The war was responsible for my finding a number of interesting inscriptions and monuments in the heart of Asia Minor. I copied and sketched about two hundred, but as half of them have been previously published, I propose to deal only with the remainder here.

During the latter part of my three years' captivity, 1915–1918, with the Turks at Angora, the military authorities were hard pressed for fuel, and I was in worse straits myself for means of subsistence. Unaware of their actual predicament, I applied for work to the Commander of the Fifth Army Corps, at Angora, to enable me to earn enough wherewith to buy food. This resulted in Ismail Hakki Pasha, the Quartermaster-General at Constantinople, authorising the Commander to employ me. I was commissioned to make a geological report on the Angora Vilayet and to find coal for them. My work proved very successful; I found several outcrops of coal, copper, chrome, and indications of oil, and as a consequence received fairly liberal pay. This enabled me to save up sufficient money to escape via Samsoun to the Crimea a few months before the Armistice.

The first inscriptions seen by me were copied under restraint, but as time went on and supervision over my doings was relaxed, I was able to copy and sketch everything I came across, not only the numerous stelae at Angora, but those throughout the Vilayet, wherever I happened to be at the time.

Among the simpler and cheaper types of pottery in common use in the fifth century B.C. and later, one of the most attractive is the black-glaze ware decorated with incised and stamped patterns. A certain quantity of this has been found in undisturbed single burials or in other contexts which provide external evidence for its dating and development, notably in Sicily and South Russia, at Rhitsona in Boeotia and more recently in the Agora at Athens. Further and still more reliable evidence is to be found in the series of vases, mainly cups, in which similar incised or stamped patterns are found combined on one and the same pot with red-figure painting. The use of incision and stamping in the interior of the cups instead of the normal painted medallion no doubt made for cheapness, and the red-figure work is never of a very high standard. Nevertheless, some of the fifth-century examples have sufficient merit to be looked at for their own sake, while the combination of the two styles gives a useful equation.

As a preliminary to the consideration of the changes introduced by Solon into the currency system of Athens, it will be well to review the situation which he had to face. He had found the farmers of Attica in a condition of hopeless insolvency owing to the burden of borrowed money, and had relieved them by a summary process of cancelling their debts: in effect, he had adjudged them bankrupt and then given them their discharges, so that they could start afresh with the moral guarantee of the State to support their credit, like any modern trader who has similarly gone through the courts. But it would have been of little use to do this unless he had at the same time provided some safeguard against the recurrence of the trouble: this had been so widespread that it must have been due to some cause which operated throughout the industry, not to the shortcomings of individuals; and, as the step which Solon took was to reform the currency, it is clear that in his view it was the currency which had been at fault.

In this article a new interpretation of the problematic form (Alcman PMGF 28 (85 Calame)) is proposed on the basis of a both a fresh examination of the history and prehistory of the ϕι-case and an overview of the syntax of coordinated pairs in various Indo-European languages.

The uncritical excesses of those theorists, chiefly German and some English following them blindly, who discerned ‘faded gods or goddesses’ in most of the leading figures of Greek mythology, has produced a reaction which may be equally uncritical. We ought not to believe in the original divinity of an Agamemnon, an Achilles, or a Diomed. Nevertheless, there is undoubtedly a small group of personages, who may be called hero-gods or heroine-goddesses, whose godhead is the primary fact and whose humanity is secondary. The usual mark of these is that their legend is hieratic wholly, that they have little or no secular character, not to say ‘epic’ or ‘heroic.’ Of these the most prominent and important is Ino-Leukothea; and the interpretation of her character and personality and the problem of her origin are among the difficult tasks of the historian of Greek religion. What has been written hitherto on her cult and legend cannot be regarded as satisfying.

The Byzantine passion play Christus Patiens (Christ Suffering) is a cento: composed of quotations and borrowings from other sources, it takes Euripides’ tragedies as its main source for reworking the passion narrative. The genre, popular with Christian authors who usually transformed classical epics, enacts cultural exchange between canonical pagan literature and biblical narrative. Traditionally transmitted as the work of Gregory of Nazianzus, this drama showcases the tensions inherent in this reuse of Greek tragedy which threaten to collapse the original texts under the weight of their new meaning – or vice versa. While the afterlives of Classical texts, especially Greek tragedy, have been increasingly well explored, the scant attention afforded Christus Patiens has largely consisted of debating the disputed date and authorship. At the same time, scrutiny lavished on Virgilian centonic technique provides a helpful spring-board. This article focuses on the four tragedies most plundered in Christus Patiens: Rhesus, Medea, Hippolytus and Bacchae. It concentrates on interpreting the protagonist, Mary the Mother of God, through key passages which borrow most heavily from these plays. These stretch centonic conventions by almost exclusively reworking contiguous lines featuring the tragic mothers Medea, Agave and Musa; yet Mary is otherwise created from multiple conflicting voices. Analysis of these passages as frames for the cento author's own compositions and in the context of the prologue's invitation to identify specific Euripidean reworkings suggests that the author playfully flirts with creating a narrative of fragmentation through clashes between centonic form, tragic sources and Christian subject.

This article analyses monodic reperformance of epinicians in the fifth century BC and argues that the musical and ethical dimensions of such performances were mutually reinforcing. Reperformances by solo singers would have strongly foregrounded the agency of the individual performer, while also enacting his understanding of musical conventions. This relationship forms a structural parallel with the function of ethical statements in epinicians, which are usually conventional in terms of their conceptual content and yet also emphasize the agency of individuals in responding to them. I argue that the parallelism between ethics and monodic reperformance is an important thematic strand in Nemean 4 and Isthmian 2, and prefigures the responses that the poems elicit from audiences.

Porphyry's criticism of Origen (in c.Christ. fr. 39 Harnack) is usually interpreted as expressive of the ‘double apostasy’ accusation: Christians had not only abandoned their pagan religious traditions (‘Hellenism’) but also their new religious host, Judaism, whose texts they misappropriated for themselves. Reading key elements of the fragment within Porphyry's broader philosophical thought prompts suspicion of this cultural interpretation of the fragment, and instead points to a serious Platonic reaction to Christianity.

This article addresses the asymmetry between the two main aspectual paradigms in the Classical Greek verbal system: the imperfective and the aorist (perfective). Whereas the imperfective has separate indicative forms for present and past time reference, i.e. the ‘primary’ and the ‘secondary’ indicative, the aorist only has a secondary (‘past’) indicative. I argue that this asymmetry is not only morphological but also semantic. That is, while the secondary imperfective indicative (the ‘imperfect’) is confined to past time reference, the secondary aorist indicative is used not only to refer to the past but also to the present. It then enters into aspectual competition with the primary imperfective indicative (the ‘present’). Based on R.W. Langacker's (2011) Cognitive Grammar account of aspect, I distinguish five types of context in which a present tense form with perfective aspect is a desideratum, and argue that here the secondary aorist indicative is used to fulfil this function. Moreover, I present a diachronic account of the origin of this remarkable asymmetry, arguing that the aorist indicative was never a past tense to begin with.

We offer a reassessment of two letters from the state correspondence of Tiglath-pileser III of Assyria (r. 744–727 BC) with the earliest references to a town called Yauna and a people called the Yauneans, as encountered on the eastern Mediterranean coast by the newly established imperial administration. Past scholarship connected these Assyrian terms with the ethnonym ‘Ionians’ and/or the toponym ‘Ionia’. The study narrows down the location of Yauna, drawing also on a review of the coastal sites that have produced Greek ceramic imports: although identification remains elusive, Yauna was certainly situated in the territory of the kingdom of Hamath, and later the Assyrian province of Ṣimirra. Discussion of the historical and cultural background of Yauna’s foundation highlights its significance for the ‘transfer debate’ and the phenomenon of the ‘Greeks overseas’. We argue that the Assyrians first encountered the Yauneans in this locality and that, to them, they were originally simply the inhabitants of Yauna. Due to the similarities perceived between them and (other?) Greeks appearing in the eastern Mediterranean, the Assyrians came to apply the ethnonym universally to all these people, who eventually adopted it for themselves. Thus, we support the argument that the term ‘Ionian’ originated in external nomenclature.

Sappho and her songs became popular throughout the Greek world very soon after her death, as reflected on Attic vases, in comedies and in the many references to her songs by authors of all times. One important source for her songs, especially before the discovery of the papyri at Oxyrhynchus and elsewhere, is Athenaeus’ Deipnosophistae. This article presents a close analysis of three fragments of Sappho that were transmitted within this work, in order to establish the form of the fragments as they were incorporated by Athenaeus. Divergence from Sappho's original need not be the result of scribal error, but may represent a variation born in performance or active reception of the poems by Athenaeus or his source. Furthermore, the fragments demonstrate that it is insufficient to describe Athenaeus’ engagement with the Lesbian dialect as atticizing. By extension, the idiosyncracies of his quotations of Sappho's songs should be reflected in editions of the Deipnosophistae.

The vase which is the subject of Plate IV was recently presented to the British Museum by Mr. John Tulk of Chertsey, in whose possession it had been for many years. Mr. Tulk states that it was formerly in the possession of Earl Cadogan, and was disposed of at the sale of his antiquities at Christie's in 1865. On the rim of the vase is an impression in red wax of a seal with coat-of-arms. Enough remains of the surrounding inscription (DO · I … RE · SICIL) to show that it is the seal of Ferdinando I, King of the Two Sicilies 1815–25, with the arms of the Kingdom. Either the vase was originally in the possession of this personage, or else it is merely a confirmation of leave to export the vase from Italy. But I can glean no further information about its previous history, and it appears to have remained entirely unknown to archaeologists. It is, however, as will be seen, one of more than usual interest.

In the British Museum there are two fifth-century Attic vases (Nos. D 9 and D 10) of bee-hive shape (Fig. 1), of which the decoration consists of a series of mouldings alternately red, white, and black, with a black rim; the interior is white, also with a black rim. In their general style, their technique, and their decoration they are very similar to another vase of the same collection, D 8, a phiale mesomphalos, which bears the signature of the potter Sotades. All three vases were in the Branteghem Collection, and were described by Froehner, in his Catalogue of that Collection, under Nos. 160–162.

In the third volume of the Catalogue of Vases in the British Museum I described these vases, D 9 and D 10, as ‘Mastoi’; this is a form which, of course, owes its name to the pretty fancy which derives it from the model of Aphrodite's breast, and so was a favourite form of dedication in her temple at Paphos.

Cod. Florence Bibl. Nazion. Centr. Conv. Soppr. J.VI.34—formerly in Niccolò Niccoli's and St. Mark's libraries—written in a beautiful French hand of c. A.D. 1150–1200—contains the second edition of Boethius's translation of Pr. An. Many scholia, written on the margins and between the lines by the same calligraphic hand which wrote the Aristotelian text or by a hand very similar to and contemporary with it, accompany the translation in this MS. They are mainly concentrated in about one-half of the work, viz. in book i.23–30 (4ob–46a) and book ii (52a–70b); quite a few accompany i. 1, 5–6, 30–45 (24a, 27b–28a, 46a–50a); almost none is to be found in i. 10–14, 17–22 (30b7–33b25, 37a25–40b10). Arrangement and writing suggest that the scribe intended to give the reader Aristotle's text together with what was available to him of an authoritative commentary.

The scholia range, in nature and extent, from short glosses on single words or phrases and short summaries of sections of Aristotle's work to detailed explanations and doctrinal developments of important or difficult passages. Here and there carefully drawn diagrams illustrate logical rules and geometrical examples. The following scholia are mainly chosen from book i; others, from both books, will be given farther on.

The important inscription from Epidaurus, published in Aug. 1921 by M. Cavvadias, raises many questions beside those dealt with in the very full commentary. Cavvadias attributes the document to 223 and the Achaean League. It is, I think, certain that it cannot belong to the Achaean League, and almost certain, as I hope to show, that it belongs to 303 and the revived League of Corinth of Demetrius I. The last few lines of the inscription have long been known (I.G. iv. 924), and have been exhaustively studied by A. Wilhelm, who placed the fragment which in I.G. is marked β; Cavvadias does not refer to Wilhelm's study, and unfortunately omits any mention of β from his restoration. The document contains no proper names.

The following notes, made during my work for the British School at Rome on the sculptures of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, are here published by permission of Prof. H. Stuart Jones, General Editor of the forthcoming catalogue, and at the suggestion of Mrs. Arthur Strong, for whose constant help and criticism I wish to take this opportunity of recording my thanks. The summary descriptions are not intended in any sense to supplant, but rather to supplement the catalogue; and their appearance here is due to the belief that new theories are best published separately before being embodied, if only because the conclusions reached can in this way be substantiated by arguments, especially in the form of photographs, which would there be out of place. The note which had its beginnings in the Esquiline stele has grown to the dimensions of a separate article, and in view of its possible interest has been so printed.