The present bibliography, relating to the years 1950 and 1951, follows the same lines as those of former years. Books and articles which I know only at second hand are marked by an asterisk. My cordial thanks are due to those scholars who have lightened my burden by sending me copies of their works.

Death has inflicted severe losses on epigraphical studies. Adolf Wilhelm, who for more than half a century stood in the foremost rank of Greek epigraphists and maintained his tireless activity, despite increasing infirmity, until nearing his eighty-seventh year, died in Vienna on August 10, 1950. Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis? J. J. E. Hondius, founder and editor of SEG and Secretary of the Epigraphical Congress which met at Amsterdam in 1938, died suddenly at the Hague on November 5, 1950, in his fifty-fourth year; in him ‘epigraphy has lost one of its most devoted and tireless servants, and all scholars in his field will mourn his passing’. Among others who have recently died are G. M. Bersanetti, E. Capps, E. Hermann, M. Launey, G. P. Oikonomos, A. Olivieri, A. Passerini, A. Stein, and N. Vulič. Further tributes have been paid to the work of P. Jouguet, A. Rehm, and P. Roussel.

In a paper read at the R. Accademia dei Lincei in Rome I communicated the result of my studies upon three of the bronze inscriptions (Nos. 362, 56, 363) found at Olympia, and published in the Archäologische Zeitung. Amongst other inscriptions from the same place recently published in the last number of the same periodical there are two (Nos. 382, 383) deserving the same attention, and demanding it all the more since Professor Kirchhoff in giving them to the public has declared himself unable to divine their meaning. Here I submit to the judgment of the readers of this journal my contribution to the question. My studies are only founded on the facsimile taken from a rubbing and published in the Archäologische Zeitung, together with Dr. Purgold's account of the material condition of the two monuments. I have thought it necessary to give my readers a phototypic copy of the facsimile itself, reduced to smaller proportions. Further particulars will be found in the Archäologische Zeitung, 1881, pp. 78 seq.

There are in Scotland two ancient Athenian marble thrones which I had an opportunity of studying and photographing some years ago. Both have already been published, but not so fully as to make a fresh study of them superfluous. The more important is in the Earl of Elgin's collection at Broomhall, the other is at Biel, in East Lothian, and belongs to Colonel J. P. Nisbet Hamilton Grant.

An incomplete description of this marble was published in 1837 by von Stackelberg, he having seen it in Athens about 1810 on what he called ‘the site of the ancient Prytaneion’. His description was accompanied by neat engravings of two views of the throne and a view of each relief. After a lapse of time Michaelis produced further notes about it in his ‘Ancient Marbles in Great Britain’, Supplement I, in JHS V (1884) 146 ff. (with Plate XLVIII) under the title Marble throne with reliefs. He had little to say of the chair itself, much about the relief of the Tyrannicides together with a brief comment on the second relief and the inscription.

It will therefore be best to give a fresh description of the throne which can now be illustrated by new photographs taken while it was in the Edinburgh exhibition (Pl. VI, a; VII; VIII, c).

About forty-five miles in an air-line west-south-west of Samsun (Amisos) lies the town of Vezir Keupru, situated at the eastern edge of a rolling plain bounded towards the west by the Halys, on the south by the long ridge of Tavshan Dagh, and on the north by the mountain-rim of the plateau through which the Halys forces its way to the sea. This undulating tract is the extreme westerly part of the ancient Phazemonitis, over which passed the one great ‘through route’ from Constantinople across Paphlagonia to the Euphrates, following throughout its course a line curiously parallel to the coast. Though this road is not described in any ancient document, its importance for the Roman period is amply proved by a remarkably complete series of milestones, erected or re-erected by successive emperors between Nerva and Constantine, which we discovered last summer between the Halys and Neocaesareia. In modern times it cannot claim any such importance.

Discussion of the closing lines of Pindar's seventh Nemean has concentrated almost exclusively on the lines' relevance to the larger question that hangs over the poem: does the ode serve as an apologia for the poet's uncomplimentary treatment of Neoptolemus in an earlier Paean, and is Pindar here most plainly gainsaying the vilification in which he supposedly previously engaged. The reading that I offer suggests that a very different concern frames the conclusion to the work. Rather than seeking to exculpate himself, the poet announces instead that in the song that the audience has just heard, the composer has adhered to two prime virtues that the encomiastic genre should embrace: variatio and an ability to counter the language of blame. By reorienting the debate in this way, I aim to elucidate the striking metaphors and other rhetorical devices that fill the final lines, and most particularly to make sense of the canine imagery that seems so recurrent a motif. As my reading seeks to show, the dog is chosen as master trope both for his relation to the practice of invective and for his relevance to that stale act of repetition that the poet here rejects. By giving his audience a sample of the mode of speech that the calumnist practises, and that the praise poet may appropriate when combating the opposite genre, Pindar makes the merits of his own poetry shine the brighter, and invites the cognoscenti to appreciate his sophia. More broadly, the encomiastic singer's brief deployment of the weapons of the abuse poet allows us to understand something of the overlapping and symbiotic relations between the different genres in archaic Greek poetry.

In this paper I propose to concentrate on some few features in the style of Aeschylus. A clear and very readable account of his style in general has already been given by Prof. Stanford in the book published recently, but in that he deals lightly with the things with which I propose to deal now, the variations of style between the plays and the reasons of them.

But before we come to them, a word about the reasons for the character of his style in general. That, as all readers know, is full of ‘grandiloquence,’ or as the Greeks called it, ὄγκος, of various kinds, mouth-filling words and bold mixed metaphors, and so on. Prof. Stanford suggests incidentally that this may be due to convention, but that is hardly likely. There is little ὄγκος in the very scanty fragments of his predecessors in Tragedy, and it is probable that Aeschylus elevated the style, as, according to tradition, he elevated the staging of the plays.

Archaeological work was carried out by the Italians in the Dodecanese up to September, 1943, and excavations were then still in progress both on Rhodes and Cos. On the Italian surrender at that date the Germans occupied the islands, and their restrictions on movement made all archaeological work impossible. During the British Military Administration numerous finds were made, but work was concentrated on preservation, and excavation was only undertaken when it was clearly essential to do so. In the Walled City of Rhodes the clearance of several large bombdamaged areas presents a golden opportunity to excavate into the levels of the Greek and Roman cities which have hitherto been all too well hidden by the medieval and Turkish buildings. It is to be hoped that something may be done to this end before the areas are covered over again by new buildings. I am indebted for most of the information contained in this article to Professor Morricone of the Instituto Storico-Archeologico di Rodi who also supplied Fig. 2.

The repairs of the Parthenon are drawing to a close and visitors coming to Athens next Easter may hope to see the temple freed from its casing of timber. They must be prepared for other changes also. Already the removal of part of the scaffolding and the re-erection of it in July round the Erechtheum have shown that the Greek authorities intend to carry into effect the scheme for rebuilding the North Porch and West Wall which aroused some vigorous protests when it was publicly announced in April. The Parthenon repairs have been works of conservation. The present scheme is one of restoration, and it is natural therefore that it should have aroused a good deal of hostile criticism.

A small Attic red-figure cup of considerable charm was recently acquired by a private collector in Hamburg. It is decorated outside as well as inside and has been mended from several fragments. The tondo and foot are undamaged, but a few minor rim fragments are missing, the largest robbing us of part of the central horseman: gone are the back of his neck, his right shoulder, the upper part of his right arm, most of the pelta and a section of the spear shafts, as well as three letters from the inscription. The surface is in superb condition, despite one or two chips and the slight flaking under the right hand of the woman on the interior. The measurements of the cup are as follows: height 7.2 cm, diameter without handles 19.5 cm and diameter of the foot 8.0 cm. The shape is of type ‘C’, with the fillet at the lower end of the stem. The handles are long and rather flat, scarcely rising above the rim. The lip has a reserved line inside and out. The fairly flat bowl meets the rim at a sharp angle. The stem is short, as is normal with type ‘C’ cups, and is strongly flaring at top and bottom. The fillet is marked by a reserved groove above and below. The foot has a flat upper contour. The profile of the edge of the foot is richly formed: the upper third being concave and the lower two thirds convex, while in the middle of the former there is a very slight ridge. Under the foot is a wide black band, as is usual among cups of type ‘C’.

‘O Sogenes of the Euxenid clan, I swear that I did not, having stepped up to the line, hurl forth my tongue like a bronze-cheeked javelin which sends the neck and strength of limbs without sweat from the wrestling before the limb falls in the glare of the sun.’ Nem. vii 70–3)

In the passage given above, Pindar employs the image of the javelin thrower to describe the kind of poet which he is. Within the simile there occurs the participial phrase, τέρμα προβαίς, which I translate as ‘having stepped up to the line’, the line here being the one from which the athlete throws the javelin and over which he cannot step without being penalised. However, before I present my reasons for this interpretation of the phrase, it will be helpful to explain more fully the meaning of the simile.

First the image itself. The poet compares himself to a javelin thrower in order to assure the audience that his pronouncements do justice to the merits of the victor. In Greek athletics the javelin throw was one of the five contests which comprised the pentathlon, the other four event being the foot race, discus, long jump, and wrestling.

Few monuments of ancient art possess either a more obvious beauty and attraction, or a greater interest for the archæological student, than the sarcophagus painted with various scenes of an Amazonomachia, which was discovered in 1869 in a grave at a little distance from Corneto, the ancient Tarquinii, and was a few years afterwards acquired for the Egyptian and Etruscan Museum at Florence. Its date is probably not much after 300 B.C., and the pictures which adorn it, even if not the work of a Greek hand, offer us the best example we possess of the manner of Greek polychrome painting in that age. They have been already described by several highly competent writers, including Dr. Helbig and Otto Donner (Bull. dell' Inst. 1869, p. 198 sq.); the late Dr. Klügmann, who for years made representations of the Amazons in ancient art his especial study (Ann. dell' Inst. 1873, p. 239 sq.); Mr. Dennis (Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 2nd ed., 1881, p. 96 sq.); and Dr. Woermann (Woltmann and Woermann, Hist. of Painting, English ed., 1880, vol. i., p. 100). But hitherto no adequate illustrations of them have been published. The sketches in slightly shaded outline engraved, (Mon dell' Inst., vol. ix., pl. lx.), to accompany Dr. Klügmann's article above referred to, furnish, indeed, a useful key to the shape and dimensions of the sarcophagus, and to the arrangement and subject-matter of its pictures. But of the style of the work they give little notion, and of its colouring, from the nature of the case, none at all. Coloured facsimiles of some selected portions of these most interesting paintings are published for the first time with the present number of the Journal of Hellenic Studies (Pls. XXXVI., XXXVII., XXXVIII.).

Plotinus is, up to a point, a classical intellectualist in the manner of Aristotle, and, he would himself have certainly thought, of Plato. He professes, that is, to give an account of everything that is in any degree real in the universe (and even a kind of account of the unreal) which is certainly and unchangingly true and can be demonstrated to be so by rational processes. This account culminates in the description of an eternal realm of intelligible intellect which can be (and indeed really always is) our own, certainly and imperturbably possessed. This systematic account of reality, as is well known, breaks down, and we have to break out of it, in a very startling way at the top. Beyond the Platonic-Aristotelian Intellect-Intelligible, the world of real being which is Νοῦς and νοητά, lies the One or Good beyond being, which is neither intelligent nor intelligible. When we have completed our understanding of reality, we have to leave it all behind in order to find what turns out to be the only thing we want, the source of all values and the goal of all desire, which alone makes it worth the effort to attain to Νοῦς on the way, as it is the only reason why Νοῦς is there at all.