This second visit to the place of Virgil's birth was made partly in actuality—for my wife and I, before taking part in the Virgilian Cruise of last summer, spent two delightful days at Pietole with our hosts, the Signori Prati, and our guest and friend Bruno Nardi—and partly in a renewed pondering of the arguments presented by my friend Professor Conway both in his earlier article and in his recent review of the question, to which, as he says, I had urged him to return. I promised him at the time that if he should not speak the last word on the subject, I would still further defend the view commonly accepted until he bestowed an extraordinary publicity on Calvisano and Carpenedolo. He declares that I maintain the traditional site at Pietole, ‘though not perhaps with very great confidence.’ He further implies that I ‘do not want to accept the evidence of Probus because “I prefer” to believe a mediaeval tradition.’ Let me assure him and the reader that I do not regard a mediaeval tradition per se as better proof than the certain statement of an ancient authority. I have been led, by studies in various fields, to respect tradition in general until it is disproved, and to lay the burden of the argument on those who would disprove it. But the mere sight of something hoary and mediaeval does not prompt me to exclaim, ‘Media Aetas locuta est; causa finita est’ I relish the attempts of an iconoclast to destroy rigid error, and accept his destruction if it is accomplished. In the present case, however, I have ‘very great confidence’ that Conway's assault on the tradition has come to naught. Possibly some new and unexpected evidence may yet be discovered, showing that Virgil was born at Calvisano, or Carpenedolo, or at some other site than Pietole—but nobody has presented it yet.

It may be affirmed with some confidence that on this topic no generally accepted solution will be found in default of new evidence, for which we can only faintly hope. Against certainty on the matter it would seem that the Everlasting has fixed his canon: quis iustius induit arma scire nefas. Dogmatism is out of place; we must be content with whatever theory is least difficult to reconcile with the texts and with a reasonable interpretation of the course of events at the time and the comments on them of contemporary observers. The thesis advanced in this paper is that there are strong reasons for supposing that the Lex Pompeia Licinia contained a date by which Caesar's command ended, that this date was not the end of February of the year 50 or the year 49 or the end of December of the year 50, that it did not contain a clause forbidding the discussion of a successor to Caesar before March 1, 50, and that if the date ending his command lies between the end of February and the end of December of the year 50, it may have been in fact the Ides of November in that year.

The extent of the dependence of early Greek cosmogony on mythical conceptions has long been a prolific source of controversy. Views on the subject have varied from Professor Cornford's claim that ‘there is a real continuity between the earliest rational speculation and the religious representation that lay behind it’ to Professor Burnet's extreme statement, ‘it is quite wrong to look for the origins of Ionian science in mythological ideas of any kind.’ The solution of the problem that I wish to suggest is one which should satisfy those who insist on ‘the scientific character of the early Greek cosmology,’ while retaining a direct connection with pre-scientific beliefs—namely, that some, at least, of the earliest philosophers founded their doctrines of the beginning of the universe on a deliberate rationalization of earlier and contemporary mythical ideas. The appearance of notions like the ‘world-egg’ in a number of passages, too well known for quotation, shows that primitive cosmogony assumed an analogy between the generation of the world and the generation of animate creatures. I believe it can be proved that, so far from the ‘renunciation of sexual imagery’ which even Professor Cornford has recently attributed to Anaximander, he and other philosophers retained the habit of regarding cosmogony and anthropogony as parallel phenomena, only substituting for the mythical ‘world-egg’ a more scientific view of the embryo and its development. They looked at the world through the same spectacles as their predecessors, but after wiping from them the rose tint of mythological fancy.

Mr. Shewring's recent articles on ‘Prose-rhythm and the Comparative Method’ (C.Q. XXIV, pp. 164 sqq.; XXV, pp. 12 sqq.) are gratifying in that they betoken a growing interest in the problems of a comparatively modern and fascinating study, and also an appreciation of the methods followed by different investigators. His estimate, however, of De Groot's services seems to me somewhat extravagant; his estimate of Zielinski's contributions unduly belittling (as I shall show below, he cannot have read Zielinski's Der constructive Rhythmus); while his references to my own work cause me to doubt whether he has grasped even the main contention of my book. I shall deal with all these points presently.

Cassandra speaking.

The first of these lines is not in dispute; the three which follow are notorious; they are subjoined as in the manuscripts, with punctuation to mark the ostensible construction:

ε δ ἔπαρχος Ίλίοʊ τ άναστάτης

ούκ οἶδεν οἶδ уλσσα μισητς κʊѵòς

λέξασα καì κτείνασα ϕαιδρόνοʊς, δίκην

ἄτης λαθραίοʋ τεύξεται κακῇ τύχῃ.

The first of these passages states some simple principles of mechanics. The second uses one of these principles to prove that a finite mover cannot cause a motion that will occupy unlimited time. The argument there has given much trouble to commentators because the principle in question was not understood, owing to the choice of a false reading in the earlier passage.

In the last number of C.Q. (XXV., p. 207) Mr. A. D. Knox has drawn up a list of Theocriteans who, he suggests, ‘have all of them made the most elementary mistake’ of failing to consider the possibility at least that it is the Boy, and not the Fox, who is the subject of καθξῃ in Id. I. 51. From that list he will have to with-draw two names, Gow and Campbell. This construction, which Mr. Knox propounds as a novelty, had been suggested by Mr. Gow in C.R. XLIV., pp. 9–10. For my part, I am not ingenious, and that syntactical possibility would no more have occurred to me independently than would Mr. Gow's three renderings of it, two of which are ‘until he sets her vinous breakfast upon a more solid basis’ and ‘until he sets her grapes on toast’; as little could I ever have thought, with Mr. Knox, of ‘the obvious necessity’ for this fox ‘of rest after a heavy meal’; still less of those further (I must admit) inevitable eventualities1 at which he hints with such delicacy in his quotation (p. 209, item g) of Aelian V. 39. In regard to these and all such matters, to my mind ‘it were to consider too curiously to consider so.’ For even in Greek which represented for my ears some such English as ‘until she set him a-breakfastant upon the dries,’ if there was one thing with which I was completely satisfied it was with the Fox as subject; that seemed so perfectly in keeping both with the happy playfulness of the passage and with the richly idiomatic φατ as applied to a graven image of an animal. But from the fact that I criticized Mr. Gow's note it is obvious that I was familiar with his idea.

ἘγχώΣεμλη ӣὕτως καλεῖτо, says the lexicographer, from a source which is unknown, but would appear to be late, since it uses a past tense. Where or by whom Semele was so named is not stated, nor has any explanation been given, so far as I know, that is at all satisfactory, for she certainly has nothing to do with swords. I suggest that she was never called anything of the kind, and the statement arises from a comedian's jest. Aristophanes (Ran. 22) speaks of Διννσоς Σιαμνоν, and the scholiast is careful to inform the humourless who read this play that it is a joke, παρ' ὑπνоιαν, instead of νἱς Δις. So no lexicographer ever tells us that Stamnios is a title of Zeus. I suggest that somewhere, by Aristophanes or another, Dionysos was called νἱς Ἐγχоς, ‘son of Pour-Out,’ a comic formation from γχεῖν. If such a passage came into the late classical or the mediaeval world unguarded by a scholiast, it would be taken with the same seriousness which has attended sundry witticisms directed at Kleon and other butts of Comedy. The reasoning would be most syllogistic and accurate, as thus:

Encho is the mother of Dionysos.

But Semele is the mother of Dionysos.

Therefore Encho is Semele, Q.E.D.