Why was Athens called the City of the Violet Crown? The question, though often asked, has not—so far as I am aware—been satisfactorily answered. Two widely divergent and mutually exclusive explanations already hold the field: but the one is open to grave objections, and the other, though true, is not the whole truth. There is therefore room for a fresh attempt to throw light upon the matter. It will be advisable to begin by summarising the essential facts of the case, then to review the hypotheses that have been framed to account for them, and finally to propound, if possible, a more adequate solution of the problem.

The admitted facts are these. Pindar in one of his dithyrambs composed later, perhaps several years later, than 480 B.C. praised Athens for her prowess in the war with Persia.

It has always been usual to approach the question of Thucydides' narrative of Pylos and Sphacteria with all its difficulties on the assumption that the main object of Eurymedon and the Athenian fleet was originally the affairs of Corcyra and Sicily, and afterwards the rescue of Demosthenes and the garrison of Pylos. Yet this view involves a manifest contradiction. Eurymedon was in a hurry; he left Demosthenes with an insignificant force, with the absolute certainty that he would be attacked and that he himself would have to come back and help him; all this must have been thought of beforehand ; why then did he leave him? or having left him, why did he come back to help him, stultifying thereby his own plan of operations?

The answer may perhaps be found in strategical considerations. The expedition was first fitted out with a view to interference in the affairs of Sicily; but there intervened a more immediate object, for a chance presented itself of catching the Peloponnesian fleet. Let us assume therefore that Eurymedon's main purpose was the destruction of the Peloponnesian fleet wherever found, and then let us see what this involves (i) in regard to the strategy at Pylos, (ii) in regard to the local difficulties in Thucydides. It will be found to have the greatest influence upon both.

At the highest and narrowest point of the low pass between Volo and Velestino, ten kilometres from the former and seven from the latter, upon a low spur projecting into the pass, is situated the tumulus known by the Turkish name of Piláf-Tepé. This tumulus is different from all the other numerous tumuli of Thessaly not only because of its greater size and more conical shape, but also in that it is placed upon a hill while the rest lie in the plain. These peculiarities, combined with the fact that it is situated nearly halfway along the high road between the ancient Pherae and its port Pagasae, were sufficient to point it out as a promising site for excavation. Local theorists were divided between three opinions. Some said the tumulus was prehistoric, others suggested that it contained the tomb of some prince of Pherae, while others again insisted upon attributing it to the Turkish occupation.

Among the problems furnished us by that curious and interesting episode of ancient history—the collision of Hellenism and Israel under the fourth Antiochos—is the apparently flat contradiction between the conduct of Antiochos, as it appears in the Book of Daniel, and his conduct, as presented to us by classical authorities. It is not that opposite judgments are passed upon a personality or a policy from the standpoint of a worshipper of Jehovah and of a Greek observer—there would be nothing to surprise us in that. If the Book of Daniel did no more than denounce Antiochos for impiety towards the God of Israel, its statements would create no difficulty. But, as a matter of fact, it does not stop short there. It is an additional touch of horror in the portrait of the heathen king, that he not only ‘speaks marvellous things against the God of gods’ (ch. xi. 36)—this we were prepared to find—but that he ‘magnifies himself above every god.’ ‘Neither shall he regard the gods of his fathers, nor the Desire of women’ (probably Tanimuz), ‘nor regard any god: for he shall magnify himself above all’ (v. 37). Now one of the things about Antiochos IV., which most impressed the Greek world, was his profuse devotion to the Hellenic gods.

Every large museum contains some portraits, which can with certainty be assigned to the Flavian period: a layman indeed can recognize the ladies of this age by the high and ugly coiffure then fashionable, but the majority of these are quite second-rate works. Not even the glamour of an imperial name will awaken much interest in such. But there are a few others really of superlative excellence which are consequently, as the commoner chronological sign-posts are wanting, assigned in most catalogues to whatever period the individual writer regards as the ‘best period’ of Roman art. Three or four of them I have ventured to select and I have added notes upon one or two others, which help to explain the group and justify further the date to which I assign them. No doubt the list could be extended considerably, but a few will perhaps suffice as a beginning, if they are typical of the best which the age could produce.

In this paper I propose to inquire what estimate of the tragic poet Agathon may be derived from the plays of Aristophanes; to consider how far the view thus inferred can be confirmed from independent sources of information; and to touch lightly upon the general question of literary criticism in Aristophanes.

Aristophanes possesses so many higher titles to fame that it is easy to forget that he may from one point of view be regarded as the earliest of literary critics, and that to his poems, either directly, or indirectly through the scholiasts, we owe much of our knowledge of certain aspects of Greek literary history. It is true that, as a poet-critic, he confines his criticisms almost entirely to the poets. But among these he refers by name to some forty or fifty,—one or two of them epic poets, a few lyric, a larger number writers of comedy, and a still larger number writers of tragedy.

As supplementary to the papers by Mr. Myres and myself in this Journal (vol. xvi. p. 188 and 241) I here give the results of two short journeys in Eastern Karia and Southern Lydia (see the Map, Pl. VI.), made by the aid of funds granted me by the Hellenic Society.

A.—Ancient Sites.

I proceed from West to East, starting from Tekke Kale, the most easterly site described in our former papers (see route-map, p. 58).

Divlin Kale, at a short distance from Tekke Kale, is a tower of isodomous masonry. It is situated near the most frequented road across the Mazin Dagh, the road from Chesme to the Maeander plain. It commands no extensive view and cannot, like Tekke Kale, have served as a beacon station. The construction differs from that of the beacon-stations Tekke Kale, Attaulusu Kale and Kurundere Kale, the corners not being ornamented with that draft, which is characteristic of these and of the military masonry of circ. 300 B.C. Divlin Kale is of earlier date, and its raison ďêtre was to protect this not unimportant line of road.

During my last visit to England, which was chiefly devoted to preparatory work for the forthcoming volume of my Corpus of Sarcophagi, Mr. Cecil Smith was kind enough to draw my attention to a small series of Roman sarcophagi which Mr. Astor has at Clieveden, and which, after the manner of Roman amateurs of the Renaissance, he has arranged in the garden of the property. As this important communication only reached me on the last day of my stay in London, and as it was impossible for me to delay my return to Germany, I was unfortunately obliged to abandon any idea of visiting Clieveden; but through the friendly intervention of Mr. Cecil Smith, and by the kindness of the owner, I was enabled to obtain excellent photographs which enable one with sufficient accuracy to form an opinion as to the style and condition of the originals. Mr. Cecil Smith further suggested that the Editors of this Journal would welcome a short notice of these interesting monuments in its pages: an honour for which I wish to express my warmest thanks. For the rest, I would ask that the following remarks be taken as an appendix to Michaelis' Ancient Marbles in Great Britain: in the case of the Theseus sarcophagus alone, which is in many respects peculiar, I have been obliged to go more into detail.

No myth is more familiar than that of Pandora, none perhaps has been so completely misunderstood. Pandora is the first woman, the beautiful mischief: she opens the forbidden box, out comes every evil that flesh is heir to; hope only remains. The box of Pandora is proverbial, and that is the more remarkable as she never had a box at all.

The myth of the making of Pandora we may reserve for the present and focus our attention on the famous ‘box.’ ‘Jupiter gave her a beautiful box,’ says Lemprière (p. 543). ‘In the house of Epimetheus was a closed jar;’ says the last edition of Smith's Classical Dictionary, but a little further down we read: ‘later writers relate that the box contained all the blessings of the gods.’ The reference given for this statement is Hyginus, Fab. cxlii., in which there is no mention whatever of any jar, casket or box, only an account of the creation and descendants of Pandora.