among others. According to M.D. Reeve, he was also responsible for adding these notes, using the siglum c, to Oxon. Bodl. Auct. S.V.5, which also includes the collations—by another hand—of A (= Vrbinas ueterrimus, our V2) and B (= Berneggerianus, our P2). The variants provided by this fragment affect lines 9.235–11.169 and 13.1–403, although this does not imply that these were the exact limits of its content, as we shall see below. Some of these variants ended up in the notes of the editions by Heinsius himself and by those who continued his work (the most prominent example being the admirable edition of Ovid by P. Burman, in 1727), and it was D.A. Slater who rescued the collation of Bodl. Auct. S.V.5 from obscurity when he included the greater part of the readings of c (the siglum he himself retains) among the rich store of information presented in his work. F. Munari included the fragment in his catalogue, clearly pointing to the uncertainty surrounding its dating (‘aetatis incertae’, the same expression as used by Slater) while adding the information that it was not at that time to be found in Cesena. The succinct information offered by Slater is used by I. Marahrens for her dissertation and by W.S. Anderson for his edition. R.J. Tarrant, in turn, explicitly states that the fragment is now lost. In the following pages, however, I will attempt to show that this fragment is not lost, but still preserved in the Biblioteca Malatestiana in Cesena.

Hermes, rising for action, is twice (Il. 24.340-1 and Od. 5.44-5) described as follows: αὐτίκ’ ἔπειθ’ ὑπὸ ποσσὶν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα, | ἀμβρόσια χρύσεια (‘then, at once he bound beneath his feet beautiful sandals, ambrosial and golden’). In both cases, the verses that follow imply that the sandals enable Hermes to travel over land and sea, as fast as the wind. Athena is described in the same way at Od. 1.96-7: ὣς εἰποῦσ’ ὑπὸ ποσσὶν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα, | ἀμβρόσια χρύσεια. And a line including ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα and preceded by ὑπὸ ποσσὶν or ποσσὶ … ὑπό, but without reference to any divine powers, appears four times in the Iliad, describing the actions of Agamemnon (2.44, 10.22), Nestor (10.132) and Hera (14.186), and five times in the Odyssey, describing the actions of Odysseus (2.4), Menelaus (4.309) and Telemachus (15.550, 17.2, 20.126).

At line 1025 of Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannus,

σὺ δ᾽ ἐμπολήσας ἢ τεκών μ᾽ αὐτῷ δίδως;,

The speaker of Demosthenes 56 had lent money to a ship-owner Dionysodorus for a commercial voyage, and now is prosecuting him for breach of contract. The prosecutor is usually thought to be a metic. In the course of the speech he does not identify himself; but Libanius in his Argumenta of Demosthenes supplies a name, Darius: Arg. 54.1 Δαρεῖος καὶ Πάμφιλος Διονυσοδώρῳ δανείζουσι and 2 ὡς δὲ Δαρεῖος λέγει. The manuscripts of the Argumenta, which begin in the tenth century, are numerous; Foerster (VIII 677) and Dindorf/Blass (III xlviii) cite no variant for the name. Libanius’ source for this information is unrecoverable.