Although we have more references to the Politela of Zeno of Kition than to any of his other works, our evidence for its character and content is so slight, open to dispute on so many points, and at first sight so inconsistent, that there is a strong temptation to follow other guides: our conception of Stoic doctrine as a whole; a particular theory of the development of such an idea as the ‘brotherhood of man’; or even the general tendency to read modern ideas into ancient thought. It is hardly surprising that such material has led to a bewildering variety of interpretations. Thus while Zeller, followed by Barth and others, describes Zeno's ideal as a ‘polity of the wise’, Pöhlmann makes it include both wise and foolish. Pöhlmann, Dyroff and Karst place it in the future, Pohlenz in the past. Whereas Pearson, Hicks, Bidez and others see it as a world state embracing all humanity, for Tarn it is ‘a very limited State … a quite small community’. Recent discussions appear only to have increased the confusion, and it seems worth while to make a fresh attempt to gain clarity on the subject.

The fragment reproduced on Plate I (a) was found on the plateau of La Monédière (Hérault). I am greatly indebted to the owner, Mr. René Majurel of Coulommiers (Seine et Marne), for the photograph, for his kind permission to publish it, and for very precise information about the fragment itself. It is Attic work of about 450 B.C., by the Painter of the Woolly Satyrs. Height 5½ centimetres, breadth the same: our illustration is about twice the actual size. The shape of the vase is uncertain: the wall is thin, and convex; inside the surface is covered with bands of diluted glaze, lustreless, varying from brownish to sanguine; except the uppermost fifth, which is reserved. Possibly an oinochoe?

The full publication, after long and expert study, of the remnant of the Vatican Palimpsest of Strabo (W. Aly and F. Sbordone, de Strabonis Codice Rescripto) redeems this unique early MS. of the Geographica from the oblivion to which Kramer and Cobet consigned it, and justifies all Aly's travail upon it. Aly dates the script about A.D. 500; and while recognising numerous errors and great carelessness on the part of scribe and corrector, he finds support for many of the readings of the palimpsest where they differ from the established text of the Byzantine MSS. of Strabo. He maintains that in the early sixth century there were two distinct traditions of the text current in Constantinople:

(i) That of the Vatican Palimpsest (V). Some of its variant readings seem to be echoed in marginal or interlinear corrections in the Byzantine MSS., and Aly therefore believes that V is the source from which such corrections were transmitted. If this is true, they may be freely drawn upon for the establishment of this very early tradition of the text.

(ii) The tradition of the text preserved in our Byzantine MSS. of Strabo (L). Aly seeks to identify the archetype of L as the text of Strabo used by Stephanus Byzantius in the early years of Justinian's reign.

One of the most impressive manifestations of the majesty and the antiquity of the Byzantine Empire must have been the great series of imperial tombs in the mausoleums of Constantine and Justinian which were attached to the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople. Beginning with the burial of Constantine the Great (d. 337), the mausoleums served as the resting-places of most of the emperors (often with members of their families) who reigned during the next seven centuries, the last emperor to be buried there being Constantine VIII (d. 1028). The mausoleums then became full, and the emperors began to be buried in other churches and monasteries in Constantinople, often in establishments which they themselves had founded. There are not many comparable series of royal burials, and the presence of these tombs, as a visible record of the greatness of Byzantium, was one reason why the Church of the Holy Apostles enjoyed a celebrity only second to that of St. Sophia.

The emperors, beginning with Constantine the Great, understood very well the importance of placing the imperial burials in a worthy setting. The significance of the burials is illustrated by a report of a speech of Leo V, the Armenian (813–820), in which Leo is supposed to have remarked that the orthodox emperors were all buried respectably at the Holy Apostles, while the others died in exile or on the field of battle. In reality most of the emperors who reigned before the time of Leo V were buried at the Holy Apostles, and nearly all of those who reigned between his time and the beginning of the eleventh century were buried there.

This paper is a much revised version of that read to the Classical Association at Bangor on April 11, 1956; here I intend to concentrate on the development of the trilogy with particular reference to the Prometheus Purphoros, on the meaning of the trilogy and (in an excursus) on the questions of authenticity and date.

The Medicean Catalogue records three Prometheus plays by Aeschylus—our surviving Προμηθεὺς Δεσμώτης , the much-cited Προμηθεὺς Λυόμενος and the Προμηθεὺς Πυρφόρος Pollux ix 156, x 64 (with citation) adds a Προμηθεὺς Πυρκαεύς The Luomenos followed on the Desmotes and included the actual release of Prometheus. Pollux' citation of the Purkaeus has an anapaest in the fourth foot, suggesting that the play was satyric and therefore probably to be identified with the satyric Prometheus recorded as accompanying the Persae group of plays; with it should probably be associated the verse in Plutarch: τράγος γένειον ἆραπενθήσεις σύ γε (TGF 207: τοῦ δὲ σατύρου τὸ πῦρ ὡς πρῶτον ὤφθη, κ.τ.λ. ) and also the long fragment recovered from Pap. Oxy. 2245. These last two items go some way to show that the Purkaeus dealt with the original discovery or bestowal of fire; with regard to its omission from the catalogue, it should be borne in mind more constantly than it has been that the other plays which accompanied the Persae—the Phincus and the Glaukos of Potniai—have been omitted too; and while it is hard to imagine what particular misfortune can have befallen a number of plays of the same group, it would be rash to assume that there can have been none.

Professor A. H. M. Jones in the appendix to his new book (pp. 161–80), Athenian Democracy (see below, p. 182), tackles afresh the problem of the population of Athens during the Peloponnesian war, and introduces three novelties: that the 13,000 hoplites of Thucydides ii 13.6 mean hoplites of the age-classes 20 to 39, not 20 to 49 as most of us, if not all, have assumed from Lykourgos, Leokrates 39–40, and some other evidence; that klerouchoi (but not apoikoi) remained in Athens, drawing rents from their kleroi in the subject states, all now within the hoplite census and included in the 13,000; and, the most important of the three, that to get a true picture of mortality rates and so of the relative strengths of different age-classes we must liken the Athenians to certain groups of persons in the Roman Empire between the first and third centuries A.D. and to India at the beginning of the present century, not to any European country during the last hundred years.

Jones takes me to task for suggesting that the at first sight surprising number of ‘oldest and youngest’ in the reserve to whom during the war was allotted the defence of the walls (Thuc. ii 13.7) was in part to be accounted for by the inclusion of all those in the classes 20 to 49 who were not fit for active service in the hoplite ranks, who would be a source of weakness rather than of strength to an army. ‘There are serious objections to this theory’, he says (p. 162). ‘It is in the first place not what Thucydides says. Secondly, it is pure speculation, unsupported by any evidence.’ ‘Let us then’, he adds, ‘set aside this theory and examine the facts afresh.’ This promises well.

In his History of the Athenian Constitution (Oxford, 1952, pp. 159 ff.) Mr. Hignett rejected Aristotle's attribution of the law of ostracism to Kleisthenes and this rejection met with approval from R. J. Hopper in a review of his book in JHS lxxvi (1956) 141. In preferring a later date for the law, Androtion's date—or what is supposed to be Androtion's date, for without the full context of Harpokration's quotation we cannot be sure that the τότε πρῶτον of that passage is so precise in its reference as to imply a date significantly later than Aristotle's—Mr. Hignett relies mainly on the well-established argument (which he imagines may well have been Androtion's also) that ‘the authors of such a law cannot have intended to let it remain a dead letter … it must have been passed not long before its first application’ (p. 164). Indeed, this must be regarded as his only decisive (so intended) argument, for, as far as sources are concerned, he states ‘the Atthidographers … had no documentary evidence for the date of the law’ and ‘the different dates given by different writers are all due to conjecture’ (p. 160). Here he has the agreement of Jacoby, who says in FGH iii(b) (1954) 121 ‘there was as little documentary evidence for the introduction of ostracism as for the Seisachtheia’ (i.e. none at all), but the latter's conclusion is more cautious—‘our tradition does not allow of making a final decision between the dates of Androtion and Aristotle’ (p. 124).

Our purpose in this paper is, first, to re-examine the historical (and even merely logical) possibilities in this question and to suggest that the more cautious conclusion is the proper one in the light of these possibilities; and, secondly, to review certain other conclusions, based on archaeological as well as literary evidence, arrived at by recent writers regarding the actual history of the institution, in order to see whether some of these too would not need to be more cautiously stated if all the possibilities were taken into account.

Three reasons in particular have suggested the choice of Kassandra as the subject of this paper; though they may well be excuses rather than reasons, for I confess that she intrigues me. Firstly, her story is an interesting example of the development of a ‘character’ of Greek literature whose name has become a by-word in later times. Secondly, she affords an excellent chance of studying two very differently gifted dramatic artists at work on the same material; and thirdly, she illustratesvery prettily the difficulties and dangers, as well as the advantages, of a very useful modern technique of literary criticism, a sort of mythical ‘Formgeschichte’, the study of the developing theme.

Few artists indeed are free of indebtedness either to contemporary artistic influences or to their predecessors in the same field, and this is especially true where the ‘classical concept’ is active—that is, where the subject of art tends to be a traditional one endlessly varied and developed by succeeding generations; any theme of renaissance painting will serve as illustration. So it is that the study of the development of the theme of Hamlet, for example, enables the critic to estimate more justly than before the originality of Shakespeare and the true intention of his play. But this kind of criticism is still an art and not a science, if I may use the conventional but really inaccurate distinction to which we are accustomed; for it is inevitably to some extent subjective and even ‘viciously circular’ in method. Too much should not be claimed for it, not only because the artist is subject to many influences which are not likely to be preserved in a literary tradition, however copious, but also because caprice, personal likings or animosities and the chances of daily life, to say nothing of genius itself, disturb the processes of logical analysis and scholarly evaluation of detail. Moreover, in the study of drama, it is fatally easy to argue in a circle and to prove from an author's treatment of his theme that he has in fact been subject to influences which have determined the treatment from which the influences have been deduced; almost as fatally easy as to decide that this or that speech is what the author really believes or wants to say, the poet speaking through the character. Euripides in particular has suffered from this kind of treatment, and it is hard to see how to avoid the pitfall—but all the same, there is something to be learnt from a study of his use of myth, particularly if he is credited with being what he really is—a playwright.

It was not my original intention to devote a special study to the Helenos who governed Cyprus for the Ptolemies (as I believe) during the last two decades of the second century B.C. I stated my views about him briefly in 1937, 1940 and again in 1953; and, although these views have not been well received, I was content to let the matter rest at that. However, no sooner had I made this last pronouncement than we found on the site of the Aphrodite temple at Old Paphos two new dedications of Helenos himself (our nos. 1 and 4 below); while in 1954 yet another inscription in his honour came to light at Salamis (no. 6). These compel me not merely to ascribe to Helenos both a text which I have wrongly restored (no. 3) and one, likewise from Old Paphos, by which for many years I have been baffled (no. 2), but in general to modify the opinions which I held about him. It seems proper, therefore, that I should assemble all the evidence that I know, and on my analysis of this venture what I trust may be my final reconstruction of the career of Helenos. Some fresh light will be thrown in the process upon the institutions and the history of Cyprus for the eight years which precede and the twelve which follow the death of Euergetes II in 116 B.C. But I freely admit that much of the new evidence is difficult and ambiguous; and for this present study my chief claim is that it sets out facts which others also may interpret.

It has long been recognised as a puzzling fact that in Ptolemy's map of the British Isles Great Britain is turned abruptly to the east from about latitude 55° north (corresponding roughly to the area of Scotland) so as to make a right angle approximately with the southern part of the country. It may be of interest to review briefly various tentative explanations of this peculiar fact which have been advanced during the last three-quarters of a century, and to add yet another to the list.

In 1885 H. Bradley suggested that either Ptolemy or one of his predecessors had before him three sectional maps representing respectively England, Scotland, and Ireland, and that in fitting the three maps together Ptolemy or his predecessor fell into the mistake of turning the oblong map of Scotland the wrong way. T. G. Rylands next put forward his view that the error was due to a faulty observation of a lunar eclipse at Duncansby Head causing an error of longitude, together with a faulty gnomonic observation at the same place causing an error of latitude. In 1894 H. Kiepert was clearly getting nearer the truth when he wrote: ‘The only coherent, though often deficient source for the knowledge of the [British] islands that has come down to us from the most flourishing period of the Empire, is the map of Ptolemy, the result of a combination of the lines of roads and of the coasting expeditions during the first century of Roman occupation. One great fault, however, has crept into the map by his having made use also of a totally different source, namely the astronomical fixations of latitude executed by Pytheas in the time of the earliest Greek mercantile expeditions to these regions of high latitudes.’ In a footnote to this observation he added: ‘These fixations stop at a borderline at the highest point reached in the north, which according to the itinerary sources would have been crossed in a northward direction, and thus the Alexandrian scholar was forced to give the northern half of the island a bend towards the east, the only possible direction, in consequence of which all the localities of Caledonia have been shifted from their proper positions by about a quarter of a circle.’

At the very beginning of the Delian Confederacy, in describing its organisation during the winter of 478–477 B.C., Thucydides records (i 96) that permanent arrangements were made for the collection of contributions in money from those cities which preferred to supply cash rather than ships for the furtherance of the new League's activities. These arrangements included the establishment of officials to receive, disburse, and be generally responsible for the cash funds, but Thucydides' brief account of their appointment has given rise to difficulties. He says, in the barest terms, The last four words are loosely attached to describe the office's function and are explicative of not what concerns us are the seven words before the comma.

Thucydides' phrase, with its emphatic clearly puts out of court the idea of E. M. Walker that the Hellenotamiae began when the tribute-lists began, i.e. in 454–453, when the treasury of the Confederacy was moved from Delos to Athens and Athenian control of it was more firmly secured. Walker's view was adequately refuted both by Gomme and by the authors of The Athenian Tribute Lists; it also runs contrary to the sense of Xenophon's remark (Poroi 5.5) about the acquisition of control of fleet and treasury by Athens. Since the Athenians commanded from 478, as the result of the treasurership must have been Athenian from the same date—or so, unless he be held to ignore all chronological distinctions, Xenophon clearly implies.

In 1930 Judeich gave his opinion strongly in favour of the identification of the ‘Theseion’ as the temple of Hephaistos, and the identification has been widely accepted. The excavators of the agora have adopted it and regard the archaeological discoveries as settling the matter. Dinsmoor wrote in 1941, ‘Now that the American excavations have brought to light the foundries, casting-pits and slag-furnaces of the metal-workers' quarter … there can no longer be any doubt as to this attribution’. Apparently there still is some doubt. H. Koch in his recent book on the building has continued to deny the identification strongly and renewed former attempts to reinstate Theseus in some way. He had already objected to the ‘Garden of Hephaistos’ discovered in the precincts of the temple and maintained that all this planting of trees and shrubs was more appropriate to Theseus, with whom were associated Phytalos and the Phytalidai (in fact the garden is appropriate to the site, an attractive setting for the temple, whoever is the occupant). Reviewers have treated his ideas with considerable respect and even favour. H. Plommer in Gnomon xxix (1957) 33 shares the doubts about Hephaistos, but sees difficulties in Theseus too, and leaves the matter open. J. F. Healy in JHS lxxvi (1956) 135 seems inclined to agree with Koch. The name ‘Theseion’ is tending to shed its well-deserved inverted commas. The impression may be given that the whole subject is in the melting-pot again; this note is an attempt to pull it out, in particular by considering the vital evidence of Pausanias.

During the past few years the Otago Museum has acquired by purchase and through the generosity of benefactors, a number of ancient works of art which deserve publication.

Two inscriptions of the Roman Empire have been found in 1957 in the Roseneath Peninsula, north of the Firth of Clyde. They do not appear to have been published, so far as has hitherto been discovered, either locally or in any corpus; nor has an account of them published in the Glasgow Herald resulted in any light being thrown upon their provenance. They were noticed by a resident of Kilcreggan, Mr. A. H. Turner, in the grounds of Roseneath Castle, a nineteenth-century building now standing derelict; the present tenant, a farmer engaged in keeping poultry in the great dining-hall (a suggestively sub-Roman situation), had given Mr. Turner permission to remove stone from the grounds for his rockery, and presented him with the inscriptions when they were discovered. They are now in Mr. Turner's possession. Mr. Turner writes:

(The house) ‘was built by a Mr. Richardson who was a sugar-merchant at Greenock and owned a vessel called Hound, in which he made considerable voyages. The family appears to be no longer in existence.’

In my article in the previous issue of this Journal (JHS lxxviii (1958) 12) one of the points I tried to make was that the two-level ship was not, as is usually thought, a transient phase between the single-level ship and the trireme, but that representations of it appeared not long before 700 B.C. and continued until after the trireme is thought to have been introduced into Greece, i.e. during the third quarter of the sixth century.