When Alexander turned back at the Hyphasis (Beas), how much did he know about what lay before him? And why, in the vulgate tradition, does he know of the distant Ganges and the distant kingdom of Magadha, but not of the next great river to the Beas, the Sutlej (a question often asked), or of anything else between the Beas and the Ganges? The answer is not difficult, once the elements of our tradition are sorted out chronologically; that, as in so many questions, is the real problem.

We possess one contemporary document bearing on the matter which has escaped notice, a satrapy-list or gazetteer of ‘Asia,’ i. e. Alexander's empire, dating from the last year of his life; very possibly Hieronymus used it by way of introduction to his history of the Successors, and it now forms the basis of Diodorus 18, 5 and 6. We can date this document with certainty. It includes the Indian provinces, and so is later than Alexander's return from India. The ‘Hyrcanian sea’ (not Caspian) is still a lake, so it is earlier than Patrocles. Chandragupta is unknown, so it is certainly earlier than Megasthenes and probably earlier than circ. 302. Porus is still alive, so it is earlier than 317.

In the huge mediaeval storehouse of miscellaneous fragments, compiled not later than the eighth century and now known by the title Liber Glossarum, there are not a few items dealing with the names of the months in various parts of the ancient world. Some of them (such as Helul in Macchabaeorum libro Augustus, qui apud nos mensis sextus, vocatur) come from the second book of the Instructiones of Eucherius (p. 153, ed. Wotke); some (such as Februarius nuncupatur a Februo, id est Plutone, cui eo mense sacrificabatur) are excerpts from Isidore's Etymologiae (v. 33); while a few (such as Aprilem vero, nullo deorum suorum nomine, sed de re propria, quasi Aperilem nominaverunt eo quod tunc plurimum germinis aperiatur in florem) can be traced to Isidore's De Natura Rerum (cap. 4). Among the remainder, however, which cannot be found in any of the definitely recognisable sources of the Liber Glossarum, there are 116 forming by themselves a distinct group. In these items a curt formula gives us the names by which the months were known in eleven different parts of the world, e. g.:—

At all times arms, tactics and strategy must be in one sense or another interdependent. But in modern warfare I imagine it would be generally agreed that strategy was less mutable and more important than tactics or armament. Even here there are obvious and notable exceptions to the general rule. In the Austro-Prussian War, it was the superiority of the Prussian breech-loading needle-gun to the Austrian muzzle-loader which won the battle of Königgratz, and so justified the bold strategy of Moltke. In the late war, the heavy German and Austrian howitzers broke down with unexpected rapidity the resistance of the elaborate Belgian fortresses, and thus compelled the retreat from Mons; again, the use of tanks, both heavy and light, on a large scale was a decisive factor in more than one of the great struggles that led up to the final defeat of the Germans. Nevertheless in modern warfare such differences are in the main temporary and accidental; if, for instance, the Germans began the war with superior heavy artillery, before its close they were surpassed by the Allies; if they secured an initial advantage by the use of poison gas, here too the Allies in the end showed themselves superior to the inventors of this deadly instrument of war. The advantage gained by inventors is mainly that of surprise, and is therefore evanescent, not permanent. In the main the fleets and armies on either side are equipped in the same way, and (if we leave out of account the morale, numbers and resources of the nations engaged) victories are gained and wars decided most of all by strategy, the massing of troops at the right time and place, and secondarily by tactics, the best use of them in actual battle.

By the courtesy of the Hon. Marshall Brooks I am able to publish here a red-figure kylix now in his possession at Portal, Tarporley.

Of the provenance of the vase nothing is known. The present owner has kindly supplied me with the following particulars, which are all that is known of its history since its discovery. It formed part of the collection of Greek vases and Greek and Etruscan antiquities belonging to Miss Caroline Augusta Tulk, of Failand House, Bristol, which in 1864, after her death, was sold by auction by Messrs. Fargus Brothers of Bristol. At this sale it was acquired by Mr. Edward Preston, from whose collection it passed by purchase into that of the present owner, a few years ago. In the Sale catalogue of 1864 the number of the kylix was 270. This is the only printed record of the vase which I have been able to trace. This fact is the more remarkable since the foot bears the name of the potter Pamphaios, already well known and associated with some of the most notable of Greek vase-paintings; and apart from this, the quality of the draughtsmanship on side A of the exterior is such as to claim attention on its own account. Fortunately, this side is the least damaged part of the vase; the rest has suffered a good deal from breakage and from restoration not too well carried out.

There is probably no sculptor as to whose work our notions have been more completely revolutionised in recent times than Myron. This change is due partly to new discoveries, but more to the identification of statues already known and exhibited. It is above all Myron's treatment of the head that has been hitherto inadequately realised, and for this the Massimi head, widely known through casts and photographs, is to a great degree responsible. The somewhat dull and heavy expression of this head does indeed remind us of Pliny's words, ‘ipse tarnen corporum tamen studiosus animi sensus non expressisse (videtur).” And the copyist who made this statue may very probably have been influenced by some such commonplace of artistic criticism. But the recent identification of two more extant works of Myron, the Perseus of the Antiquarium at Rome (Plate V) and the Athena in Frankfort, together with the replicas of the head of this last statue in Dresden and in the Vatican cellars, have completely changed our impressions as to his style, and are likely to have far-reaching results. Another statue that has recently come to be attributed generally to Myron is the well-known Cassel Apollo and its numerous replicas in various museums—notably a head in Vienna (Fig. 1) and another in the National Museum at Athens. All of these show the simplicity and severity of the art of the earlier part of the fifth century, together with a certain dignity and richness of effect which lead up to the work of Phidias. Above all, there is a fullness of intellectual and even spiritual life about them which contrasts strangely with the Massimi head. Correct inferences as to the style of Myron had already been drawn by Furtwängler and others. And it is particularly interesting to note in this connexion how Furtwängler traced the influence of Myron upon Cresilas. The expression which that sculptor gave to statues like the Diomed and the Amazon was especially admired by ancient critics in his wounded figures.

Fire-festivals are widespread throughout the world. They occur in Europe to the present day. Bonfires are kindled at certain times of the year, especially in Lent and on St. John's Day. Sometimes the fire is kindled on a hill or a mountain-top, sometimes in the plain or in the village; often a figure with varying names is burnt, and in some countries living beasts were once burnt in the flames of the pyre.

The fire-festivals of ancient Greece have not attracted much attention among scholars. The custom is not very common, it varies considerably in details and has been appropriated by different deities in different localities, so that the identity of the rite has been obscured. The best known cases are from Central Greece. In the cult of Artemis Laphria at Patrae, formerly at Calydon, living beasts—birds, boars, stags, wolves, bears, and their young—were thrown into the flames of a great pyre. In the cult of the same goddess at Hyampolis in Phocis human images and other paraphernalia were laid on the pyre. On the top of Mount Cithaeron a pyre was built with great care, a wooden image, called Hera, was brought thither in grand procession from the town of Plataeae, and sometimes other images from other Boeotian towns were added. On the spot each town offered an ox to Zeus and a cow to Hera; these were filled with incense, and together with the images were burnt on the pyre. Private people also made their offerings. It seems that a similar festival at Tithorea in Phocis was transferred to Isis.

I trust I may be allowed to answer briefly the long criticism which Professor Fr. Studniczka has devoted, in the first part of this volume, to my essay ‘Poet or Lawgiver.’ The views expressed in that criticism are not new to me. As soon as my paper appeared, I sent a copy of it to Dr. Studniczka; he answered me by a long letter giving his reasons for dissenting from my theory. Indeed—to use a phrase of his own—my learned contradictor felt so ‘confident’ in the strength of his arguments, that he proposed I should make use of them to write myself, in this Journal, a recantation of my essay—a liberal offer which I was unable to accept, not out of any personal feeling, but simply because a careful study of Dr. Studniczka's case has utterly failed to shake my well-founded conviction.

At the beginning of his paper, Dr. Studniczka remarks that, of all the arguments brought forward by me, the only one which might have decided the question ‘turns out to be a worthless relic from the dead stock of E. Q. Visconti's Greek Iconography.’ This is not stating the case fairly. I never pretended to upset the traditional theory by any sensational revelation of unknown material. I simply contended—and contend—that the existing documents had been wrongly interpreted, and some of them badly published; therefore, to facilitate a more correct interpretation, I collected them once more and laid them before the eyes of the reader, in accurate reproductions; as, for instance, the Florence herm of Solon, hitherto only known to archaeologists by the untrustworthy print in Visconti.

Although the coinage of Alexander the Great has of late years been intensively studied, and an immense advance made, almost entirely by the efforts of Mr. E. T. Newell, in its classification and dating, little attention has been paid to one detail which seems to me worthy of more careful consideration. This is the decoration of the bowl of the helmet of Athena on the gold coinage (Fig. 1). Müller (Alex, le Grand, p. 3) says merely that the bowl is most usually adorned with a serpent, sometimes with a running gryphon, rarely with a sphinx, and sometimes with nothing at all. He makes no attempt to explain these emblems, regarding them doubtless as purely decorative. There is no doubt that from quite early times such creatures had been used for purely ornamental purposes to support the crests of helmets. Between using them actually to bear the crest and as decoration in relief on the bowl there is no significant difference. If, therefore, no plausible explanation of the meaning of these emblems on the coinage of Alexander is forthcoming it is not unreasonable to suppose that they are purely decorative; but that position should not be assumed until the possibility of their having a meaning has been thoroughly explored.

Of the many resting-places assigned, by patriotic fancy, we must regretfully admit, rather than by well-authenticated traditions, to the last Greek emperor of Constantinople, none is more picturesque or more appropriate than the Golden Gate, through which, when the years are fulfilled, the victorious army of the Greeks is to enter the city and take possession once more of their ancient heritage. More than this, as Professor Polites has remarked, relatively ancient traditions of the saviour-king, who is to rise from the sleep of death at this historical moment, speak of him as dwelling ἐν τῇ πρώτῃ ἄκρᾳ τῆς Βυζαντίδος which may well enough be interpreted of the Golden Gate, standing as it does at the south-west corner of the triangular city.

Despite this appropriateness, we note in the traditions a certain discrepancy as to one essential point—the identity of the sleeper at the Golden Gate. He is either the emperor Constantine Palaiologos, or his predecessor John Palaiologos, or—S. John the Evangelist! All these traditions are historically almost equally incredible. But the intrusion of S. John, who, according to mediaeval traditions, sleeps without tasting of death in his tomb at Ephesus, is at least intelligible in this setting. The figure of John Palaiologos, on the other hand, seems to be no more than a bridge effecting the transition between the deathless saint, John, and the deathless emperor, Palaiologos, of popular tradition. This hypothetical development would be explicable if we could find such a combination as the existence at the Golden Gate of a body marvellously preserved, and therefore reputed that of a saint, which was ignorantly identified first for obvious reasons with S. John, and later swept into the long cycle of local legends concerning the sleeping saviour-king. It seems possible that some, though not all, of the missing links can be supplied.

It is by no means uncommon to find in Turkish, as in other Mahommedan lands, two or even more tombs attributed to the same person. The development of the supernumerary tomb or tombs is susceptible of several explanations, which are worth setting forth both for their intrinsic interest and as contributing to the knowledge of similar phenomena in other religions.

Duplicated tombs of perfectly historical persons are not unknown. Murad I., for instance, has authentic tombs at Brousa, his capital, and at Kossovo, where he fell. Tradition, which is probably in this case true, says that the latter contains his heart and bowels and the former his embalmed body. The grave of Suleiman Pasha, son of Orkhan, who died and was buried at Bulair, is claimed also by Yenishehr in Bithynia. The explanation here may be the same as in the case of Murad I.'s two graves, or it may be that Suleiman established a pious foundation at Yenishehr with a turbe intended to enshrine his remains. Similarly, the official grave of Osman, the founder of the dynasty, is at Brusa, though Sugut, his father's seat, lays claim to the honour.

In 1903 the Russian Archaeological Commission purchased a hydria from a dealer at Olbia which is now in the collection of ancient vases in the Hermitage (Fig. 1). Being considered by some authorities a forgery, the vase was not published in the Report of the Commission. I can assert that there is no doubt as to the authenticity of the vase. Apart from small injuries there are no important parts broken off or restored. The shape, but for some slight variations, is that of a typical late archaic hydria; sharp divisions are avoided, the shoulder being connected with the body by a soft curve and the same profile used for the foot. The ring above the foot is quite flat and not separated from the foot. On the lip of the vase there are two sharp projecting tongues instead of the “rotelle” of the archaic type (Fig. 2).

The handles are round and curved slightly upwards. The varnish is very bad and dull, being laid on very thin, so that the surface of the clay shows through. There are spots where the fire has turned the black varnish red. The clay is of a dull yellow colour, badly cleansed, with holes in the polished surface, evidently in consequence of small stones and pieces of glimmer which have broken away. The surface of the clay, in the panel reserved for the design, is of a reddish colour. The greater part of the foot, the stripes under the horizontal handles, the inner parts of all three handles and the outer part of the lip are left unvarnished. Judging from the quality of the clay and the special character of the varnish, the vase appears to be Etruscan work.

The great number of replicas of the youthful Athena known as the Rospigliosi type proves that the original was a famous statue. The bad state of preservation as well as variations in the different copies have made it difficult to date the original; the lack of good reproductions has also caused misunderstandings and has led astray the scholars who have dealt with the type. I think it necessary, therefore, to publish here a Hermitage fragment of very good workmanship, which is untouched and unrestored by any modern master. I shall not here undertake to explain the strange attributes—stars on the aegis, sea-monster in the Rospigliosi statue; the present purpose is merely to fix the date of the original.

The fragment reproduced here for the first time in fairly good photographs (Plates VII., VIII.) was found in 1823 in the so-called Vigna del Collegio Inglese on the Palatine at Rome, and formed part of the Museo Campana until 1861. The Emperor Alexander II bought a part of this collection for the Hermitage; among these marbles the fragment of the Athena statue found its way to the then newly-arranged Museum of Ancient Sculpture. Being only a fragment it was exhibited in a rather dark corner and could not be sufficiently well studied. A rough drawing in Gerhard's Antike Denkmäler and a very small illustration in Kieseritzky's Catalogue of 1901 were the only accessible publications.

This Index owes its origin to the deciphering of a folio printed in Greek in Paris in 1628. As other books came under my eye, I found that in addition to the ligatures which I had analysed there were still many others, and I was so beguiled by their manifold and often obscure forms that I went far afield in my researches. It was surprising, no less than disconcerting, that with the exception of Proctor, to whom reference will presently be made, no one in modern days had occupied himself with a phase of Greek typography which, owing to its crabbedness and elusive contractions, based no doubt upon the Tironian practices of the scribes, had estranged students from the study of later Greek literature.

Beginning with the Baskerville fount of 1763, I worked backwards, overtaking the Paris fount, till, with a Froben as a complication, I was entangled in an Aldine. This led me to Proctor's erudite monograph on The Printing of Greek in the Fifteenth Century, which was of great value, for by its means I was able to verify my own decipherings and at the same time to add to my list fresh examples from the texts and founts which he had analysed.

Apart from Proctor's work only three lists were accessible. The first was that of Aldus Manutius (1494–5), who gave clues to the more complicated sorts in one of his founts, adding that he passed over many ‘connexiones’ as they could be identified very easily. The next list was that printed at the end of the Greek Grammar of Ramus (Hanover, 1605), in which the Aldine ‘connexiones’ were included and others as well, a thoughtful proceeding if the Grammar was to be of any use, for it was printed almost entirely in ligatures.