In the critical years that followed the death of Kimon, it is clear that Thoukydides son of Melesias played an important role in opposition. It is less clear what he stood for positively, and Wade-Gery's brilliant and controversial article (JHS lii [1932] 205–27 = Essays in Greek History 239–70), for all its sensitivity to the values of the Athenian aristocracy, did not succeed in settling this issue. My argument here is mainly negative, that Plutarch's description (Per. 11–12 and 14) of the conflict between Thoukydides and Perikles, our only detailed witness, is worthless and has seriously distorted our picture of this period and of Athenian attitudes to the empire; and that the colony at Thourioi, as Ehrenberg maintained, was meant to serve strictly Athenian interests.

1. Plutarch and the Anti-Imperialists

For Ed. Meyer (Forschungen zur alten Geschichte ii 86; Gd A iv2 1.690 n. 1) it was beyond doubt that Plutarch here preserves an authentic account of the debate over the building programme. Wade-Gery assumed the same (240–3, cf. Hesp. xiv [1945] 224–5), and D. L. Stockton (Hist. viii [1959] 69), arguing against Wade-Gery, still calls this a good and possibly contemporary source.2Since the most notable characteristic of these chapters is their vehement rhetoric and the high proportion of nonsense, this position needs more defence than it has received.

Familiar and important though Aristoxenus is to students of Greek music, philosophers, so far as I can judge, have not always given him a fair run for his money. No one would call him a great philosopher; but his arguments illuminate important aspects of the controversies of the late fourth century, and reflect light backwards onto the different views not only of music, but also of science in general, which had been held and argued over during the previous hundred years. Nor is he merely a referee in other men's contests: his ideas have a philosophical as well as a musical originality which deserves recognition. Plainly a single paper cannot hope to cover all the philosophically important aspects of his work, and I have chosen one topic which I take to be central, his conception of the relations between music and αἴσθησις.

More precisely, I shall be concerned with his views on the role of αἴσθησις in determining the nature of ἁρμονία. ἁρμονία is not the same thing as music, but is a part of it, as for instance is rhythm: and it so happens that ἁρμονία or τὸ ἡρμοσμένον is the main subject of those passages of his work which have come down to us in completest form, under the general heading of ἁρμονικὰ στοιχϵȋα, Elementa Harmonica.

The name vase of the Painter of the Oxford Brygos, a fragmentary red-figure cup from Caere of the late archaic period, is well known (Plates I, IIa). Since it came to Oxford in 1911 it has been augmented from time to time by new fragments; the latest addition is a fragment formerly in New York, now on indefinite loan to the Ashmolean Museum, which was seen by Dr Dietrich von Bothmer to belong to the Oxford Brygos cup. This fragment has now been incorporated in the cup and several other pieces have been rearranged, on both sides, to good advantage. There seems to be no reason to question the identity of the artist as originally defined by Beazley. The cup is signed under the handle by Brygos as potter, but the style is quite different from that of Brygos' most frequent collaborator, the Brygos Painter. If A. Cambitoglou is correct in identifying the Brygos Painter and Potter as one and the same, we must assume that on this occasion Brygos potted for a second artist. The purpose of this article is primarily to draw attention to the restoration of the Oxford cup and to attempt a re-interpretation of the vase as a whole; it also, however, has a secondary purpose, to publish for the first time the only other vase securely assigned by Beazley to the same artist. The latter is a cup formerly on the Roman market and preserved in drawings in the German Archaeological Institute in Rome. While we do not suggest that the two cups are necessarily a pair, they do have some interesting features in common. First, the Rome cup (Plate IIb—d).

Somewhere in the first half of the eighth century B.C. the ‘graphic counterpart of speech’ (Diringer's nice expression) and a fully phonetic alphabetic script were respectively reintroduced and invented in Greek lands. Thus the Greeks achieved the feat, unique among European peoples, of rediscovering (after an interval of more than four centuries) the literacy they had lost. The alphabet of course marked an enormous advance on the clumsy ‘Linear B’ syllabic script, in the sense that it made it possible ‘to write easily and read unambiguously about anything which the society can talk about’. However, as Harvey's exhaustive study demonstrated, even in Classical Athens, where popular literacy attained the highest level hitherto known in the Greek world, there were still significant areas of illiteracy or at best semi-literacy. Widespread literacy cannot simply be deduced (as it was by Goody and Watt) from the mere availability of a phonetic alphabetic script of the Greek type. Further factors must be taken into account. One of these, Harvey suggested, is the political system. For although ‘democracy and literacy do not necessarily go hand in hand’ (p. 590), the high level of literacy at Athens in the fifth and fourth centuries was perhaps ‘not entirely unconnected with the fact that she was a democracy’ (p. 623).

It is now fifty years since Hans Gerstinger published the editio princeps of a Vienna papyrus containing hexameter poems by, as he believed, Pamprepius of Panopolis. Out of seven fragments Gerstinger, working with H. Ibscher, was able to restore one binion of a codex (P. Gr. 29788A-B). A separate leaf (P. Gr. 29788C) was presumed by the restorers to come from the same codex as the binion. The binion contains (1) a hexameter idyll evoking the successive moods of Nature on a day in spring or autumn, (2) a hexameter encomium on the patrician Theagenes of Athens, (3) letters nos. 80 and 90 by St. Gregory Nazianzen. Lines from another hexameter poem are partly legible on two fragments which together constitute the top of the first page of the binion. The only trace of an author's name in the binion is the genitive-ending ο]ụ in the title of the encomium on Theagenes. The separate leaf (P. Gr. 29788C) preserves some fifty lines from a second hexameter encomium, but has been torn in such a way that the line-beginnings are missing from the Verso and the line-endings from the Recto; the names of the author and the addressee have not survived. Gerstinger's opinion that the hand is the same throughout and the writing of a style current in the fifth and sixth centuries has not been challenged. It has seemed to me unnecessary to reproduce in fuller detail the description of the papyrus given in the editio princeps. Should this not be available to the reader, ample information may be found in the reviews by Maas, Körte and Keydell. Gerstinger's attribution of the poems to Pamprepius was greeted by these and other critics with reactions varying from reserve to trenchant scepticism. There is reason to connect the encomium on Theagenes with Pamprepius, since the two were in Athens at the same time, Theagenes as archon, Pamprepius as a grammaticus. But even if we accept that Pamprepius wrote the encomium, the idyll is of higher quality, as Keydell and Maas noted, and might well be the work of a different poet. Doubt concerning the attribution has persisted, and Gerstinger's title-page remains virtually the only place where the poems are ascribed without qualification to Pamprepius.

The speeches concerning the Mytilenean revolt in Thucydides III present three speakers trying to justify or commend a decision: they are, in Aristotelian terms, examples of symbuleutic oratory. The purpose of such oratory is naturally to identify the right course of action, to achieve ϵὐβουλία. But Thucydides is writing about facts; he is also intensely aware of human nature, a force more powerful than reason. So his characters cannot be simply models of wisdom. They are human beings, and they feel the pressure of war or empire. Thus the rhetoric which they employ to convince their hearers is for the historian a way of discovering to his readers the limits, or the failures, as well as the powers, of reasoning; and in this exposure of human weakness Thucydides' work is both rationalistic and tragic, an analysis of human error, be it corrigible or otherwise. If, then, he puts into his speakers' mouths the arguments he himself thought they should have used (i 22.1 τὰ δέοντα), he does so in the service of historical truth (i 22.4 τὸ σαφές). Reality is portrayed realistically, through a portrayal of the minds of those who were part of it; for all action must originate from beliefs and be contemplated through them. Further, the complex or problematical nature of reality is mirrored in his speakers' opposing interpretations of the issues at stake.

Dio of Prusa (Dio Chrysostom) is nowadays mostly read only as a historical source for the Graeco-Roman world of the late first and early second centuries A.D. But he is of course one of the relatively few Greek writers of the early Imperial era who are worth reading at all and his career raises important questions of a more general kind: how valid is it to analyse a writer's or philosopher's life in terms of conversion and how firm a line can be drawn between the activities of the philosopher and those of the sophist?

In this paper I shall argue that the theory of Dio's conversion is not borne out by the facts of his career, and that the originator of the theory was not Synesius of Cyrene but Dio himself, who found it a convenient way both of suppressing the memory of his early time-serving attacks on philosophy under Vespasian and of gratifying his personal taste for self-dramatization. The discussion falls into five parts. Part 1 consists of some general remarks on the methodology of conversion-analysis intended to emphasize some of the dangers of me approach. In Part 2 I consider the evidence of Synesius and of the facts, as far as they can be established, of Dio's early career.

Too often in the study of Greek divine personalities assumptions about deities' nature and development have been reflected in the methodology adopted and have thus introduced distortions, forcing the evidence into inflexible interpretative frameworks which may be logical without being correct. I believe we must aim at a ‘neutral’, bias-free approach which does not allow the operator's convictions to distort the evidence by casting it into a preconceived mould. I shall first set out the factors which, in my opinion, determine the definition and development of Greek divine personalities; these can be established by considering detectable historical developments in these personalities. I then propose an open-ended and flexible methodological framework which will take account of this model but will not depend on its validity.

The first determining factor is clearly the worshipping group and its specific realities and needs as they develop in the course of time. Deities are shaped by the societies that constitute the worshipping group and develop with them. A second factor to be taken into account is the pantheon to which they belong and the spheres of activity of its members. For a pantheon is an articulated religious system within which divine beings catering for the needs of the worshipping group are associated and differentiated; and this nexus of relationships contributes to the definition of each divine personality.

It is now rather over a century since the marble statue of a youth in Naples was recognised as a copy of the Doryphoros of Polykleitos, and the first attempt made to extract from it the mathematical principles of the Polykleitan canon. Periodic warnings uttered on the subject by such scholars as Gardner and Furtwängler failed to deter further speculation, which culminated in Anti's monumental publication of 1921. Understandably enough, this seems effectively to have checked research in the field, with only one or two exceptions, for a number of years. In the past decade or so, however, the pendulum, apparently never stable for long, has swung back again: a spate of books and articles on Polykleitos and his school has appeared, including no fewer than four major attempts to recover the principles of the canon from the surviving copies of his works. Again, murmurings to the contrary have passed unheeded, the gulf between believers and unbelievers now, it seems, having become virtually unbridgeable. With this in mind, and considering that Polykleitan studies have undergone a quiet revolution in the last year or two through the identification of fragments of casts of the Doryphoros and an Amazon among those recently discovered at Baiae, it seems an opportune moment to try to restate a few principles, basic but all too often ignored, and to indicate a number of directions that further research might take.

In the treatise de Abstinentia that the neoplatonist Porphyry devoted to justifying abstention from foods of animal origin, there is a long quotation from Life in Greece (βίος τῆς Έλλάδος) by the Peripatetic, Dicaearchus (end of the fourth century B.C.), who was a direct disciple of Aristotle. This book is known to represent a sort of cultural history of Greek humanity from the very earliest times.

In its essentials, this text tells us that the Golden Age, or age of Cronos, referred to by the poets, principally by Hesiod, in his Works and Days (from which Dicaearchus quotes verses 116–19: ‘And they had all good things, the grain-bearing earth, ζείδωρος ἂρονρα, itself produced an abundant and generous harvest, and they lived off their fields in peace and joy, amidst countless boons…’), that this marvellous epoch was perhaps a historical reality

Towards the close of Book V of the Republic Plato tells us that the true philosopher has knowledge and that the objects of knowledge are the Forms. By contrast, the ‘lovers of sights and sounds’, he tells us, have no more than belief, the objects of which are physical particulars. He then goes on to present us with some very radical-sounding assertions about the nature of these physical particulars. They are bearers of opposite properties, he says, in so thorough-going a manner that we cannot say of them that they are nor that they are not: they lie somewhere between being and utter non-being.

This passage of the Republic (475–80) still awaits an agreed interpretation and I want to suggest as a reason for this that it is usually interpreted in isolation. I will argue that it becomes easier to understand when seen against the background of Plato's developing thought. To be more precise, it makes sense when taken as a rejection by Plato of one of his earlier beliefs: namely, a doctrine of essentialism to be found in the Phaedo.

The greater part of this paper then will be an attempt to show that Republic V is a rejection of the Phaedo's doctrine of essences. Its concluding part will try to explain why that doctrine was rejected.

The relevant part of the fragment is:

εἰ δὲ ἔστιν, ἀνάγκη ἕκαστον μέγεθός τι ἔχειν καὶ πάχος καὶ ἀπέχειν αὐτοῦ τὸ ἕτερον ἀπὸ τοῦ ἑτέρου. καὶ περὶ τοῦ προύχοντος ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος. καὶ γὰρ ἐκεῖνο ἕξει μέγεθος καὶ προέξει αὐτοῦ τι. ὅμοιον δὴ τοῦτο ἅπαξ τε εἰπεῖν καὶ ἀεὶ λέγειν οὐδὲν γὰρ αὐτοῦ τοιοῦτον ἕσχατον ἔσται οὔτε ἕτερον πρὸς ἕτερον οὐκ ἔσται.

The very full recent publication of the Athenian black figure amphora, Ashmolean Museum 213, invites reflection on the graffiti beneath its foot which might offer information about the find place of the vase. It was formerly in the Castellani Collection and taken by Beazley as the name piece of his Painter of Oxford 213.

Of the four inscriptions (see Fig. 1) three are obviously interrelated: the most complete (1) reads cravnas; 2 is probably an incorrect version of the same name with a mistake over the first nu (cranna), while 3 has simply the first two letters cr followed by an incomplete a. Despite the hesitant script it is clear that the writer made three attempts to write the name and succeeded only with the last which is correctly written. The fact that in each case the rho is written in the reverse direction to the rest of the name shows that the three inscriptions are by one hand. This is the first evidence for the name cravnas. The suffix -s suggests Cravna as the owner of the object, this usage being normal for south Etruria. The variant cranna, intended for cra(v)nna (cra(u)nna), may be compared with the occasional doubling of nu met in seventh-century Cerveteri, perhaps a peculiarity of pronunciation.

The name vase of the Richmond Painter (datable c. 450–440 B.C.), formerly in the collection of Sir Francis Cook in Richmond, has been in the Otago Museum, Dunedin, since 1948. The traditional description has been (A) Nike (B) youth (Plate III, a–b). What does not seem to have been observed before, at least in print, is that the youth holds a short straight object in his right hand, in added red that has faded (Plate III, c). It is hard to see what this object can be but a brush, and if it is a brush, for what skill the Nike can be rewarding the youth other than vase-painting.

It would be pleasant if we could add this piece to the meagre list of representations of vase-painters, the more so since Beazley made it the painter's name vase. What is interesting too is the fact that the youth holds the brush in the normal way, in the fingers rather than the fist. The fist hold may be useful when writing with a stylus, but vase-painters usually show vase-painters with the finger hold—which again makes the four artisans on the Caputi Hydria a curious exception.

An epigram in the Greek Anthology (A.P. v 245) by Macedonius Consul goes as follows:

The oath here (line 3), τρισὶν ὥμοσα πέτραις, has no precise parallel in antiquity and has, accordingly, puzzled commentators. Emendation was one solution.

Until the Second World War, the antiquities collection held by the university in Leipzig included a set of four fragments attributed to Exekias, and long recognised by scholars as deriving from an amphora which in the subject of both obverse and reverse scenes was close to the type A amphora signed by Exekias in the Vatican Museum. Unfortunately the fragments were lost during the war; W. Herrmann has recently published them as war losses, listing all the information available on their history— the provenience is unknown. Three of the fragments bear a clear resemblance to side A of the Vatican amphora, which shows Achilles and Ajax intent on a board game, but the Dioskouroi scene on side B was identified only on the very slender evidence of T. 391 (Plate IVa), a small fragment bearing the head of a white dog.

This identification is now supported by the discovery that T. 391 joins cleanly with a hitherto unpublished fragment in Cambridge as may be seen in Plate IVc. The join is substantiated by the portion of the hand of ‘Polydeukes’ appearing on both fragments, by the leash held in that hand, and by the dog's paw, all of which bridge the break.

The Attic black-figure skyphos (or perhaps rather more strictly, kotyle) of c. 580 B.C. shown here has already been published as of unknown provenance as the frontispiece of Sir Arthur W. Pickard-Cambridge, Dithyramb, Tragedy and Comedy (sides A and B) and in CVA Cambridge i pl. 2, 8a–b (side A and one of the handle zones). The purpose of this note is to draw attention to the extremely interesting provenance now established for it. At the same time, the opportunity has been taken to publish views of the side and handle zone not illustrated in the CVA and to add a few further comments on the condition of the vase, since such considerations have proved vital to its identification.

Previously known under the interim serial, Fitzwilliam Museum X5, as an object completely lacking any record of source or acquisition, it has now been able to be fully documented and formally inventoried as no. GR.126.1892. The vase has been assembled from many fragments and its foot is completely missing, but the walls are largely intact down to a little above or below the base-line to the figured scene.

Phocylides was famous as a poet of admonitory or gnomic verse. Isocrates names him together with Hesiod and Theognis, saying that they are praised as the best counsellors for human life, though their advice is seldom followed (ii 43). He is again bracketed with Theognis by Dio of Prusa (ii 5), Athenaeus (632d), and Cyril (c. Iul., Patrol. lxxvi 841d). Theophrastus quoted a line of Theognis (147) in different works as ‘Theognis’ and as ‘Phocylides’: we should not infer that it occurred in both poets, but simply that people tended to muddle them. And when Phocylides is dated as σύγχρονος Θϵόγνιδος, we must suspect that this was a guess based on nothing more than the similar tendency of their work, for certainly neither named the other.

In this study we have compared an Arabic translation with a well-edited Greek text, in the preparation of which, moreover, the editors have found no evidence of any major lacunae in their MSS, and which we may suppose to correspond closely with Galen's original composition. It was, consequently, from the first improbable that we should make any very striking discoveries: nothing was to be expected at all comparable with the indubitable evidence for the inversion of a leaf in the codex from which are derived our Greek manuscripts of Galen's An in arteriis natura sanguis contineatur (Furley and Wilkie, CR xxii [1972] 164–7).

For anyone interested in the Arabic translations of Galen's works there was, however, a compensatory advantage in the possibility thus presented of assessing the quality of the Arabic version. The reputation of the translator, Hunain ibn Isḥāq, has, indeed, already been long established; and we were prepared to find his translation at the least respectable; it is safe to say, however, that we have found it uniformly excellent.