The study of animal behavior is a newcomer to the interpretation of the rites and symbols of classical antiquity. Here its promise to produce new insights into old questions is fully matched by the threat of ready-made frames, into which scant and fragile fragments of evidence can only too easily be fitted.

It has recently been alleged that there was, among Greek men of the classical period, a deep-seated fear of the female genitals, and that pubic hair was a focus of that fear. On account of this phobia, it has been suggested, in order to achieve a satisfactory sexual relationship, Greek men required their women fully to depilate their genitals. The thesis has logical problems: if the cause is the sight of the mother's genitals during childhood, the syndrome can affect only one generation. Besides this, it is clear that any depilation would tend to make the vulva more visible, while a heavier growth of hair would tend to hide it. To put the alleged phobic syndrome further to the test, three questions must be answered: Did Greek women practise total pubic depilation? Did they practise pubic depilation at all? If they did depilate, why did they? As for most questions of daily life, there are two major sources of information: Comedy and vase painting. The evidence presented will show that Athenian women did practise partial genital depilation, and that female genital display—including display of pubic hair—is an important element in Attic erotic painting. These two facts are not compatible with a theory of genital phobia.

The hypothesis of Cratinus' Διονυσαλέξανδρος (POxy 663), one of the most important pieces of evidence for non-Aristophanic comedy, raises many problems, some of which, notably the reconstruction of the pre-parabatic plot and the staging problems in the κρίσις-scene, have received a fair amount of scholarly attention. I propose to look at a feature of this play to which much less thought has been devoted in print, but which, I believe, is central to an appreciation and understanding of it: the significance of costume and costume-change.

The political history of Miletos in the mid-fifth century has until recently been reconstructed from five pieces of most reliable evidence, four of them epigraphical, of which three are contemporary with the events concerned.

I. The First Quota-List

From this it appears that Miletos failed to pay tribute to Athens in 454/3: instead (col. vi 19–22), three talents were found by Μιλεσιοι | [ε]χς Λερο and a further sum by [Μι]λεσιοι | [εκ Τ]ειχιοσσε[ς. There are no Milesian entries for 453/2, and Miletos herself only resumed payment in 452/1, as recorded in List III (col. ii 28). From this, and from comparison with the contemporary situation at Erythrai and with later events at Kolophon, it is inferred that Miletos was in revolt in 454/3, the loyal, pro-Athenian, party having taken refuge in Leros and Teichioussa, and that the revolt had been put down in time for the collection of 452/1.

One of the features of the Homeric poems which has often excited comment is the marriage system, both in its apparent difference from that prevailing in classical Athens and for its own inconsistencies as they appear on the surface. Dr M. I. Finley in a paper to which my debt will be evident throughout this discussion, despite my disagreement with some of his arguments, has shown that the old theories of ‘Bride-Purchase’ will not really hold water, and that at a Homeric marriage the bride was part of an exchange of gifts or services between the prospective bride-groom and the bride's father, and that these gifts were called ἕδνα.

What this paper attempts to do is to suggest that (1) there were in fact two different patterns of marriage in Homeric, as in classical times; (2) that ἕδνα belonged essentially to only one of these patterns; (3) that ἕδνα were not δῶρα, although they had many of the facets of gifts, most particularly in that they expressed the giver's quality, and this in turn carried the assumption that to be outdone in ἕδνα, as in gifts, would incur a slur on a man's rank and quality as an ἀγαθός, and this would lead to criticism and ἐλεγχείη; and (4) (in a second part) that, if the analysis of ἕδνα attempted in the first part of this paper is acceptable, the apparent confusions and contradictions in the arrangements proposed for Penelope's second marriage disappear.

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.

The last stand of the Greeks against Rome before Greece sank into the limbo of the Roman Empire is to some a truly patriotic rising, to others a misguided attempt at the impossible. Whatever their general estimation, most scholars have recognised social traits in the Achaian War and in the events which immediately preceded it.

To Kahrstedt it was ‘bolschewistisches Fahrwasser … Massenmord der Besitzenden und Gebildeten … Ausrottung der Bourgeoisie … eine reine Proletarierrepublik, ein Kampf gegen die eigenen Bourgeois und gegen die kapitalistische italische Grossmacht’. Colin sees in the events of 147/6 B.C. traits of ‘une révolution sociale’. According to Fustel de Coulanges, ‘ils abolissent les dettes, ou tout au moins en diffèrent le payement. Ils affranchissent et arment les esclaves.’ To Oertel, it was ‘sozialistische Bewegung … die Ziele sind die alten’. According to Pöhlmann, ‘selbst in die letzte grosse politische Krisis der Nation … spielt die sozialdemokratische Bewegung mächtig hinein’. In the view of Benecke ‘the masses in the Greek cities were encouraged by promises of a social revolution, and the … Achaean general Critolaus did not dare to disappoint them’. According to Rostovtzeff, the aim of Rome in the destruction of Corinth was ‘to put an end to social and economic revolution’. Other authorities, such as Niese, Mommsen, De Sanctis, Tarn, Niccolini, note social traits in their accounts of the events of 147/6 B.C. without attempting a general view of the place of the social factor in the Achaian War.

It is a widely held view that according to the Symposium the ultimate or ‘primary’ object of love is the Form of Beauty. It is almost as widely held that the Form of Beauty is identical with that of the Good. In this paper I argue that both of these views are mistaken. In a first section I present a detailed analysis of Diotima's doctrine, emphasizing features of it which I judge to be often overlooked. In subsequent sections I examine the arguments for and against the claim that Beauty is the primary object of love, and I then do the same for the assertion that the Form of Beauty is identical with that of the Good.

There is little danger of any reader nowadays sharing the sentiments of the Pseudo-Aristotle which I have placed at the head of this paper, or of being other than grateful to Mr. Bent for the remarkable discoveries made by him in Cilicia last year. Of the inscriptions which he brought home, either in copies or in squeezes, I have already published those from Eastern Cilicia in the last number of this Journal. Those that here follow are from Cilicia Tracheia. Shortly after Mr. Bent had been through these regions, Mr. Ramsay in company with Messrs. Hogarth and Headlam passed through the upper part of the Olban district, and made an excursion down to the coast expressly to re-copy the long temple-inscription, No. 27 infra. The heat of the lowlands prevented their doing more. They have rendered me all the help they could in editing these documents; several of them are from copies made only by Mr. Ramsay, and the long list of names from the temple over the Corycian Cave is here given from the careful copy of Mr. Ramsay and Mr. Hogarth.

Since I began to prepare these inscriptions for the Journal, Mr. Ramsay's remarkable work has appeared on The Historical Geography of Asia Minor. This makes it unnecessary for me to preface these documents (as I had intended to do) with a sketch of the history of Western Cilicia.

In a passage of his Protrepticus mentioned by several ancient authors Aristotle wrote: εἰ μὲνφιλοσοφητέον φιλοσοφητέον, καὶ εἰ μὴ φιλοσοφητέον φιλοσοφητέον πάντως ἄρα φιλοσοφητέον (V. Rose, Aristotelis Fragmenta, 51. Cf. R. Walzer, Aristotelis Dialogorum Fragmenta, p. 22; W. D. Ross, Select Fragments of Aristotle, p. 27). That is to say, ‘If we ought to philosophise, then we ought to philosophise; and if we ought not to philosophise, then we ought to philosophise (i.e. in order to justify this view); in any case, therefore, we ought to philosophise’. So far as I know, this is the first appearance in philosophical literature of a pattern of argument that became popular among the Jesuits of the seventeenth century under the name of the consequentia mirabilis and inspired Saccheri's work Euclides ab Omni Naevo Vindicatus, in which theorems of non-Euclidean geometry were proved for the first time. The later history has been told by G. Vailati (in his article on Saccheri's Logica Demonstrativa, ‘Di un’ opera dimenticata del P. Gerolamo Saccheri’, reprinted in his Scritti, 1911, pp. 477–84), G. B. Halsted (in the preface to his 1920 edition of Saccheri's Euclides), and J. -Łukasiewicz (in his ‘Philosophische Bemerkungen zu mehrwertigen Systemen des Aussagenkalküls’, Comptes Rendus des séances de la société des sciences et des lettres de Varsovie, Classe III, Vol. xxiii, 1930, p. 67). In this note I wish to consider only the early history of the argument and in particular a curious criticism of it which appears in Aristotle's Prior Analytics.

Greek theology and its canonical iconography have not been studied nearly as much as the Byzantine, although the religious character of pagan art is no less pronounced. When it is studied it is mostly in the representations on the vases. Sculpture, however, in particular terra-cotta and ivory figurines and plaques, and votive offerings in sanctuaries, offers a wide scope for such a study. Greek piety created some standard forms of votive offerings such as the crouching child, the protome, male or female, the seated or standing woman, sometimes exactly identifiable from the attributes.

A standard type of votive offering, perhaps not as common as the single figure, is that of reliefs, statuettes and statues representing two, or sometimes more, female figures, identical or slightly differentiated, traditionally explained as Demeter and Kore or the Nymphs.

The topic has been treated variously since the early nineteenth century, in isolated examples, or regional and other groups. There is no treatment of it in its entirety in the Greek world, and not much progress has been made in the subject since the basic nineteenth-century treatises. Moreover, in the above publications, never cited in more recent works, one finds some very sound approaches and knowledge of the textual evidence. However, in these early publications the material is mostly Classical, or Hellenistic and Roman. In some of the cases of double figures discussed in them, the duplication, rather than ‘doubleness’, is more apparent than real because the attributes are repeated and are those of the unique war goddess Athena, or the equally unique Tyche or Fortuna. However, the case is not always so, especially in archaic or earlier times, and it gets even more complicated when the figures are not two but three and sometimes more, even up to nine. The repeating of figures, often under one mantle, as diad, triad, etc., could be explained as multiplication of a figure by the folk-mind (mythology), followed by the Greek artists, thus creating the Eileithyiai, Horai, Charites, Muses, etc. Modern scholars have insisted on trying to identify in all of them Demeter and Kore, the female diad par excellence.

Scholars have long praised the overall topographic accuracy of Thucydides' account of the campaign at Pylos (iv 3–6, 8–23, 26–41); and among the numerous details mentioned, only two apparent inaccuracies have been identified, both involving measurements. One, an inaccurate estimate of the length of Sphakteria, has been previously explained as nothing more than a simple numeral corruption and is, in any case, irrelevant for understanding the military narrative. But the other, the underestimated width of the southern harbour entrance, remains a serious error which implies a fundamental misconception of relevant local geography and has made the account of Spartan strategy incomprehensible. Furthermore, its impact on the question of Thucydides' investigative methodology has been considerable, since most commentators, thinking the information reliably transmitted, have concluded that Thucydides never visited Pylos and somehow accepted misinformation on this crucial point. However, close study of the passage suggests that a textual corruption, not Thucydides, is responsible for the present inaccuracy.

Ephialtes is a rather enigmatic figure in Athenian history. On the one hand, he is widely regarded as the third and final ‘author’ of Athenian democracy; the man who finished what Solon began and Kleisthenes pushed forward. On the other hand, our knowledge of what he actually did is remarkably fuzzy.

Considerable research on matters relevant to Ephialtes and his reforms has been published during the last decade, and it is my intention here to try to bring some of these results together to propose a new solution to the two principal problems concerning Ephialtes’ reforms: (i) what power(s) did he transfer from the Areiopagus to other bodies? and (ii) why did he propose these changes?

The excuse for this article is that the accepted reconstruction of the Hellenic policy of Amasis misinterprets statements of Herodotus and ignores the archaeological evidence. Most historians seem to agree that Amasis was put on the throne as the nominee of a fervid nationalist party; that about 565, to please this party, he concentrated the Greeks in Naucratis, reorganised, if not founded, at this time, and only permitted them access to Egypt by the Canopic branch of the Nile; that at the same time he brought to Memphis from Stratopeda, usually equated with Daphnae and Tell Defenneh, the Greek and Carian mercenaries—either to have them more securely under control or from latent philhellenism; and that later he began more openly to favour the Greeks. Further, the date of the foundation of Naucratis needs further discussion: the view most widely held puts it back to the middle of the seventh century.

This paper argues for a new interpretation of the rider to the Spartan rhetra. The rider's obscure terms should not be pressed for specific institutional correlates, for its language draws upon the imagery of the exposure of deformed children. The primitive nature of the thought behind the rider suggests that it may actually be an older document than the main text of the rhetra, and such a hypothesis helps to resolve some difficulties concerning the rhetra itself and early Spartan history.

The figure of Alexander inevitably dominates the history of his reign. Our extant sources are centrally focussed upon the king himself. Accordingly it is his own military actions which receive the fullest documentation. Appointments to satrapies and satrapal armies are carefully noted because he made them, but the achievements of the appointees are passed over in silence. The great victories of Antigonus which secured Asia Minor in 323 BC are only known from two casual references in Curtius Rufus, and in general all the multifarious activities in the empire disappear from recorded history except in so far as they impinge upon court life in the shape of reports to Alexander and administrative decisions made by him. Moreover, the sources we possess originate either from high officers of Alexander's court, such as Ptolemy and Nearchus, or from Greek historians like Callisthenes and Cleitarchus, whose aims were literary or propagandist and whose interests were firmly anchored in court life. Inevitably Alexander bestrides that narrow world like a colossus and monopolises the historical picture. But even the figure of Alexander is far from fully fleshed. No contemporary history survives, and for continuous narratives of the reign we are dependent upon late derivative writers who saw Alexander through the filter of centuries of rhetoric and philosophy. The king had long been a stock example of many contradictory traits; he was at once the conqueror and the civiliser, the tyrant and the enlightened king. Cicero and Seneca saw him as the type of unbridled license, Arrian as the paradigm of moderation. The result is that the sources present a series of irreconcilable caricatures of Alexander but no uniform or coherent picture.

Various attempts have been made to find a satisfactory alternative to Cornford's explanation of what the Sophist has to say about false statement, and in particular to his interpretation of the passage in which the statements ‘Theaetetus is sitting’ and ‘Theaetetus is flying’ are discussed. The difficulty with Cornford's view is that he wants to find the explanation of truth and falsity entirely in the ‘blending’ or incompatibility of Forms, but that in the examples Socrates chooses, while Sitting and Flying may be Forms, Theaetetus cannot be. Hence Cornford has to say, ‘It is not meant that Forms are the only elements in all discourse. We can also make statements about individual things. But it is true that every such statement must contain at least one Form’. Unfortunately, when talking about the ϵἴδων συμπλοκή at 259e, the Stranger seems clearly to envisage a blendin g of ϵἴδη with each other:. How can this be reconciled with an ‘example’ in which only one term stands for a Form?

I do not propose to discuss in detail the various solutions that have been offered, but to set forth my own interpretation of the whole passage. This may be regarded as to some extent a ‘blending’ of what has been said by Professor Hackforth and Mr. Hamlyn, but a number of points arise which deserve further discussion, and it may perhaps be hoped that such a σύνθϵσις as this may prove to be .

The site was identified by Spratt and Forbes at the village of Arsa on the strength of an inscription (TAM II, 539) and of the evident survival of the ancient name. Their brief description remains the only one hitherto published. The village lies high, hardly less than 3000 ft. above the Xanthus valley; like many of the villages in the neighbourhood, it consists of scattered houses, having no shop, café, or other communal centre. Akdaǧ (Massicytus), which seems from across the river to rise in a steep continuous slope from the valley, in fact conceals a number of upland plains, often of surprising extent; Arsa is situated on one of these.

It has been demonstrated by F. Herrmann that the earliest issues of Larisean coinage, which are earlier than those of any other Thessalian city, are struck on the Persian standard. The Athenian tyrants of the Chersonese struck coins which conformed to the Persian as well as to the Attic system, but the adoption of the Persian standard by an independent Greek state is, so far as can be at present ascertained, an unique phenomenon. Nevertheless, though his conclusion is remarkable, the arguments of Herrmann appear to be incontestable and are accepted by numismatists. The purpose of this article is to shew that this discovery corroborates rather than conflicts with the evidence of ancient literary authorities. It is hard to reconcile only with modern interpretations of this literary evidence and with reconstructions of the period, which must accordingly be somewhat modified.

Over the last few years the late E. D. Francis and M. Vickers (after this referred to as F. and V.) have been promulgating a revised chronology for Greek art from its later Geometric to its Early Classical phases. The subject is large and they have dealt with it in instalments, scattered over various journals. In Table 1 I give a list, though it may not be complete.