This ancient tale has naturally been recognized by modern scholars for what it is—a story of the Great Mother and her paramour; but several features appear to me to have been given less examination than they deserve, in view of their own peculiarity and the obvious antiquity of the myth. That it is pre-Greek is fairly clear from the names of the principal actors. Anchises yields no tolerable meaning in Greek, and we do not know to what speech it belongs—possibly (...) Phrygian. Aphrodite is, of course, no Greek goddess at all. The tale was known to Greek saga-men about the tenth century B.C., and is fully told for the first time, so far as our surviving records go, in a document possibly of the seventh century—the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite. Connected as it is, though loosely, with the Troy-saga, it may quite possibly go back to Minoan-Mycenaean times, as that does. The features which I think worthy of further investigation are the fate of Anchises after his enjoyment of the goddess' favours, and in particular the effect upon him of the thunderbolt with which he was smitten. (shrink)

So far as I am aware, the commentators on the above passageall say that it is imitated from Euripides, Bacchae 492 sqq., and the commentators on Euripides, loc. cit., agree. It seems to me, however, that there is reason to suppose them all wrong; not of course that there is no connexion between the two passages, for there most obviously is, but that Horace is not imitating the Greek directly, but an imitation or adaptation of it by Pacuvius.

The notes of W. S. Maguinness on the Corpus Tibullianum contain several things which strike me as either true or at least highly plausible. In the above passage, however, I think both he and Postgate have missed the point of the first word. Tibullus has been telling the story of how Apollo turned herdsman for love's sake. He insists several times over that it is a story, not a thing he can vouch for. The infinitives in 14 a-c make it (...) sufficiently evident that the lost pentameter began with fertur or dicitur; in 18, Artemis dicitur to have blushed for her brother's unseemly occupation; in 29, fertur that the gods used to serve Venus openly. The same line reminds us that these stories refer to old days, olim. Now comes the couplet in question. (shrink)

Mr. P. H. Ling's suggestion that the famous line θερουσιν θη χρσθ' μιλαι κακα stood at the beginning of a play of Euripides seems to me to lack anything like cogent proof. A gnomic verse of this sort—to take the characteristics of the line in the order given by Mr. Ling—may indeed begin a play, as in the fragment of the Stheneboia which he quotes; but it may also begin a speech, as Hec. 864; or come early in a speech, (...) cf. Heracl. 2; or alone in stichomythia, as Alc. 540; or late in a speech, as Med. 561; or at the end of one, as Supp. 510. In other words, there is no position which it may not have. As to its lack of ‘any particle or conjunction to connect it with what preceded or followed,’ how does Mr. Ling prove that it was not preceded by γιγνσκων τι, cf. Med. 560; or that the previous line did not end in γάρ, like Hec. 551, Supp. 361; or that this line is not the end of a longer sentence, like Alc. (shrink)

It is no longer the fashion to imagine Herodotos a liar when he tells marvellous stories, for some of his most extraordinary statements have long since been shown to contain at least a substantial measure of truth. It is perhaps not sufficiently realized, however, that on occasion he misleads his readers and himself by too much critical unbelief in his materials and consequent application of the crude methods of mythological investigation then current. In other words, he often rationalizes in the (...) only way then possible, superficially altering the story so as to rid himself of the incredible details, or at all events, as I think, attributing to the actors motives which a somewhat drily rational mind could understand and approve or condemn. It is of course well known that at least the former method was a commonplace of the sophists, whose influence on Herodotos is manifest and widespread; it has been said, indeed, that it is much older than they and characteristically Ionic. L. Radermacher finds traces of it in the Odyssey itself and adds that, although we can sometimes catch the rationalizer at work, we cannot be sure of always doing so and ‘müssen annehmen, dass der Glaube an die Geschichtlichkeit ihrer Sage manche griechischen Autoren früh verführt hat, sie geschichtlicher zu erzählen als eigentlich erlaubt war’. This is a true and useful statement. Modern criticism has long learned to set aside ancient allegorizations of myths, about which I need say nothing, for the subject has been repeatedly and well handled by my colleague, Dr. J. Tate; it has often, however, confused ancient interpretation of myth with ancient criticism of saga. Euhemerism indeed is usually recognized for what it is, although even this is not always so; but uixere inepti ante Euhemerum multi, and their efforts are by no means always distinguished either from allegorizing or from real sagas. For an example of the former confusion I may refer to Stallbaum's note on Plato, Phaedrus, 29 C-D, where the reader is referred to the account given by Lobeck of the rise and growth of allegorization. But Plato says nothing at all of allegories in this passage. He quotes, with ironical admiration of its ‘wisdom’, a version of the story of Boreas and Oreithyia according to which she. was knocked off the Areiopagos, or some other place, by a strong north wind, and so was killed and consequently said to have been carried away by Boreas. He adds that it would be a laborious and dismal business to go through all the tales of wonder in that way, rationalizing the Hippocentaurs, Gorgons, Chimaira, Pegasos, and the rest out of existence; a wise saying which was uttered in vain for Palaiphatos and his kind. However, most moderns know a myth from a saga and an allegory from a crude rationalization which accepts the story as true except for the incredibilities and is quite ready to believe, for instance, in Romulus if we will but postulate that he was not snatched up to heaven but murdered and his body hidden. There is a much more subtle snare, consisting of a story which, although rationalized, is well told, and Herodotos in this respect can be a notable offender, for he never tells a story ill. (shrink)

This paper sets out to answer four apparently unconnected questions, which, however, I hope to show to be parts of one question: Why did Haimon kill himself over the body of Antigone? Why did Philinnion return for three nights to her father's house? Why is it unlawful to leave a story unfinished? Why is a magician sometimes torn in pieces by his own devils, or otherwise destroyed by his own magic?

This paper sets out to answer four apparently unconnected questions, which, however, I hope to show to be parts of one question: Why did Haimon kill himself over the body of Antigone? Why did Philinnion return for three nights to her father's house? Why is it unlawful to leave a story unfinished? Why is a magician sometimes torn in pieces by his own devils, or otherwise destroyed by his own magic?

No one has as yet done for Italy what Rohde's Psyche did for Greece, and the reason is not far to seek. Rohde had at his disposal a large amount of literary material, of which no one could doubt that it represented Greek feeling and practice of various ages; but the investigator of the corresponding Italian field is met with a twofold difficulty. He must in the first place discard a great deal of the written records, because they clearly reflect, (...) not native ideas, but those which were common to the ancient world in Hellenistic times. He is then left with a very few scanty documents, which refer, not to Italy as a whole, but practically without exception to Rome, or, at any rate, to districts strongly Romanized. To add to his perplexities, he has a great mass of archaeological evidence for all ages, from the palaeolithic onwards, which, as it is unwritten, he must interpret as best he may, bearing in mind the very wide margin of error in all such attempts, and reconcile, if he can, with what the classical authors tell him. (shrink)

No one has as yet done for Italy what Rohde's Psyche did for Greece, and the reason is not far to seek. Rohde had at his disposal a large amount of literary material, of which no one could doubt that it represented Greek feeling and practice of various ages; but the investigator of the corresponding Italian field is met with a twofold difficulty. He must in the first place discard a great deal of the written records, because they clearly reflect, (...) not native ideas, but those which were common to the ancient world in Hellenistic times. He is then left with a very few scanty documents, which refer, not to Italy as a whole, but practically without exception to Rome, or, at any rate, to districts strongly Romanized. To add to his perplexities, he has a great mass of archaeological evidence for all ages, from the palaeolithic onwards, which, as it is unwritten, he must interpret as best he may, bearing in mind the very wide margin of error in all such attempts, and reconcile, if he can, with what the classical authors tell him. (shrink)

This pretty little work of the obscure Tymnes has recently been examined by A. Wilhelm in the course of a learned attempt to explain the puzzling phrase πολλ πολλν . With the result of his research in general I am not now concerned and the interpretation of this epigram does not greatly affect the value of his conclusions; but it seems worth while to point out what I believe to be the right explanation of a curious and much-emended phrase in (...) the second couplet. (shrink)

That a considerable fragment of the Fabulae of Hyginus—whoever Hyginus may have been and whenever he lived—exists in a Greek translation in the Hermeneumata Leidensia is well known to all students of his work. Indeed, this extract furnishes the terminus ante quem for Hyginus’ date in its opening words; I cite it as accented and punctuated by Schmidt : Maξμѱ ka “Aπρ v´πáτoιs πρò у εδν ΣεπTεμβρων ‘Ỵуνoυ уενεaλoуaν πâσιν уνωστν μετуραΨα, ν σoνται π λεoν στoρατ δτερμνευνατ ν τoτ τ (...) βιβλ θεν уàρ kα θεáων νματα ν δευτρ ξεπλξαμεν λ’ π τoτ σoνται τoτων ξμуσεισ, ε kα μ πσαι, ττων μντoιуε ν τoστ δναμαι. (shrink)

Professor D'Arcy W. Thompson has recently revived a conjecture of Lauth on Geoponica, XIII, 8, 1, which runs as follows: εις οκ σονται ν χωρ ν νθιονἢ ρτεμσιον ἢ βρτονον περ τν πα$$υλιν υτεσς. τος δ ντας λσεις ν . The conjecture is that ντας is the Egyptian hontasu, ‘lizard.’ That this would make sense is obvious; but the usage of the Geop. itself, to say nothing of other authors, indicates that the word is simply what it appears to be, (...) namely the pres. part, of εμ. Thus we find in X, 46 τ ςκα σκληκας ¿ π¿ισειν μλλων φυτεειν μπξς σκλλ τν κλδ¿ν, τ¿ς δ ντας ναιρες ν κ.τ.λ. Here the explanation ‘lizards’ would hardly be reasonable; still more cogent, however, is XII, 8, 2–3, ¿κ σονται … τς δ οσας κμπας διαθερς, where no such conjecture is possible. Not dissimilar is XII, 19, 9, τς τε γρ οσας ψλλας θερεικα λλας οκ γενσθαι. All these extracts are taken from authors of the second and third centuries A.D., though we have no means of knowing how closely their actual wording is followed; it is therefore in point to cite a passage of Galen, the opening paragraph of the tractate περ αρσεων Medicine, he says, has for its aim health, and a physician must know how to bring about health if absent and preserve it if present . καλεται δ, he continues, τ μν ργαζμενα τν μ οσαν γειατν τε καβοηθματα, τ δ φυλττοντα τν οσαν γιειν διαιτματα. In other words, ὢν can be used in much the same sense as παρν. This is no novelty of Roman times, for we may compare, for instance, Soph. Ant. 1109, ο ' ντες ο τ'πντες, and El, 305 τς οσας … κα τς ποσας λπδας. (shrink)