To add without good reason to the already enormous literature surrounding the most fascinating and puzzling of all Vergil's works ought, nowadays, to be regarded as an offence against learning. My excuse for this article is that even the latest work on the subject, Ed. Norden's charming monograph, Die Geburt des Kindes (Teubner, Leipzig, 1924), appears to me wrong on one important point, inadequate on another.

Just east of the Pamir mountains, and to the north of the great plateau of Tibet, lies the little-explored country of Chinese or Eastern Turkestan. In that country, towards the end of the last century, two hitherto unknown languages were discovered by European explorers and translated by European scholars. Several nations took part in the investigation, and the material discovered was amicably distributed among English, French, German, and Russian philologists. The material to which I refer, the precious sources from which our knowledge of these languages is obtained, consists partly of engraved wooden tablets, but chiefly of documents written on a kind of paper which has been miraculously preserved in the extreme dryness of the sand for some 1,300 years—just like the eggs of the dinosaur recently discovered not so very far from this region, and which, we are told, have been there for ten million years. No such antiquity can be claimed for our documents, which are, in fact, distressingly late. Historical references contained in them seem to show that both languages existed at least as late as the seventh century A.D., when they disappeared. The most striking fact about these languages is that, though very different the one from the other, they both clearly belong to that great Indo-European family to which Greek, Latin, English, Sanskrit, Persian, and so many of the languages of Europe belong.

In a previous article, I have attempted to summarize the evidence of Aristotle about the relations of Socrates and Plato in the development of the theory of Ideas. It may be of interest now to carry the enquiry further, and to see whether writers later than Aristotle have anything of importance to say about the whole question of the general intellectual relationship between the two men. In particular we must enquire whether or how far they regard or say anything to lead us to regard the Dialogues of Plato as a record of Plato's own thought or as a biographical account of the thought of Socrates or—a third possibility—as both at the same time. And, in addition to this, we shall have to attempt some estimate of the value, if any, which we can put upon such statements—an estimate which would depend in its turn on our answer to the question how far they had access to original sources of information no longer extant.

These lines conclude the account of Hermes inventing the primitive method of producing fire by friction, and it is evident that the writer had in mind σ 308:

περ δ ξλα κγχανα θ;καν,

αὖα πλαι περκηλα, νον κεκεασμνα χαλκῷ,

cf. also ε 240. Gemoll accordingly in his edition (1886) read αὖα λαβών, and for so doing was rebuked by Messrs. S. and A. in their best dogmatic manner: ‘Gemoll's αὖα cannot be accepted; οὖλα is sound, though the meaning is not certain.’ In other words: ‘Whether οὖλα makes sense or nonsense, it is right.’ Finally, they say that οὖλα probably means ‘whole’, and this translation is, I think, confirmed by l. 137; but then it follows that the hymn-writer was flatly contradicting the κεκεασμνα in Homer's line, and knew no more about fire-lighting than these trenchant editors. Ignition fuel has a character of its own, and from this point of view Gemoll has the advantage.

No one who has read with reasonable attention the Works and Days, the Theogony, the Shield, and even the fragments of the lost Hesiodic poems, can have failed to notice a peculiar feature. Again and again a passage, be it longer or shorter, is followed by what may be called, if not a true ‘doublet,’ at least an ‘echo’—a second passage reproducing the general idea, and often the more prominent verbal details of the preceding lines. In fact, in these poems we have a series of variants or alternate versions. Editors of the Hesiodic works have indeed drawn attention to many of these ‘echoes,’ but (to the best of my knowledge) they have been content to let the matter rest when they have drawn a distinction between ‘prima’ and ‘altera recensio,’ and have labelled one or other of them as ‘spurious.’ Yet this feature in the Hesiodic vulgate is surely of the highest interest and importance. How came these variant passages to be ‘stitched’ together, and when was the stitching done?

There is no established agreement concerning the meaning of πτυχαῖς. The scholiasts give three alternatives: (1) ταῖς ποισεσιν πε διαιρεῖται εἰς στροϕς κα ντιστρΦους κα πῳδς. To the same effect, but more comprehensively, Boeckh interprets: artificiosi flexus numerorum harmoniae saltationis. Similarly Donaldson, Paley, Fennell, and Mezger apply the expression to the artistic turns of poetry; and Gildersleeve's sinuous songs is explained to mean the same thing. Myers translated sounding labyrinths of song, which Sandys modified to sounding bouts of song; but I am not sure that I understand their metaphors. (2) Embroidery of song is apparently a suggestion of the scholiast, since he remarks that πτυχαῖς is suitably (οἰκεως) attached to δαιδαλωσμεν and ποικλλειν—ὥσπερ π κατασκευσματος. But we look in vain for a justification of πτυχα so employed. (3) Then comes the counsel of despair ὕμνων πτυχαῖς: τοῖς ὕμνοις κατ περΦρασιν, for which it is perhaps unnecessary to refer to Rutherford's Annotation, p. 250. I cannot think that anyone is really satisfied with such explanations, although there are no open notes of dissent. There must be some objection which I do not see to the rendering ‘glorious pages of minstrelsy,’ and yet πτυχ is well established in that connexion: Aesch. Suppl. 947 οὐδ' ν ββλων πτυχαῖς κατεσΦραγισμνα where Schuetz rightly finds a reference to charta papyracea )( πνακες. Everyone remembers Gray's ‘Knowledge … her ample page rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll.’

On inquiring into the nature of the Charites one may be astonished at the disagreement of their compounding elements. On the one hand, they appear as the very representatives and even personification of gracefulness and charm, brightness, and joy; their name itself seems to testify this, closely allied as it is with the verb χαρειν besides the particular names of the most renowned Hesiodic trinity—Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia—that is to say, brilliancy, mirth, and florescence. Hence arose the Roman conception of the Gratiae decentes; hence also the widespread neo-humanistic idea, clothed by Goethe in the well-known verse of the Classical Walpurgis Night: ‘Grace we are bringing into life ….’ But, on the other hand, we discover the incontestable kinship of Charis with Charon, the ugly and sullen ferryman of the lower world, the still more amazing relation between Eurynome, the mother of the Hesiodic trinity, and Eurynomos, the horrid demon of decay, the vulture-skinned devourer of putrefying corpses in the Delphic Nekyia of Polygnotos.

As is well known, many editors, following Valckenaer, reject the bracketed line altogether; but the omission leaves the opening clause with a very unsatisfactory ending. Ἐμπρέποντας αίθέρι, heavily stressed by its position, seems to form little less than an anticlimax, unless we assume that the stars could hardly be expected to shine in the sky. On the other hand, when line 7 is added, έμπρέποντας αίθέρ στέρας brings out clearly the fact that only certain conspicuous stars or constellations are meant—those which serve as guides to the operations of agriculture and navigation, such as the Pleiades, Arcturus, and Orion, as we may see from Hesiod, Op. 609 onwards.

In this much-vexed passage a form or variant of ναγνώρισς is described and exemplified. It is said to be συνθετ, which word all the translations I have seen render ‘compound’ or ‘composite,’ but their authors either omit or (me judice) clearly fail to explain in what sense this form is said to be ‘composite.’ I believe that this translation is wrong, and that the word here means something else, συνθετος λόγος is good Greek for ‘a made-up tale’ (cf. Aesch. Prom. Vinct. 686, where συνθετο λόγοι are also called μθοι ψευδεῖς). The point is not that what is said or told is necessarily a lie, but that it is untrue, baseless, not founded on fact. All this is supported by the use of the corresponding verb in e.g. Thuc. I. cc. XXI. and XCVII., where it is opposed to the truthful recording of facts (συγγρϕειν). Further, it justifies Dacier's reading in 1459a 21, where the relative clause refers to ἱστοραις not to τς συνθσεις. The characteristic of a poetic σνθεσις is that it is a connected narrative which has a causal nexus between its parts, and so is of μα πρξις, whereas an ἱστορα is a record of disconnected happenings to a single person or group of persons during a certain period. Such a σὐνθις may be merely made-up or fictional. It is specially so where it has no basis in fact (or prior accepted legend or ‘epic’), but is the sheer invention of the poet. Clearly such a fiction must be rendered acceptable or plausible, and this can only be done through someone being misled, and this misleading implies that that someone draws a wrong conclusion from evidence present or presented to him— i.e. it presupposes a παραλογισμός.

Amongst material collected for Part II. of the Pre-Italic Dialects is a plaster cast of a bronze fibula of the ‘simple bow’ or ‘arched’ type found in the neighbourhood of Chur. The cast was sent by Dr. R. von Planta to Professor Conway, who passed it on to me. Study of the inscription, however, which is not, so far as I am aware, hitherto published, shows that it is not, as was thought, Raetic, but Gallo-Latin, as its provenance (which, in any case, precludes its publication in the book for which it was sent to me) would suggest.

Mr. Powell's ingenious observations on The Simile of the Clepsydra in Empedocles raise afresh the problem of the precise form and construction of the instrument with whose aid Empedokles is said to have reached his memorable conclusion that air is a corporeal substance. That ‘klepsydra’ was the name of the instrument in question is shown by a comparison of Aristotle, Phys. 213a, 22 sqq. with Empedokles, fr. 100; but though so far the fragment is plain, in its detailed interpretation there arises a difficulty which is the subject of the present note. Empedokles is explaining his theory of respiration, and the theory is illustrated by the action of this apparatus. To make clear the general drift of the passage, it may be well to quote again so much of it as is relevant. ‘Thus do all things draw breath in and breathe it out again. All have bloodless tubes of flesh extended over the surface of their bodies; and at the mouths of these the outermost surface of the skin is perforated all over with pores closely packed together, so as to keep in the blood while a free passage is cut for the air to pass through. Then, when the thin blood recedes from these, the bubbling air rushes in with an impetuous surge; and when the blood rushes back it’ (i.e. the air) ‘is breathed out again.

§ 1. The dates for Peisistratus’ reigns and exiles in the Athenaion Politeia, as given in the papyrus, which is the sole authority for the text, are as follows:

The story of Epaminondas' trial has come down to us in two divergent traditions, which differ as to the occasion, the ground, and the result of the action. One group of authors, of whom Plutarch may be taken as the chief representative, gives the following data:

(1) The trial took place after Epaminondas' first campaign in Peloponnesus— i.e. in spring 369 b.c.

(2) The charge preferred against Epaminondas was that he had outstayed his term of office as boeotarch.

(3) The trial resulted in his acquittal.

Eduard Norden, in the second half of his Agnostos Theos, has maintained with great learning and ingenuity the thesis that predications in the style ‘Thou art (Isis),’ ‘I am (the supreme god),’ are due to Oriental influence; purely Greek religious language does not go beyond ‘Thou dost (illuminate the earth),’ ‘We are indebted to thee for (the fruits of the earth).’ This view appears to be substantially correct. To Oriental influence we may, I think, trace also the custom of stringing together a series of brief predications in or of the second person, for the most part not connected by conjunctions, and producing the effect of a rapid fire of assertions. The earlier Greek examples are not, as a rule, asyndetic. In the Hellenistic age and later we see the other style, as in Catullus 34. 13: ‘tu Lucina dolentibus Iuno dicta puerperis, tu potens Triuia et notho es dicta lumine luna, tu cursu dea menstruo … exples’ 61. 51: ‘te suis tremulus parens inuocat, tibi uirgines zonula soluunt sinus, te timens cupida nouus captat aure maritus’; in Lucretius' proem; in Ovid, Met. IV. 17: ‘tibi enim inconsumpta iuuenta est, tu puer aeternus, tu formosissimus alto conspiceris caelo, tibi cum sine cornibus adstas, uirgineum caput est’; in the invocation of Apollo (identified with Osiris and Mithras) at the end of the first book of Statius' Thebaid; in Capaneus' prayer to his strong right arm (ib. IX. 548-): (‘ades o mihi, dextera, tantum; tu praesens bellis et ineuitabile numen, te uoco, te solum superum contemptor adoro’); in the Orphic hymns, II. 10-, though they consist mostly of accumulations of epithets; in Menander Rhetor περ πιδειкν (IX., p. 330, ed. Walz, an address to Apollo): περ [al. Θο⋯ραι], περ σ Θνδες, παρ σο⋯ кα σελνη τν ετῖνα λαμβνει; in Valerius Maximus VI.

Who was the author of the Fourth Edict in the great persecution of Diocletian's reign we do not know. Its precise terms are not recorded; of the date of its issue we are not informed. It is true that Mr. Kidd has recently written: ‘On April 30, 304, Maximian put out the Fourth Edict in the name of himself and bis co-Augustus,’ but he discreetly forbears to give the reader any hint of the source on which he bases that statement. It may be doubted whether he has any better authority in mind than the ambiguous Passio S. Sabini, which, as even Mr. Mason admitted many years ago, ‘is not in the highest class of the historical relics of its age.’ If, indeed, this supposition does not do Mr. Kidd an injustice, it would have been well to have given some reasoned defence of the document. Dufourcq regards the Passio S. Sabini as a product of the Ostrogothic period, and contends that its picturesque exordium does not depend upon any earlier source. Until his detailed criticism of the Passion is answered, we can hardly use it for the reconstruction of the history of the fourth century.

Editors who profess to interpret these lines, while reaching agreement on some few points of detail, concur chiefly in a somewhat irritable half-confession of puzzlement and not unnatural tendency to avenge their smart on the poet's broader back. Hence the suggestions of historical misrepresentation and dramatic confusion, the hypothesis of a late recension, and other well-worn devices of commentatorial window-dressing. A task more likely to be of value to the study of the Georgics is to explore this short, compact poem for that unifying principle among the multiplicity of details, in accordance with which the triumphator and the temple-builder, the Greek festival and the Italian venue, the lightness of allegory and the ponderous literalism of the Via Sacra, Virgil and Octavian each perform their different functions and move in harmony with the whole poetic plan.

The Thebaid, with all its faults, deserves more attention than it generally receives in these days; it is something more than a desirable quarry for ‘unseens.’ Its exegesis is in a very backward state, quite unworthy of modern scholarship. It is almost a hundred years since the last explanatory edition was published, and the commentators on Statius have, as a rule, been more remarkable for their learning than for their discernment. Before the appearance of the Oxford edition and the latest Teubner recension the materials for the establishment of the text were very defective; and in spite of the valuable labours of Messrs. Garrod and Klotz (to say nothing of other contemporary scholars), the Thebaid still offers considerable scope for the textual critic. The MSS. present many puzzles; it must also be confessed that in not a few places the work of scholars in the last century (amongst them the youthful Lachmann) has done more harm than good. The following notes on Book II., whatever their value, may perhaps help to call attention to the need for more labourers in a promising field.