Following our study of unpublished manuscripts of Hunain's translation of Galen's De Sectis ad eos qui introducuntur, a report of which appeared in JHS xcviii (1978) 167–9, we turned our attention to Hunain's translation of Galen's Ars Parva. Once again we have been impressed by the generally excellent quality of the Arabic version and we record a number of passages relevant to the problem of establishing the original Greek text. Perhaps our most important result is to confirm the existence, in Hunain's version of the Greek text, of an extensive preface including explanations of the terms ‘analysis’ and ‘synthesis’ which are missing from the printed text of Kϋhn.

I.—A. Wilhelm has recently republished the inscriptions on an altar at Side in Painphylia, originally published by Van Buren in JHS 1908, 190 sqq. Wilhelm's restorations and commentary, based solely on the photographs printed, without comment, by B. Pace in Annuario III , 33, have very greatly advanced the interpretation of these interesting inscriptions; but the disadvantage of working without seeing either the stone itself or a squeeze of it has led in several cases to readings which are not in fact on the stone. While assisting at the Turkish excavations at Side in September 1948, I had an opportunity of examining the stone in question, and with the kind permission of Prof. Arif Miifid Mansel, director of the excavations, I am able to offer the present note. My purpose is not so much to engage in the controversy concerning the altar and the significance of its inscriptions, as to help to establish the true text.

The modern convention for printing dialogues includes printing the names of the speakers on the margin at the beginning of their statements. But this practice was virtually unknown in ancient Greek dialogues. Instead, the most common convention for showing the shift from one speaker to another is through punctuation such as the colon, the παραγράφος or a horizontal stroke. Recently, N. G. Wilson has attributed the inclusion of the names of the speakers at the transitional points in Greek dialogues to Theodoret of Cyrus (mid-fifth century CE; composed Eranistes in 447) who, in this view, ‘deserves the credit for devising a literary convention that is now regarded as essential’.

The Arguments In favour of the Babylonian origin of the zodiacal signs are even stronger than is stated by Dr. Fotheringham. He says: ‘In our zodiac the place of the Ear of Corn is taken by the Virgin holding the ear of corn. As the Babylonians connected this ear of corn with the goddess Ishtar, the process from the ear to the virgin holding the ear is not very great.’ But (kakkab) Eŝŝim (a word which means ‘ear of corn’ according to Landsberger, Der kultische Kalender der Babylonier und Assyrer, 9–10) is actually represented on a Babylonian tablet as a virgin holding the ear (see Thureau-Dangin in Revue d'Assyriologie, xvi. p. 135). There was not therefore any change in the conception.

The three inscriptions included in this paper belong to the well-known class of records containing the lists of sacred objects dedicated in the Parthenon during the fifth and fourth centuries. None of them sheds any new light on the difficult problems connected with the exact history of the various changes of the régime under which these records were drawn up. The best authority on these points after 400 is Lehner's treatise Über die athenischen Schatzverzeichnisse des vierten Jahrhunderts. To this work constant references are made in this paper in connexion with the second and third inscriptions contained in it, which give us several new items of interest and enable us to fill conclusively some of the many lacunae in these lists. The first fragment belongs to the period previous to the year 405/4, when a change was made in the organization of the treasurers who drew up these lists, which does not concern us here.

When the great tunnel under the Quirinal was being constructed many fragments of statues and inscriptions came to light, most of which are at present stored in the Magazzino Archeologico. Among the finest is the statue of a boy (Pl. I. a) in the Fourth Room, found during the excavations of 1899–1900, and published in the Bullettino Comunale for 1901, Pl. X., where it is described as probably a Pasitelean imitation of the early Peloponnesian School of the fifth century B.C., unlike any known type, but suggestive on the one hand, from the myrtle wreath on the support, of an Eros or Thanatos, on the other, from its grave and serious aspect, of a camillus. M. Reinach in a note in vol. iii. of his Recueil des Statues Antiques p. 177) also regards it as archaistic; Dr. Amelung as a copy of a bronze original produced somewhat later than the Hestia Giustiniani.

Furtwängler's reconstructions of the pediments of the temple of Aphaia, though in the main right, can be improved in certain details. The object of these notes is to criticise certain suggested improvements. I take the West pediment first. Schrader has recently advocated a return to something like the Cockerill scheme. His chief objections to Furtwängler are that the blocks of the Geison as arranged by Furtwängler do not agree with the footprints of the figures which they are meant to carry, that Furtwängler's assumption of a fourth prostrate figure is based on a fragmentary arm which may well belong to the East pediment, that the combatants should be divided into friends on one side of Athena and foes on the other, and that it is impossible for the archers to shoot out into space. I take these points in order. Furtwängler, as far as possible, put the Geison blocks in positions corresponding to those in which they were found; Schrader's chief objection is to Block 5, in which, he says, the space is not the right shape for the plinth of the Athena, but there is no doubt that there is room enough, and as no ancient edge of this plinth is preserved, how can we tell what was its shape? Secondly, the only evidence (fr. 62) which Schrader adduces for a piece of one pediment being found among the remains of the other rests, as Pfuhl has shown, on a misprint. The desire to have friends on one side of the pediment and foes on the other is purely modern; the Gigantomachies of the Megarian treasury and the Hekatompedon and the Centauromachy of the West pediment at Olympia all take no account of the sides of the pediment in dividing the combatants. Schrader quotes no parallels for his own reconstruction (Fig. 2) because there are none; it involves far too much overlapping, which Greek sculptors of the archaic period avoided when working in the round; Schrader has to assume that a piece was cut out of the shield of the figure which lies in front of Athena to make room for her legs. Furtwängler, however, can adduce numerous parallels from Greek vases for his reconstruction (Fig. 1): the Geryon cup of Euphronios has just such a battle over a fallen foe with Athena helping one of the combatants. The reason for this similarity of composition is not that both were borrowing from Samian models, as Furtwängler suggests: the West was ahead of the East in such things: there is no cross-influence, but the compositional problem of the pediment is the same as that of the outside of the cup. Studniczka also suggested that the archers should be turned inwards, but this transposition spoils the central groups and puts the caesura too near the outside: the Furtwängler group would naturally be completed by a friend of the fallen man, but this is precluded by the raking cornice. Another transposition is more likely. Wolters wanted to transpose nos. 1 and 13, and correspondingly 33 and 24. There is some evidence for this, because in Cockerell's first drawing, when he was most influenced by the position in which the figures were actually found, no. 13 is placed in the corner. Nos. 1 and 33 are more weathered than no. 13, which would be curious if they had been in the corners protected by the slanting Geison. Nos. 1 and 33, if placed in the middle, obscure the legs of the combatants less than would no. 13 and its fellow. Nos. 1 and 33 are nearer death than no. 13, therefore it is natural to fight over their bodies and to fight with no. 13.

Of all the renderings of the goddess Hera, the gold and ivory statue by Polycleitus in the Heraeum near Argos was the most famous, and was considered by the ancients one of the most beautiful works of Greek art. It certainly held its place beside the masterpieces of Phidias, and is even called by Strabo the most beautiful of all.

As in the case of the Zeus and Athene of Phidias, and the Cnidian Aphrodite of Praxiteles, it is most natural that numerous attempts were made in the past to identify this Polycleitan Hera with some extant monument. And, as the most beautiful Aphrodite extant, the Melian Aphrodite in the Louvre, was at once singled out as representing the most famous statue of which there is record in ancient authors, so the famous colossal mask of Hera, known as the Juno Ludovisi, was the first to be identified with the great Polycleitan statue. This identification has been abandoned. Then followed the so-called Farnese Hera, the claims of which were powerfully upheld by Brunn.

The accompanying cut represents the painting upon a hydria in the British Museum (No. E 818). The design, in red figures, covers the body of the vase, which apparently dates from early in the fourth century B.C., and stands 32 mètres high; the glaze is of that semi-iridescent character which marks the Attic vases of this time, and the red figures are smeared with ruddle and show the original sketch marks very plainly. It was found in excavations in Rhodes in 1880, outside a tomb at the site named in Mr. Biliotti's Diary Cazviri; unfortunately the circumstances of the find do not assist us in determining more accurately the date; but it may be taken as of certainly Athenian fabric, and probably of the date above stated.

These notes on the beginnings of Greek sculpture contain little that has not been said before, but aim at applying a severer logic to the evidence and the conclusions drawn from it. The problems may be defined as what models were used by early Greek sculptors, why they chose those models, where the choice was made, and what the impulse was that induced them to take up this new art.

The earliest surviving Greek sculpture worth the name is of the Daedalic style, which Jenkins has analysed neatly in his Dedalica. This style began in the second quarter of the seventh century and continued into the last quarter. So much is fairly generally accepted.

The artistic influence of Egypt on Greece has been propounded since the eighteenth century, and there are still many students who see its effects in sculpture. Usually their arguments are very general, asserting similarity of types and technical methods rather than of style. Of the Archaic Greek types the kouros is most apparently comparable to Egyptian—an upright, four-square figure with arms held to its sides and one foot in front of the other. Except for the stance this is the most obvious pose for a standing figure, and there are essential specific differences, well defined by Schrader. The stock Egyptian male has a support behind the forward leg, tilts backwards, and wears a kilt; the Greek kouros stands free, has a more mobile poise and is naked (except in the Daedalic style for a belt). As for resemblances in detail, Richter and Carpenter single out the roll of stone clenched in the hand of some Greek kouroi; this does not seem a regular or very early feature, and it may be a technical coincidence to avoid hollowing the inside of the closed fist. The ‘layer wig’ of course, though of Egyptian origin, is not so common in Egyptian sculpture and was already naturalised in Phoenician and Syrian art.

Since the article on this subject (pp. 229 ff. above) was passed for press I have obtained some additional information in Venice which it seems desirable to put on record.

Of the two coats of arms illustrated on p. 240, that on the left belongs to Sebastiano Renier. The other is of Antonio Garzoni, who was elected podestà of Monemvasia in 1526, and again in 1538, when he was the last podestà before the Turkish conquest. The identification of this latter coat I owe to the assistance of Mr. H. F. Brown.

Hopf's statement, reproduced by me on p. 235, that Monemvasia was Venetian in 1419, is, I find, riot justified by the evidence. I have had some difficulty in tracing the documents cited by Hopf, as the pagination of the Vienna copy of the Misti used by him differs from that in the copy at Venice. The three documents merely shew that Venetian wine-merchants were engaged in the wine-trade at Monemvasia.