The subject of this paper is the relationship between the Demotic Egyptian Inaros-Petubastis Cycle and the Greek novel. I will not argue that the Greek novel as a whole arose from Egyptian literature; that theory has been rightly laid to rest by scholars working in the area, most recently by Susan Stephens and the late Jack Winkler in their edition of the fragments of the novel. What I want to do, rather, is to draw attention to a single motif that might have made its way from Egyptian narrative fiction to the Greek novel; to explore the background of this motif in Egyptian literature; and to discuss the mode through which this motif was appropriated by the Greek novelists. This motif concerns the boukoloi, outlaw shepherds who inhabit the Egyptian Delta and oppose central Egyptian authority.

In this paper I am considering two things; the position of Delos as a ‘holy place,’ and the rules of the practice among Greek cities with regard to the grant of a τόπος or site for a stele. From these it follows automatically that the somewhat fashionable dogma of the ‘neutrality’ of Delos is not only (on our present materials) untrue, but is impossible,—it has no chance whatever of being true. It is strange that it should have gained the acceptance it has without any examination of its foundations ever having been made; however, this is so, and it presents rather a striking instance of the effect of mere repetition. Its importance, of course, consists in this, that, if it were true, then the festivals, etc., at Delos can never have any political meaning and we lose our only sure basis for the chronology of the middle of the third century. If this were necessary, one would naturally accept the consequences; the necessity, however, is in fact the other way. I am not going through what others have written; but I have borne in mind Professor Kolbe's argument for Delian neutrality in his drastic reconstruction of this period, a reconstruction which is ingenious, but is unfortunately based on other unsound hypotheses beside the Delian; and I shall notice in their place the four inscriptions with regard to the grant of a site on which he relied as exceptional, but which are really simple illustrations of well-established practice. I am dealing with that practice at some length, as I hope it may possess some interest of its own apart from the theme of this paper, seeing that the rules have never been formulated; but I was glad to find that Professor Wilhelm, who has done so much to elucidate the machinery of setting up decrees, in the two pages which he has incidentally given to the subject, at once noticed what I take to be the important matter, viz. that a question of interstate courtesy is involved.

This paper points out some of the weaknesses of the traditional account of the Homeric phrase ἀνδροτῆτα καὶ ἥβην and suggests instead that the entire phrase is a relatively recent creation of the tradition on the model of an *ἀμ(β)ροτῆτα καὶ ἥβην. This phrase in turn has a clear Avestan cognate hauruuatātā amərətātā.

Like everyone else, I am much interested in the campaign of Marathon, and therefore grateful for the able reconstruction given us in the last number of the Journal by so great a student of military affairs as Sir Frederick Maurice. With the greater part of it I am in agreement, but I cannot help thinking that the soldier in the author has allowed the politics of the day to fall too much into the background. There was, and it was natural in the circumstances of the time that there should be, a party of men in Athens who regarded Persian domination (represented by Hippias) as a lesser evil than Spartan rule, with which they were threatened—or imagined themselves to be threatened. Then the shield. Surely we are to understand from Herodotus that it was flashed from a height. There are points on Mount Pentelicus from which not only the whole of Marathon field but also the city of Athens can be seen.

Few ancient monuments that have come to light of recent years have aroused so lively an interest amongst scholars or so widespread a curiosity in the general public as the subterranean building of basilican plan discovered in 1917 as if by chance near the Porta Maggiore in Rome. Its situation at a depth of 50 feet below the present level of the soil, the curious mode of its construction, the secrecy of its approach, the mystical character of its decoration led to the theory, put forward almost from the first, that this was probably the secret meeting-place of some religious pagan fraternity. Especially significant in this connexion are the symbolic and eschatological subjects of the stuccoes: the figures of Eros holding torches or playing with a butterfly, the scenes of rape and of liberation, the Victories carrying wreaths belong to the now well-known cycle of subjects that symbolise the aspiration of the soul towards the divine, her liberation from earthly ties and her final flight towards the celestial spheres. In the same way, the long series of reliefs representing sacred enclosures which completely surround the lower part of the walls; the scenes of preparation and of ritual discipline; those of initiation to the mysteries; the indications of a purgatorial Katharsis; the grand apocalyptic scene of the apse; the figures interpreted as Orantes or personified prayers; even the candelabra and other sacred furniture, recall rites by means of which the ancient devotees of the basilica might be initiated while still in this life to the bliss of the next. The subjects considered individually offer nothing either strange or unique, but what strikes our imagination and must certainly have struck that of any one who entered the basilica in antiquity, is to find so large a number of these subjects (their number is, I believe, about 117) so linked together as to cover the whole building with a perfectly logical and homogeneous decoration.

This paper discusses the background in reality of the Heroikos (Dialogue concerning Heroes), which is ascribed to Philostratus of Athens, and is mainly devoted to the hero Protesilaos. After a summary of the work, the paper considers it from four aspects. The time of writing falls after 217 (the second victory at Olympia of the athlete Helix of Phoenicia); there may be a reference to events in Thessaly under the emperor Alexander Severus (222-235). If the author is the well-known Philostratus, then such a date also implies a dramatic date in the author's own time. This is corroborated by two series of references which appear to run from the comparatively recent past to the present. One of these concerns bones of heroes, while the other concerns athletes to whom the hero Protesilaos had given advice in the form of oracles. The geographical setting of the dialogue is Elaious in the Thracian Chersonese. The evidence for the cult of Protesilaos on the territory of Elaious comes from literature, notably Herodotus, from coins of the time of Commodus, and from modern observations, notably a vivid account given by Heinrich Schliemann. While Philostratus' description of the cult-place at Elaious appears very accurate, his account of the Island of Achilles in the Pontus is less so. Finally, the paper considers the Heroikos in the context of contemporary belief about heroes and their powers. Another work probably by the same author, the Life of Apollonius of Tyana, is adduced to assess the credulity of readers in Philostratus' time and later. Documents and literature of the imperial period show that even dead contemporaries could be regarded as heroes, who were still influential even from beyond the grave. The references to Protesilaos in literature (Pausanias, Lucian) strongly suggest that he was regarded as issuing oracles in the form of dreams, and this too accords with beliefs about heroes both in the Hellenistic period and in the Roman.

The material I have had before me in this essay is comparatively scanty. Like many other students, I have not paid very much attention to Campanian in the past; and I am now dependent on published reproductions, a few photographs, a few originals, and not many notes of all the originals no longer accessible. Most of the reproductions published hitherto are poor or incomplete. The great majority of the vases come from irregular excavation, with no record of the circumstances in which they were found; and even where the search has been properly conducted, the published reports, with a few exceptions, are not fully illustrated. All this to explain gaps, errors, hesitations: not to crave indulgence.

We begin with what may be called the Owl-Pillar Group, from the subject of two well-known vases. A list was given in Vases in Poland, p. 77, and the style characterised. The present list is more detailed, and includes additions. Most of the Berlin examples had already been put together by Furtwängler in his catalogue.

The little treatise which follows is in a manuscript of the Marciana at Venice—gr. fondo antico, 173 (late twelfth century). It throws considerable light on the system of taxation in the later Empire, and explains a good many technical terms which one meets with in the documents. So far as I know, it has never been published. Even if it has, it deserves to be published again. I hope in a future number to say something of its contents. I have numbered the paragraphs for convenience of reference. The treatise begins on f. 276 v. of the manuscript. I reproduce the spelling and accentuation of the manuscript. In some cases I may have gone wrong in enlarging the abbreviations, which are numerous.

‘Your coward’, says Theophrastus, ‘is the sort who, when aboard ship, thinks that every headland is a hemiolia.’ The outline of a promontory, in other words, looks to his timid eyes like the low sinister shape of a pirate craft. And the hemiolia was so characteristically the vessel of pirates that Theophrastus could use the term off-handedly, without any qualification; it conjured up in his readers' minds what ‘Jolly Roger’ does in ours.

A hemiolia, then, must have been a ship designed particularly for lightness, speed and manœuvrability. But so were the twenty-oared vessels that Homer's heroes used or the penteconters that appear in subsequent centuries. What were the distinguishing characteristics of the craft that recommended it to pirates in particular?

The name itself is so curious that one instinctively feels it contains a clue. The adjective hemiolios means ‘one and a half’ by analogy with words like trireme, quadrireme and so on, a hemiolia (sc. naus) should hlave a ‘1½-fold’ arrangement of the oars. An ancient lexicographer, Hesychius, describes it as dikrotos, i.e. with rowers in two levels, and with this in mind Lazare de Baif had suggested as long ago as 1537 that perhaps it had one bank of rowers from the prow to the mast amidships and two from that point to the stern. This solution, accepted for some time, has been put aside by modern writers. ‘As no ancient representation [of a hemiolia] has survived,’ observes Ormerod, ‘we are uncertain as to its exact design and rig.’ As a matter of fact, there is an ancient representation of a hemiolia extant. It has been under our noses for years waiting to be recognised.

Over a century ago C. Müller published two fragments from a manuscript in the Bibliothèque Nationale (Codex Parisinus inter supplementa Graeca 607). One fragment (fol. 103v) is entitled ‘From the ninth book of the histories by Eusebius: the siege of Thessalonike by the Scythians’. Another folio of the same manuscript (17r) contains an untitled and longer excerpt which describes counter-siege tactics invented or implemented in a city in Macedonia, followed by an unfinished description of the siege of a Gallic city (Tours).

The three ‘notorious echoes between Kleon and Perikles’ in Thucydides all go back to Pericles' last speech made in 430 BC (Thucydides ii 60.1–64.5). The concepts and language of two successive Periclean statements from ii 63.2, viz.

ἦς οὐδ᾿ ἐκστῆναι ἔτι ὑμῖν ἔστιν εἴ τις καὶ τόδε ἐν τῷ παρόντι δεδιώς ἀπραγμοσύνῃ ἀπραγμοσύνῃ ἀνδραγαθίζεται ὡς τυραννίδα γὰρ ἤδη ἔχετε αὐτήν ἤν λαβεῖν μὲν ἄδικον δοκεῖ εἶναι ἀφεῖναι δ᾿ ἐπικίνδυνον

(on the relationship between action and virtue and on the Athenian empire as a tyranny) reappear in two statements by Cleon at iii 40.4 and iii 37.2 respectively. Even more striking–at least on the surface–is the claim of both men to consistency. In ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν ὁ αὐτός εἰμι τῇ γνώμῃ Cleon virtually repeats at iii 38.1 Pericles' καὶ ἐγὼ μὲν ὁ αὐτός εἰμι καὶ οὐκ ἐξίσταμαι (ii 61.2). As if to confirm that the echoes are not accidental, Cleon's words all belong (like those of Pericles) to a single speech–that made by him during the 'Mytilcnean debate' of 427 BC.

The restoration of lost works of art in accordance with the descriptions of ancient authors and the monuments which serve to illustrate them presents problems which can never fail to be attractive to archaeologists. Nor has there been any lack of such attempts at reconstruction. The descriptions which we owe to Pausanias of the chryselephantine statues of Phidias, the paintings of Polygnotos, the chest of Kypselos, and the throne at Amyclae, have formed the text of such works, which reflect with considerable accuracy the standard of archaeological knowledge prevailing at the time to which they belong, and the quantity and quality of monumental evidence available. A glance at the Wiener Vorlegeblätter for 1888, Plate XII., where the successive restorations attempted of the Iliupersis of Polygnotos are reproduced side by side, will illustrate this; and even since that year a further step in advance has been taken by Robert's publication of his admirable restorations of both the great frescoes of Polygnotos, which may be held to represent the nearest approximation to the style of that painter which the discoveries and investigations of the last few years have enabled us to make.

If you walk out of modern Sparta by the Tripolis road, and take the first branch road to the right after crossing Eurotas, you find yourself moving parallel to the river, with a line of red bluffs on your left hand. The bluffs grow higher and steeper as you go south, and the river edges closer to their foot, till opposite the junction of the Magoula river there is barely room for the cart-track between hillside and Eurotas-bed: but here the line of the bluffs is suddenly broken by a dry ravine converging on the course of the Eurotas at an acute angle from the N.E. The flanks of this ravine are at first as steep as the western face of the bluffs: but after about ten minutes' walk up it, several bays open on the left, affording an ascent to the bluff's summit by an easier gradient. When you reach the top you find yourself on a narrow ridge crowned by a chapel of the prophet Elias, and clearly marked off from the other summits to N. and S. Just N. of the chapel is the shrine of Menelaos, where the citizens of ‘historical’ Sparta used to offer lead figurines. But under the ‘historical’ stratum are the vestiges of a ‘Mycenaean’ city.

Two vases exist on which the sanctuary of Chryse is definitely identified by inscriptions. The first is an Attic red-figure stamnos, Louvre G413, attributed to Hermonax, on which is depicted Philoktetes being bitten by the snake at the altar of Chryse. The second is an Attic red-figure bell-krater, Vienna Inv. 1144, of the late fifth century B.C., which depicts Herakles sacrificing at the altar of Chryse. With the first vase may be associated an Attic red-figure calyx-krater, Louvre G342, attributed to the Altamura Painter, which bears no inscriptions, but undoubtedly represents the same scene; and with the second may be grouped four other vases of the late fifth and early fourth centuries B.C., which resemble it sufficiently closely to suggest that they too represent the sanctuary of Chryse. The interpretation of the two Louvre vases has never been in doubt, since they obviously illustrate the story of the biting of Philoktetes by the snake in the sanctuary of Chryse, but the interpretation of the other group of vases has been the subject of some dispute. In this article, therefore, I propose to discuss the connection of these vases with one another and with the two Louvre vases, and to examine their relation to the literary treatment of the legends concerning this sanctuary.

Mardonius reoccupied Athens, Herodotus tells us (ix. 3), in the tenth month after Xerxes had taken it, that is to say not earlier than June of the next year. The pause in the war lasted therefore far beyond the winter. Both parties were no doubt anxious to gather the new harvest, but there were also other reasons for their delay.

Mardonius had been left in a difficult situation. The forces at his disposal were, it is true, still formidable. First, he had his own division, which we have seen reason to suppose was one of the six Persian corps ď armée, 60,000 strong. In confirmation of that estimate it may be noted that Herodotus assigns to him one sixth of Xerxes' army, which he conceives to have been the levy of the whole empire; and that if we compare the details of Mardonius' division (viii. 113, ix. 31.) with the catalogue of Xerxes' host (vii. 61–5), and reckon a myriad for each contingent of infantry (Immortals: θωρηκοφόροι: Medes: Sacae and Bactrians: Indians), we get 50,000 infantry, which with 10,000 cavalry gives the exact composition conjectured for a Persian army corps. The small drafts incorporated according to Herodotus from other contingents may be assumed, to have filled up the gaps made in the ranks by the first campaign. Second, Mardonius had his Greek auxiliaries, say 20,000 men, including the valuable Thessalian and Boeotian cavalry. Herodotus (ix. 32) estimates the Greek contingents at 50,000 men, but he expressly says that he has no authority for their numbers, and both probability and analogy (e.g. vii. 185, viii. 66) are against so high a computation.

This note discusses some of the images and ideas that led to the depiction of Eros with the attributes of Herakles (PLATE IVa), an iconographical type that was developed and elaborated in the Hellenistic and Romanperiods.

Eros was not, in fact, the first to appropriate for himself the attributes of Herakles. From an early period popular imagination realised that even the mighty Herakles would occasionally be placed in a situation that lesser creatures could take advantage of. Before the Hellenistic period Kerkopes, satyrs and goat-legged Pans made use of whatever opportunities there were to steal Herakles' attributes; thereafter these subhuman thieves appear to have been replaced by a group of Erotes or a single Eros.

The discovery and publication two decades ago of the Roman-Aetolian treaty of 212/11 has helped to place Polybius' reliability as a source under close scrutiny. As a result, his account of the confrontation between the Aetolians and Flamininus at Tempe, in 197, may not stand the test of a comparison. Yet in order to use the preserved inscription as a control for this specific event, Polybius' general feelings concerning Aetolian responsibility for the consequent Syrian War must also be considered. Historians have hitherto assumed that if Polybius is demonstrably antagonistic towards his northern neighbours when recording affairs of the third century, he must be equally so for those of the second century. A close examination of Polybius, however, will reveal substantial reasons for doubting such an assumption.

For events of the third century, where he is most completely preserved, Polybius is indeed prejudiced against the Aetolians. He unleashes his venom both when following Aratus' Ὑπομνήματα to 220 and afterwards when employing various sources. To Polybius, the Aetolians are violent and aggressive in spirit (iv 3.5), cruel (iv 18.7–9), impious (iv 62.2), haughty (iv 64.8), inhuman (iv 67.3–4), and cowardly (iv 79.1). They are also natural revolutionaries (xiii 1.2), spendthrifts (xiii 1.1), and liars (iv 29.4–5). Though at times Polybius considers their behaviour scandalous (iv 27.1–8), he admits that the Greeks have become quite inured to it (iv 16.1–2). The most grievous faults of the Aetolians, however, are their desire for aggrandizement and lust for booty.

In a recent article written by Mr. G. E. L. Owen to prove that contrary to the general current opinion the composition of the Timaeus must have antedated that of the Parmenides and its dialectical successors, it is contended that when the Timaeus was written the analysis of negation given in the Sophist could not yet have been worked out. ‘For’, Mr. Owen writes, ‘the tenet on which the whole new account of negation is based, namely that τὸ μὴ ὄν ἔστιν ὄντως μὴ ὄν (Soph. 254D1), is contradicted unreservedly by Timaeus' assertion that it is illegitimate to say τὸ μὴ ὄν ἔστι μὴ ὄν (38B2–3); and thereby the Timaeus at once ranks itself with the Republic and Euthydemus.' After brushing aside Cornford's attempt to reconcile this passage of the Timaeus with the Sophist, Mr. Owen concludes his treatment of it with the words: ‘So the Timaeus does not tally with even a fragment of the argument in the Sophist. That argument is successful against exactly the Eleatic error which, for lack of the later challenge to Father Parmenides, persists in the Timaeus.’

An examination of the other arguments put forward by Mr. Owen in support of his thesis concerning the relative chronology of the Timaeus I reserve for another place. Here I propose to consider only the meaning of this one passage and whether it really does imply that the Timaeus must have been written before Plato had conceived the doctrine enunciated in the Sophist. It is a question not now raised for the first time. More than half a century ago Otto Apelt asserted that this passage of the Timaeus is enough to prove that work earlier than the Sophists. His assertion did not go unchallenged; and Apelt himself appears to have lost his original confidence in it, for in his later writings on the relative chronology of the two dialogues he did not again refer to it.

Herodotus in the course, of his description of Kambyses' conquest of Egypt gives both the earliest and the only detailed account we possess of Polykrates, the tyrant of Samos. Thucydides makes a brief reference to him, also dating him to the reign of Kambyses (ἐπὶ καμβύσου), 530–522 B.C. Other references, as will appear, are late, scattered, and incidental. In attempting to determine the length of the Samian tyranny, Herodotus will, therefore, be our most important source of evidence. Although his interest is concentrated on the career of Polykrates, he provides enough information about Samian activities in the immediately preceding period to suggest that Polykrates is, in most cases, continuing a policy already initiated a generation before him. The difficulty of compressing into the brief period of Kambyses all that is referred to the tyranny of Polykrates is notorious, as is also the difficulty of reconciling with the usually accepted dates of Polykrates the chronological references to other people connected with the Samian tyranny. There is a similar problem about the dating of two of the great Samian works which Herodotus describes, the water tunnel of Eupalinos, and the Heraion of Rhoikos. The usual assumption that the Samian tyranny began with Polykrates' seizure of power in the middle or late thirties is not, I think, adequate to explain the evidence. There are various indications that the Samian tyranny, or a régime at Samos which closely resembled the subsequent tyranny, had begun in the generation before Polykrates, and that Polykrates himself, because of his spirited resistance to Persia, has been credited with what was in reality the achievement of a continuous policy which had been begun earlier, perhaps by his father.

Thanks to the kindness of its owner, Captain E. G. Spencer-Churchill, I am able to describe a remarkable Minoan bronze object found in Crete, in the shape of a galloping bull with an acrobatic figure turning a back somersault over his back, both modelled in the round. Views of the group as seen in its original state from the front and side are given in Figs. 1 and 2.

The length of the bull at full stretch is 0·156 m., and the height of the group is 0·114 m. Beneath the forefeet of the animal is a metal attachment of angular form, upright in front. It must in some way have served the same purpose of holding the bronze in position as the tangs or nail-like projections visible in the case of many figurines of the votive class. The bull may have been held in some kind of framework, and it is probable that the hind-legs were fixed in a similar way.