Work on Thucydides published in the last thirty years has mostly shown two tendencies, the one, to regard Thucydides as having two successive attitudes towards history; the other to revert to Eduard Meyer's view that the work as we have it, in all important points of interpretation at least, was written at one time and that time after the Fall of Athens. I should say at once that I am sceptical about both these views and also—to go rather farther back in the discussion—I would agree with Pohlenz in doubting the far-reaching activity of an ‘editor’ who left the end of the eighth book as we have it. Such unity of outlook as the whole work presents—such unity as Prof. Finley has stressed in his Thucydides—seems to me due, not to the work being written or finally shaped all at one time, but to its being written all by one man who from the first had strong and definite ideas and a clear notion of what he was trying to do. The tendencies which I have mentioned naturally lead to the conclusion that the first book has been, if not written, yet reshaped or largely added to at a later stage in Thucydides' career and may reflect a change of view about the causes or antecedents of the war. It seems worth while to examine those parts of the book in which these effects would show themselves if they exist, i.e. chiefly in the speeches and the excursus on the Pentekontaetia and its setting.

The archaeologia proper, chapters 1–19, gives reasons for Thucydides' expectation that the war would be a great one and more notable than any of its predecessors, judging this from the fact that both sides entered it at the height of their preparedness and that the whole Greek world was on one side or the other or contemplating joining one side or the other (1, 1). The Western Greeks got no further than this contemplation when the war began and it would be natural to suppose that Thucydides wrote these words when he did not yet know that they would go no further. The main argument of the archaeologia seems to show how this height of preparedness and tendency to fall into two camps was reached, and the last sentence of 19 underlines the conclusion.

The headless statue of a seated woman swathed in a himation was first seen at Cnidus by the expedition of the Society of Dilettanti in 1812. Nearly fifty years later C. T. Newton excavated the site—identified by inscriptions as sacred to the chthonic deities—rediscovered the body, and, after shipping it off, found the head also. There is no ground for doubting the identification as Demeter. Brunn interpreted the head with understanding in 1874, and in 1900 A. H. Smith described the statue briefly but carefully: what can be added to this, mainly on the technical side, will be found in Appendix I. Other comment has been desultory, and although the date of the statue has been generally accepted as somewhere in the fourth century B.C., there has been no satisfactory attribution to a sculptor. Doubt has gradually arisen about the substance of which it is made, even about the position of the limbs and the kind of seat on which it rests: and finally, Carpenter, quietly loosing one of his ample stock of hares, has suggested that it was made in the first century B.C. Clearly, then, it is time to study the whole problem afresh, and to see whether evidence exists for more definite conclusions. That evidence does exist, and most of it has been set down in print before—though by various writers, and piecemeal: my argument is new in its pattern only, not in its components.

In his work Potter and Painter in Ancient Athens Sir John Beazley proposes a more detailed study of the shapes of vases in order to obtain a better knowledge of the relations between potters and painters. By this article, written in honour of his sixty-sixth birthday, I hope to contribute to the discussion of the problem.

It is well known that the development of Greek vase-shapes follows a regular course, from heavy and plump forms to slender and more elegant ones. The illustrations in Richter and Milne, Shapes and Names of Athenian Vases, will confirm this opinion, and Miss G. Richter maintained it lately in her Attic Red-figured Vases 1946, 18. The chronology of vases of the fourth century B.C. depends mainly upon this development (Buschor, FR III, 152; Schefold, Untersuchungen zu den Kertscher Vasen, passim), R. Zahn calls it a rule (FR III, 204), and W. Technau used this rule as a firm starting-point when dealing with the chronology of the works of Exekias.

Old rules tend to lose their efficacy if they are not periodically endowed with new vigour, and thus enabled to keep their activity throughout the next stage of development. In the field of Attic vase-shapes one of the most decisive renewals of this kind took place about 510 B.C. at the time of the fall of the tyranny and the institution of the Kleisthenic democracy. A new impetus revealed itself not only in the invention of new shapes, such as the stamnos, the pelike, and the kalpis (Beazley, ABS 24), but also in the modification of long-established forms.

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.

Das grossartige Portraet, das auf Taf. XXIII–XXIV und in den Abb. 1–3 erscheint, defindet sich in Privatbesitz. Ich habe dem Eigentuemer, fuer die Liebenswuerdigkeit, mit der er das wertvolle Kunstwerk fuer diese Festschrift zur Verfuegung gestellt hat, herzlich zu danken.

Der lebensgrosse Kopf ist mit dem Halse 0, 175 m. hoch. Das Gesicht vom Ende des Kinns bis zum Ansatz der Haare misst 0, 185 m. Der kleinchristallinische Marmor ist griechisch, wahrscheinlich pentelisch.

Auf den ersten Blick wird jeder das Bildnis als spaetantik, aber vorkonstantinisch erkennen. Es ist in der Tat das bedeutendste Werk der Tetrarchenzeit, das wir besitzen, und wird uns viel Neues lehren.

Vielleicht kennen wir seinen Helden schon aus einem anderen Werk. Denn seine Aehnlichkeit mit dem von L'Orange, der um die Geschichte des spaetroemischen Portraets die groessten Verdienste hat, entdeckten und wiederholt behandelten ueberlebensgrossen Kopf des Togatus in der Villa Doria in Rom (Abb. 4) ist so gross, dass sie ernsthaft geprueft werden muss.

Le Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon possède deux vases dus au Peintre d'Altamura, les Nos. 18 et 37 de la liste des Attic Red-Figure Vase-Painters. En souvenir de la visite faite à Lyon, en 1947, par Sir John Beazley, je voudrais publier ici ces documents en les accompagnant de quelques brèves observations.

Cratère en calice. Haut.: 0 m. 258. N° d'entrée: E 120 (acheté á Rollin et Feuardent en 1882; payé 800 fr.).—ARV, p. 413/18 (Pl. XXV, XXVI et fig. 1).

Vase reconstitué de plusieurs morceaux; quelques repeints peu importants. Lignes noires en relief; points et lignes brun clair, en particulier sur le chiton de Demeter. Rouge mat presque entièrement effacé pour représenter le bouquet d'épis de Triptolème, ainsi que les flammes de la torche de Demeter et de celle que la mènade tient de la main droite; la torche qu'elle tient de la main gauche et la torche de Coré ne semblent pas avoir de flammes.

Intérieur et dessous des anses réservés. A l'intérieur du vase, vernis noir sauf une ligne réservée correspondant au ressaut placé à l'extérieur entre la guirlande de lierre et la zone à figures.

Autour de l'orifice, guirlande de lierre. Sur la face A, départ de Triptolème: le héros, couronné de myrte, est assis sur un trône roulant ailé; il tient de la main gauche un sceptre et un bouquet d'épis; de la droite il tend une phiale à Demeter. La déesse, vêtue d'un long chiton et portant sur les épaules une draperie retombante, tient d'une main une oenochoé, de l'autre une torche. Derrière Triptolème Coré, vêtue d'un chiton et d'un himation, porte aussi d'une main une oenochoé, de l'autre une torche. Sur la face B, satyre poursuivant une ménade: la ménade, vêtue d'un long chiton à repli et d'une peau de bête tachetée, tient une torche de chaque main; le satyre porte un thyrse de la main droite et sur le bras gauche une peau de bête tachetée. Sur les côtés, au dessus des anses, ornement formé de palmettes et de rinceaux. Au dessous de la zone à figures, rangée d'oves. Au haut et autour du pied, un filet et deux bandes réservés.

With Humfry Payne's photographs, now in the British School at Athens, are preserved a number of his drawings. Many of these are unpublished. A selection of them may form a useful supplement to those included in Necrocorinthia and Protokorinthische Vasenmalerei, and a suitable tribute to offer to Payne's friend and master. I am grateful to Mrs. Leonard Russell and to the Managing Committee of the British School at Athens for permission to publish these drawings.

The notes on the vases are brief, because the drawings speak for themselves. I have added a few notes on the painters of some of the vases, and in doing so have drawn extensively on Payne's writings and notes, both published and unpublished. Most of the vases illustrated belong to the middle and third quarter of the seventh century, but I have added a few figures from later vases because of their human interest.

Plate XXVIII, a. Aegina F 51a, from the harbour temple (so-called Temple of Aphrodite) at Aegina. Welter, Aigina, 37, fig. 35, top r. Conical oinochoe fr. Lion 1. There was another frieze above. Very fine; pale green clay. MPC II; towards 650.

Plate XXVIII, b. Aegina F 104, from the harbour temple. Conical oinochoe fr. Lion l.; in front, hind leg of another animal. MPC II.

There are four passages in Thucydides (two of them from the same chapter) which have certain features in common: they are all of them explicitly comments by the author himself, they are all demonstrably late, that is, written a good deal later than the events to which they are immediately related (three of them certainly, the other probably, after 404 B.C., and the last named at least not long before the end of the war), and they all show, to a greater or smaller degree, a discrepancy with the narrative of those events. They are ii 65.7, ii 65.11, iv 81.2–3, and vi 15.4. The discrepancies are such that they compel, in my view, the conclusion that they were written at times different from the related narratives; this leads us to the problem of the composition of the History, a problem which has given rise to a mass of controversy, most of it barren to the last degree, but which cannot on that account be ignored. Mme de Romilly in her recent book has adequately defined the problem and described the controversy, and as well contributed most to its understanding; as she says, it is not so much a question of when passages were written, as when they were thought. But I have not seen it observed that these four passages form a group, by reason of their common features; and, because of these features, two of which are certain and the third (the discrepancy with the related narrative), as I hope to show, demonstrable, they should form a somewhat surer foundation for any theory about the composition of Thucydides' work. If the discrepancy be there, then, since the comments are late, the narrative must be early, relatively early. All four passages, it may be noted in passing, have this also in common, that they are comment on the effect of prominent individuals on the course of the war (Perikles, Brasidas, Alkibiades); and all are anticipatory in the sense that, where they now stand in the History, they point forward to future events.

When we first began to read Homer we learnt with surprise that Zeus nodded with his eyebrows, and the expressiveness of the ancient eyebrow has been noted and, as I think, exaggerated by modern scholars. Ancient noses have, so far as I am aware, received less attention. The modern Englishman turns up his nose in contempt or disgust, and he produces with it the sniff and snort which denote similar emotions; otherwise it plays a somewhat passive part in our lives. We follow or are led by it; fail to see what is underneath it; poke it into things and pay through it; have it pulled, or bitten off; cut it off to spite our faces, or keep it to the grindstone; and we put our fingers to it—one, if we are sententious, to enjoin attention, more, if we have not been nicely brought up, in derisive contempt; but by itself it reacts little to our moods. The ancient nose was more responsive. Ironists wore the Attic or Socratic nose. Contempt, in Greek more specifically associated with the nostrils (μυκτηρισμός), derision, and disgust, were naturally at home there, but so were anger, distress, and terror. Mustard mounts to the nose of an angry Frenchman and Italian, and an Englishman, though he does not think of his nose in that connexion, may be conscious of a slight dilation of the nostril when he loses his temper, and according to Darwin the same effect may be produced by terror, but the evidence suggests that violent emotions produced in ancient noses sensations stronger than in ours and sometimes foreign to them.

Nearly fifty years have passed since Hogarth wrote, and it would be useful and pleasing to comment afresh on the votive offerings from the Artemisium, this treasure of gold and silver, of ivory and amber, with a touch of the gynaikonitis and the East. My purpose is narrower: a study of the objects from the Basis, and narrower still, their chronological implications for the date of the coins found with them. These coins are the only ones from the excavation found in what might be called a closed context. They can in principle be later than their latest co-finds; they can be earlier than the earliest, but it is reasonable to assume that they are contemporary with the majority of the objects associated with them.

A few objects were found outside the Basis under stratigraphical conditions which make their inferior limit of time almost as certain as that of the objects from the Basis, and many pieces from outside resemble Basis types so closely that they can with certainty be dated to the same period (Hogarth p. 235): I think it, however, prudent and safe to leave these, where possible, on one side and to keep to the specimens from the Basis.

The objects from the Basis are almost all of them of the seventh century B.C., a very few are later, and one piece only is possibly of the eighth century, pl. 4. 34. It is silver, gold-plated, ‘most probably detached from a hilt’ (Hogarth p. 114). The description gives no clear idea of technique and purpose: it is too small fora hilt. The decoration consists of engraved zigzags and compass-drawn ‘wheels’: these are no indication of an early date, as they still occur as border-decoration of the chiton of an acroterion figure from the Acropolis, but the whole somehow recalls those aimless designs on Late Geometric bronze sheets from Argos (Waldstein pls. 103, 104).

In the islands surprises seem to be as ἀνήριθμοι as the γέλασμα of the waves. If news came from anywhere else of the discovery of a circular marble slab carved with a head in relief, experience would lead the archaeologist to expect a late portrait or one of the so-called oscilla. Not so on Melos: here he finds himself confronted with the splendid head of a goddess carved in the purest Early Classical style.

For such in fact is the fragment of a circular marble disc (Plate XXXVII and fig. 1) discovered in 1937 on the slopes of Klema, the site of the ancient town of Melos. It was found lying on the surface of the ground, on the property of Panagioulis Vikhos, to the north-east of Kalyvaki. The distinguished lawyer of Plaka, Mr. N. Kyritses, to whom we must again express our gratitude for having rescued it, readily offered it to the State.

The disc is of Parian marble. Its convex obverse is decorated in relief with a head in profile to the right—an unusual subject. The reverse (fig. 2) is flat and smooth. The flat rim joining the two faces is 0·016 m. wide, but at the centre, where it is broken, the disc is 0·073 thick, not counting the height of the relief. The greatest preserved height of the fragment is 0·325 m., the greatest width 0–335.

Two of the greatest monuments of the ancient world date from the fifth century B.C. and they embody respectively the ideals of the Persian and of the Athenian Empire. There had been nothing in all Asia as sumptuous as Persepolis; the Acropolis of Athens, a quarter its size, was given a magnificence absolutely unprecedented in Greece. A comparison between the two schemes must reflect the divergence between the Persian and the Greek outlook but also reveal some elements in common, if only because of an inevitable resemblance in ways of thinking among contemporaries when confronted with rather similar problems. But it must not be taken for granted that every parallel between them is fortuitous. There is reason to think that the sculptors employed at Persepolis were largely Greeks—conscripted subjects of Persia, no doubt; the sculptors of the Acropolis were by no means all Athenian but came also from other Greek states, and surely there must have been talk among them of the tremendous project from which many of their colleagues had returned to cities east of the Aegean. Persepolis was built steadily from about 500 to 460, by which time the reconstruction of the Acropolis had begun; its earliest Periclean building, the Parthenon, was commenced in 447. It is conceivable that some particular sculptor may have carved figures in the friezes of both Persepolis and the Parthenon; workmen who could attain the requisite standard must have been in demand. At any rate one Greek artist from the Persian service seems to have gone as far west as Delos, to judge by imitation there of the Persepolis type of column-base, in the Thesmophorium, a building datable about 480–460.

All Greek religion is haunted by an anxiety, or a hope, which is generally summed up, since the great work of Mannhardt and Frazer, as the yearly worship of vegetation gods. The name is, admittedly, a little too narrow. No doubt in a simple agricultural community the chief anxiety is about next year's harvest. I am told that in Jerusalem the High Priest went out to see how the barley was getting on, and lengthened or shortened the official year accordingly. Of course there is also anxiety about the young of the flocks and herds, about the weather for sailing and the like; but I think we shall find that it extended much further. The phrase ‘Year Spirit’ is perhaps better than ‘Vegetation God’. Jane Harrison was much criticised for preferring the phrase Ἐνιαυτὸς δαίμων; but I think she was right, and perhaps more profoundly right than any of us saw at the time.

Ἐνιαυός is a curious word. The new Liddell and Scott gives its root meaning as ‘anniversary’. It seems to be formed like ἓνιοι, ἐνί-οτε, ‘there are who …’ ‘there are times when …’, and to mean ‘There is (or ‘there is present,’ the same’, ἔνι-αὐτός; or, more analytically still, ‘there is present-again-this’, ἔνι-αὖ-τός. From meaning ‘anniversary’ it comes to mean a recurrent vital day, or the period, however long, between the recurrent vital days. All kinds of events were due to occur περιπλομένων ἐνιαυτῶν, as in Od. A 16, which seems to mean ‘as the anniversaries recur’, but easily becomes ‘with the passing years’. Children are born (Theog. 493, Asp. 87) meaning, I think, ‘when the regular vital time comes on’, not ‘as the months pass’.

Il frammento è conosciuto, ma non è altrettanto conosciuto come sia entrato, uscito e ritornato nella collezione vascolare del Museo. Ne mancano inoltre riproduzioni a base fotografica complete nel diritto e nel rovescio. A queste lacune intende riparare lo scritto dedicato qui alle onoranze di un maestro insigne, che allo studio della ceramica antica, nelle sue innumerevoli manifestazioni grandi e piccole, ha dedicato una parte cospicua della sua attività scientifica. Esso appartiene ad uno stamnos del Museo Gregoriano-Etrusco, descritto dal Helbig nel I° volume del Führer (ed. 3̂, p. 313, n. 503), che si trova ora nella sala VI, vetrina K, n. 22, e che misura cm. 38,4 di altezza e cm. 16,6 di diametro alla bocca.

In una delle facce, quella secondaria, si vedono due figure ammantate ritte ed affrontate; quella a destra è un giovinetto in ascolto, quella di sinistra, forse un maestro di palestra, ha i capelli annodati con un semplice nastro e stringe un alto bastone a nodi con manico ricurvo. Vedi Fig. 1. Nell'altra faccia, la principale, si vede Eracle con le mani protese in avanti verso una donna in atto di fuggire, la quale doveva tenere con la destra uno scettro. Vedi Fig. 2. Ma la scena, così come risulta ora, è opera prevalentemente di restauro moderno. Nell'originale alla figura di Eracle dovevano mancare le mani ed anche la clava, se pure questa esisteva; e della seconda figura rimaneva ben poco: la parte inferiore della persona, da sopra le ginocchia in giù, e la testa nel tratto superiore alla bocca, tanto che, invece di una donna fuggente, il Beazley (loc. cit.) vi ravvisa Nereo; e al loro posto, nella curvatura tra il collo e la pancia dello stamnos, fino dall'antichità era stato inserito un frammento di tazza attica, contrassegnato col nome di Douris e fermato al corpo del vaso con quattro grappe di bronzo, di cui sono ben visibili i fori. Vedi Figg. 2, 3, 4.

‘You will be unable to comprehend strophe, antistrophe or epode; it will read like a piece of continuous prose:’ the question has been long debated, whether Dionysius' claim is justified.

Experiment has proved that brute force will be required to hammer the following quotation from Simonides into the shape of a complete strophe and complete antistrophe, with or without all or part of an epode. Specimens may be seen and judged elsewhere. They need never again be repeated; they demonstrate that either the text is corrupt beyond the possibility of a scientific restoration, or there is no complete strophe and antistrophe present.

It is at least natural to suppose that when Dionysius says, ‘You will not recognise strophe, antistrophe and epode,’ he must, in this context, imply that all three of these elements are represented; not necessarily that all three are complete, but that parts at least of all three are included. It appears therefore prima facie reasonable to look for metrical correspondences between strophe and antistrophe; but of all such investigations one only has led to a result which is widely approved.

In JHS XLIX, 265 ff. Beazley and Payne, in their important publication of Attic b.f. fragments from Naucratis, put together a number of pieces from Little Master cups of the same special form as that in Berlin from Gordion, with the names of Ergotimos and Kleitias as potter and painter. In JHS LII, 186, Beazley included these fragments in his list of ‘Gordion Cups’. Working over the pottery from Naucratis in the British Museum and the Fitzwilliam I have identified other fragments of the same class. Altogether there are now over thirty separate fragments, which I have tentatively grouped as belonging to fourteen cups. Not all the associations are certain, but all are I think probable. Some of those suggested by Beazley and Payne appear to me impossible, and I have noted where I differ from them; but this paper is only an elaboration of a theme from their larger work—τέμαχος τῶν Ὁμήρου μεγάλων δείπνων.

I have divided the material into three groups:

I. Cups of exceptionally small and delicate make, some bearing the names of Ergotimos and Kleitias.

II. Slightly sturdier cups, some bearing the name of Sondros.

III. Miscellaneous fragments which cannot be closely associated with either of the other groups.

In the last long trimeter speech of the Prometheus Vinctus Hermes describes to Prometheus the future course of his punishment: he will be swallowed up in the earth, and then after a long interval of time brought back to daylight for laceration by Zeus's eagle. Hermes goes on (1026 ff.):

The only substantial variant is θεός τις F Tri. in 1027.

There is no proof that ancient critics saw any definite allusion here. The Medicean scholium is simply ( Paley) πεισομένου, an obscure note to which I shall return. Matthias Garbitius (1559), the first scholar quoted by S. Butler in his variorum edition of 1809, suggested that the reference was either to Hercules or, more probably, to ‘some other hero’ destined to free the human mind from darkness and doubt, perhaps a Sibylline vision of the Christian redemption. This last fancy was defended anonymously in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1796 and found a belated champion in F. A. Paley, on the eve of his admission to the Church of Rome, in 1846—‘Ceterum venturum esse Messiam et descensurum in inferos antiquitus praedictum quis hic non agnoscit?’ Later Paley silently dropped this theory.

In 1904–5 the British Museum excavations at Ephesos were resumed under D. G. Hogarth, and resulted in the discovery of what he held to be the foundations of earlier buildings beneath the great Artemision of the Croesus period unearthed by Wood. In these earlier buildings Hogarth distinguished three successive stages:

A. A Central Basis, faced with green schist, standing on virgin sand, and joined in the middle of its west side by a narrow jetty to a second rectangular platform, both of limestone; the whole built, in his view, about 700 B.C., and lasting until it was destroyed by the Kimmerians about 660.

B. A rebuilding and enlargement of the same about 650, the resulting temple lasting till about 600.

C. A further building and enlargement finally superseded by the Croesus temple about 550.

Hogarth's chronology has met with strong criticism, notably from Löwy, who regarded all remains as belonging to the foundations of the Croesus temple.

Every schoolboy knows the legend of Tarpeia, who betrayed the Capitol to the Sabines. She demanded what they carried on their left arms: quod vulgo Sabini aureas armillas magni ponderis brachio laevo … habuerint (Livy, I, II). The enemy pressed in and treacherously fulfilled their ambiguous promise by throwing their shields on her instead of the golden ornaments and so killed her. In later years the antiquarian remembers the story when before the Mons Tarpeius in Rome. The historian justifiably disregards the tradition. The mythologist is interested in parallels from Greek or folk-lore. The archaeologist is only concerned when dealing with the denarii of L. Titurius Sabinus or of P. Petronius Turpilianus with the representation of Tarpeia dying under the shields.

At the date of these coins, first century A.D., the story, told most fully in Livy I, 11, Dionysius of Halicarnassus II, 38, and Plutarch, Romulus, 17, was naturally well known. Its oldest form is more important than its alteration to serve Roman patriotism or the desire for a romantic novel. According to Dionysius, who enters most carefully into the question of sources, it was already noted by Q. Fabius Pictor and L. Cincius Alimentus, and was therefore current in the last half of the third century B.C.