It is, perhaps, somewhat venturesome to attempt to say anything upon a subject which demands full treatment from anyone who would write a History of Greece, and which has, therefore, been discussed at considerable length by many great historians. Still the research of the last twenty years has led to such material modifications of the views which formerly prevailed as to the exact significance of various important factors in the history of the Greek race, that the learned world has become emancipated from the tyranny of stereotyped tradition, and has ceased to regard deviation from the accustomed views as necessarily fanciful and untrue.

Much has been written about Plato's accounts of pleasure in Republic 9 and Philebus, almost nothing about his account in Timaeus. But with respect to sense-perceptual pleasure specifically, the account in Timaeus is unique and extremely informative. This paper examines, in turn, the physiology and the psychology of sense-perceptual pleasure, focusing on the text at 64a2–65b3, but drawing on a wide range of passages from elsewhere in the dialogue. The paper concludes with a further suggestion: that Timaeus is implicitly committed to a distinction between two kinds of perceptual pleasure, sense-perceptual pleasure and ‘brute’ pleasure.

I should have liked to begin what I hope will be a series of essays on black-figure artists, not with the Antimenes painter, but with one of those bold congeners of Euphronios and Euthymides to whom Buschor has recently drawn attention. But these, as it turned out, presented unexpected difficulties, so I begin with the Antimenes painter.

I name him after the inscription on a vase in Leyden, a hydria with a representation of youths washing which has always seemed to me one of the prettiest of black-figure pictures. The vase has been published twice, first by Roulez in very imperfect drawings, lately by the lutrologist Sudhoff in good photographs. New photographs, which I owe to the kindness of Miss Brants, bring out some details obscure in Sudhoff (although in other points Sudhoff is superior), and give the proportions of the figures better, for in Sudhoff the lower parts are somewhat foreshortened.

A catalogue of the Greek Vases in the Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, has recently been published. A number of vases have been acquired recently, too late for inclusion; and it seems desirable to publish here the more important of these additions as nearly as possible simultaneously with the catalogue. They are as follows:

(a) A Geometric Tomb Group from Athens (PI. VI. figs. 1–4)

All the objects in this group come from a single grave, in the neighbourhood of Athens. They consist of six egg-shaped vases, two pyxides, two ‘flower-pot’ vases, a fluted glass bead, a loom-weight, a decorated bronze ‘sail’ fibula, and two bronze pins.

The following is a description of the objects:

1. Egg-shaped vase with lid. Accession No. C. 1033. Height without lid, 0·111 m. (4⅜ ins.); with lid, 0·162 m. (6⅜ ins.). Diameter, 0·099 m. (3⅞ ins.). Two string-holes in rim, four in lid, two on either side. Decoration on lid of broad and narrow bands with double row of dots near the edge. Concentric narrow bands on knob handle. On the body, main decoration is a maeander pattern, with a chessboard pattern below, and at intervals narrow bands, zigzags, and upward-pointing ray pattern. On shoulder and point of base, a broad band.

Hartwig was the first writer to give a detailed account of the important painter who for the sake of convenience may be called Kleophrades. Nine vases are assigned by the author of Meisterschalen to an artist whom he terms ‘Amasis II.’; but the name under which he grouped them rests upon an untenable restoration of the fragmentary inscription

on the foot of a cup in the Cabinet des Médailles. The last and broken letter can only be a and we cannot therefore restore Ἄμασις ἔγραφαεν the choice lies between Ἀμάσιος ὑύς and Ἄμασις καλός, and of these the former, which is Six's reading, is probably preferable. In any case the manufacturer from whose workshop the cup came was called Kleophrades.

A brief introductory statement of the historical views to which I have been led by a study of the Phrygian monuments will make the following pages clearer, and will enable the reader to criticise the whole with greater advantage. I can hardly hope to have reached the truth in regard to this difficult subject; but it is so closely connected with many disputed points in early Greek history that I have thought it best to carry out my view to its logical conclusions and state the whole in brief and precise terms. This will place the reader on his guard from the beginning, and if it leads him to exercise unsparing criticism, I shall have attained my object.

1. The Phrygians are a European race, who entered Asia Minor across the Hellespont: the unanimous Greek tradition to this effect (which at one time I regarded as probably a reversal of the truth) is confirmed by longer study of the country and the monuments.

2. The Phrygians and the Carians were two very closely kindred tribes, nearly related to some of the Greek races, who established themselves in the countries which bear their name as a conquering and ruling caste amid a more numerous alien population: they were mail clad warriors whose armour gave them great advantage over opponents equipped in the slighter oriental fashion. Greek tradition associated various improvements in the style of armour with the Carians, and a relief published below (fig. 9) shows two Phrygian warriors armed quite in the Carian style.

Archaeological activity has been resumed in the last two years despite abnormal conditions in Greece. Under Prof. A. Keramopoullos' direction the Greek Archaeological Service, seriously understaffed in consequence of the war years, is bravely confronting the problem of restoring its museums and monuments and administering a provincial ephorate now increased by the acquisition of the Dodecanese. The British and American Schools in Athens are open once more and many students have returned to pursue their researches. The British School has confined its field work to tasks of conservation in Knossos and Ithaca; but the Americans have resumed full-scale activity in preparing the ground for the new Agora Museum and intensified their study of previous finds at Corinth. The French School, with a full complement of students, has continued its investigations on a diversity of sites prior to the celebration (postponed by one year) of its Centenary in September 1947.

Field work on any single site (with the special exception of the Agora) has been confined to the employment of five workmen for thirty days—a measure designed to permit necessary works of conservation but to preclude fresh digging in view of the inadequacy of the Greek Archaeological Service. When this ban is lifted excavation in Greece will be resumed; and though activity may still be somewhat restricted because of banditry in the countryside and the unfavourable exchange rate, it is hoped that the year 1948 will show substantial results.

This paper explores instances in Herodotus’ Histories where the historian or his characters engage with very large numbers by counting vast collections of people or things, establishing the dimensions of huge objects and measuring long stretches of time. In these episodes, Herodotus explores how quantifying the material traces of the past can help reconstruct antiquity. This methodological point is most evident in his calculations in book 2, and this paper focuses in particular on his persistent reckoning in three interrelated Egyptian accounts: those of the nature of the Nile valley, of the construction of the pyramids and of the genealogy of the Theban priests. I argue that Herodotus’ quantifying efforts, far from being only a rhetorical strategy to increase the narrator's credibility and authority, are an important, indeed crucial, part of his historical method.

The only common factor shared by the fragments of vase and votive plaque discussed below is that all are Attic. The plaque fragments seemed to deserve individual treatment outside the general study of votive plaques from the Athenian Acropolis on which I am engaged. The vase fragment with the Marsyas scene which is published here with some comment on the possible literary treatment of the myth is in the possession of Mr. John Leatham. To him I am indebted for permission to study and publish the piece, and to Mme. S. Karouzou, Prof. O. Broneer, the Keeper of Antiquities in the Ashmolean Museum, and the Director of the Thorvaldsen Museum for permission to publish pieces in Athens, Oxford, and Copenhagen.

I. Marsyas and Melanippides

The fragment which is here Illustrated on Plate I, 1, 3 is at present in the keeping of Mr. John Leatham. Unfortunately its provenience can be defined no more nearly than as ‘from Greece’. On the photograph reproduced on Plate I, 3 I have added in white the painted details on the sherd which the camera could not record. It is from the rim and wall of a calyx crater, part of whose lip decoration, a palmette scroll, is preserved. From the figure scene below we see the upper part of an Athena who holds her spear upright in the right hand while her arm hangs at her side, perhaps with the hand on the rim of a shield which rested on the ground beside her. She wears an aegis over her peplos, and an Attic helmet with raised cheek-pieces. She is looking to her left and slightly down towards a figure before a tree with white painted leaves. The figure is apparently seated, and his snub nose shows that he is a satyr or silen, and not a young one to judge by his shaggy white hair.

There was no excavation in Neolithic or Chalcolithic sites, but a notable event was the publication of the report by P. Dikaios on his excavations in the mainly pre-pottery settlement at Khirokitía, in which he reviews the relationship and chronology of the cultures preceding the Early Cypriot. A new site of the Erimi stage was located at Palaiómylos near Ayios Thomas by surface finds, including a headless andesite idol of fiddle shape, now in the Limassol Museum.

Bronze Age

Further material from the Kafkála cemetery between Dhenia and Akaki reached the Cyprus Museum through confiscation of pottery looted in the south area, where the tombs are relatively small and poorly furnished. It includes some good red polished II and III and also black polished pottery. With the sponsorship of the Department of Antiquities and the assistance of Mr. G. R. H. Wright of the British Institute of Archaeology in Ankara, Mr. Justice Griffith-Williams undertook the excavation of two of the large looted tombs in the north part of the cemetery. These proved to be Middle Cypriot, and yielded large quantities of fragmentary but restorable white painted pottery. A small intact Early Cypriot II tomb group was excavated in the south area as part of the same operation. At Onísia near Dikomo a Middle Cypriot cemetery was brought to light by cultivation and one tomb with typical furniture, including some bronze weapons, was excavated by the Department.

In many respects Delphi and its varied cults possess an interest which is not to be rivalled by that of any other Hellenic site. The lofty precipices, the dark deeply-cleft ravines, the mysterious caves, and the bubbling springs of pure water, combine to give the place a romantic charm and a fearfulness of aspect which no description can adequately depict.

Again Delphi stands alone in the catholic multiplicity of the different cults which were there combined.

In primitive times it was the awfulness of Nature which impressed itself on the imaginations of the inhabitants.

In an early stage of development the mind of man tends to gloomy forms of religion: his ignorance and comparative helplessness tend to fill his brain with spiritual terrors and forebodings. Thus at Delphi the primitive worship was that of the gloomy Earth and her children, the chasm-rending Poseidon, and the Chthonian Dionysus, who, like Osiris, was the victim of the evil powers of Nature. It was not till later times that the bright Phoebus Apollo came to Delphi to slay the earth-born Python, just as the rising sun dissipates the shadows in the depths of the Delphian ravines, or as in the Indian legend the god Indra kills with his bright arrows the great serpent Ahi—symbol of the black thunder-cloud.

Cook Wilson remarks that one of the chief doctrines of the Timaeus ‘relates to the existence of evil … all cosmogonies which attribute the world to some divine activity find a difficulty here. Some assume another spirit, an evil one, though partly subordinate to the good one; others, to avoid making an evil spiritual principle, assume an unintelligent matter, or in general some form of Necessity beside the Good Spirit. We should suppose that Plato, if not monist, would incline to the latter and should have thought he clearly adopted it in the Timaeus.’ In Laws X, ‘soul’ is the cause of evil as of good. So Plato says one thing at one time, another at another. But his interpreters do not like to admit this. Professor Cornford found the spiritual view of evil lurking in the Timaeus too. Mr. Vlastos and lately the Rév. Père Festugière, though they differ about the meaning of Laws X, agree that for Plato the κακοποιόν is always matter. I think that we should not try too hard to smooth over the discrepancies in what Plato says about evil. They call attention to something obscure, perhaps incoherent, in his metaphysical thinking.

I propose in the following article to inquire what can be determined concerning the procedure of the Gortynian Inscription. It is scarcely necessary to insist on the importance of the subject. This is the only document that we have that gives us an authentic record of the earlier stages of Greek law. The history of Greek law is little known; knowledge of it is most valuable for the light that it throws on the social and political life of Greece, and especially because it supplies a most important element in the comparative study of law. The legal side of history can never be neglected with impunity. Even though the Greeks never became such accomplished lawyers as the Romans, their legal and political institutions were closely connected, and our ignorance of their laws often prevents us from understanding their politics.

It is however for its relation to the laws of other nations that Greek law deserves chiefly to be studied. Our knowledge of the early legal antiquities of European races is still very limited.

Mrs Ure has recalled attention in recent JHS Notes (lxxxviii [1968] 140 f.; lxxxix [1969] 120 f.) to the class of fifth-century Corinthian cups and other small vases studied formerly by Sam Wide (in AM xxvi [1901] 143 ff.) and her (in JHS lxix [1949] 18 ff.). It is surely time the class had a name and, with Mrs Ure's approval, I suggest ‘The Sam Wide Group’. Mrs Ure mentions a cup of the group in Oxford and I take this opportunity to publish it. It is in private possession but at present exhibited in the Ashmolean museum, whose photographs of it are shown here (Plate II 1–2). The fabric and the outside decoration (partly painted handles, tongues on the lip, a band within the concave foot) are wholly normal for this group. The cup interior, which carries the figure decoration, measures 9.2 cm across. The paint is a reddish brown, used with varying intensity from the pale wash for hatching to heavy stippling over painted areas (as the cloak). The scene is of Oedipus and the Sphinx—with a difference which is easier to describe than explain. Oedipus sits at the left, his petasos slung behind his neck, his sword drawn and held upright over his knees. A chlamys fastened round his neck appears to be raised in a protective gesture over his head. Passing from the ridiculous to the sublime we might compare the gesture of a Niobe protecting her child. The left arm holding the drapery is not shown, but this explanation seems the most plausible. The only alternative is that this is the rock on which we might expect the Sphinx otherwise to be sitting, and which can be shown in this form. The monster is perched on a column with a volute capital which is not strictly Ionic but of the type commonly seen on vases for structures or furniture. A high plinth over the volutes serves as base for the creature, rocking back on its haunches, balancing, it seems, on a springy tail.

The white lekythoi represented on Plates IV.–VII. and Figs. 1 and 2 are members of a series, twelve or more in number, all bearing a marked family likeness in style, subject, and inscription. They are of interest to the historian as presenting pictures of Athenian domestic life in the years of peace which followed the Persian War: to the student of sculpture as anticipating in a curious way many of the types and motives of later grave-reliefs: and to the student of vase-technique as bridging the interval between the white-ground kylikes of the ‘severe’ school and the ‘Lécythes blancs attiques à représentations funéraires’ on which M. Pottier has written. Here is the list. For the sake of clearness I have placed the inscriptions of the white-ground lekythoi on the left-hand side of the page, those of the red-figured on the right.

The collection of antiquities which forms the subject of this paper was presented in the year 1863—4 to the Museum of the Leeds Philosophical Society by the Rev. John Gott, D.D., then Vicar of Leeds and now Dean of Worcester. He tells me that it came into his hands in the following way. Mr. Benjamin Gott, elder brother of the Dean's father, made a tour in Greece about the year 1815, in the company of an intimate friend, Mr. Rawson. They visited Smyrna, and returned through the islands to Athens, purchasing, in the course of their travels, a number of ancient marbles. Mr. Benjamin Gott died of fever at the Piraeus, and was buried at Athens in the Theseium. Many years afterwards, when an English cemetery was opened at Athens, his body, with two others, was removed from the temple to this more fitting resting-place.

Upon Mr. B. Gott's death, the marbles passed into the possession of his fellow-traveller Mr. Rawson, in whose house at Halifax they remained for years. Here six of the inscriptions were copied and sent to Böckh for insertion in the Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum which he was then preparing.

This well known passage has given rise to some discussion in recent years, the words being the centre of the fray.

The Scholiast says

Most modern commentators have followed the Scholiast. But Mr. J. A. Stewart in the Classical Beview (Vol. vii. 3–59) follows the President of Magdalen College, Oxford, in stating that the Scholiast was led astray by the proverb and that there is really no reference at all to the game ot Polis, and compares with it the passage from the Meno, 77 A.

In a recent issue of this journal (xci [1971] 137–8), R. M. Cook argued convincingly that the term ἐποίεσεν should not be taken to mean the craftsman who threw the vase but rather should be taken as a sign of ownership by the head of the workshop producing the pot. While in agreement with Cook's rejection of ἐποίεσεν as a term referring to the craftsman who threw the vase, I am not altogether satisfied with his alternative proposal. Why was the designation of ownership painted on the vase, and by whom was it painted? Cook's suggestion would have the signature act as a trade name to identify the product. If so, why were so few pots designated in this manner? We would expect that a trade name would almost automatically be placed on all goods emanating from a workshop and that if this became customary in the more prominent workshops it would have been adopted in the lesser ones. In short, why were not all Greek vases so designated—at least in the second half of the sixth and the first half of the fifth century?

The only ἐποίεσεν signature to appear with any frequency or consistency is that of Nikosthenes on the special amphora form which now carries his name. Other workshops do not provide the extensive signatures; however, if we can determine the meaning of the signature in the Nikosthenic shop we will not be far from the use of ἐποίεσεν in other workshops.