In last year's volume of this Journal (ix. pp. 82, 83) Mr. Theodore Ben described the situation of this Carian town, which he discovered about three miles to the north-east of Loryma. In laying before the reader the inscriptions found on this site, from which we recover its name, I would call attention to the accompanying Map of Casarea and its neighbourhood, prepared by Mr. Bent at my request. He has made it the more valuable by adding the following memoranda:—

‘During investigations on the southern coast of Caria, near the promontory anciently called Cynossema, and now known as Cape Aloupo or Fox, we were anchored in the Bay of Aplotheka, around which are the ruins of ancient Loryma. Whilst here, we heard from the peasants of a curious harbour and ruins at a little distance from the bay. Accordingly we rowed along the coast in our boat past several islets, and soon arrived at this harbour, the entrance of which is not a stone's throw across, though it opens within into a considerable basin surrounded by high mountains.

The object of this paper is to examine some of the arguments which have been used to support current reconstructions of the Homeric House, and in particular of the House of Odysseus, as it is described in the Odyssey; and to add a few points of interpretation and of criticism which I have not succeeded in finding already in print. In order to make these latter intelligible, it will be necessary to recapitulate much that has been stated by previous writers on a subject which is ‘always with us’; and not a little that has been established with some degree of certainty. It is perhaps necessary also to add, that the interpretation which I propose is intended to apply, almost without exception, to the Homeric poems in their present state; and to determine the domestic architecture and domestic habits which were familiar both to rhapsodists and to their audiences at the time when the poems, and the ‘Vengeance of Odysseus’ in particular, were being reduced to the form in which, with but slight aberrations, they have survived. It is difficult to believe that men who were endowed with so keen a visualizing faculty as the rhapsodists and their patrons really tolerated unintelligible archaism in the domestic topography of their ballads; and we may fairly assume that the movements of the personages implicated in the ‘Vengeance,’ into and out of the House of Odysseus, were still intelligible, and even familiar, to both singers and listeners. That this was so in the Homeric Age, and that anachronisms in the description were currently corrected, as one custom and another became obsolete in daily life, is made very probable, if not certain, by the analogous case of Homeric armour; where, as Dr. Reichel has argued in his Homerische Waffen, the introduction of the θώρηξ and the consequent changes of drill and fence, are reflected in the poems by interpolated passages, introduced by θώρηξwearing rhapsodists to meet the critisisms of a θώρηξwearing public.

The problem of the neutrality of Delos has been the subject of a searching investigation by W. W. Tarn published recently in this Journal. The argument turns mainly on a purely epigraphical question, namely, the interpretation of the formula for the setting-up of a stele in the decrees of the Island League. Its historical importance is great, because, if Tarn is right, we should be justified in utilising the Delian Royal festivals for the reconstruction of the political history of the third century, which has rightly been styled the darkest period of Hellenism. As in the fourth Excursus of his large work Antigonus Gonatas, the distinguished scholar maintains the thesis that Delos became a member of the Island League, and that the varying history of this League is reflected in the establishment of festivals in turn by the Ptolemies, by the Seleucids, and by the Antigonids. The evidence for his theory he finds in the argument that the Islanders, if they wished to set up an inscribed stele in Delos, were not obliged to address a petition to the Commune of Delos, requesting the grant of a site in the sanctuary; the Islanders therefore controlled the site and ground of Delos, which implies that Delos belonged to the League. Although I raised objections to Tarn's thesis, as did Roussel at an earlier date, I would gladly be the first to agree with him, had he succeeded in bringing forward convincing proof of this theory. As this has not been the case, in view of the wide significance of the problem I think it advisable to break silence and to expose my objections to the criticism of experts.

The writer has been recently given the opportunity to study three lead coffins, ornamented in relief, now in the Palestine Museum, Jerusalem. They are as yet unpublished.

No. 1.—Inventory, Dept. of Antiquities (Part M), No. 1080, entry dated January 13, 1928. According to a report made to the Department it was discovered in 1923 during the repair of a road from Acre to Beirut, near the village of Ez-Zîb. It was found in one of a group of fourteen tombs opened up accidentally during the work. The coffin was found in a much-damaged state and conveyed first to the local museum, Acre, and then to its present place.

Description. What remains of the coffin is in six fragments:— (a) A short side, measuring 24 by 35 cm. It is decorated with four columns of the Corinthian order with simplified capitals. The shafts of the columns have parallel spiral flutings for the upper two-thirds of their length (12 cm. fluted, 6 cm. plain).

At Mycenae in 1876 Dr. Schliemann lifted the corner of the veil which had so long enshrouded the elder age of Hellas. Year by year ever since that veil has been further withdrawn, and now we are privileged to gaze on more than the shadowy outline of the picture of a far back age. The picture is still incomplete, but it is now possible to trace the salient points. Can we in comparing it with pictures of certain peoples who have dwelt in and reigned at Mycenae, pictures preserved for us elsewhere, identify it as that of any previously known? The object of this little essay is to make such an attempt.

The name Mycenean is now applied to a whole class of monuments—buildings, sepulchres, ornaments, weapons, pottery, engraved stones—which resemble more or less closely those found at Mycenae. I think I am right when I say that archaeologists are unanimous in considering them the outcome of one and the same civilization, and the product of one and the same race.

There is a fundamental problem in Aristotle's metaphysics which has received a good deal of attention ever since Eduard Zeller emphasized it in his book on Aristotle in the nineteenth century. The difficulty has often been expressed as an inconsistency between three propositions to each of which Aristotle is committed:

(1) No universal is substance.

(2) Knowledge is of what is most real.

(3) Knowledge is of universals.

The Ilioupersis cup of Onesimos in the J. Paul Getty Museum offers a unique opportunity for the study of Ilioupersis iconography (PLATES la and lb). The tondo in the cup's interior features the murder of Priam, and the surrounding circular zone contains eight further scenes of the sack in all, nine scenes decorating a single surface. In his recent article on the cup, Dyfri Williams has discussed the iconography of each of these scenes individually. In this paper I hope to complement Williams' acute observations by drawing attention to the visual and thematic interaction among the nine scenes when viewed in combination.

In the summer of 1949 the Metropolitan Museum of Art acquired an Attic black-figured pelike which is published here for the first time (figs. 1–3, pl. XX). It was bought from a New York dealer, and nothing is known of its provenance. The vase is 33·3 cm. high and unbroken; its surface, however, was chipped and flaked in places (cf. figs. 1 and 2), blemishes that have since been removed by the restorer at the museum. The potting of the pelike is normal—torus mouth, spreading foot, segmental handles—and the ornamentation—palmettes lying on their sides above the panels—occurs on other pelikai. One feature, however, is unusual: the lip is reserved and two broadish black stripes run around the inside of the neck (fig. 3). A graffito appears on the underside of the foot:

The obverse of the pelike depicts a dramatic moment in the capture of Silenos. The two hunters sent out by Midas crouch in ambush near the fountain in the garden of the king. They wear white petasoi, short chitons, and chlamydes wrapped around their left arms in the manner of big-game hunters and shield-less warriors. Each of them carries two spears; in addition, the one on the rock has a sword in a scabbard suspended from a double baldrick. There was a tradition that Midas had mixed wine into the water of the fountain to lure and capture Silenos: the New York pelike shows how the ruse is about to succeed. Here Silenos approaches, sniffing the familiar odour of the wine and dancing with joy. As yet he hasn't drunk and one fears he will be cheated out of his anticipated pleasure, for the hunters will presently close in, overpower him, and bring him before the king. The vase-painters usually show the moment immediately after the capture, the bringing-in of the prisoner, and his presentation before the king. The ambush proper is represented on only three other vases.

Aegosthena, now more generally known as Porto Germano, lies on one of the easternmost bays of the Corinthian gulf, and on the northern frontier of the Megarid. Its remoteness from ordinary routes—for between it and Velia, itself an ultima Thule, rise 2,000 feet of pine-clad mountains—accounts for the fact that it is to this day practically unknown, and also perhaps for the very scanty mention of it in ancient literature. There was a shrine of Melampus there, the Spartans passed it in their retreat from Leuctra, and that is all. But the same remoteness has preserved for us a Greek fortified town in better condition and greater completeness than any other, not even excepting Messene.

The town was divided into two parts, the Acropolis defended on all sides by a line of walls and towers, and the lower town fortified on the north, from the Acropolis down to the sea, by a similar line, still remaining in good condition. We are, I think, both by the exigencies of its position and also by certain scanty remains bound to assume the existence of a corresponding south wall, of which mention will be made later. The style of building both in the Acropolis and the long wall is the same.

Among the fairly numerous Boeotian kantharoi with decoration in applied white on black there is a small class of mid-fifth century date, some painted with a garland only, others with figures. My husband drew attention to this small group nearly forty years ago when discussing the undecorated black kantharoi of this shape found at Rhitsona. He knew three vases with figures. The first was the well-known kantharos in Brussels published originally by Graindor and now appearing again in the third fascicule of the Belgian section of the Corpus Vasorum. On each side is a σκευοφόρος carrying on his shoulder a yoke from which two baskets are suspended. The painter has shown us the contents of one of the baskets. It is a consignment of pottery—two kantharoi, six kylikes, and two plates are visible. The vase thus provides an apt illustration of the φορτίον that the Boeotian in the Acharnians might have taken back from Athens and of the sycophant's uncomfortable mode of travel. The second, in the Römisch-Germanisches Museum in Cologne, shows a hoplite advancing.

In the opening lines of the Eumenides Aeschylus' Pythia says that the first prophetic deity at Delphi was Gaia. She was followed by two of her daughters in succession, Themis and Phoibe. Phoibe gave the oracle to Phoibos as a birthday present, and it is from her that he had his name.

On page 68 of the Jahreshefte of the Austrian Archaeological Institute for 1899, Band II., I discussed the value of the letter Χ, and with considerable hesitation decided in favour of Schmidt's opinion that it represents θ. The conclusion was based on the only direct evidence available, namely the rendering of the Persian Mithrapata by the Lycian ΜΕΧΡΡΓΡΤΡ. This was greatly discounted by the fact that Mithrapata is also rendered by Mizrppata (T.A.M. 64), and that Mithra appears also in Lycian Mizretije (84) and the Cilician Μισραιος, which rather suggested that the letter was a sibilant closely akin to the Lycian z. It now appears certain that the last conclusion is correct.

The following pages contain the meagre results of a hasty journey from the borders of Galatia to the Cilician coast, undertaken in July, 1887, by Mr. H. A. Brown and myself, after parting at Bey-keui with Prof. W. M. Ramsay, who wished to return direct to Smyrna. Our object was to reach Cilicia Tracheia by way of Phrygia Paroreus, and the Melas valley, pursuing in the former district a new route and especially selecting the unmapped and undescribed hill-path from Ilghin to Konia. From Konia we were to have turned westward to Beysheher, and thence struck over Taurus. But only the first part of this programme was carried out at all, owing to the indisposition of my companion, which became so serious by the time that we reached Konia that all idea of further exploration had to be abandoned, and we made direct for the sea. In another respect also the journey was not entirely satisfactory. I now know better than I knew then that an archæologist, who would discover much in Anatolia, must travel with a certain train of pack-animals and attendants: the Englishman who, proud of his power of endurance, discards all superfluities and travels with what he can carry on his own horse excites no admiration but much contempt in the minds of the villagers. “This is a poor man,” say they, and he is shown only just as much of what he wishes to see as will silence his importunity. We had made the initial mistake of travelling too “light,” taking neither tents nor beds, nor cooking utensils, nor indeed anything but the contents of our own saddle-bags, and depending entirely on the favour of the villagers both for lodging and food; and in consequence, while we suffered a good deal of unnecessary hardship, we saw less than might have been discovered by explorers more magnificently equipped.

In electing me to the Presidency of the Hellenic Society you have paid me the highest compliment to which any British Hellenist can aspire. It is an honour which I accept with all gratitude and, I can assure you, with all humility. It is impossible for me to look back at the names of the distinguished men who have already held the post, without reflecting that I am not of their rank—I am by profession neither a great academic teacher nor, like my old schoolfellow and friend Sir Arthur Evans, whose position I am prematurely called upon to fill, a man who has devoted his whole life to the advancement of archæology. It would be an impertinence in me to praise the work done by Sir Arthur; it is on the lips of all the learned world.

When I think of Evans as we knew him at Harrow, I remember him in a double capacity. First as a scientific observer, by inheritance, as I need not remind you, from his distinguished and many-sided father. Whether it was a question of coins, of flint implements, or of natural history, Evans was always the leader of our school Scientific Society—matched only in some points by another friend, too soon lost to science, Frank Balfour. I remember one small matter, which always strikes me as characteristic—that Evans exhibited at one of our meetings specimens of leaves of plants from the carboniferous epoch which he had picked out of the coal-scuttle in his room.

Note.—The illustrations which I have given are not to be regarded as finished drawings, but rather as the best results that could be obtained from the records of my working note-books, and of measurings made in the midst of the statues. The whole purpose is to submit a practicable method.

It is strange that it should be believed by many artists and critics of art that no doctrine of human proportions was known in the schools of the great masters. For the contrary would seem to be the true case, if we are to judge by the practice and the comments of the artists and their friends. Egyptian and early Greek, and indeed all symbolic art is obviously based on measured proportions. The remark of Diodorus (I. 98) about the twentyone parts by which the body was measured in Egyptian sculpture may not be enough for a theory of an Egyptian canon, but it agrees well enough with the plainly systematic treatment of the sitting and the standing figures. It is more difficult to believe that the Egyptian sculptor had not a set of ratios which he used in his work.

In 1949 Jeffery wrote of the Proto attic stand from Aegina once in Berlin, A 42: ‘… the dialect and letter-forms used by the painter of the stand indicate that he was himself an Aeginetan.’ Her suggestion was taken up by scholars who favored the idea of an immigrant painter in Athens, and eventually led to the hypothesis that a group of vases in the Black and White style— namely the ones by hands represented in the treasuretrove bought by the Berlin Antiquarium in 1936—were made in a workshop on the island. Since it is the one apparently sound piece of evidence that at least one painter of the Black and White style was Aeginetan, the stand and its painted inscription deserve another look.

The text of the alliance between Athens and Sicilian Egesta is partially extant in IG i2 19 and IG i2 20.1–2. Crucial for the dating of the inscription and the alliance which it records is the third line of the first fragment, for it contains what remains of the name of the eponymous archon who held office at the time. Only the last two letters of the archon's name are clear and undisputed: they are ON, and appear in stoichoi 37 and 38. (See Plate XXIII a). On the basis of these two letters, only five fifth-century B.C. archons appear as possibilities: the name must be restored to read ηάβρον (458/7), Ἀρίστον (454/3), Ἐπαμείνον (429/8), Ἀριστίον (421/0), or Ἀντιφο̃ν (418/7).