Twenty-Five years ago I was privileged to write a welcome to the infant Greece & Rome at its birth. Now I have been asked to welcome the adult journal, celebrating its Jubilee.

This article may be open to the charge of deviating unashamedly from its main subject, but any research into the sources of the fourth Georgic, or into Virgil's practical knowledge of apiculture—and it should be stated at once that there is no sure answer to the inquest— must eventually range over the whole of classical bee-literature. And it was curiosity over the sources of this Georgic which led me some years ago to set out on what proved to be a lengthy and meandering tour— starting with a short and disappointing excursion into Varro, and proceeding thence on a long road with numerous by-lanes until finally the course had been covered from Aristotle, Theophrastus, and Aelian, through Pliny and Columella, to the end of the journey in Palladius and the Geoponica.

In his two talks on Homer today Professor Dodds has given an excellent report on the Homeric question as it now is and presented his own moderate and pacific view with candour and persuasiveness. I am delighted to find myself in agreement with him in many questions, most of all in his appreciation of the work of Milman Parry. Milman Parry's proof that the Iliad and Odyssey were composed in an oral tradition is the most important and original contribution to the Homeric question in this century, and its importance is only gradually being seen. But Milman Parry's work does not seem to me to remove the creative poet from the Iliad and Odyssey, as some scholars, including Professor Dodds, seem to think. It shows only that their originality does not consist in their language, but in the use they put it to, and in the creation of plot and character.

The purpose of this article is to examine the belief that Cleon, the fifth-century Athenian demagogue, was not only violent and relentless but also venal and dishonest, and made money out of politics by taking bribes and misappropriating public funds. This view of his character had by the second-century a.d. become almost a commonplace of literature. To give only two examples, Aelian mentions the story (citing Critias as his authority) that Cleon was in debt when he entered politics but died worth 50 to 100 talents, and the scholiast on Lucian described Cleon as being ‘venal to excess’. The interesting point about this second comment, however, is its inappropriateness to the context, which calls for a reference to Cleon's rapacity rather than to his venality; this indicates to what an extent Cleon's reputation for bribe-taking had come to predominate over all his other qualities.

Nearly ten years have gone by since Dr. Cyril Bailey gave to lovers of Lucretius his edition of the poet in three volumes, winning for himself a crown, insignem cum laude coronam, after a lifelong quest and bestowing upon us an enlarged understanding of that wonderful work of antiquity, the De Rerum Natura, which holds in its ‘massive and magnificent whole’ many a valuable message for the modern world, could it but read them. At the outset of his commentary Dr. Bailey draws attention to a discrepancy that has often been discussed, namely that which lies between the literary masterpiece with which the poem opens, the invocation to Venus, and the Epicurean belief entertained by the poet that the gods neither govern the forces of Nature nor interfere in the affairs of men. On the one hand, Venus is addressed as a creative power with prayers for inspiration and assistance and for peace; on the other hand, we are told that the nature of the gods needs nothing of us, is untouched by anger, and is unmoved by merit; and if the reading of the manuscripts be retained, the second set of lines immediately succeeds and contradicts the first.

When I recall my earliest impressions of Roman history I find that M. Crassus figures in them as a not very important and rather unattractive person. In contrast with Caesar, who conquered Gaul, he was defeated by the Parthians; and he accumulated wealth in a thoroughly sordid fashion and to a sordid extent. This impression was probably derived from the standard textbooks. For example, Mommsen's Roman History says: ‘Marcus Crassus had for years been reckoned among the heads of the three-headed monster without any proper title to be so included. He served as a makeweight to trim the balance between the real regents Pompeius and Caesar, or, to speak more accurately, he threw his weight into the scale of Caesar against Pompeius. The part of a supernumerary colleague is not a very honourable one; but Crassus was never hindered by any keen sense of honour from pursuing his own advantage. He was a merchant and was open to negotiation.’