In the collection of Sir Frederick Cook at Doughty House, Richmond, are nine fragments of a large sarcophagus of surpassing interest for the modern scientific history of art. They were identified some two years ago by Mrs. Arthur Strong, who is engaged upon a new illustrated catalogue of the Richmond antiques which is shortly to appear in this Journal. Mrs. Strong at once communicated to me the existence of a sarcophagus of so much importance for the studies I had initiated in my book Orient oder Rom, and, by the courtesy of the owner, I at the same time received a set of photographs of the nine fragments.

In a recent article J. J. Hall has argued that the mysterious πρηστῆρος αὐλός which figures in Anaximander's theory of the universe is the funnel-shaped body of a tornado or waterspout. In reviewing meteorological evidence he notes that lightning often accompanies such storms. Anaximander himself could have concluded that the funnel is actually full of fire and then could have drawn an analogy between fiery heavenly bodies seen through a hole in surrounding mist and internal fire seen through the open bottom of a cloud.

M. L. West has expressed doubt about this suggestion on the grounds that ‘a person in the uncomfortable situation of looking up such a funnel would not see fire.’ There are undoubtedly some difficulties in Hall's proposal, as he himself admits. But West's objection is oddly off the mark. What is initially at issue is what Anaximander believed to be true, not what is true.

In my recent article on the Ionian Confederacy I omitted to mention an important piece of evidence relating to the League in its most critical days. It has been shown by Prof. P. Gardner that during the Ionian Revolt a monetary convention was established among a group of insurgent cities. Several Ionian towns, whose number cannot at present be shown to have exceeded nine or ten, but may be extended by further research, issued a set of electrum coins with an identical reverse pattern on the same standard of weight. The common type would appear to have been derived from Chios; the standard of weight is that of Miletus.

At Iliad xxiii 192—211, Iris carries Achilles' prayer to the banqueting winds, in a passage whose humour offers relief after the funeral of Patroclus. At the same time, both in its immediate context and in its relation to Iris' two missions in Book xxiv, the scene contributes to Homer's presentation of the relation between gods and men.

The passage describes divine aid testifying to that concern of the gods for men which is to be so important in Book xxiv; and it immediately follows the account of another manifestation of divine concern, one which looks forward more directly to the next book—the description, at 184—91, of the protection of Hector's body by Aphrodite and Apollo. The fact that Homer anticipated here the description at xxiv 18—21 of Apollo's protection of the body points to the importance of the concern thus emphasised. In its position preceding the episode of the winds—rather than, for instance, following Achilles' earlier threats of maltreatment at xxiii 21–5—the description seems designed also to underline the fact that the parallel between Hector and Patroclus, most obvious in their deaths, is maintained here: both are the objects of divine aid, which in both cases takes the same form, the warding off of a threat to the hero's corpse, whether it is that of maltreatment by Achilles or the lesser threat of the pyre's failure to burn.

In the fourth book of Achilles Tatius' romance the young and beautiful heroine Leucippe collapses suddenly. When she is approached by the hero Clitophon she leaps to her feet, strikes his face, kicks his friend, and has to be overpowered and tied up. Several chapters later we learn that this behaviour had in fact been caused by an overdose of an unnamed aphrodisiac. In the meantime, however, bystanders, consisting of members of an Egyptian military force, have decided that μανία τις is the trouble, and proceed to diagnose with all the confidence of laymen the cause of her madness.

Their diagnosis takes the form of an ostensibly straightforward physiological explanation in carefully ordered (if rhetorical) phrases and employing technical terms.

Many people have failed to understand the Alcestis, and for the reasons Goethe suggests. Romanticists are grieved because Admetus, Pheres, and Heracles are human beings. As M. Masqueray observes, ‘Notre hypocrisie s'accommode mal d'une telle franchise.’ Verrall is delighted that the characters should be human beings, but refuses to permit them to ‘talk Greek.’ His ‘rational’ theory that the object of Euripides was to ‘expose’ the miraculous legend, by suggesting that Alcestis never died at all, rests on an assumption that, to an Athenian, the resurrection of the heroine, ‘as a piece of history, asserted or denied,’ was a matter of religious moment. But, for a Greek, the truth of the alleged resurrection involved no vital issues. The first lesson of religion was not ‘Believe that Apollo, through Heracles, could raise Alcestis from the dead, and, believing, have faith and hope,’ but something very different: ‘Know that thou art mortal, and, being mortal, practise moderation.’ It was the unorthodox, the ‘progressive,’ who, in ancient Athens, ventured to believe that mortal men should ‘practise immortality.’ Euripides contributed to new ideas by criticising the old. But his task was as far removed from that of Verrall's ‘Professor T. H …’ as was the mind of Nikias from that of Mr. Gladstone. For an ordinary Athenian the point was not that Alcestis rose from the dead, but that she died to save her husband's life. To argue the possibility or impossibility of her resurrection would, I submit, have appeared to the Athenian as trivial as it is depressing. If we want to understand Greek plays, we must remember that they were written by Athenians for an audience which was pagan, not Christian, Greek, not English. The characters talk Greek. It is our business, before we begin to criticise, to ascertain exactly what they say.

The so-called ‘Chalcidian’ class of vases, in spite of their great technical and historical interest, have as yet received less of the close attention which has been applied to other better known classes, chiefly on account of the lack of definite material and definite information regarding them. No one has as yet treated of them comprehensively as a class, if we except the cursory survey of Klein, although a fair number have been separately published: pending therefore the maturing of the more complete study which seems desirable, the introduction of four new specimens of vase painting which we may call Chalcidian will not be without interest to archaeology; especially as the two at least which are figured on Plates XL.—XLIII. have each a further intrinsic value as contributions to the study of mythography.

The bronze statuettes which are reproduced on PL XVIII. form part of the small collection of Greek and Roman antiquities in the Egyptian department of the British Museum, They are practically entire, though the surface of the bronze has suffered considerably from oxydization. I am much indebted to the authorities of the Museum for allowing me to publish two such interesting pieces.

The provenance of the two bronzes is indicated by their place in the Museum: they come from Egypt. It is evident too that they have been made as a pair. At first sight they might be taken for Olympian deities, but looking more closely one sees that the heads are intended for portraits. They must therefore represent a deified king and queen, and there can be little doubt as to what royal couple they do represent.

In my first article on Pylos and Sphacteria I made the rash promise that in an early number of this Journal I would support my theories by documentary evidence. It is with shame that I realise that this is now two years ago. Various circumstances have delayed me. I have been unable to visit Greece again myself, and the friends who were kind enough to do the work for me were constantly baulked by the storminess of the place. Not only was it often impossible to set up a camera ὁπότε πνεῦμα ἐκ πόντου εἴη but even to reach Sphacteria at all. Of the Pylian boatmen, as I know from my own experience, it cannot be said that ἀφειδὴς ὁ κατάπλους καθέστηκε It is only as a patchwork of the results of three different expeditions that I am now in a position to publish a plan of the παλαιὸν ἔρυμα and a fairly complete collection of photographs. In the present article my business will be to act as showman to this series; I have little new to add, and, happily, no fresh opponent to meet. My collaborators have, I think, on practically every point on which they have expressed an opinion, given their support to my views.

It has sometimes occurred that a specious explanation of a fact, or a specious amendment of an error, has established itself so firmly in the court of history, that no one dreamed of disputing its claim to be unquestionably correct. At last, by accident, a doubt arises in some one's mind; and, after enjoying a long protracted success, the universally received solution, when its antecedents are investigated and its implications realized, turns out to be wholly ‘impossible.’ It may be easily shown, I think, that such is the case with the traditional explanation of the extension of the names Hellas and Hellen to the wide signification which they bore since the seventh century B.C. This explanation has had the inestimable advantage of resting on the authority of Thucydides; and it belongs to that class of explanations which merely require to be stated in order to recommend themselves, and which the human mind is accordingly inclined to accept unreflectingly. It has come to be regarded as a commonplace historical fact; yet it is noteworthy that in some recent histories of Greece it is simply stated that the Greeks adopted Hellenes as a common name, without any suggestion of an answer to the obvious question why that name was chosen rather than another. The authors apparently felt some difficulty in accepting the exposition of Thucydides. E. Meyer seems to have realized the difficulty more fully, and some remarks which he offers on the point will call for notice. In this paper I propose to exhibit the difficulties which render the received view untenable, and to put forward another explanation in its stead.

When I published my book on the Ancient Marbles in Great Britain (Cambridge, University Press, 1882), I was fully convinced that the catalogue there given would be susceptible of many corrections and supplements. But the hope I expressed in the preface, that I should be informed of marbles existing in private collections which might have escaped my notice by their owners or other competent persons, has completely failed; nor have I become aware of publications concerning this matter. Nevertheless, I cannot help thinking that there must be in Great Britain a good deal of hidden treasure of the kind, which would perhaps easier come to light if there were a place expressly destined to receive such communications. Now, there can be no doubt that no place would be more appropriate to the purpose than the Journal of Hellenic Studies. I have therefore ventured to propose to the Editors to open in this Journal a corner for storing up such supplements and corrections. As a first instalment, I here offer some notes which may begin the series, and which can be continued. May other lovers and students of classic art, especially in Great Britain, follow my example.

‘Theocritus'’ Idyll xxvii describes how a neatherd progressively undresses a girl and then makes love to her. The progress of the neatherd's hand is accurately and humorously depicted. First the maiden says (19)

μὴ ᾽πιβάλῃς τὴν χεῑρα καὶ εἰσέτι; χεῑλος ἀμύξω.