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ScD., LL.D. (Aberdeen), Litt*D; (Dublin and Manchester), F.B.A. 



6 AUGUST 1913 

• 4 


E. C. QUIGGIN, M.A., Ph.D. 


Cambridge : 

at the University Press 



First £dHiom^ 19 13 
Reprmttd 19 14 

JN the autumn of 191 2 it was determined to celebrate 
the sixtieth birthday of the scholar in whose honour this 
miscellany has been prepared. The number of Professor 
Ridgewafs friends^ and the extraordinary range of his 
interests^ made a choice of contributors both necessary and 
difficult. Many of those who were first approached were in 
the end prevented by the pressure of official or other duties 
from taking part in the work; several others^ who first 
beard of it when a circular was issued last June^ were 
eager to join in the project^ but the book had already outgrown 
the limt of size which had been fixed by agreement with 
the Syndics of the UniversUy Press. Many more friends 
therefore of Professor Ridgeway are to be regarded as taking 
part in this tribute to him than those whose names appear as 
writers of papers in the volume. 

For the anthropological chapters the editor sought the advice 
of Dr A. C. Haddon, F.R.S., and Dr W. H. R. Rivers, 
F.R.S. The first half of the book was planned in consultation 
with Professor R. S. Conway, Litt.D., and Mr £. Harrison, 
M.A.; but the co-operatkn of these two scholars was by 
no means confined to the classical chapters, and it is largely 
owing to their active assistance and whole-hearted sympathy 
that the editor has been able to carry the work to a successful 

The staff of the University Press have earned' the gratitude 
of all friends of Professor Ridgeway by helping to produce 
a volume worthy of the occasion. 

Naviinber 1913* 




Preface v 

List of Illustrations . . . ^ ix 

List of Guarantors . xii 

List of Subscribers xiii 

English Verses bj A. D. Godlby xxi 

Gred: Verses hj John Harrowbr ...••. xxiv 


R. S. Conway. The Structure of the Sixth Book of the Aenesd i 
J. I. Bbare. a new clue to the Order of the Platonic Dialogues 27 
L. C. H. Purser. Notes on Cicero Ad Atticum XI . • ,62 
H. J. Browne. Aristotle's Theory of Poetic Metre • . • 80 

E. Harrison. AIA AIOON and lovem Lapidem ... 92 

A. S. F. Gow. Elpis and Pandora in Hesiod's fVorks and Days 99 

G. F. Hill. Was it the Mint of Smyrna ? . , . .no 

A. W. GoMME. The Ancient Name of Gla . . . .116 

J. T. Sheppard. The Partheneion of Alkman . • . .124 

J. E. Harrison. Sophocles Ichneutae Col. ix i — 7 and the hpd}- 

futfov of Kyliene and the Satyrs 136 

F. M. CoRNFORD. The ^Kirap%al and the Eleusinian Mysteries 153 

R. M^G. Dawkins. a re-cut gem from Melos • . .167 

P. N. Urs. An early black-figure vase from Rhitsona in Boeotia 171 

D. S. Robertson. The Authenticity and Date of Lucian De 

Saltatione . • 180 

£. M. W. TiLLYARD. An Attic Lekythos from Sicily . .186 

W. M. Flinders Petrie. Some Royal Signets. . .192 

J. P. Mahaffy. The Arithmetical Figures used by Greek writers 

during the Classical Period 195 

O. L. Richmond. The Temples of Apollo and Divus Augusttis 

on Roman Coins 198 

A. B. Cook. Nephelokokkygia 213 

W. M. L. Hutchinson. Two Notes on Nemean III . • 222 

W. H. Duke. Three Fragments of Heracleides the Critic • 228 

J. H* MouLTON. Notes on Iranian Ethnography • • . 249 

Sir C. Hercules Read. A Bactrian Winged Lion • . .261 

F. W. Green. On an Early Dynastic Vase in the Fitzwillianv-- 
Museum 266 

R. C BosANQUET. Some Axes and a Spear «... 269 




A. J. B. Wace. a Byzantine Inscription from Okhridha • 280 

M. R. James. Ovidius De Mirabilibus Mundi .... 286 

R. A. S. Macalistsr. The Colophon in the Lindisfarne Gospels. 299 

A. Mawer. The Scandinavian Kingdom of Northumbria • • 306 

H. M. Chadwick. Some German River-names • • • 3^5 

O. J. Bergin. Poem by Gofraidh Fionn (3 Ddlaigh . . 323 

E. C. QuiGGiN. O'Conor's House at Cloonfree • . . 333 


E. Thurston. The Number Seven in Southern India • . 353 

T. A. Joyce. The Weeping God 365 

S. A. Cook. The Evolution and Survival of Primitive Thought 375 
J. G. Frazer. The Serpent and the Tree of Life . . .413 
W, Boyd Dawkins. The Settlement of Britain in the Prehistoric 

W. Wright. The Mandible of Man from the Morphological 

and Anthropological Points of View 435 

C. G. Seligmann. Ancient Egyptian Beliefs in Modern Egypt 448 

W. L. H. Duckworth. The Problem of the Galley Hill 

Skeleton 458 

W. H. R. Rivers. The Contact of Peoples .... 474 

G. Elliot Smith. The Evolution of the Rock-cut Tomb and 

the Dolmen 493 

J. Rendel Harris. The Dioscuri in Byzantium and the 

Neighbourhood • • 547 

C. S. Myers. The Beginnings of Music 560 

Henry Balfour. Kite-fishing . . • ... . . 583 

A. C. Haddon. The Outrigger Canoes of Torres Straits and 

North Queensland . . . • . . . 609 

F. W. Hasluck. Constantinata 635 

R. Y. Tyrrell. Versus Eupolidei 639 

Complimentary Dinner to Professor Ridgeway, July 31, 1913. 

Menu and List of Persons Present 645 

Index of Proper Names compiled by A. H* Quiggim . • 649 



Portrait of William Ridgeway Frontispiice 

Gate of Honour, Gonville and Caius College, from a sketch 

by A. Beresford Pite facing xxi 

Late red-figured krater 137 

Hill-cave 138 

'Treasury'. • • 142 

The infknt Hermes 147 

The resurrection oS Glaukos 148 

Melian Gem 170 

Rhitsona facing 178 

Attic Lekythos 186 

y, „ bitwegn 186-7 

Some Royal Signets facing 192 

Coin of Tiberius ^ 199 

Coin of Caligula „ 199 

Sketch Map to Ulustrate the site proposed for the Temple 

of Divus Augustus • 212 

The judgment of Paris . . -^ facing 220 

A Bactrian Winged Lion ,, 262 

Early Djmastic Vase facing 266, 267 

Axe from Achaia „ 270 

Axe from Campania •••...••,, 270 

Spear-head and Spear-butt 273 

99 » » ••..•••. 274 

Four-sided spear-head 276 

Athena with qpear 277 

The Site of 0*Conor*s house facing 334 

Rathdog^an » 334 

Central Figure from the Monolithic gateway, Tiahuanaco, 

Bolivia „ 368 



Vase-painting Pacasmayo valley, Peru • • • . • facing 368 

Pottery Figure from the Sacred Lake of Guatabita, Colombia ,, 369 

Pottery head from a vase, Ecuador •••..,, 369 

Painted Pottery from the Calchaqui region ..••,, 369 

Copper plaque; Catamarca, Argentina . • . • „ 370 

Head of a wooden idol from Jamaica • • • • „ 370 

Stone head from Santa Lucia Cozumalhuapa . , . ,, 370 

Chac; Ik Glyph; Chac Glyph „ 370 

Quetzalcoatl as Eecatl • 99 372 

Ciuapipiltin ,, 372 

Xochipilir ,, 372 

Head of the Moon-goddess in the Maize-house . . • ,, 372 

Lower Jaw of an Amphibian 440 

Jaw of Dog when mouth almost closed 442 

91 19 19 » widely open 442 

Shrine of Sayed Hassen El Merghani, Bara, Kordofiin facing 451 

Boat suspended in tree, Luxor ,,451 

Side view of distorted Saxon skull 468 

Front „ „ „ 469 

Cast of the Galley Hill skull 470 

View of Saxon skull from above 471 

View (from above) of a cast of the Galley Hill skull . . . 472 

Side view of a cast of the Galley Hill skull . • • . 473 

Plan of a Protodynastic Mastaba 505 

Diagram of a section of a mastaba . . . . . 505 

Plan of a Nubian grave 510 

„ ,, an Algerian stone circle 510 

Diagram representing in section the essential features of the 

fully developed stone mastaba 524 

Plan of same 525 

Diagram representing in section the hypothetical first stage of 

degradation of the mastaba 527 

Plan of same 528 

Plan and transverse section of a Sardinian * Giant's Tomb ' . 529 

Plan of another Sardinian *■ Giant's Tomb ' . . , , 530 

The chapel of offerings of a Sardinian ^ Giant's Tomb ' . • 530 

Plan of an Algerian mastabaASkt superstructure • • 53^ 

Plan of the ^grotte du Courjonnet' 534 

Kite-fishing— -Singapore • 584 



Kite-fishing — ^Java . 585 

Banda Islands 586 

Karakelang Island 587 

Dobu Island ........ 588 — 591 

Marshall Bennet Islands 592 

New Georgia, Solomons 593 

Malaita 594 — 597 

Santa Anna, Solomons 597 

Reef Islands, Santa Cruz .... 598, 599 

England 606 

Map illustrating Geographical Distribution of Kite-fishing • . 608 

Section of a Torres Straits canoe 609 

Canoe from Sialum, G. N. C* 612 

Canoe at Sumai, Kiwaiy Fly River 613 

Batavia river canoe, N* Queensland 614 

Outrigger boom of a Batavia river canoe 615 

Supporting spar to the outrigger boom and stick attachment 

of a ts!fu canoe 61$ 

Claremont canoe, N. Queensland 617 

Cape Bedford canoe^ N. Queensland 618 

Moluccan attachments ..•«•••. 622 

Double Moluccan attachments 622 

Haknaheran attachments 623 

Torres Straits attachments 624 

Attachments of a Sikaiana canoe • 624 

Section fsf z, tip canoe, Nissan 625 

Stick attachments 626 

Aoba canoe, New Hebrides 627 

Decorated bow of a canoe sketched at Mabuiag, Torres Straits 632 

Coins facing 637 




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A. C. Haddon 

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Pite, Prof. Beresford, Royal College of ArtSy S. Kensington 

Postgate, Prof. J. P., Litt.D. 

Potter, Vcn. Beresford Potter, Milfordy Surrey 

Prior, Prof. E. S. 

Pulvertaft, Rev. T. J., M.A., Ronda^ Braxted Parky Streatham 

Purser, L. C. H., Litt.D., Trinity College, Dublin 

Ransome, A., M.D., Sunnyhursty Bmtrmmouth 

Rapson, Prof. £. J. 

Rawlinson, J. F. P., K.C., LL.M., M.P. (4 copies) 

Read, Sir C. Hercules, LL.D., British Museum 

Reid, Prof. R. W., M.D., 37 Albyn Placey Aberdeen 

Riches, T. H., M.A. 

Richmond, O. L., M.A. 

Ridgeway, Col. R. K., V.C, C.B., 53 The Avenuey EaRngy W. 

Riley, Rt Rev. C. O. L., D.D., Bishop of Perth, W. Australia 

Rivers, W. H. R., M.D. 

Robertson, D. S., M.A. 

Robinson, William, M.A., The India Office 

RoUeston, T. W., M.A., Ardeeviny Christchurch Ready Hampstead 

Rome, American Academy, Via Vicenza 5 

Rome, Kais. Deutsches Archeol. Institut, Monte Tarpeo 28 

Roscoe, Rev. J., M.A., Ovingtouy fVatton 

Rose, Prof. H. J., 840 Lome Crescenty Montreal 


Ross, Prof. C. F., Meadville^ Pa. 

Ross, His Honour Judge John 

Rycc, Geo., J.P., 50 Essex Street^ Dublin 

Salford, Royal Museum and Library, Pai Park 

Samuels, A. W., K.C.| LL.D., 80 Mirrion Sq.y Dublin 

Scala, Prof. Rudolf von, ArcbHoL-epigr. Institute Univ. Innsbruck 

Schetelig, Dr Haakon, Birgen^ Norway 

Schneider, Rev. G. A., M.A. 

Scully, Darby, J.P., Sihtrfart^ Fitbard^ Co. Tipperarj 

Seligmann, C. G., M.D. 

Sdwyn, Rev. £• C, D.D., Hindbioi^ HasUnun 

Sheppard, L T., M.A. (2 copies) 

Sikes, £. £., M.A. 

Smith, A H., M.A, F.S.A., British Museum 

Smith, Prof. G. Elliot, M.D., F.RS., The Unvueruty^ ManciesOr 

Steele, Laurence, M.A., 18 Crostbwaiu Parkj Kingstown 

Stewart, Rev. H. F., B.D. 

Stockholm, Kungl. Biblioteket 

Stokes, Prof. G. J., M.A., 5 Femhurst Villas^ CoUegt Road^ Cork 

Stratton, F. J. M., M.A. 

SuUivan, W. C, M.D., Rampton Asylum^ South Levorton^ Lines* 

Sunmer, C P., M.A. 

Swete, Rev. Prof. H. B., D.D. 

Sydney University Library, N.S.W. 

Talbot, P. Amaury, Abbots Morton^ Inkberrew^ JForcestershire 

Tapp, W. M., LL.D., Queen Anne Mansions^ St James* Parky S.W. 

Taylor, Miss M. £. J., Royal Holloway Collegey Englefield Green 

Temple, Sir Richard, Bart., The Nasby Wercester 

Tench, Miss M. T. A., 4 Avonmore Gardens^ JV. 

Thsuie, Prof. G. D., LL.D., Sc.D., University College^ London 

Thilenius, Prof., Mus. f. Vulkerkunde^ Hamburg 

Thompson, M. S., M.A., Armstrong College^ Newcastle-^n^Tyne 

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Trinity College Library 

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Venn, John, Sc.D., F.R.S. 
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Wace, A. J. B., M.A. 

Waldstein, Sir Charles, Litt.D. 

Wallis, Rt Rev. F. W., D.D. 

Walters, Prof. W. C. F., King's Collegia London 

Wardale, J. R., M.A. 

Wellington, N.Z., Dominion Museum 

Westermarck, Prof. E. 

Whibley, Charles 

Whibley, L., M.A. 

White, Miss, Alexandra College^, Dublin 

Whiter Prof. J. W., Harvard University^ Camhridgt^ Mast. 

Whitton, H. M., Drommartin Lodge^ Dundrum 

Wilamowit^Moellendor£F, Prof. Ulrich von, Berlin 

Wilkins, Rev. Prof. G., Trinity College^ Dublin 

Wolters, Prof. Paul, Thorwaldsenstr, ii, AfUnchsn 

Wright, W. Aldis, Litt.D. 

Wright, Prof. W., M.D., London Hospital 

WOnsch, Prof., Raesfeldstr. 30, Munster i. //^. 

Yale, Co-op. Corporation 
Yale University Library 


Confess y ye studious! who with eager zest 

Ready marky and leamy and sometimes een digesty — 

ConfesSy ye leamedy who your hours devote 

To scorning Mommsen and neglecting Grotey — 

Whatever the blisSy origines to traccy 

To guess at Timey and speculate on PlacCy 

Our rude forefatherSy with their narrower vieWy 

Were less distracted by the Past than you. 

In happy ignorance their days were spent: 

They had no inkling what Pelasgians meant: 

For tbemy Greek History spread its simple storey 

They knew their HellaSy and they knew no morcy — 

The blue Aegean in that age of peace 

Held nought for them but Histories of Greece: 

The mythic hero and the fabled sage 

Were still Athenians of a different agCy — 

Minos was Pericles in embryoy 

And Rbadamantbus judged in 6 17 to. 

Ken when Max MulleVy celebrated man I 

Conceived the Past upon a different plaUy 

"Divulged the facty — and pleased the world tberewitby 

That Agamemnon was a Solar Mytby 

And first presented to our mental view 

The glorious certainty that nought was truey — 

E^en then each legend howsoever designed 

Was still a figment of the Grecian mind: 

No part of dim antiquity but it 

Was madfy or fancied^ by Hellenic wit. 

xxii A. D. GODLEY 


Where ancient scholars all unskilled to seek 

Knew but the country of the classic Greeks 

That world of Hellas now we see at last 

A transient phase ^ a moment in the past : 

We view the Grecian in his proper place^ 

Heir to the legends of some alien race : 

With eyes to see^ with genius to impart^ 

Childlike in wonder^ half divine in art^ 

Clothing with random fancies of his own 

The mighty relics of an age unknown : 

Though but for him the world had ne^er been taught 

How Minos ruled and great Achilles fought^ 

Tet this great Fact transparently appears — 

That (save the trifling accident of years) 

We to Antiquity are nearer far 

Than Hellas was^ — at leasts Professors are; — 

For as to Crete^ whate^er^s revealed or hid^ 

Berlin knows more than Athens ever did. 


Far from the Greek our modem scholars roam: 

They trace the shy Pelasgian to his home: 

With names of fear the startled world resounds ^ 

Pre-Hittite pots and post-Minoan mounds : 

As Homer^s heroes in a mist concealed 

Deal blow on bloWy while darkness veils the fieldy 

So battle still 'mid prehistoric mists 

Ethnologists and Archaeologists^ 

Where shifting Vigours show their endless quest 

Glimpses of empires^ and conceal the rest. 

What mighty deeds are perpetrated there ! 

Programs and Theses hurtle through the air: 

Exploded creeds and doctrines newly slain 

Rise from the slaughter and contend again : 

Unhoped-for data realms unknown create^ 

And History's course is altered while you wait: 

None winSy none loses in that endless fighty 

Where none is wrongs since none can e'er be right. 

A. D. GODLEY xxiu 

Perchance some digger in a site forgot 

Constructs new nations from a Delian poty — 

Not long be triumphs^ ere the vast design 

Is dashed to dust by one emended tine! 

What though the student whom such themes attract 

Pines for an ounce of undiluted Fact ? 

Wbj ask for more f he sees with pleased surprise 

Potential vistas bid from earlier eyeSy 

And knows as muchy — be this bis comfort stilly 

Of Fact unquestioned — as his grandsons will. 


*7» well to find what all acknowledge true: 

Tet, that once stated^ what remains to do f 

Grant Truth historic by the world received^ 

Uke Euclid proved^ like Holy fVrit betieved^ — 

Ctntld sages drop their acrimonious pens 

To sport like children on eacb others* dens^ 

No more eacb rivoTs theories destroy. 

Accept one doctrine for the taU of Troy , 

fVbat then remains^ when everyone agrees^ 

For teamed men in Universities t 

Dull were the worlds intolerably flat : 

Tetf Heaven be thanked! there's no great fear of that. 

Small fear of that I ff^bile wild researchers strive 

How 2 + 2 may best amount to 5, 

Tet are there those who broadly can survey 

The mightiest movements of a distant day ; 

Who trace those nations to their earliest home 

That fought at Ilion and that founded Rome : 

Who^ while a lance (or bead) remains to breaks 

Seek the large issucy and the nobler stake: 

Of tedious pedants though the world be full^ 

While RTDGEJVAT tives^ Research can ne'er be dull! 

A. D. GoDLEY. 




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Zoifi Kai fiiOTOv Tepfxa iroXvxpoviov. 

John Harrower. 



The Sixth Book of the Aeneid represents the climax 
of VergiFs ambition. From his schoolboy days when he 
devoted the central part of his Cu/ex^ to a description of 
the underworld ; through the early prime of his poetry 
when three times over in the Georgics he turned eagerly 
to and reluctantly away from the theme, not without 
leaving the immortal story of Orpheus and Eurydice to 
be preserved in a place not its own ; to the full maturity 
of his power in the Aeneid where he cannot exclude it 
even from the pictures upon the shield of Aeneas, — the 
subject haunted his imagination and claimed a place in 
his deepest thought. And in the greatest of all the Books 
of the Aeneidy which, as Mr Mackail has pointed out, 
reaches out before and after its own province, summing 
up and linking together the whole Epic in a way at- 
tempted in no other part of it, we have the ripest fruit 
of his genius. If there is any part of Vergil's writing in 
which we can be sure, despite his own last request, that 
we have his work elaborated to the farthest degree which 
the poet's life was long enough to permit, it is the Sixth 

^ This paper it based on a lecture delivered at the Rylands Library, December ii, 
1912. Professor Ridgeway's brilliant lervtce to the interpretation of Classical literature 
is a part of the great debt which this volume is written to acknowledge. 

* For a demonstration of the authenticity of this poem from internal evidence, see 
Misi S. £. Jackson's paper. Class, Quarurfy (191 1), p. 163 | the concordant voice of 
namerous and competent external witnesses is lucidly analysed in Class. Rev. zzii. 
(1 908), p. 72, by Mr J. W. Mackail. To him, to Mr Warde Fowler and to Prof W. B. 
Anderson I am indebted for valuable criticism. 


Book of the Aeneid — the last of the three which we know ^ 
he read. to the Emperor. 

Of the reasons for which the Book was placed where 
it stands in the poem, two may be mentioned. The first 
has been pointed out more than once in recent years ; 
namely, that the sanctity of the process of enlightenment 
which Aeneas is called to pass through lifts the succeeding 
half of the story to a higher plane ; and, in particular, 
prepares the reader for a higher note of magnanimity and 
gentleness in the hero Aeneas himself*. The second 
reason has probably been felt by many readers of the 
Odyssey who have compared its ending with that of 
Vergil's epic. It is true that we could ill spare the 
mutual waypiopuTK of Odysseus and Laertes in the twenty- 
fourth Book ; but it wiU hardly be contended that the 
rest of the Book, or even that this charming picture itself, 
does not appear rather as an anti-climax in the story after 
the slaying of the suitors. Perhaps it would be truer to 
say that the end of the Homeric Epic is essentially 
undramatic, just because it was essential to the story to 
make the home-coming complete in some of its more 
tender and simple details. Vergil's Epic which was to 
foretell the foundation of a world-wide Empire, and the 
mission of Rome in the life of mankind, must, in point of 
time, reach out beyond the mere settlement of Aeneas in 
Italy. But in order to avoid this non-dramatic conclusion 
Vergil placed his forward-reaching chapter not at the end 
but in the centre of his poem ; so that the story of the 
Epic itself ends with a climax second to none in tragic 
poetry — the death in single combat of the last opponent 
of the whole providential design. 

This cardinal importance of the Sixth Book has been 
realised by modern scholars. Professor Norden's monu- 

* Suet. nt. 31. 

' Contrast for instance his impulse to slay Helen {Aen. 11. 575) with the defensire 
attitude of his fighting in Book x. 11. 310 — 360 (up to the point at which the death of 
Pallas rouses in him the blind rage of battle) ; or with his impulse to spare Turnus 
(xii. 940). [But did Vergil mean to keep the Helen passage ? J. W. M.] 


mental edition of the Book might alone stand as evidence 
of this recognition even in a country where, by some 
strange freak of local sentiment, the reverence which 
Goethe, Schiller and Lessing felt for Vergil was succeeded 
by a period of comparative neglect \ He would be a bold 
man who should hope to add much to the stores of 
illustration or to the judicial lucidity of the historical and 
philosophical interpretation which Norden^s great com- 
mentary offers. Yet there still remain, I believe, some 
points of view, not all of them confined to details, from 
which fresh light may be gained for a study of the Book 
as a poem, and a poem complete in itself. Upon the 
genesis of this poem in its present shape, and on the 
historical, traditional, local, in a word, the external reasons 
which probably led Vergil to include all the various 
incidents in his plot, Norden's collection of evidence is 
invaluable ; and no interpretation can be adequate which 
fails to take account of such considerations. Vergil 
worked like a goldsmith, picking his precious metals and 
jewels from a thousand different sources and shaping his 
design with the knowledge of many earlier designs before 
him. And yet the master-inspiration, the guiding crea- 
tive spirit of his craft, was something greater than all his 
material. Some of us at least are convinced that in such 
a book as this, there is no single point which is not 
directly related to VergiFs centrd purpose ; which was 
not somehow a channel for currents that flowed from the 
deepest springs of his poetry. 

It is difficult to dispense with these somewhat abstract 
statements as a preface to the considerations for which 
this paper is intended to plead. But the truth of any 
particular contention will, I hope, be measured by the 
reader according to the degree in which it may appear to 
make the particular passages under discussion more intelli- 

^ This neglect is now happily over. Heinze has earned the gratitude of all 
indents of Vergil by hit sympathetic exposition of Verbis Epucht Technik ; and the 
Rseirch of the late Professor Skutsch {Aus Fergils FrUkKeit) has opened a new chapter 
i& the history of Latin poetry. 

I — 2 


gibic, more significant, more like what lovers of Vergil 
know him to have been, however roughly their con- 
ception of the poet's feeling may be put into words. One 
safe method of estimating what Vergil most keenly wished 
to convey is also a simple one ; namely, to glance at the 
earlier history of the conceptions with which he dealt. 

The pictures of the After-world in Homer and Plato 
stand out from the mass of earlier imaginings. They 
represent very well, as Norden (p. 5) has pointed out, the 
two mainly independent and partly competing theories or 
accounts current in antiquity, which may be called, one 
the Mythological, and the other that of the Philosophers 
or Theologians. 

The NeKi/ia of the Odyssey is constructed in a very 
simple way. When the hero comes * to the limits of the 
world, the deep flowing stream of ocean, where was the 
land and city of the Cimmerians, shrouded in mist and 
cloud ' (that is, of course, the Northern seas, as reflected 
in the stories of early sailors) he and his crew hold their 
way along the stream ' until they came to a waste shore, 
and the groves of Persephone, tall poplar trees and willows 
that shed their fruit before the season.* Then beside a 
rock which is the meeting-place of the two infernal rivers, 
Acheron and Cocytus, Odysseus dug a trench, a cubit 
long and broad, and poured into it the proper drink 
offerings •to all the dead,' beseeching their * strengthless 
heads ' that they would rise and speak to him ; then the 
sheep are sacrificed and the dark blood flows forth into 
the trench. Many spirits he sees, ^ of brides and youths 
unwed, of old men who had seen many evil days, and of 
tender maidens with grief yet fresh at heart ; and many 
there were that had been slain in fight with their bloody 
mail about them.' First of all the spirits came Elpenor, 
who had fallen from the upper floor of Circe's house, 
missing the ^ long ladder ' in the blindness brought on him 
by draughts of her wine, and whose body had been left 
unburied when Odysseus and his comrades sailed away. 


Odysseus promises him due burial, but he kept both him 
and all the other spirits back from the trench, where they 
longed to drink the blood, until the spirit of the Theban 
prophet Teiresias came to give him the counsel he was in 
need of. 

Then follows a long series of conversations with a 
succession of shades ; first the hero's mother ; then a string 
of Fair Women with pretty Theban names. Tyro, Antiope, 
Alcmene, Epicaste, Chloris, Maira, Clymene, Eriphyle, 
and the rest ; and then Agamemnon and Achilles with 
his famous reply to words of courtly comfort : * Nay, 
speak not comfortably to me of death, great Odysseus. 
Rather would I live on ground as the hireling of another, 
with a landless man who hath no great livelihood, than 
bear sway among all the dead that be departed/ Odysseus, 
however, gives hini news of his son's prowess, and Achilles 
* departs with great strides, along the mead of asphodel 
rejoicing/ Next Odysseus sees his old rival Ajax, the son 
of Telamon, who refuses to answer, remembering still his 
grudge. There this particular lay must once have ended, 
and even within this section it is clear that at least the 
catalogue of the ghosts of Fair Women did not belong to 
the earliest form of the story. There follows at the end 
of the book an interesting passage which gives us a series, 
no longer of interviews, but of mere portraits — introduced 
quite baldly by the formula *and then I saw there'; — 
King Minos giving judgment ; * Orion driving the wild 
beasts together over the mead, the very beasts that himself 
had slain on the lonely hills' ; then of the various criminals 
undergoing punishment (Tityos, Tantalus, and Sisyphus) ; 
and finally, a curious interview with the ghost of Heracles 
who, however, we are warned, is not Heracles himself, 
because Heracles himself is living with the gods. 

Even therefore in the longest form of the story we 
have no real descent into any world of the dead ; only 
a series of separate pictures which somehow or other 
Odysseus was supposed to have seen as he stood by his 


trench. On this very ground Aristarchus^ rejected the 
passage, asking * How could Odysseus see these or the 
others who were all within the gates of Hades ? ' And it 
is clear that the earliest version contained nothing but the 
summoning by magical means of certain ghosts in order 
to hold converse with him. There is no theory here 
beyond the very simplest belief in the possibility of visions 
of the dead. There is no picture of the After-world as 
a whole, and there is hardly a hint of any part of the 
future in which happiness could be conceived ; not even 
in the work of the latest poet who may have helped to 
fashion this book. To him as to his predecessors, if a 
soul were in Hades at all, it was either being grievously 
tormented, or mourning its death, or at best pursuing in 
darkness some phantom counterpart of the life it had lost. 

Let us now consider briefly the nature of the After- 
world offered to us by the Platonic myths, especially by 
that of the Republic. Socrates is represented as ending 
the long conversation on justice and the nature of the 
universe, by repeating a story told by a brave man, a 
native of Pamphylia, who fell in battle and was taken up 
for burial. Twelve days after the battle, as he lay on his 
funeral pyre, he came to life again ; and we notice that 
although what follows is called a * story' {jxvdoi) at the 
beginning and once at the end, there is none of the rather 
anxious disclaiming of literal intention which is made in 
the other well-known myth also put into the mouth of 
Socrates in the Phaedo. And however special students of 
Plato may describe the general purpose of the Platonic 
myths, no one, I think, can read the long and spirited 
narrative of this Pamphylian, Er, the son of Armenius, 
without feeling that Plato meant something by it, and 
meant it earnestly. 

Let us follow then the story of En When his soul 
had gone out of his body, it travelled with many others 
till they came to a spot of earth on which there were two 

* Schol. on Od. zi. 5689 quoted by Norden, p. 196, footnote. 


great gaps or openings in the surface, and opposite to 
these two other openings in heaven. In front sat judges^ 
who passed sentence on each soul as it appeared. The 
just souls had their sentence pinned upon their breasts and 
were commanded to ascend into the opening which led 
heavenwards. The unjust souls were told to turn to the 
left and find the opening that led into earth. Now while 
some souls were entering these openings, others were 
coming out of the second mouth of each pair, returning 
respectively from Heaven or Hell. The souls that arrived 
out of the heavenly exit were pure and bright ; those that 
ascended from the earthly were squalid and dusty. As 
they arrived at the spot they went oflF and took up quarters 
in a certain meadow hard by, just as folk would for a fair. 
They greeted those in the throng whom they knew and 
questioned one another about what had happened to them 
in their several journeys, each journey having lasted a 
thousand years. The folk who came from below told of 
dreadful things they had seen and suffered ; the other folk 
spoke of sights of beauty and joy. Every good deed and 
every evil deed in their previous earthly life had been 
requited ten times over. Punishment for impiety, for 
disobedience to parents, and for violence to near relatives 
was especially severe. Questions were asked about the 
fate of a certain Ardiaeus the Great, who had been sove- 
reign in a city of Pamphylia a thousand years before, and 
who had committed abominable crimes. He and others 
like him, when they came at last to the exit from their 
journey of punishment, were repulsed by the Gate itself, 
which uttered a loud bellowing whenever any one of such 
incurable sinners tried to pass through it ; and thereupon 
certain ' fierce and fiery ' men, who understood the meaning 
of the sound, seized them by the waist and carried them 
off. In regard to infants whose death followed close upon 

> Id the Gorgias (524 a) the three judgres are Rhadamanthus (for Asia), Aeacus 
(for Europe), and Minoi^ the referee in hard cases, who alone (526 d) has a golden 


their birth, the Pamphylian gave some particulars 'which' 
says Plato, rather grimly, * need not be recorded/ 

But what became of the souls after they had reached 
the meadow f By long and strange astronomical paths 
they are brought before the three Fates, and from their 
laps receive lots, the numbers of which determine the 
order in which they, the souls, shall each make choice of 
a plan for his next mortal life. They are then brought 
before a great multitude of such plans, spread out upon 
the ground : these include every variety of human and 
animal fortune, health and disease, wealth and poverty, 
distinction and obscurity, and various combinations. The 
souls are warned to choose carefully, and told that even 
the lastcomer will find a great variety of choice. The 
soul of Orpheus chose the life of a swan, the soul of Ajax 
chose the life of a lion. On the contrary, the souls of 
swans and other music-making creatures chose lives of 
men. The soul of Odysseus, which happened to have 
drawn the last lot of all, went about for a long time 
looking for a quiet retired life, and with great trouble he 
found one which had been thrown aside by the other souls 
with contempt. Forthwith he chose it gladly, and said 
he would have done the same if he had had the first lot. 
After their choosing, the souls are driven into the Plain 
of Forgetfulness and drink of the river of Not-caring. 
Everyone must drink a certain quantity of the water, but 
the foolish drink more, and when they re-appear upon 
earth, have completely lost all recollection of their 
previous existence : whereas the wise still retain some 
fragments of the memory. The Pamphylian himself was 
prevented from drinking any of the water, and he knew 
not by what road he reached his body again. 

In the myth of the Phaedrus (248 e — 249 a) we learn 
that the ordinary soul goes through ten of these millennial 
terms and is re-incarnated ten times over. If its progress 
through this somewhat prolonged course of education is 
at all satisfactory, at the end of each term it will choose 


on the whole a better life for next time; and any soul 
which is so wise as to choose the life of a true philosopher 
three terms running need never return to earth at all ; the 
rest, unless they are incurably bad, will complete ten 
periods, and by the end will have probably advanced far 
enough to pass their final examination and be so released 
from any necessity of re-entering the body. 

Now this elaborate scheme, developed doubtless by 
more than one^ popular form of religious teaching, and 
used by Plato, though it has obvious lacunae, is far re- 
moved from the crudity and ethical insignificance of the 
Mythological account from which we started. It is note- 
worthy that Plato does not venture to insert any traditional 
or historical figures into his picture save Ardiaeus, a 
typical criminal, and Odysseus the typical Greek hero. 
Conspicuous also is its mathematical bias, and the keen 
interest and long labour which Plato bestowed on con- 
structing his astronomical and arithmetical mansions for 
the soul. 

The general colour then of Plato's picture is one of 
considerable confidence. There is indeed a prudent 
elasticity about the structure of the story of Er which 
provides for a variety of cases ; but there is no hint 
(except the curious dismissal of the infants) that the 
author of the conception felt any grave doubt about its 
substantial appropriateness to represent a reasonable con- 
ception of a future life. 

Now what is the effect of this upon the mind of the 
reader ? We feel we have before us a fairly definite and 
consistent theory, sharply conceived, and challenging 
enquiry by its very definiteness ; and one need not doubt 
that this was precisely what Plato intended. In a word, 
Plato's Myths may instruct us and must set us thinking ; 
but I doubt if it ever occurred to any reader to believe 
them. It is, in fact, the great difficulty in all such writing 
to find any means whereby the assent of the reader's fancy 

^ See the valuable collection of authorities jfiven by Norden (p. 19 ff.). 

lo R. S. CONWAY 

to the truth of what he is reading may be secured, even 
for an houn The human imagination is a shy creature ; 
it may be led, but it will not be directed ; and one of the 
surest ways in which to prevent a reader from attaching 
credence to any doctrine of things unseen is for the author 
of the doctrine to assert it with a show of dogmatic con- 
viction. Which of us in reading the opening of Paradise 
Lost — if I may venture upon a familiar illustration — has 
not felt repelled by the profession which ends its preface : 

*That to the height of this great argument, 
I may assert Eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men ' ? 

Surely the baldness of that pattering line, in which 
eight colourless words tick off five very dull feet, is 
somehow connected with the dogmatic confidence^ of the 
temper which suggested it ? We all know how Milton's 
genius soared beyond the limits of his theology ; how his 
imagination was concentrated on the figure of Satan, who 
thus became in reality the hero of the whole tragedy. 
But this is at the expense of Milton's own prime intention ; 
in so far as Satan arouses our sympathy, in precisely 
that proportion ^ the ways of God ' are not * justified.' 

Now what does Vergil do ? What is the secret of the 
fascination which the After-world of the Aeneid has laid 
upon Europe for so many centuries ? I believe that part, 
at least, of the answer is this ; that in spite of the vivid- 
ness with which particular scenes and figures are pictured, 
Vergil does succeed all through the story in impressing 
upon the reader a quite intense consciousness, almost a 
physical sensation, of mystery. He knows in part and 
that part he prophesies with golden clearness ; but he 
makes us everywhere conscious of darkness beyond and 
around. The poet, in fact, comes nearer home to us by 

^ Compare Professor Raleigh's Milton^ p. 126. It is true, however, as Mr Mackail 
reminds me, that the easy cadence is proper to the close of a great metrical period ; and 
it may be that in Milton's generation a touch of fire would be felt in the line from its 
relation to great religious struggles not yet outworn. 


confessing that like the rest of men, indeed far more than 
the rest, he is conscious of the vastness of his ignorance. 
The object of this paper is to trace this essential (but by 
no means fully realised) characteristic by a study of the 
structure of the Sixth Book of the Aeneid. 

The climax of the story, of course, is the Vision of 
Anchises, which reveals not merely the future destiny of 
Rome, and the mission of the Roman Empire to * establish 
the fashion of peace' on earth, but the whole divine 
scheme of Creation of which that destiny and that mission 
were to be part. But this revelation, although it consti- 
tutes the purpose of the whole Book, occupies only the 
last third of its extent. The first third (11. i — 272) is 
taken up with the approach to Avernus, and the second 
with the journey through the Shades, which ends when 
Anchises is found (at 1. 679). 

Notice now the different incidents of the Approach. 
We begin with pictures carved in gold upon the doors of 
a Temple, which is the first thing Aeneas sees in the new 
land, pictures telling tragic stories from Crete. The 
reason for this beginning has not yet, I think, been 
pointed out. Norden (p. 121) can do nothing but bid 
us regard it as a * stately digression' with a ^disturbing 
effect.' In this twentieth century, thanks to the sharp 
spades of Sir Arthur Evans, we have learnt that Crete 
was in fact the home of the earliest civilisation of Europe, 
many centuries before the fall of Troy. But Vergil knew 
it better than we ever shall through a rich store of 
tradition ; and if those pictures from Minoan Crete are 
deliberately planted by him in the forefront of this Book, 
is it credible that they mean nothing ? Surely they 
suggest, if nothing else, how vast was that majority of the 
human race now passed into the darkness which the Book 
is to explore. And if they bid the reader think how 
noble were the artists who had wrought in that vanished 
age, how rich the legacy which intercourse with them 
had left to Italian soil as well as to Greek, they lead him 

12 R. S. CONWAY 

also to wonder in what region these creative souls now 
subsist. In the lines which depict the last of the figures, 
Daedalus mourning for his son, we hear clearly the positive 
strain of filial affection which is the motive of the hero's 
journey ; and the rich, tragic harmony that unites the 
scenes carved upon the marble entrance, is a fitting and 
stately overture to Vergil's Dream of the Dead. 

Then follows the weird madness of the Sibyl, her 
summons to Aeneas, his entreaties, and her two replies, 
the first dark with prophecies of evil, the second with her 
mysterious demand that he shall find some Golden Bough, 
the only passport into Hell and out of it again. But her 
gloomy response ends with the announcement that one of 
the companions of Aeneas has suddenly met his death in 
that very hour, and that special ceremonies are needed to 
honour him and to remove the pollution of the survivors 
before Aeneas can enter upon his quest. This utterance 
is explained when Aeneas returns to the camp, by the 
discovery that Misenus, who was a player on the horn, 
has fallen from a rock on which he had seated himself 
to play, and been drowned in the sea beneath. The 
first duty, therefore, of Aeneas, is to build a pyre and 
burn his friend's body ; and the Trojans turn to the 
* ancient forest ' to hew wood for that purpose. Naturally 
enough (as Vergil is careful to suggest) Aeneas conceives 
the wish that the Golden Bough which he is in want of, 
might discover itself in the forest. His prayer is granted, 
and a pair of his mother's doves alight upon a tree * whence 
through the boughs shone the strange half-breathing gleam 
of gold.' 

Now this incident has brought us to one of many 
crucial points in the structure of the plot, which rightly 
studied reveal, I believe, some of the most intimate secrets 
of Vergil's motive, but which have long, if not always, 
been thought to involve serious difficulty. 

Why is this incident of the death of Misenus introduced 
at the beginning of the book and so intimately interwoven 


with the narrative ? The question seems to demand an 
answer even more urgently when we find, a hundred lines 
further on, that another friend of Aeneas, namely Palinurus, 
was also lying unburied at the time (having fallen over- 
board from the ship of Aeneas just before the end of the 
voyage to Italy). And the critics ask why must two 
friends of Aeneas be represented as having died ; why 
could not Vergil be content to mention the death of one 
and one only, as we saw was done by Homer in mentioning 
the ghost of Elpenor ? Now I do not think this question 
usually troubles a reader ; for VergiFs instinct in thus 
arranging his plot is sound and natural, and I believe we 
can discover his reasons. 

But we may be grateful to the critics who raise the 
question, though they themselves are content with what, 
I confess, seems to me a very poor fraction of an answer, 
quite true so far as it goes. They are content to reply that 
according to the local traditions both Cape Misenum and 
Cape Palinurus owed their names to two famous comrades 
of Aeneas who had perished upon them respectively. 
And this double tradition, so we are told, Vergil felt 
bound to reproduce in his poem, even at the cost of some 
difficulty. Now it is perfectly true that Vergil might 
have felt that he had failed, that he had been guilty of 
what a modern writer would call violence to history, if he 
had done nothing to give such strong local traditions an 
appropriate place in his story. But to suppose that such 
a circumstance would have led Vergil to adopt what he 
felt to be a burden to the narrative at one of its most 
critical points is to show very little knowledge both of 
the extraordinary resourcefulness of Vergil's imagination 
and of the keen and exacting criticism with which he 
measured his own work. One of the authorities^ from 
whom we learn the tradition of the promontories of 
Palinurus and Misenum tells us also, with equal serious- 
ness, that the islet of Leucasia was named after a niece of 

^ Dion. Hal. i. 53. a. 

14 R. S. CONWAY 

Aeneas, who was kind enough to provide it a name by 
dying thereabouts. Vergil has not a word about Leucasia ; 
but some of us at least will be quite sure that if it had 
suited his poetic purpose we should have had an equally 
circumstantial account of her death ; and that the proper 
resting-place might have been given to her, if need were, 
as briefly and simply as to Caieta in the first four lines of 
Book VII. 

The reference, therefore, to the traditional basis for 
the double story, though instructive, gives only an in- 
adequate answer to the question, why Vergil should have 
designed his story in this particular way ? The real 
answer lies deeper. 

The two incidents of Misenus and Palinurus serve 
quite different poetical ends. Let us ask first about 
Misenus, not what was the external traditional basis for 
VergiFs introduction of his death, but what impression 
upon the reader is made by the tragic surprise of its first 
announcement from the Sibyl's lips, by the intimate 
association of the funeral rites with the discovery of the 
Golden Bough and by the detailed (21 1 — 235) and extra- 
ordinarily solemn picture of the ceremony at the pyre in 
which both Aeneas and another Trojan hero arc mentioned 
by name as taking part. 

Is it not clear, I venture to ask, even to the schoolboy 
or a reader who has given no thought to questions of 
poetical construction, that the dark hour which we spend 
in imagination round the body of Misenus is intimately 
connected with the purpose of the Book which describes 
the world of the dead ? In whose company should we 
make that voyage so well^ as in that of a man whose spirit 

^ The ancient feeling on such a matter I may perhaps illustrate by the quaint 
custom of entrusting to a dead man letters addressed to the deities of the under- world, 
of which a considerable number have been preserved to us by the accident of their 
being written upon lead. These leaden documents, which are all of a sinister character 
— they contain curses — and which are fairly well known to most students of antiquity, 
were regularly posted, if I may use the expression, in tombs. They have nothing to 
do with the person who lies in the tomb except that he was supposed to be a good 
carrier, and his tomb a suitable post-box for this secret kind of message. For examples. 


has but now left his body ? Is there ever a moment when 
the reality of the after-world comes so near to any one of 
as and has such penetrating force as when he has lost 
suddenly some friend who but the day before was in the 
full enjoyment of life ? Vergil knew surely, and shows 
that he knew, that there could be no more persuasive and 
at the same time no truer means of enlisting the reader's 
imagination in a journey into the Unseen than to represent 
it as made the moment after the death of a man struck 
down in the midst of life. That is why Misenus' death 
is caused by so strange an accident ; that is why he is 
playing upon his horn, his dearest pursuit, at the moment 
when death takes him ; that is why the rites at his pyre 
are so rich and so prolonged. With the spirit of Misenus 
almost visibly moving into Hades, we feel that the path 
thither must be nearer and easier and more real than we 

Such, I am convinced, is the effect of this incident on 
every reader to whom life has brought such an experience ; 
and even the school-boy feels at once the appropriateness 
of the funeral ceremony to the point of the story at which 
it is attached ; and the especial beauty of the way in 
which Vergil links so closely the discovery of the Golden 
Bough with the duty which Aeneas undertakes, at the 
cost of much labour and delay, to provide his friend with 
noble obsequies. 

Here then the approach ends. Aeneas has buried his 
friend and found the Golden Bough, and now he begins 
his journey. Still we shall trace the same power of 
Vergil's imagination in leading us step by step through 
what is easy of belief to what is more and more wonderful. 

As the shadows begin to gather round Aeneas at the 
mouth of Avernus, the poet invokes in sonorous lines ' the 
gods who have empire over ghosts, the silent shades. 

•ee e.g. the Cane of Vilna (Ital. Dialects^ no. 130, with the authorities cited in my note 
on p. 1x8); or the article De^oHones in Pauly-Wissowa's Real-Encyclopaedie, 

1 6 R. S. CONWAY 

Chaos and Phlegcthon, a country full of night's wide 
silence/ Then the travellers start : * Obscure they went 
through the shadow with only night for their shelter, 
through the empty halls of Dis and his unbodied realms ; 
just as in a journey through the forests with a doubtful 
moon and grudging light when Jove has buried the sky in 
shadow, and sombre night has stolen all the colour from 
the worlds* Notice, as Dante did, the word obscurus^ 
and the image of walking through the forests at night. 
What does this twilight mean ? Surely it is the same as 
the selva oscura^ which Dante borrowed from Vergil to 
be the scene of his own vision. It represents the difficulty 
of any effort to conceive the Unseen. It is the veil that 
hides that other world from ours. Vergil warns his 
readers at the outset that they are moving in the shadows, 
that they are speaking of * things only heard,' trying * to 
reveal a world drowned in darkness and depths of earth.' 

The same gradual progress from the familiar and 
concrete into the heart of the invisible is continued in 
what follows. First we meet mere incorporeal abstrac- 
tions — Care, Disease, Age, Fear, Famine, Want, Death, 
Toil, Sleep, Joy-in-evil ^ War, and the Avenging Furies, 
and mad Civil Strife ; then the Elm-tree which gave a 
home to false dreams and fabulous monsters — Centaurs 
and Chimeras, on which Aeneas draws his sword but 
which he cannot touch — they are both more credible and 
more terrible so. Then, and not before, we meet the 
unburied ghosts who must wander for loo years. 

Now observe the order in which the different ghosts 
appear to Aeneas. First Palinurus who had been drowned 
only four days before ; then Dido whom he had left when 

' Ibant obscuri tola sub nocte per umbram 

Percjue domos Ditis uacuat et inania regna; 
Quale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna 
Est iter in siluis ubi caelum condidit umbra 
luppiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem. 

* Inferno i. a. 

* If I am right in uking nunHs to suggest thinking rather than deiirioj. 


he began that voyage many months ago^ ; and then 
Deiphobus, the son of Priam, with the other heroes of 
the Trojan War who had perished seven years before 
Dido. These three meet Aeneas in the inverse order 
to that in which they have formerly met us in the 
narrative. It is not so hard to believe that a man who 
died yesterday should meet you again ; so we proceed to 
those who died six months ago ; and then to those who 
had passed away long before. The increase in strangeness 
is gradual, both to Aeneas and to us. 

We arc now in a position to answer the riddle which 
we noticed in discussing the death of Misenus. Its essen- 
tial dijfFerence from that of Palinurus can be perceived at 
once if wc try to interchange the incidents. Suppose that 
Vergil, as some of our wise commentators suggest that he 
ought to have done, had treated the death of Palinurus, 
not that of Misenus, as being that which called for funeral 
ceremonies before he could begin his journey to the 
under-world. In the first place, we may answer such 
critics according to their own somewhat external methods ; 
Aeneas and his party would have had to make a voyage 
of more than forty miles as the crow flies far across and 
beyond the Bay of Naples, in order to reach Cape Pali- 
nurus, if the funeral rites were to be celebrated there. 
So that even on the mere ground of geography Palinurus 
would not do for the purposes of the funeral ceremony, if 
it was to be one of the preliminaries to Aeneas* descent ; 
whereas Misenus does very well, since Cape Misenum 
was close to Lake Avernus and the Sibyl's cave at Cumae. 
But there is a more interesting answer. Palinurus would 
then have been duly buried, or rather burnt, and he could 
not meet Aeneas at the threshold of the under-world, 
but must have been seen, if seen at all, somewhere in the 
process of purification which is described near the end of 

^ See cspectaUy Aen. v. 764, which points to Spring. Heinze (Ftrgils Epische 
Ticknik^ p. 329) rather strangely assumes that Vergil meant the whole city of Segesta 
to be planned and bnilt in one day (t. U. 749 — 761). 

R. 2 

1 8 R. S. CONWAY 

the book. Could then Misenus have taken his place, that 
is to say, could any other follower of Aeneas who 
happened to have died at the time be represented as 
meeting Aeneas on the threshold of the under-world 
because he had not been buried ? The answer clearly is 
No, unless Aeneas had openly and flagrantly neglected his 
duty to a dead friend by leaving him unburied, although 
he had died in his camp. Or if it be suggested that 
Vergil might have contrived a narrative so as to make 
Misenus die like Palinurus without his body being 
immediately discovered, then indeed, if Palinurus was to 
be drowned at all in Book V. we should have had a 
doubling of the narrative far more awkward and far less 
natural than the actual combination which Vergil chose. 
We conclude that if some unburied friend was to meet 
Aeneas on the threshold of the under-world, as Elpenor 
met Odysseus, and was to beg Aeneas for burial as Elpenor 
begged Odysseus, his death must be represented as having 
come about in some form which made funeral rites im- 
possible. Could any form of death be more appropriate 
for such a point in the story than that of a sailor who fell 
over-board ? Notice further on the one hand that such 
a death (and this is a point of some importance, since it 
has been overlooked even in Norden's careful discussion 
of the question) was not one which in ancient estimation 
would cause any pollution to the survivors, since the body 
was not among them ; and on the other, that since it 
had happened at least four days (1. 356) before Aeneas 
approached the Sibyl, it would by that time have taken 
its place in their minds as one of the sorrows of the 
voyage which was now over, and in any case could not 
have been made the subject of the Sibyl's moving 
declaration. Finally and chiefly, if the ghost of Palinurus 
were omitted, his story would be omitted too, and 
with it one of the most simple and convincing links be- 
tween this Book and the last, between the under-world, and 
the concrete, recent experience of Aeneas among the living. 


After leaving Palinurus they hold a brief colloquy 
with that grim ferryman Charon in his leaky boat, ^ the 
god in rude and green old age/ and pass to three- 
headed barking Cerberus, with the serpents round his 
neck, whom the Sibyl calms by a witch's proper weapon, 
a sop of drugged food. The picture of Charon and 
Cerberus is not untouched with humour ; the only^ trace 
of humour in the Book (for Vergil has none of the grim 
mirth of Dante's devils, who were bred in the Dark 
Ages, rejoicing in their cruelty). It seems as though we 
had here the last flicker of concrete reality ; Charon 
and Cerberus, quaint but substantial figures, are just be- 
lievable because they come at the point where we finally 
leave the solid living world behind us and enter Limbo. 
* Forthwith are heard voices and mighty wailing, and 
ghosts of infants crying on the threshold.' 

We come now to the vexed question of the different 
classes of the dead. It is here that according to mid- 
Victorian scholars (Conington 11. p. 423), Vergil has most 
grievously failed, by attempting to combine a theological 
scheme with historical and mythological figures. That 
he has made the combination is clear. What is the 
result ? Let me reproduce Norden's quite accurate ana- 
lysis of the classes of Souls. 

I. The Unburied — outside Acheron. 

II. The buried. 

A* In the Lugentes Campi : 

1. infants : 

2. the wrongly condemned : 

3. those who took their own lives though innocent of crime : 

4. victims of love, like Dido : 

5. warriors slain in war, like Deiphobus. 

B. In Tartarus : incurable criminals who cannot come out. 

C. At Lethe : ordinary souls, waiting or in course of purification. 

D. In Elysium : those few whose purification is complete. 

Note first that the last three classes are perfectly clear 
and distinct ; nos pauci (1. 744) are the few who reach 

^ Vulenjacilis descensus Auerno is to be so counted. 

2 — 2 

20 R. S. CONWAY 

Elysium almost at once, and quite separate from the has 
omnes (1. 748) who have to undergo re-birth after 1000 
years. Conington's confusions here are as great as the 
astonishing ignorance^ shown in his note on 1. 329 about 
the 100 years' limit. As Norden justly contends, Vergil 
has combined the mythological picture (such as one finds 
in Homer) with the more philosophical (as in Plato) with 
marvellous skill. But so far as I know, no one has 
pointed out what Vergil meant by giving such scope to 
his Class II A, the tenants of the Lugentes Campi. 

Even after the careful study which Norden has given 
to the Souls in Limbo there remains, I venture to think, 
still something to add. In his Introduction Norden 
makes it clear that Vergil took over the five difiFerent 
categories of these souls from an existing popular doctrine, 
of which traces are preserved to us in Lucian, Macrobius 
and TertuUian*; but that Vergil has considerably extended 
one of the classes, namely, those who died through love. 
This he has expanded to include all who came to an 
untimely death in which love was a cause, no matter in 
what way, by their own hand or that of others. Norden 
has also made it clear that the reason why these groups 
were united by the popular doctrine and combined with 
the araipoi was the purely formal one, that they had not 
lived to the end of their natural span of life. This 
reason Vergil nowhere gives. On 'the contrary, he 
includes among the heroes of mythology whom Aeneas 
encounters in this region many who had been dead far 
more than the number of years required to make their 
span equal to the normal. Vergil was not ignorant of 
this normal period roundly represented by 100 years, for 
he himself assigns it to the souls of the unburied : but in 
Limbo he deliberately omits it. 

^ He completely ignores Senrias' note on the line which states the reason clearly : 
Hi sunt Ugitimi {anni) *viUu humanae quibus cvmpUHs anima potest transire ripas, id at, 
ad locum purgationis 'venire ut redeat rursus in corpora, 

' Lucian, Cataplus, 5f.; Macrob., Somn. Sctp, i. 13. lo-ii $ Tertull., Di Amwus 
56 f. 


Now I venture to think that this silence is eloquent. 
Vergil seizes on certain categories of character and fortune 
familiar to popular thought, and separates them from the 
three classes of souls to which he afterwards allots a 
particular fate, perpetual punishment or perpetual bliss 
or the ordinary re-birth. He does not accept the popular 
doctrine — ^which was that a place in Limbo was only 
retained until 100 years were completed from the soul's 
birth. What does he mean by his silence? Exactly 
what deliberate silence always means. 'Not without 
a judge,* says Vergil, * not without allotment, are these 
abodes granted to them. It is the task of Minos to learn 
their lives and the charges brought against them.' So far 
all very proper and re-assuring. Minos has a beautiful 
romantic name — he may well be a just judge. How does 
he decide ? What is the lot that is given to the souls ? 
Vergil is very careful not to say. This perhaps is 
as clear an example of Vergil's method as we can nnd\ 
Before he brings his reader face to face with the picture 
of the future destinies of the wicked and the good, and 
the process of purification which the good go through, he 
carefully puts out of the way the souls of those of whom 
he confesses he does not know the end. These hard cases 
would make bad law. 

Space will not suffer me to linger upon the remarkable 
characteristics of the picture of Roman history drawn by 
Anchises ; on the doubtful praise of Pompey and Julius 
Caesar, the complete silence as to some of the great names. 
Nor upon the picture of the Roman Peace, which is 
represented as the goal of the Creator's intention in 
suffering Rome to rise from the ashes of Troy. But 
I desire in conclusion to draw attention to two things at 
the end of the Book, The Lament for Marcellus and The 
Ivory Gate, the significance of which has not yet, I am 

* For another case of highly ngnificant silence see xil. 735 — 7, where Vergil de- 
fiberatdy, and artistically, refrains from anticipating the event by stating beforehand 
the resalts of Jove's weighing the fates, Jove knows, but unlike Zeus or his creator 
Homer [IJiaJriu, 70-749 zzii. aia) he keeps his knowledge to himself. 

22 R. S. CONWAY 

convinced, been fully realised. Let us take the Ivory 
Gate first. 

Vergil mentions two gates of Sleep which lead out 
of the under-world — z gate of horn by which true dreams 
have exit, the other a gate * shining perfectly wrought 
with glistening ivory' but sending out false dreams. 
Now Aeneas and the Sibyl arc sent out by the Ivory 
Gate, and many serious commentators have been sorely 
vexed to know why Vergil chose it. The best reason 
of a formal kind that has been suggested, and one which, 
for what it is worth, may well be true, is that adopted by 
Norden and first pointed out by an American scholar. 
Professor Everett (C. JR. xiv. p. 153). False dreams, 
in the ancient belief which Vergil follows \ come before 
midnight ; so that the departure by the gate of Ivory 
indicates that Aeneas departed from the under-world 
before midnight just as he entered it at dawn. Dante 
likewise spent twenty-four hours in Hell*. I have no 
doubt that Vergil intended this consequence ; but surely 
it would be taking a long way round if the meaning were 
merely to express the particular hour. We still ask why 
he must choose one of the dream gates at all ? Why 
should dreams in any shape be mentioned at this point ? 
Surely this is a final instance of the gentle agnostic temper 
which we have been tracing all through. It is exactly 
like the lines in In Memoriam : 

* So runs my dream : but what am I ? 
An infant crying in the night, 
An infant crying for the light, 
And with no language but a cry.* 

Vergil has shaped his conception of the future world 
into a magnificent picture ; but he is careful to remind us 
at the end that it is a dream, and a dream attested not 
by the eye but only by spoken tradition' — the Gate of 

^ Aen. VIII. 26 — 7 (cf., eg., Hor. Sat, i. lo. 33). 
« Inf, zxxiv. 6S f. 

' Professor F. Granger, Classical Revirw, xiy. (1900), p. %6. I am not quite sure 
how far my view of the whole passage was suggested to me by Professor Granger's 


Horn representing the knowledge that comes through the 
homy tissue of the eye, the Gate of Ivory that which 
comes merely through speech, by the mouth with its 
ivory gates of teeth. 

A not dissimilar example of the timidity of a great 
imaginative builder when he contemplates his own 
structure may be found in the ending of the famous speech 
of Prosper© in T!he Tempestj where after a display of his 
magical power which can compel the elements and the 
fairies and even the deities of the place, Prospero addresses 
Ferdinand : 

'Be cheerful, Sir, 
Our revels now are ended/ 

In lines hardly needing quotation he compares the 
•great globe itself* with its cloud-capped towers to the 
•insubstantial pageant' which has just melted away — 
ending with the great declaration : 

*We are such stuflF 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep.' 

What comes next ? 

^Sir, I am vexed; 
Bear with my weakness ; my old brain is troubled ; 
Be not disturbed with my infirmity.' 

Why is Prospero * troubled ' ? Why speak of his 
* weakness,' his * old brain,' his * infirmity ' ? Surely be- 
cause Shakespeare is here saying what Vergil does by his 
image of the Ivory gate. * I have dared to draw a picture 
of the Divine Providence in the person of Prospero ; and 
I pray you to forgive me for my daring, and not to think 
I speak with confidence unbefitting human lips.' 

Now for a few minutes let us turn to what has always 
seemed to me the extraordinary ending which Vergil has 
made to his triumphal celebration of the greatness of the 

voy interesdngr note (based on Taubmann's comment), and it it quite possible that 
1 owe it entirely to him \ but it seemed to arise in my mind merely out of the general 
▼Kw of the nature of the Book which I have held for many years. 

24 R. S. CONWAY 

Roman Empire, Would it have occurred, I venture to 
ask, to any other poet that has ever lived, to end the most 
exalted passage of his greatest book, a tribute to the 
Emperor of the world, a paeaii over the service that his 
nation had rendered to mankind, by dwelling on the 
bitterest human sorrow which the Emperor had yet under- 
gone, and the most crushing disappointment which he had 
ever to face in his imperial plans ? That, we know, was 
what the death of Marcellus meant to Augustus, and this 
is the theme which Vergil chooses to set, and set in lines 
of poignant feeling, at the end of his Vision. No poet but 
Vergil could have either conceived or dared such an 
ending. Horace never ventured to write a line upon 
Marcellus' death. What does it mean, this sudden gust 
of tragedy, when the sky at last seemed clear ? Why 
must our thoughts be turned, at the very crown of the 
epic history, to the failure of human hopes, the cruelty of 
human destiny ? 

The answer, I believe, is the same as that which 
Professor A. C. Bradley^ has given to the question why, 
at the end of King hear^ the gloom of the story is made 
so deep. Lear himself of course must die, so must his 
faithful companions Gloster and the fool ; so must the 
guilty Edmund, Goneril, Regan ; but why the innocent 
Cordelia ? Why is the truth discovered just too late to 
save her ? In order, says Professor Bradley, to force us 
into the very heart and blackness of the mystery ; to make 
it so appalling that the spirit of the reader will rise up 
perforce and cry : — * This is not the end, this cannot be 
the end although it is all that we here can see.' Just so 
does Vergil cry to his own generation and to every 
generation that has followed, * Not here, not now, not 
through me, but in the far hereafter, must come the light 
in which the shadows flee away.' 

And if amid the shadows there is one golden branch 
to which we may trust, *seek it,' Vergil seems to say, 

^ Shakitpearean Tragttfy^ p. 25a, 


* in the eternal worth, the immortal strength of human 
afiection/ Again and again in the dark world through 
which Vergil guides us we arc startled with the vividness 
with which this note is heard* Just as Dante, even in Hell, 
could not separate Francesca from her Paolo, just as he 
declares^ that the flame of love, burning in the fervent 
prayers of the living for the dead, has power to fulfil in 
one short moment * all the toils * that the sinner should 
properly perform in Purgatory ; so does Vergil re-unite 
Dido with her first lover ; so he fills the fields of Elysium 
with souls that have won the loving memory of others ; 
so he illumines that purer and larger air with the joy of 
the meeting between Aeneas and his father. 

And so in this final lament for Marcellus he gives us 
not once but three or four times the intimation, quite 
clear, I think, to those who know Vergil's way, that the 
death of that bright boy was not the end of his story. 
His career in this visible world indeed has ceased before 
the fatal bar ; but somehow, Vergil hints to us, some- 
where he shall be, not should be or would be, but shall be 
a true Marcellus, shall, somehow, fulfil the promise of his 
name. And the flowers that are cast upon his head are 
purple lilies, that is, the (ancient) hyacinth, the flowers of 
Spring, always the types of Resurrection*. 

And what is the last word with which Anchises parts 
from the Vision ? It is placed conspicuously by itself in 
a single foot at the beginning of a Une, and it is one of 
two only examples, if I mistake not, of a long speech so 
ending in all the Aeneid — the other is where Evander's 
farewell to Pallas is broken off because he faints at the 
thought that his son may never return. And further this 
word is placed there by a special re-construction of the 

1 Purg. n. 38. Che cima di giudido non t' a walla 

Perchi fttooo d* amor compia in un punto 
Ci6 che dee soddiifar chi qui t' astalla. 
' Thii^ I hope toon to show elfewhere, is a fairly certain deduction from the com- 
bined eridenoe of the following passages t Catullus, uui. 40 ; Aen. ix. 435 — 7 ; xi. 68 — 9 ; 
T. 79; Carmna Epigrapbica (BOcheler), 610. 11. 

26 R. S. CONWAY 

previous line which we even yet may trace. Few, 
I think, who are familiar with Vergil's metrical technique 
and who know how prevailingly a long speech or para- 
graph ends with a line containing not one but two dactyls 
before the final spondee will doubt that the speech of 
Anchises originally ended : 

Accumulem donis et munere fungar inanu 

But the words his saltern were inserted: why? To 
avoid the sound of completeness, to break off the rhythm 
and leave the reader unsatisfied ; to set down a question, 
not a conclusion ; to admit, but circumvent, the hopeless 
stone wall of the epithet inani. Not inani^ but munere 
ends the prophecy ; if a gift is made, there must exist 
somewhere, somehow, a soul to receive it. And thus the 
last word of the Vision of Anchises is a poetic, wistful 
plea that the very bitterness of mortality is itself a promise 
of immortal life. 

R. S. CoNWAYi 


April 19 13. 


I. The aim of this paper is to propose a clue, 
hitherto, so far as the writer knows, untried, which may 
be useful in tracing the logical, and, therefore, within 
some degree of approximation, the chronological order 
of a considerable number of the Platonic dialogues. Its 
necessary brevity limits it to indicating this clue rather 
than supporting it by an array of arguments and evidences. 
Though the clue itself may be valid, so far as it goes, its 
application requires circumspection, and has not been 
attempted here without considerable diffidence. Com- 
petent readers, interested in the matter, may apply it 
differently for themselves. 

Discussions as to the authenticity of particular 
dialogues have been avoided. The Erastae^ Hipparchus^ 
MenexenuSy Epinomis^ Timaeus Locrus^ AxiochuSy and some 
other works named in the list given at the end of the 
Zurich edition, have however been ignored as un-Platonic. 
The Cntiasy a mere fragment, falls outside the scope of 
the paper. 

The fundamental hypothesis here adopted is that 
Plato's interest, like his master's, was ethical ; that he 
believed evSaifioyia to rest on dpeni as its condition ; and 
that the motive of his writings throughout was the 
endeavour to make the conceptions of dpert] and its 
coefficients comprehensible, in order that its attainment 
might be made possible and practicable. Hence even a 
dialogue like the Theaetetus^ in which iwio-nifAfiy or like 


the Parmenides^ in which the object of en-urrrifxti^ appears 
to be the sole matter of discussion, ought to be considered 
ultimately from the ethical point of view. 

Plato began his speculations as an alumnus of Socrates. 
The Socratic position was at first the position of Plato. 
From this position, which may be described as one of 
hard intellectualism, he advanced by the use of the 
tKeyx^y aided by observation of the facts of life and 
conduct, to another position in which he differs little, 
in certain essentials, from his pupil Aristotle. 

2. Socrates, as we learn from Aristotle, whose 
testimony is supported by Xenophon, denied that it is 
possible for one who knows what is right to do at the 
same time what is wrong \ In fact, cucpacria is, or arises 
from, ignorance. Virtue, in general, is knowledge, and 
the several virtues, e.g., courage, temperance, justice, 
arc (ppovncei^ or Aoyoi, or ^ta-TrjiuuxiK According to 
Xenophon, Socrates declared hKatoa-vvti and every other 
form of dpern to be o'oKpia or i'TrurTfifAfi. To SiKaioy^ 
was simply to vofxifxov^ and knowledge of the latter 
carried the former with it in practice. Vice, in general, 
is ignorance ; the worst form of which is ignorance of 
oneself and of one's powers, with false belief that one 
knows what one does not know, or can do what one 
cannot do. The extreme form of such ignorance Socrates 
called fxaviaK Were one to ask Socrates — * knowledge or 
ignorance of what ? * he would reply * of the w^aQov^ 
i.e., of the ^ nkjyeXifxop .* As everyone desires this latter, 
it might be assumed, he thought, that perfect knowledge 
of it would be perfect virtue, and ignorance of it vice, in 
the degree in which it prevailed. 

3. The plausibility of this position and its attractive- 
ness for Plato are not very difficult to understand. 

* Arist. N. E. 1145^25 5 Xenoph. Mem, iv. v. 

* Arist. N, E. 1144** 18, 28, 11x6^4 s Xenoph. Mem, iii. ix. 5 5 iv. vi. 7, 

' Mem. IV. vi. 5-6. T6 v6fufjMVf however, includes the ' lawful * by enactment of 
the Gods as well as by enactment of men. See Mem, iv. iv. x 8-20. 

* Mem, 111. ix. 6-8 { iv. ii. 24-27. 


The doctrine that dp€Tfi = €7ri<rTtiiuLfi was, for a typical 
Hellene of Plato's time, to a very great extent, literally 
true in the ordinary acceptation of the terms. 'Apert] 
in ordinary parlance connoted excellence in any mode of 
activity in which men compete with one another. It 
could be, and often was, attributed to persons who were 
not (in our sense of the word) 'virtuous.' 'ETrMrnj/ii;, 
on the other hand (with its synonyms, nouns or verbs), 
as commonly used signified not theoretic general know- 
ledge — *the knowledge that' — ^but knowledge of the 
practical kind : knowledge of concrete ends and the 
means to accomplish them — ^knowledge *how to do' 
things. Such is its meaning almost invariably in the 
conversations ascribed to Socrates by Xenophon. Hence, 
given the desirability of the end as wcpeKifxov^ with iiriorT^fxti 
as the knowledge how to bring the end about, the definition 
of dpeni as eirurrtitiri might pass easily enough, at least in 
ordinary Greek circles, as a basis of ethical theory. 

The difliculty of accepting it begins when dpervi is 
considered not merely as excellence, but as moral excel- 
lence — ^as a characteristic of persons who from moral 
motives resist temptations to do acts, e.g., of injustice or 
cowardice or intemperance. It may be granted that 
knowledge of the means to achieve the object of one's 
ambition is, or confers, the dperti. of the ambitious man — 
his success, e.g., as a statesman or orator. Can it be 
granted, likewise, that knowledge of the means to do the 
things which imply courage, or temperance, or justice 
is equivalent to doing them ? Socrates answered this 
question also in the afiSlrmative. 

There are in the Memorabilia two passages^ in which 
Xenophon represents Socrates as arguing for his theory 
that dpeni = hncrrnixviy and in which he employs the latter 
term to signify knowledge * that,' rather than knowledge 
*how to do' something. In conversation with Euthydemus 
he asks whether fxadrio-i^ and iTria-Tninri tov Sikuiov are like 

^ Mem. ly. ii. 10-40 ; iv. vi. 1-4. 


fjiddricrK and iTTia-TfJiuLfi TtSy ypajULfxartoUj and, being answered 
affirmatively, uses the answer to prove that, as he who 
violates the rules of * grammar* knowingly and wilfully 
is a better grammarian than one who does so involuntarily 
and from ignorance, so he who violates justice purposely 
and wittingly is more just than one who does so from 
ignorance. The former knows what justice is and the 
latter does not. From this he generalises and shows to 
the discomfiture of Euthydemus that the man who 
^ knows' (d i'TrKTrdfiepos:) to, KoKd km dyadd Kai ^iKcua 
is the just man, while he who knows them not is the 
dpSpaTToBwdfi^. In this argument (which Plato in the 
Hippias Minor and Menon uses to illustrate a difficulty in the 
Socratic position), ejricrrtifxfi is treated as a mere Suvafu^j 
or faculty, of conceiving and effecting ends without 
regard to their moral nature ; while the moral character 
of the person, as a systematic habit of acting with a view 
to certain deliberately chosen ends, is slurred altogether. 

Coming to two particular virtues, the one in relation 
to the gods, the other in relation to men, Socrates argues 
that he * who knows how ' to honour the gods according 
to their prescribed ritual is €i/(r€/3ij5, or * pious ' ; while 
'he who knows' how to deal with men (;^^(rfiai 
dpdpoiiroi^) as human laws prescribe is *just^.' *Is it 
to be imagined ' (he asks, discussing justice) ^ that one 
can obey the laws without knowing what these ordain ? ' 
* No.' Again, * Do any men, knowing what they ought 
to do, suppose that they ought not to do this ? ' * No.' 
Again, * Do you know* of any who do things other 
than those which they suppose they ought to do ? ' * No.' 
From these admissions Socrates concludes (apparently to 
his satisfaction and without criticism, at all events, from 
Xenophon) that the *just' may be defined as * those 
who know what is lawful in human intercourse ' (ra irepi 

dvOpvoTTOV^ i/OfJUfia). 

1 Xcn. Mem. iv. iv. 9, vi. 5-6. 

^ olbds Tivas aX\a vroiovvras ij it otovrai drtv ; 


To us, however, it is plain that these conclusions 
follow only on the assumptions {a) that the knowledge 
how to do the things prescribed by the divine ritual, 
or by the laws of the State, carries with it also the 
motive for doing them; and {6) that this motive is 
strong enough to overcome the motives which usually 
prompt or tempt men to do the contrary. Had the 
questions put by Socrates included the further question: 
* Do you suppose that any persons, knowing what the 
laws prescribe, disobey the laws ?,* these illicit assumptions, 
and the precariousness or falsehood of the conclusions 
depending on them, would have been exposed. How 
is it that this pertinent question was not asked by the 
Xenophontean Socrates? or its omission not noticed by 
Xenophon? One would think it ought to have been 
sufficiently obvious that a man may *know' the laws 
of ZiKaioavvn and eva-ifieia as well as he knows the letters 
of the alphabet, and yet violate these laws habitually 
when temptation and opportunity present themselves. 

4* The Socratic definition of dp€Wi as iTrurrnfiYi was 
a mixture of truth and falsehood; or rather it was true 
from one, false from another, of two very different 
standpoints. To probe its meaning and value became 
the work of Plato's life. The following circumstances, 
however, tended to make him (as well as Xenophon and 
other contemporaries) blind at first to what was mis- 
leading in its import. 

{a) Socrates and his contemporaries participated in 
an AufklSrung of intellectualism. The conception of 
iwumiufi^ or cognition, was that which dominated their 
schools; the conception of feeling^ (whether organic, 
as feeling of hunger, or emotion, as feeling of anger, or 
simply pleasure and pain) as a psychological element had 
as yet received no separate attention. In fact there was 
in Greek no single word for feeling as distinct from 
perception. Aia-OrKri^ had to serve for both. If, however, 

* See Ward, Psycholo^, Encyc. Brit, Ed. 9. 


feeling in general was neglected, there is little reason to 
wonder that the moral feeling, as a co-efEcient of moral 
action or of dper^j was also neglected; or that, being 
neglected, it could be illicitly imported without detection 
by Socrates and his hearers into the arguments by which 
he strove to show that dpert} = iwicrniiJifi. 

(6) Socrates identified^ to SiKaioy with to vofjufxov. 
The laws of the State were for him the result of a 
covenant by which the citizens agreed among themselves 
as to the things which they ought or ought not to do* 
Thus the conception of to vofiifjiov^ and therefore of 
TO hiKaiovy ab initio imports the idea of obligation, i.e., of 
legal or * external* obligation; since the law of the 
State implies a power to compel the obedience of the 
citizens. Now, the word Sc?' which expressed legal 
expressed also moral obligation ; and wherever the former 
was acknowledged to exist it was easy to assume the 
latter. The difference between these two kinds of obli- 
gation, as feelings (i.e., as subjectively regarded), and the 
equivoque between the one and the other easily escaped 

(r) The Greeks of Socrates* time did not occupy 
themselves with questions as to the moral motive of 
actions. If actions were performed at the prompting of 
eTridvfjLia, or for the sake of to ijSJ or of to w(pe\ifxov^ it 
seemed superfluous to ask why the agent performed them. 
As well ask why a hungry animal eats. When, on the 
other nand, an action was performed, not at the prompting 
of iwidvfiia^ or for the sake of any nameable iJSi; or 
wKpiXijULOPj but because it was koXop or its omission aicrxpouy 
it was almost equally superfluous to enquire after the 
moral motive of the agent. To the Greek mind, virtue, 
as such, clothed itself not with the stern authority of 
law, but with the alluring charm of the pleasant or the 

X See the argument with Hippias, Xen. Mem. iv. iv. 1 3-20. 
' irvv$4fA€voi 4 r€ d(t froulv cat &y Airix^frBai, 

' The obligation expressed by xph ^^ ^ properly ' external' — that of Necessity, or 


beautiful. Thus while Greek moral speculation directed 
its enquiries to the objective nature of the good, or of 
the beautiful, the nature of the moral motive, i.e., the 
subjective response of feehng to the solicitation of the 
good or beautiful, was, for the most part, left outside the 
scope of the enquiry. 

{a) These general considerations go far to explain 
the omission on the part of Socrates' hearers to put the 
critical question above referred to. There is, however, 
a particular consideration also which may help us to 
understand the success of Socrates in convincing, not only 
Xenophon and others, but even the youthful Plato, despite 
his genius for criticism, that dp€Tii is iTnarrfifxri. The life 
and character of Socrates as a man were a sort of object- 
lesson in confirmation of his doctrine. In Socrates his 
disciples beheld one for whom to know the right (by 
whatever criteria) was to do the right. No pleasure 
could seduce, no danger deter him from the line of duty. 
His practical sagacity, his insight into the ways of men 
and their affairs, joined with his firmness in resisting the 
influences of mere pleasure and pain, fear and hope, not 
only rendered him an exemplar of wise conduct, but pro- 
cured for him pontifical authority as an exponent of its 
principles. He seemed the incarnation of rationality, a 
living and effective testimony to the truth of his doctrine. 
When Socrates said^ that *fear of death is ignorance' 
his disciples naturally believed him. That the respect 
of his disciples for Socrates had risen to a height oi 
veneration, which, in a less enlightened city than Athens, 
might easily have resulted in the foundation of a cult, most 
readers of the Fhaedo will be inclined to acknowledge. 

5. For Plato, who had at heart the theory that 
man*s evSmjjLona lies in or through uperrij and destined 
himself to missionary effort ^ the Socratic doctrine, which 

» Af€logy 29 A. 

* Many passages in Plato's dialogues show that he would agree with Aristotle, who 
says N, B, iios'^ay ov yap i/a tld«fitp ri dorip ^ dp€i^ crKcirn(/M^ai dXX' tya dyaBoi 

R. % 


apparently simplified dperti by reducing it to iirurrniitiy 
must have had no ordinary attraction. If dpern = ema-rrifxt]^ 
why should it not be possible to propagate dpern as 
easily as n ypa/xfiartKn or 17 KiOapicrTiKrjj or any other art ? 
When Socrates preached this doctrine, and exemplified 
it in his own life and conduct, and even in his death, 
what wonder if to Plato at first it seemed not only to be 
true but to comprise the whole gospel of ethical truth ? 

6, From this happy dream of a simplified Ethics 
Plato was destined to awake. The doctrines which his 
last works announce, without actually contradicting that 
of Socrates, differ from it widely, not only as regards 
the meanings of dpeni and eTnarrfifxti but also as to the 
dynamic relation between them, and the mode in which 
dp€T»j is to be imparted by education. 

The grounds on which Plato gradually abandoned. his 
original naive acquiescence in the position of Socrates 
were probably the following: — 

{a) His great purpose being to teach, and therefore^ 
to understand the method of teaching, dperii^ he eagerly 
sought to provide himself with an apparatus of definitions 
not only of dpern in general, but also of the particular 
dperai. In the efiFort to do this, he found himself bafRed 
by unexpected difficulties. Naturally he enquired after 
the source of such difficulties. What obscure element 
was there in the nature of dpern and of the a/tjcrai— e.g. 
aui<ppo(rvvn9 dvZpeia^ oa-iorn^^ (j)i\ia — which made them 
so hard to define? Reflection at length convinced him 
that virtue in general, and each particular virtue, involved 
on the part of its possessor, not only en-icrrnfjin^ i.e., 
cognition of ends and means, but also something else — 
some correlatum distinct from imcrrniAn. This he found 
to be feeling, i.e., the pleasure or pain, or emotion, which 
attends all human moral activities,, and furnishes the 
motives or counter-motives of all. Thus Plato came in 

1 Cf. Plato, Laches 1900, irp&rov iirixfiprj(r»fitv rcvco^ dvtptia W war iarU,., 
tntiTa.,,Ka\ ory ttv rpontf roit vtaviaKois irapayivoixo. 


the end upon the truth, with which Aristotle^ starts at 
the beginning of his work, that Trepi >;8oi/a$ Kai Xv^n-a^ 

(6) Besides the difficulty experienced by Plato in 
his attempt to reach definitions, he met with another, 
no less gravely significant, showing that all was not 
right, or at least not clear, in the Socratic doctrine which 
seemed so simple. If virtue was knowledge, how was 
the obvious practical difficulty of teaching it to be 
explained ? How was it that the ^ Sophists,' the ablest 
professional teaqhers of the day, were so unsuccessful 
in imparting virtue to their pupils? How, again, was 
it that eminent statesmen, whose dperti and iwicrT^/jifi 
no one could impugn, were unable to do what they 
must have earnestly endeavoured to do, viz., communicate 
their dper^ to their own sons ? Lastly, though the 
Sophists and others might fail as teachers of dpervi, how 
was it that Socrates himself, who defined virtue as know- 
ledge, i.e., as the one and only thing properly teachable, 
professed to be utterly unable to teach it, and refused to 
accept pupils who wished to learn, it from him ? How 
was this paradox to be explained? 

Solutions of these difficulties respecting definition and 
teaching are dramatically attempted in many of the 
Platonic dialogues, but in vain ; nor did Plato succeed in 
solving them to his satisfaction until, abandoning the 
narro^r Socratic simplicity, he framed theories of dperri 
and en-ixTTYitifi^ and of the dynamic relation between them, 
which made full and due provision for the neglected 
element of feeling. 

7. It may be, and is here, supposed that Plato's 
dialogues contain marks of the steps by which their 
author gradually withdrew from the fallaciously simple 
Socratic doctrine, and made his way nearer and nearer 
to the conclusions which, taking full account of feeling, 
are found in the Republic and the Laws, and in fact 

* N. E. 1104*8. 



approximate to those afterwards developed by Aristotle. 
If we could trace these steps, we might, with some 
assurance, attempt the useful work of arranging the 
dialogues in their order of succession, assuming this to 
correspond, in the main, to successive phases in the 
evolution of Plato *s theory of feeling. 

This clue indeed would still be only one among 
several others that are possible. It seems, however, to 
be the most persistent, and, at least to this extent, the 
most trustworthy. Plato's complex philosophy had many 
ramifications, of which some throve steadily, while others 
(e.g., the theory of reminiscence) withered prematurely. 
His speculation on the subject of feeling, however, once 
begun, continued to gain in vigour, until it ultimately 
acquired an almost undue preponderance in his system of 
Ethics. Considered simply with reference to this criterion, 
the dialogues fall into two main groups. 

The first group contains those in which Plato, still 
dominated by the doctrine of his master, either takes no 
account of feeling, or treats its manifestations as purely 
irrational. It is a remarkable fact that all the dialogues 
in this group, though discussing definitions of virtue, or 
of the several virtues, and modes of teaching virtue, never 
discuss, and hardly ever even allude to, the subject of 
pleasure and pain. 

The second group consists of those in which Plato, 
no longer moving contentedly within the limits of the 
Socratic formula, shows, by his criticism of its meaning 
and the meaning of each of its terms, that he has become 
desirous of broadening it as a basis of moral theory. 

Both groups contain dialogues not directly concerned 
with feelmg, the arrangement of which must be deter- 
mined on different principles. 

8, Taken collectively the dialogues of the first 
group naay confidently be held to have been written by 
Plato earlier than those of the second. To settle the 
order of the several pieces within the group is, of coursc> 



not easy, but they may be distinguished into the following 
four successive divisions : — 

(a) Those which naively lecture as it were from the 
Socratic platform. Such are : — 

The Apology 
„ Ion 
„ Crito 
[„ Minos]. 

(6) Those which look in vain for definitions of 
dpenj^ or of certain dperai ; or express surprise at certain 
deductions from the Socratic conception. Such are : — 

The Eiuthyphron 

First Alcibiades\ 
Second Alcibiades\ 
Hippias Minor. 

(r) Those which bring into prominence difficulties 
as to the possibility or mode of ' teaching ' or ' learning ' 
dperri or acxpia. Such are : — 

The Euthydemus 
„ Theages. 

{d) The Menon^ which has characteristics common 
to the dialogues under (tf), {b) and {c) but is distinguished 
by a strongly marked tendency to break away from the 
Socratic position, and advance to an independent attitude 
on essential questions. 

The arrangement of the several dialogues within each 
of these divisions is very difficult, but I have ventured 
to give it as above. Some reasons for doing so will be 
found in the observations made below on the places 
assigned to the dialogues in succession. 

9. Our second group falls into two classes, consisting 
respectively of (A) those which do not, and (B) those 




which do, officially and expressly concern themselves with 

To Class A belong : — 

The Cratylus 
„ Theaetetus 

To Class B belong : — 

The Phaedo 


[„ Hippias Major] 
„ Phaedrus 
,, Symposium 
„ Philebus 
„ Repubtic 
„ Timaeus 
„ Leges. 

The dialogues of Class B may, according to our clue, 
be distinguished into : — 

I. An earlier subdivision, viz., those which err under 
any of the following heads : — 

{a) confusing feeling with perception ; 
{h) condemning pleasure indiscriminately ; 
(r) treating cognition or reason as a force in itself, 
capable of coercing feeling ; 

and 2. a later subdivision, viz., those which are free 
from the above errors. 

Those in the earlier subdivision may be arranged in 
the following order : — 

The Phaedo^ which is guilty under each of the three 
heads (<z), (^) and (r). 

The Gorgias^ which errs (495 d) under head {b). 
The Protagoras y which errs (2370) under head {c). 




The remainder, constituting the later subdivision, may 
take order thus : — 

[The Hipptas Major] 

Neither of the above classes, A and B, as wholes, can 
take precedence of the other. To arrange the dialogues 
which they contain, those of B may be treated in 
accordance with our clue, and those of A interpolated 
among or beside them according to other criteria. The 
arrangement of the dialogues to which the feeling-clue 
is only remotely applicable, and which have to be treated 
by a different method, may here be omitted as unnecessary, 
if not irrelevant. 

The dialogues — with the exceptions just mentioned — 
having been thus tentatively arranged in order, by the 
help of the clue derived from their treatment of feeling, 
some remarks may now be offered on each in turn, 
explaining its title to the place to which it has been here 

Group L 

10. The Apology throughout is implicitly charac- 
terised by the Socratic doctrine of the all-sufficiency of 
en-iarrrifiriy with constant use of the eXeyx^^ in order to get 
rid of the false persuasion of eTria-Ttiiixri. There appears 
in it also the Socratic antagonism to feeling (enthusiastic 
emotion) as such. The poets ^ were mere enthusiasts, 
who could not explain their own poetry Plato makes 
Socrates here state a profound truth, as regards aesthetic 
feeling, but deduce from it an untrue and narrow con- 
clusion ; as if poetry or art in general, because it cannot 

^ JpcL 22 B. 


* give \0705 * of itself, were little better than imposture ; 
the assumption being that no psychic energy has value 
which has not meaning, or the meaning of which cannot 
be unpacked with words. 

The Ion continues in the same strain. It holds up 
to ridicule the rhapsodist who does not know the canons 
of his art. This dialogue seems to give us a typical 
specimen of the manner of Socrates towards those whom 
he met in the streets of Athens^ cross-examining them 
as described in the Apology. For this reason, as well as 
for its narrow contempt for literary emotion, it has been 
placed here^. Its criticism of Ion, as a brainless and 
merely contemptible creature, shows how imperfect as 
yet were Plato's views of feeling compared with those 
to be expressed by him in the Symposium and Phaedrusy 
where, under the general name of "E/oios, enthusiasm, though 
here laughed down, is treated as the auxiliary — the very 
wing — of the spirit of genius. 

The Crito has been placed here firstly because it 
exhibits Socrates measuring the Zikcuov by the pofAifiopK 
He will not break prison because to do this would be 

* against the law.' The Xenophontean Socrates took the 
same view of the ZUaiov as equivalent to the vofiiixov. 
Secondly, it is placed here because Socrates in it osten- 
tatiously disparages feeling, and declares^ of himself that 
he never obeyed the prompting of any internal impulse 
except reason. There is no such incongruity as Mr Grote 
finds* between the Socrates of the Crito and the Socrates 
of the Apology. In the latter also Socrates proclaims 
himself^ as, above all, a law-abiding man, and recalls his 

^ Mr St George Stock's argument that the Ion is later than the Republic^ because its 
references to Homer are more exacts might be retorted. Probably Plato's memory of 
Homer was more correct when he was young, and not yet occupied with statecraft. 
See Mr Stock's /m, Introd. p. x. 

* Xen. Man, iv. iv. 12 — 25. 

' Crit9y 46 B. He here seems to forget the promptings of his daifu^vior. 

^ Grote's Flat9f vol. i. ch. viii. 

^ ApoL 32 A seqq. Socrates, however, distinguished between the authority of v6itos 
(which he should obey) and y^rf<f>ia-fxaTa (which might be lawfully disobeyed). 


own action in obeying {jueTci tou vofxov Kal tov SiKalov) 
the law at great risk to himself, in opposition to the 
resolation of the Democracy. Obedience to the 'law' 
(though not necessarily to yl^fiipia-fAaTa) was the elementary 
Socratic conception of justice. How naive it was compared 
with that which Plato afterwards attempted to develop in 
the Republic ! 

The Minos is probably non-platonic ; it would logically 
stand here, however, because it takes up a question 
germane to the leading thought of the Crito^ and enquires 
•^What is Law ? This question it solves more Socratico 
by reducing vo/uos to 17 tov ovto^ i^eupecri^. It confuses ^ 
the two distinct senses of law, while it treats education 
in virtue as a matter of \6yoi, and implies that virtue 
itself is merely knowledge. 

II. The BiUthyphron asks: — What is to oa-iovi 

This enquiry seems parallel to the quest after the meaning 

of dwrefieia in a passage of Xenophon * where to evo'e^k 

is treated as determined by the divinely enacted ritual. 

In this dialogue, however, when Euthyphron, replying to 

Socrates, refers to Sa-iov to the will of the gods, as to 

TOis fleois 7rpo<r<f>i\£9, his explanation is promptly shown 

to involve grave difficulties. When, as an alternative, he 

endeavours to explain to 6<nop as a branch {fiepos:) of to 

^aw¥, this explanation also is rejected. Yet (in so far as 

TO o(noy corresponds to to eva-e/ies:) the Socrates of 

Xenophon would have been bound to accept this as well 

as the former account of to oaiov. to eva-efik was for 

Socrates that part of to SiKaiov which was determined by 

the laws relating to the gods*; while the part which 

related to man was determined by the laws of the State. 

Evidently Plato is already more critical than the Socrates 

of Xenophon was as to definitions of justice and piety. 

The Ljtsis seeks a definition of <l>i\ia, which, as the 
greatest of human dp€Tai, comes next in order after 
ocrioTn^^ the virtue of man in relation to the gods ; hence 

' Mintf 317 »• ' Xen. Mem. iv. vi. z — 4. ' Ibid. iv. vi. 2. 


the place to which this dialogue has here been assigned* 
The definition sought for in the Lysis cannot there be 
found. It ends with the words ' We are friends, yet do 
not know what friendship means/ The reasons for placing 
it next before the Laches are given below. Both alike 
suggest that Plato was gradually discovering — or ap- 
proaching the discovery — that there is more in moral 
states than can be defined by or through mere \6yoi. 

The Laches examines and seeks to define another 
leading dpertij that of courage. Laches, the heroic com- 
mander, explains^ it as Kaprepia t£s, depending on ^vo'vs. 
Nikias, equally brave but with more intellectual culture, 
defines^ it as a form of knowledge — ly t£v Seipwv re Kal 
6appa\€(ou iTTicTTfjiuLri. Both definitions are rejected. 

The question how men are to be educated to courage, 
though mentioned, is not pursued. Yet even the mention 
of this practical matter shows that education was already 
winning Plato's attention as a missionary of dperf]. ' First 
define dvlpeia^^ says Socrates^ *and then we shall see how it 
is to be acquired — whether as a imddrifjia, or as an eTnrrihevixa.^ 
Here however Plato sees that dvixo^ is at the basis of 
dvlpeia^ and that, without this mode of feeling, knowledge, 
though also necessary, is not sufficient to make a man 
brave. Yet Plato does not see — or at least he does not 
here tell us — that this emotional element, being surd, is 
what baffles the attempt to define bravery, and is also 
what causes the difficulty of imparting it by teaching. 

The Laches is considerably later than the Euthyphron^ 
and appears to be later than the Lysis. Its references to 
Ovfjio^, as a factor of dvhpeia^ and to the subject of teaching, 
with the confidence which it expresses that the explanation 
of dvhpela is not impossible and may yet be found, tend to 
exhibit it as more mature than either the Euthyphron or 
the Lysis. Another mark of maturer thinking perhaps 
appears in Laches 191 d — ^e, where Socrates throws out 
the suggestion that dvhpeia may (unless correctly and 

^ Laches^ 192 B. ' Ibid. 19411, 196 c. ' Ibid. 190C. 


precisely defined) include endurance of, or resistance to, 
liSovcu^ XvTTcUy eiriOv^iai^ as well as <l>6l3oi. This indeed 
is not followed up ; but it shows that Plato is prepared 
to go further than he has gone into the theory of feeling 
in connexion with virtue. 

The first Alcibiades may bc^ un-Platonic, though it 
existed in the fourth cent. b.c. It raises a more complex 
and difiicult question than any in the preceding dialogues, 
viz., that of the 'virtue' of the statesman, which is a mark 
of lateness in it, compared with the Laches. Alcibiades I. 
must, however, if the work of Plato, be placed earlier than 
the Charmides^ which refutes its main position, as to the 
possibility and worth of self-knowledge. 

The Platonic authorship of the second Alcibiades is 
even more doubtful than that of the first. It proceeds to 
examine into the nature of <j>p6ptjcri^, or the knowledge of 
practical good, by endeavouring to answer the question — 
* What is that for which a wise man should pray to the 
gods, supposing his prayer certain to be granted f * The 
conclusion arrived at is that only the gods know what is 
good for man. Logically we have no key to the place 
which this dialogue, if genuine, would hold in the series, 
except that, as it discusses (ppovria-i^ — one of the four 
cardinal virtues recognised in the Republic — it would 
naturally come somewhere near the Laches and Charmides^ 
which discuss two of the others*. 

The Charmides seeks for a definition of crw^pocvvri 
in terms of iwia-TijiJiri. None of the definitions proposed 
is good enough to bear the test of the €\eyx<>^' The 
definition of arwcppoa-vvri as self-knowledge* is vigorously 
and completely refuted at considerable length. If the 
Alcibiades L and the Cliarmides are the work of the same 

^ See the work of Heinrich Dittmar, Aischines von Sphettos^ pp. 130 seqq., with the 
interesting remarks on p. 173. 

* Aldb. I. 1 2 1 E refeis to the four cardinal virtues in the order in which the Re- 
fubUc enumerates them ; Alcib, IL discusses the one of the four of which scarcely 
anything is said in Aldb, I. 

• Charmitles^ 163 A — 170. 


writer, it is impossible that the Alcibiades L should be 
later than the Charmides^ which, by a masterly analysis, 
tears up the passage in which the principal theme of 
Alcibiades I. is developed. The Charmides constitutes 
a distinct advance, beyond any of the dialogues hitherto 
arranged, in the criticism of the Socratic formula, dpeTv^ = 
ewiwr^fjiri. If (raxppoavvri or dper^ in general be iTrio'rtifiri, 
it cannot be mere knowledge of oneself. Of what else, 
then ? The dialogue is nevertheless, from the psycho- 
logical standpoint, comparatively early and crude. It 
gives no hint of the need of taking feeling into account 
for the explanation of (neippoa-vpti^ which, strangely enough, 
is considered without any reference to li^opfiy Xvirti^ or 
iTTidviuLia. We are still left with the Socratic notion^ that 
crto^poa-vpti^ like any other dpeTrij is eTncTriiJiri of some sort. 
The Hippias Minor examines the Socratic position, 
and shows that certain of its consequences are untenable. 
If dperri^iirurTYifiYi then (if iwia-Tfjfjiri be, as it is, some- 
thing which confers a Si/i/a/Uis) he who does wrong (e.g., 
tells a falsehood^) knowingly and purposely is a better 
man than one who does so unwittingly and uninten- 
tionally ; just as he who commits a solecism in grammar 
knowingly and purposely is a better grammarian than 
one who does so from ignorance. With this paradoxical 
consequence of the Socratic position Socrates is here 
made by Plato to express himself as deeply dissatisfied, 
though unable to deny that it follows from the premisses. 
This dialogue, placed here diffidently enough after the 
Charmides and before the Euthydemus, exhibits further 
advance in criticism, and a new method of criticism — 
that by reductio ad absurdum. Plato is in fact coming, 
and bringing his readers, nearer and nearer to the con- 
clusion that, in its simple sense, the Socratic definition 
of dperri cannot be sustained. Before breaking with this 

1 Charmides^ 1 74 B seqq. 

* Hipp, Min. 365 D seqq. ; 376 B. Wilamowxtz, Sappho und Simonides, p. x8o &., 
calk the Hippias Minor a comedy. He regards the Protagoras also as a comedy. 
This is altogether to misconceive the purport of these dialogues. 


definition, however, he further discusses it, in connexion 
with the teaching of dpern. 

12. The Euthydemus charges the ordinary schools 
of Sophists with inability to teach the dperii of the 
individual. It therefore naturally precedes the Theages^ 
which rather shows that neither they, nor statesmen like 
Pericles, nor even Socrates, can teach dpeTti as a-ocpia or 
humifxri rwv €i/ woKei. The Sophists, Euthydemus and 
Dionysodorus, are unable even to take seriously the 
important question which Socrates puts, viz. 'can they 
make a person dyado^ (i.e. teach him virtue) only when 
he has first been persuaded oJs xP^ ixavQdveiv Trap ' avrav ? ' 
or *can they do so if he is not yet so persuaded, or if 
he even believes that dpeT^ is not a Trpdyfia fiadtiTov ' ? 
They trifle with the serious issues thus raised — those of 
the teaching and learning of dperri and of moral improve- 
ment generally. They can only quibble to the end of 
Ae dialogued The conclusion of the whole matter, 
there drawn, is that such men only bring philosophy 
into contempt. 

The more comprehensive and important question of 
the difficulty of teaching o'o^ia or eTrurTnfin twv ev iroXet 
is made prominent in the next dialogue. Will Socrates 
undertake the education of the young man Theages ? He 
is earnestly requested to do so, but declines. His haiixoviov^ 
prevents him. Besides he cannot teach dpenj. If people 
learn from him, it is not because he gives them in- 
struction, but in some quite mysterious way. Aristides^ 
who has profited by association with him, testifies to the 
truth of this. Not only can Socrates not teach what 
Theages desires to learn, but there are not, he thinks, 
and never have been, any persons able to teach it^ Here 
we find Plato dealing directly with the peculiar paradox 
of the Socratic definition. If aperi? = €7r«(rT»y/Lriy, why 
cannot Socrates, who so defines — why can no one — teach 

1 Euthydemusj 304 E seqq. > Theages^ 128 D. 

• ThiageSy 130 a — E. * Ibid. 123-6 a. 


it ? On the other hand, Socrates admits that some, like 
Aristides, without being ' taught ' by him, profit in their 
studies by his society. How is this? The insistence 
here upon the influence of the haifwviov over Socrates, 
and upon the profit which his companions, without 
actually receiving instruction, derive from his society, 
seems to indicate that Plato, when writing the dialogue, 
had the subject of feeling as emotion prominently before 
his mind. The concluding part of the Theagesy in the 
relation which it suggests (but does not mention) between 
master and pupil, as ei(nrvr\\o^ and diTa^, reminds one 
of a passage in the Pfiaedrus. Teaching here resolves 
itself for Plato into the effect of what we might call 
personal magnetism. 

The attention bestowed on these matters brings the 
Theages near to the close of the Socratic period of Plato*s 
writings, and points it to a place after the Euthydemus 
and before the Menon. With regard to the subject of 
teaching, as we have seen, it breaks new ground ; just as 
the Menon also breaks new ground with regard to the 
subject of learning, by suggesting that it is merely 

13. In the dialogues which have been hitherto 
before us, Plato has considered the virtues of the private 
man and of the statesman. He has tried to define them, 
proceeding always on the hypothesis that dpeTvi = ewiarrn^ti* 
He has, on this hypothesis also, investigated the possi- 
bility of teaching the virtues and the ways in which they 
may be taught. He has failed in both directions. In the 
Menon (which closes the period of his sincere attachment 
to the Socratic definition) Plato enquires, as if anew, what 
is dpeTti ? Although formally, indeed, the first question he 
raises is whether dpeTri is ZiBaicroVy yet at the close he 
declares this question to be unanswerable, until the 
definition of dperti has been reached. Socrates starts the 
discussion by protesting^ that he does not know what 

1 Mitten^ 7 1 A. 


dp€T^ is, and has never met the man who did know. 

*But/ says Menon^^ slyly, *if you are so ignorant of it 

as all that, how should you even know what to look for 

in your search for dp^Tr\ ? How would you recognise it 

if you met it ? * In answer, Socrates suggests* that one 

may have a dim memory of it from a former Ufe. Our 

souls being immortal, we may have had a pre-natal 

knowledge of dp^nrn as of other things. Thus, when we 

now seem to be learning, or to be taught, we may really 

be only remembering, or being reminded. This novel 

speculation, which would place on a transcendent basis 

the concepts of both dpe^rn and iTricrTtiijfi (of whose 

objective validity Plato never entertains a doubt), takes 

its author beyond the mundane Socratic horizon. It 

shows that Plato is now, independently of his master, 

trying to forge a way along which he trusts to pursue 

his master's theory of dperij to its completion. Here 

again we find raised the familiar difficulty^ that ' if dpertj 

be €ff«rTi;//ij, there should be teachers of it, but there are 

none ' ; the conclusion with which we are left being that 

it comes to those who possess it Oeitz fiolpa^ i.e., by divine 

dispensation, the theory that it comes (pvaei having been 

rejected. That dpern comes deia ixoipa, or as God wills, 

is, however, a conclusion which was for Plato a mere 

P^-aller. If dpern is eTria-Tnixrij and eiricrrrnxn is (as the 

Menm pointedly states*) the one and only thing teach- 

^Me, why then is dperri not teachable ? His acqui- 

^encc in the Qeia fxoipa conclusion here is manifestly 

^rfy temporary. 

In the earlier course of the dialogue he refers to the 
perturbing consequence of the Socratic definition (already 
brought out in the Hipptas Minor) ^ that, if dperri 
\'='m(miiuLti) be as it is a form of Si/ra/uw, those who 

^ AfMm, So D. * Ibid. 8i a — 86 B. 

' Socrates it reported by Xenophon, Mem, iv. iv. 5, to have drawn attention to this 

* MenoH^ 870, ovdiv SXXo MatrKerai ^Oprnwot i) iwtartiiiijy. 


possess it, being able to do the evil as well as the good in 
each alternative, are no more virtuous than vicious. He 
suggests^, in order to meet this difficulty, that the iTna-TriiJfi 
in which apeiii consists is not only ^ui/a/iK, but hvvafjLK 
plus a form of eirSv^iia. This suggestion is, of course, in 
the sequel mangled by the eKayx^^ J 7^^ in it lies Plato's 
first positive contribution to the amendment of the 
Socratic definition. The addition of iirtBviJua to Svpafu^^ 
in the conception of the eiritrrnixri which constitutes 
dperri^ indicates that Plato is about to give up the naive 
position of Socrates. He does not as yet, however, hint 
at a theory that dpeTvi rests on a state of systematically 
trained and disciplined feeling as its basis. 

The Menon comes naturally at the close of the 
Socratic period. While concluding nothing, it completes 
the statement of difficulties, and clears the ground for 
fresh and independent investigation. Besides, as already 
remarked, it more than hints at a transcendent basis for 
the conceptions of dpern and iTritrr^fifi. On this basis 
the speculation of the Phaedo — the next dialogue — is 

Group II. 

14. The dialogues contained in Class B of our second 
group either discuss feeling, with more or less clearness, as 
a factor in the conception of dper^ ; or else (when directly 
concerned only with iirurrriiin) ^ for the most part, imply 
that Plato, when he wrote them, had reached a maturer 
view as to the relation between eTrio-Tf^/xiy and feeling in 
this conception. 

The Phaedo naturally comes after the Menon. It 
assumes, as basis alike of knowledge and of virtue, the 
reminiscence theory of learning ; though, in the Phaedo^ 
this theory involves more than it did in the Menon^ viz., 
the separate existence of the Platonic ideas. 

* Meuofty 77 A — 78 B. 


Although the principal purpose of the Phaedo is to 
demonstrate, by deduction from this theory of trans^ 
ccndent ideas, the immortality of the soul, it has features 
of interest which more immediately concern us. For 
instance, it is the first of the dialogues in our arrange- 
ment which discuss the subject of pleasure and pain. 
The reference to iwidv/xia in the Menon shows, indeed, 
that this subject was then not far from Plato's thoughts ; 
a fact which supports the arrangement of the Phaedo 
next after the Menon. Plato, however, has not yet 
matured his theory of feeling. The conceptions of feeling 
(pleasure and pain) and of perception, both comprised 
under the term aiadtia-Ky appear confused in this dialogue. 
At the very start ^ attention is ostentatiously drawn to 
the subject of pleasure and pain. Later on we find 
Socrates charging* the aia-dfja-ei^f as perceptions, with 
offences which hold of them only as feelings. Plato's 
real ground of quarrel ' with the aia-Oiia-eKj as perceptions, 
is that they do not give general knowledge, and that the 
particular knowledge afl?brded by them is no more* true 
than false. In his wiser moments even in the Phaedo^ 
he tells us that these same ai<r0ii<r€i^ are the sole empirical 
prompters of the dvdfivria'K of which in three dialogues 
so much is made. It is against the aurdtia-ei^ as feelings 
that he has ground of complaint in the Phaedo^ where, 
eg., he tells us that they 'make us love our prison- 
house' etc. In the Phaedo^ \6yoi are still the sole media 
through which one has to reach, not merely knowledge, 
but ako virtue. Thought or cognition is conceived in 
the Phaedo as if it were in itself a force capable of 
resisting, coercing, or banishing feeling. Again, the 
Phaedo^ in an impressive passage, condemns all pleasure 
indiscriminately, though once* it refers incidentally to 

* Vhaedoy 60 B. ■ Ibid. 65 c, 66 a-c 
' Ibid. 34 A — 76 D. Sec also Republic, et alibi. 

* ^kaedtf 75 A $ Fhatdrm^ 249 a 

^hatd»^ 94. * Ibid. 114B. 

K.. A. 


that connected with ra fiaOrniaTa as privileged. Hence 
this dialogue may properly come first of the dialogues in 
our second group. 

The Gorgias reveals a more advanced conception of 
feeling than that disclosed in the Phaedo. The analysis 
in the Gorgias of the physiological or physical conditions 
of the pleasures of the oKoKa^TTo^ probably owes much to 
the medical tradition of Plato's time ; yet it is remarkable 
that here we find Plato paying attention to this tradition. 
He is now in earnest with feeling, as distinct from 
cognition. The discussion in the GQrgias of the relation 
between n^ovai and Xvnai and iTriOvfAiaiy as far as it goes, 
is almost worthy of the Philebus. The Gorgias^ however, 
makes no allowance for the purer or 'higher* pleasures, 
of which so much is said in the Philebus, Republic^ and 
other dialogues. It shows crudeness, also, in not making 
Callicles distinguish between pleasure as a whole and the 
pleasure of the moment, thus leaving him helpless before 
the sophistical eXeyx'^ of Socrates. This distinction is 
made afterwards, in the Protagoras^ with saving logical 
effect. The Gorgias'^ treats with aflfected contempt, as 
merely KoXaKeia^ even the pleasures of literature and art, 
elsewhere highly appreciated. 

There are, however, it must be admitted, certain marks 
of relatively mature thinking which give one pause in 
the effort to determine the place of this dialogue. Thus* 
we read, at the conclusion of a brief theory of to koKov^ 

opi^onjievo^ TO KaXoif. Again, we find^ a hint, though only 
a hint, of the idea of a ' hedonistic calculus,' such as that 
boldly outlined in the Protagoras. 

On the whole, the Gorgias may, perhaps, stand next 
after the Phaedo^ but before the Protagoras and the 
Phaedrus. If the Phaedrus had been already written by 
Plato, the indiscriminate attack on rhetoric contained in 

» Gorgias, 500 a — 50a c * Ibid. 474 D— 475 A. See below, p. 5«. 

> Ibid. 475 B. 


the Gorgias would have seemed to its author scarcely 
justifiable. Similarly, if the Protagoras had been already 
written, the indiscriminate diatribe of the Gorgias against 
nlovai, would have had scant justification. The Protagoras 
corrects the exaggeration of the Gorgias^ distinguishing 
between an average of well-calculated pleasures and the 
mere pleasure of the moment as the good for man. 
Otherwise, there is no such incongruity as Grote finds 
between these two dialogues. 

The reasons for placing the Protagoras next* have 
been partly stated. It defends well-ordered pleasure 
against the unqualified attack made on pleasure in the 
Gorgiasy which therefore naturally precedes it. It pays 
strict attention to the subject of education, and represents 
Protagoras — ^here a person of deservedly great, if not 
paramount, authority — ^as dwelling on the essential im- 
portance of discipline and training in the teaching of 
virtue to the young. Protagoras is the leading dramatic 
personage. He corrects* a gross logical slip in the 
reasoning of Socrates, when the latter tries to prove that 
cufSpeia is a'o([>ia. He patronises Socrates as a superior 
might do. He is not worsted in the end ; for Socrates 
who has silenced him cannot believe himself to be right. 
Honours arc divided. The hypothesis, in developing 
which Socrates finds himself thus unsuccessful, is the old 
one, that dperri ss iirum^ixvi. 

Mr Grote, when he charges Plato with inconsistency in 
the Protagoras^ forgets that Plato in his dialogues is often 
arguing, as it were, with himself, balancing the reasons 
for and against some proposition. Socrates (i.e. Plato 
through him, testing the Socratic theory) here makes a 
final cflFort, on empirical lines, to show that virtue is know- 
ledge. Defining it^ as knowledge of the good, he defines 

* To mention Wilamowitz's judgment that the Protagoras was, with the exception 
of % coople of epigrams, the first work written by Plato, is due to that eminent scholar. 
The judgment, however, deserves hardly more than mention. See his St^k9 und 
Siwmmdajf^. 179-Son. 

* Frpr. 350 D. * Ibid. 351 B seqq. 



the *good' as to vi^v. *Ap€Tii^ accordingly, would be the 
definite knowledge (derived from calculation) of the tjhv^ 
as its object and end, and of the means to the attainment 
of this end ; and thus at last dpertj would be * teachable.' 
It is in general outline the theory of Bentham anticipated, 
and represents, perhaps, the best that sane hedonism can 
offer as a theory of virtue. Here, in this argument that 
dpeni as eirurrnixfi^ we have Plato's first and last attempt 
to shape a doctrine of scientific or rational hedonism ; and 
neither Socrates nor Protagoras gives it his approbation. 
The attempt shows great maturity of thought on Plato's 
part. One notion still remains, however, which was 
destined later on to disappear from Plato's mind. Pro- 
tagoras and Socrates both agree* that reason is a force 
which can rise up against and coerce feeling. 

The Protagoras has been placed next before the 
Hippias Major. The latter is doubtfully assumed to be 
a genuine work, in which Plato opens a new chapter in 
his theory of feeling — one which deals with aesthetic 
feeling, i.e. the feeling or emotion attending the percep- 
tion of the beautiful. 

The Hippias Major — which asks what is meant by 
TO Ka\6v ? — initiates the discussion of aesthetic feeling 
continued in the Phaedrus and Symposium. Its discussion 
of the kclKov, as to Si oKoij^ ts kul o^ew^ »|5«/^, is dialectical 
and psychological. The dialogue, as a piece of writing, 
does not deserve comparison with the magnificent works 
which follow it. It has its use, however, in broaching* 
the subject of aesthetic feeling. Nor is it, as an effort 
of dialectic, sophistical though it may be, quite unworthy 
of Plato. If it is his work, it can hardly have been 
written after the Phaedrus and Symposium. It would be 
dreary reading to persons already acquainted with these 
splendid compositions. 

From several points of view the Phaedrus may be 

» Pr9t, 354 B, 355—357. « 35*C— D. « 298 a scqq. 

^ But see above, p. 50, where the reference to this subject in the Gargias is noticed. 


regarded as complementary to the Gorgias. It corrects 
the exaggerated attack there made on the pleasure of 
literature and art, and it also rectifies the unqualified 
condenmation of * rhetoric/ It shows how, by the com- 
bination of excellence in * rhetoric,* as the art of oratorical 
and literary expression, with excellence also in Dialectic^ 
(in the Platonic sense) as exact philosophic knowledge, 
some of the fairest works of the human mind are produced. 
The PbaedruSy indeed, is, to some extent, the expansion 
of a thought found in the Gorgtas\ and expressed there 
in the words of Socrates, ipCKoa-iXpiav Tdfia wcuSiKci ; with 
which may be compared words put into his mouth also 
in the Pbaedrus^ : tovtwv Si) eywye ai>r(fc t€ ipafrrti^, w 
^diSpe^ tUv Ziaipexretav kui avvayiayvivj %v oto^ t a \ey€«i/ 
T€ Kai (ppovetv : in keeping with which we have from 
Phaedrus himself the passionate outburst*: tivos fxh ow 
€P€Ka Kav TI9 619 eiiT^iv ^ofi; aW fi Ttiv TOiovrwv tihovtHv 
%veKa\ Best of all nZoval are the vi^ovai of beautiful 
expression allied with clear and true thinking ; and such 
pleasures are sharply contrasted with ax irepl ro a^ixa^ 
which are 'justly called dpipanoStoSeK.' The life of philo- 
sophy is promoted by indulging, and may safely indulge, 
the highest forms of enthusiastic emotion. These are 
here comprehensively referred to under the name of "Epcos. 
The theory of reminiscence, which occurs in the Menon 
and Pbaedoy occurs also in the Phaedrus. This theory 
here, however, is not, as in the Pbaedoy made the basis of 
the argument for immortality ; and, moreover, the theory 
of ideas in the PbaedruSy though conjoined with the 
reminiscence theory, is not necessarily, or organically, 
dependent on this. Indeed the sketch given or hinted 
at in the Pbaedrus^ of the formation of general ideas — 
Sei yap avdpwjrov ^vviivcu Kar elBo^ Xeyojuteifov jc.t.X. — 
seems, despite the connexion there alleged between it 

* Phaedrus^ 259 E — 266 B. * Gargtas^ 482 a. 

* Phoidrus^ 266 B. * Phoidrus^ 258 £• 

* Phaedrus^ 249 ~ " 


and dvdfxpfj(ri9y to show that the reminiscence theory 
(which never afterwards assumes importance in the 
dialogues) was already beginning to lose ground in Plato^s 
favour, and to be replaced by a different and more trust- 
worthy basis of idealism, viz. the conception of the ev Kat 
7ro\Kd\ The feeling or emotion dealt with in the PAae-- 
drus (and also in the Symposium) under the name of ''Epw^ 
is that which arouses to supreme activity of expression the 
total life of the soul. Hence its potency over the intellectual 
faculty, which, according to Plato, it quickens into super- 
lative constructiveness. Plato refers metaphorically to 
this supreme feeling as the plumage of the soul^ 

The Symposium continues in a more exalted strain 
the eulogy of "Epta^ commenced in the Phaedrus. In the 
Phaedrus we are shown the power of •; Oeia fxavia in 
general over the soul of the poet or other seeker after self- 
expression, and in particular, as "Eptasy over the soul of the 
philosopher. In the Symposium^ in the speech of Diotima, 
Epw^ is represented as the genius of philosophy itself. 
Here, as in the Phaedrus^ Plato is transported with a 
thought, which has descended upon him like a heavenly 
vision. *'E/£)W9, the interpreter between God and man, 
takes Plato's soul on high, and reveals to him the Trinity 
in Unity of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good — 
the perfectly satisfying object of the united faculties of 
knowledge, feeling, and will. 

The Symposium naturally comes after the Phaedrus. 

15. There remain the five dialogues. Class A of our 
second group — ^the Cratylus^ Tbeaetetus^Parmenides^Sopbistes^ 
and Politicus — which, though not concerned with feeling, 
and, therefore, not to be arranged directly by the clue 
which we have been following, nevertheless belong to 
Plato's maturity- They may, as we have said, be inter- 
polated with more or less confidence in their several places 
among the other dialogues of this period by the use of 

^ Cl Philebus, 16c, 


other criteria. We will not dwell upon them, but pass 
to the concluding dialogues, the order of which answers 
directly to our test. 

These fall into the following order — Philebusy RepubliCy 
I'imaeusy Z^ges. Their contents being generally well known, 
the remarks offered on each shall be as brief as possible. 

16. The Philebus treats of feeling in relation to the 
constitution of the Good, not only the Good for man, but 
the metaphysical Good. In pursuance of this treatment, 
however, it presents a psychological account of feeling 
more complete than any other to be found in ancient 
philosophy before Aristotle. Indeed no separate work of 
Aristotle gives an account of feeling which is at once so 
detailed and so systematic as that given in Plato's Philebus. 
This dialogue analyses and classifies all the kinds of 
feeling, both that strictly so called, viz. — pleasure and 
pain, and the feeling variously implied in the desires and 
emotions. It divides feelings into those which accompany 
presentative and those which accompany representative 
consciousness. It distinguishes pleasures into lower or 
sensual, and higher or purer pleasures. It attempts to 
determine the psychological nature of the pleasure de- 
rived from literature — from tragedy and more especially 
from comedy. Passing from psychology to philosophy, 
the Philebus like the Symposium glorifies aesthetics by 
identifying the idea of the Beautiful with that of the 
Good : Korrairiipevyev i;/uii/ ti tov dyadov Svpafu^ €«9 Trjy toO 
Kci\ov (pva-iv^. This dialogue, therefore, judged by our 
clue, stands at or near the end of Plato's preparatory work, 
exhibiting him equipped with his complete psychological 
and philosophical apparatus, and ready to proceed with his 
greatest constructive work. The Phtlebus^ however, has in 
it no hint of the constructive intention. It is purely 
scientific in its method^ It says nothing of teaching or 

^ PMUbus, 64 B. 

' For the philosophical import of P/ulebus^ jtfBseqq., in which Socrates and Pro- 
tarehus (both representing Plato 'arguing with himself) contend for and against the 
attribmion of ' truth * and ' falsehood ' to pleasure and pain, cf. an excellent article by 


discipline. It has, as far as feeling goes, assembled the 
materials which Plato will build into the fabric of the 

In the Republic^ by far the greatest of Plato's works, we 
find utilised all that he had gathered from experience and 
reflection regarding the subject of feeling — pleasure and 
pain, desire and emotion — in its bearing on human dperti. 
Those for whom this paper is written will not need to be 
reminded of the extreme care which Plato takes to show 
that for him, now, the * teaching * of dpern must begin 
with feeling, not with intellect : that feeling must be 
cultivated long before dialectic can be usefully brought 
into the service of education. Now, indeed, even the 
breeding as well as the training of his young alumni has 
become in his opinion important as a security for their 
education. Having done all that can be done for the 
foundation of character, by the use of artificial selection, 
n fiova-iKYiy and •; yvfAvaa-TiKri^ the wise legislator of the 
Republic will then, and not till then, proceed to complete 
his work by the introduction of ij liaXeKTiKri. Plato tells ^ 
us emphatically that, if the worst results are not to follow, 
the use of \6yoi (dialectic) for educational purposes must 
be postponed until certain habits of feeling have first been 
securely established by an elaborate and long-continued 
process of discipline. 

The Timaeus might, like the Philebus^ have been a 
propaedeutic for the practical doctrines of the Republic^ 
for which it supplies what Plato considered the physical 
or physiological — ^what we should call the * scientific* 
basis. It gives an account of feeling, well distinguished 
from perception ; and the theory of education and legis- 
lation set forth towards the close of the work shows how 
very deeply Plato had now become impressed with the 

Harold H. Joachim on The Platonic distinction befween ^True* and * False* Pleasures and 
Painty Philosophical Revietv, vol. xx. No. 5, September, 191 1. Mr Grote's criticism of 
Plato here hat been anticipated by Protarchut. Plato had more in mind than superficial 
criticism can discover. 

^ Republic^ 539 B$ cf. Arist. 1095 a a. 


importance of feeling as a coefficient in the moral consti- 
tution of man. But the Timaeus^ by its own testimony 
comes between the Republic and the fragmentary Critias ; 
and we have no sound reason to doubt that this is its 
proper place. 

17. In the Leges y which, it is hoped, the following 
observations (agreeing in this with the fairly consistent 
tradition of antiquity) will show to have been his latest 
work, indeed in all probability the work of his old age, 
Plato returns, from the TrapdSeiyiuLa^ iv ovpavw of the 
Republic J to the earth our habitation. Reference has been 
here made, come pages back^ to the subject of feeling as 
one which for Plato, from the time when he first grasped 
it, steadily gained in importance, until at last it ' acquired 
an almost undue preponderance in his system of Ethics.' 

Reference to the Leges will show : — 

{a) The weight assigned in this dialogue to 
pleasure in the scale of * goods ' : 

{b) The power ascribed to feeling over reason in 
human conduct ; and 

{c) The pessimistic Weltanschauung which, ap- 
parently as a consequence of this, had darkened the once 
bright spirit of Plato. 

{a) The Athenian stranger, pressed by the necessity 
of taking account of feeling in his conception of the good 
for man, asserts^ that the virtuous life alone is in^vs ; ^nd, 
when Kleinias demurs, goes so far as to postulate that a 
legislator *who was good for aught* {ov n koI a-fAucpop 
6(l>e\a9) would proclaim publicly and enforce by law the 
belief that none who are wicked live ly&w?. To this 
Kleinias is made to reply in the memorable words : koXou 
fK¥ n dKsideia^ w ^eve, Kai fjuovifiov* (adding however also) 
iouce fifiy od pahiov ehai freideip^. To the first objection 
(which, though Plato must have the credit of it, seems 

^ TiwtanUf 20 c, 27 a. * Rtpuhlic^ 592 B. * p. 36 supra. 

^ Legitf 662 seqif. * Ast*8 interpretation is right 


indeed a mere salvo) no reply is offered. To the secona, 
the Athenian stranger in effect pleads that he cannot see 
the impossibility of enforcing the useful belief, whether 
true or false, by legislation. 

An estimate^ is given of the tihovai afforded by the 

* better * compared with the * worse ' types of life, for the 
purpose of showing that the life of virtue is the most 
pleasure-giving. Plato's urgency on this point here exceeds 
anything of the sort in the ninth book of the Republic. 
In fact Plato in the Leges all but rests the case for hu-^ 
man virtue on its pleasure-giving results. Bentham or 
H, Spencer could assent to every proposition contained 
in this part of his argument. 

(^) Every man has within him* two opposite 
•irrational counsellors,' n^ovn and \vfrri. Besides these 
he has also lo^ai /ucAXoktwi/, the one, viz. <p6fio^y antici- 
pating pain, the other, viz., dappos^ anticipating the 
contrary. With these he has another counsellor, \o7«r/uos, 
a faculty of calculating and comparing better and worse. 

* We are, in fact, each of us a daufia OeToif ; and we do 
not know {ov yap Srj tovto ye yiyviofTKOimev) whether this 
davfxa deiov is merely a Traiyviop, or has been constructed 
by its divine maker with a serious purpose {a-irovZ^ 
^vpea-rriKos:) .* At all events, the TrdOvi above mentioned 
are, as it were, veupa or a-junipivdoi^ which agitate the 
davfxa delop, pulling it in contrary directions, this way or 
that, to acts of virtue or of vice. 

Feeling, as emotion, per se is blind^ and cannot be 
reasoned with ; yet it overrides reason, as in those suffering 
from ii fxeyifrrri dfiadiay i.e., those who love* what is bad for 
them, and hate what is good. Such persons are incapable 
of governing themselves or others. 

' God governs*^ human affairs, but with Tvxn and 
Kaipos for his coadjutors'; *an indulgent or charitable 

* Leges^ 73a B — 734D. ■ Ibid. 644 c — D. 
' Leges^ 687 D seqq. Blindest of all is 8elf-IoTt» 731 B aeqq. 

* Lef^es^ 689 A — c • Ibid. 709 B. 


view of the matter might however add rexvtiy that is, 
intelligent human agency, as a co-operator.' So small 
and precarious is the part in human affairs here left by 
our philosopher for man himself to play. . 

Plato in the Republic^ hoped for the consummation 
of his perfect state through philosophy, when a philosopher 
should become king, or a king become philosopher. In 
the Laws he has only the very much humbler hope that 
all good things will come about orav Oeio^ ipw^ t£p 
(rvKppovwv T€ Kcu ducaiwp eiriTtihevfidnov iyyevri'rcu fxeydXaK 
Turi ivvaaTeiou^. He looks no longer to the epa>s of philo- 
sophy for the regeneration of mankind, but to another 
sort of epio^j viz, passionate feeling for the ordinary virtues ; 
and, as we have seen, all feeling per se is blind ! 

{c) The gloom which had settled upon the mind of 
the optimistic author of the Pbaedrus^ Symposium^ and 
Republic may be illustrated by the following references. 

After the Athenian stranger has set forth a system 
of rules for the regulation of education and conduct, and 
the production of the modes of feeling which conduce to 
the several ennobling virtues, he proceeds* substantially as 
follows: The affairs of men are indeed not worthy of 
serious consideration, yet we must consider them seriously — 
such is our hard lot. How else shall we best steer our 
course in the voyage of life? God is, no doubt, worthy 
of all reverence — aye, and of felicitation; but man, as 
we have said^ is only a sort of plaything of God — a 
mechanically constructed toy ; and indeed this is the best 
thing that can be said of him, that he is God's toy. 
Accordingly, we shall run our several courses in life 
most wisely if, following the rules laid down above, we, 
as God's playthings, play out our parts in all seriousness, 
as well as we can^ it is a common but mistaken notion 

' Rgp, 473 l>» 499 c vpXv h»,.,QkiiBi9Tii f^CKo<ro<fnas aKriBivhs tptts tfurtirjj. Leges, 
711 D. ' LegeSf 803 B seqq. 

' LegeSj 644 D. In the later he ditmisses the alternative allowed in the earlier 
* 9ai(pvra o r« coXXcWar iraididr. Plato took this idea from Heraclitus. 


that our sports and pastimes arc the end to which our 
serious labours are subordinate. The fact, however, is 
that our sports are subordinated to ends which for us 
are highly serious, but for the gods are the highest form 
of amusement. As prudent men we must strive to please 
the gods, our masters ; but as philosophers we must also 
know that our gravest virtues are but TraiSiai KdWurrai 
for the gods. To know that, by playing our parts well, 
we can render the gods propitious^ to us is to have a 
glimpse of a vitally important truth ; for we, being the 
wondrous handiwork of God, are capable of some glimpses 
of truthl 

Struck (as he well might be) with the grim irony 
of all this, Megillus* exclaims : * O Stranger, you draw 
an utterly degrading picture of our common humanity ! ' 
to which the Athenian answers: *Be not surprised, 
Megillus, but forgive me. What I have said of man*s lot, 
I said under the influence of emotion, while I compared 
man with God. However, if you wish, I will allow that 
our race is not so vile — that it is, after all, indeed, worthy 
of some serious consideration.* Thus the shaft is driven 
home; for this reply only serves to assure us how de- 
liberately, and with what depth of purpose, the words 
complained of had been spoken. 

Life is such that death is far better* is one lesson of 
the Laws. * The God of death is the best friend of our 
race,* says Plato here, quite in the vein of d weictddpaTo^. 
The religious exhortations which succeed*^ in Book x 
can have little effect as an antidote to the saddening 
words which have gone before. That the gods exist and 
care for man is indeed stated; but the comfort of this 
statement has been cancelled in advance; for is not man 
a iraiyviov Beovi Lastly, in the Laws\ and there only. 

^ i<m Toi/s ^codff TXcok ifficv irapaurK€vd(tt» dvwarovs tlvcu, 
' iTfUKpa d€ aXridtias Srra furixoyTts. 
' LegiSy 804 A — B. 

* Legis, 828 D. * Ibid. 888 B. 

* Ibid. 896 B. 


Plato abandons himself to the belief in an evil as well as 
a good world-soul- 

This strain of utterance implies pessimism of every 
type — intellectual, moral, and religious. It might almost 
seem as if Plato's strong faith in the power of human 
reason had begun to give way, and his idealism to lose 
something of its buoyancy under his growing sense of the 
part played in human life by the surd, inarticulate, but 
fundamental element of feeling. 

John I. Beare. 


The battle of Pharsalia was fought on August 9 (of 
the unreformed Calendar = June 6) in 48 B.C. Cicero was 
not present at the battle {Fam. ix. 18. 2) but had remained 
at Dyrrhachium, where Cato had been left in command. 
About August 14 Labienus brought news of the defeat to 
that place, and it was evacuated at once amid a somewhat 
lurid scene (Cic. De Dhin. i. 68). The Pompeians 
repaired to the head-quarters of their fleet at Corcyra, 
and there held a council of war. Cato wanted to resign 
the command to Cicero as the eldest consular, but Cicero 
refused (Plut. Cic. 39: Cat. 55). At that council Cicero 
no doubt urged the discontinuance of the war on the same 
grounds as he afterwards stated in a letter to Marius: 
viz., that Pompey's imperfectly trained forces were now 
after defeat less than ever a match for Caesar's veterans 
(cp. 9. I ^), and he may have set forth the many disastrous 
alternatives involved in still offering resistance*. Young 
Pompey was very indignant, called him a traitor, and 
wanted to kill him* but he was saved by Cato (Plut. 
Cic. 39). This was in the latter half of August. Cicero 
with his brother Quintus, who appears to have joined 
them at Corcyra — he was not in Dyrrhachium when the 
town was evacuated {De Div. i. 68), but there does not 
seem to be evidence that he was at the battle of Pharsalia 
— retired to Patrae, where they remained for about a 
month. A serious breach of friendship occurred between 
the two brothers almost immediately after they met {initio 
navigationisy 9. 2), one of the grounds certainly being that 

1 Where the book it not indicated the reference is to Att, zi. 
* Fam, vii. 3. % and 3 $ an important passage. 


Cicero had not given Quintus a share of his Asiatic 
treasure (13. 4, cp. i, 2: Fam. v. 20. 5 and 9) : but all 
that treasure, 2,200,000 sesterces, had been put by Cicero 
at Pompey's disposal early in the year, and Cicero says 
Quintus had never asked for any share of it before. No 
doubt there were other recriminations, and we can well 
credit the statement that the passionate Quintus urged 
them with extreme bitterness (12. i) and continued to 
vilify Marcus (8. 2 : 9. 2 : 1 1. 2 : 14. 3 : 16. 4) ^ : but, with 
characteristic impetuousness, he congratulated Marcus later 
on when Caesar wrote a friendly letter to him (23. 2). 
Even young Quintus composed an invective against his 
uncle to be delivered before Caesar (lo, i). Possibly 
some time in September Cicero may have received from 
Dolabella the letter in which was contained the statement 
that Caesar advised Cicero to go to Italy and stay there*. 
The arrival of the Pompeians under Fufius Calenus at 
Patrac (Dio Cass. xlii. 13. 3) in the latter part of September 
may have decided Cicero to adopt Dolabella's advice. He 
probably left Patrae, which was about ten days' journey 
from Brundisium, about the beginning of October and 
arrived there towards the middle of the month. Indeed 
the first letter from Brundisium which we have is dated 
November 4 {Fam. xiv. 1 2) : but it is plainly a reply to a 
letter which Terentia had despatched from Rome im- 
mediately after receiving information from her husband 
that he had arrived in Italy : and the same seems to have 
been the case with Att. xi. 5, which was probably also 
written on November 4^ in reply to a similar letter from 

^ Eltewhere Cicero speaks of the tnvidiosa atrocitas which so often characterised the 
language of Quintus : Q, Fr. L 2. 6. 

* 7. 2. Turn ad eum (Antonium) mist L. Lamiam qui demotutraret ilium (Caesarem) 
lUlahellae dixisse ut ad me scriberet ut in Italiam quam primum 'venirem : eius me litteris 
venissf. That letter is not extant : but we have a letter (Fam. ix. 9) from Dolabella, 
written in June before Caesar's defeat at Dyrrhachium, no doubt with Caesar's approval, 
oiging Cicero to retire firom hostilities. 

* This interesting reasoning is due to O. £. Schmidt, Briefiwechsel Ciceros, p. 20 1» 
whose s er v i ce s in fixing the chronology of Cicero's letters can hardly be over-estimated 

64 L. C. PURSER 

From the middle of October, 48, till September 25, 47, 
when Caesar returned to Italy and pardoned Cicero in his 
most courteous style (Plut. Cic. 39), Cicero remained in 
Brundisium: and it was one of the most dismal and 
anxious periods of his life. His main trouble was his 
own political position : he had deserted the Pompeians 
and yet was far from being assured that Caesar would not 
treat him like any other Pompeian: but his distress of 
mind was aggravated by the consciousness that, even 
though he had acted prudently in ceasing from active 
resistance to Caesar, it was uncertain whether his coming 
to Italy was a wise course\ and in any case he had certainly 
not acted a heroic part, and had in some degree in his 
actions been untrue to his principles as an optimate. He 
would fain not forfeit wholly the good opinion of the boni 
(7. 3, cp. 21. 3). This source of anxiety became especially 
acute during the early months of the next year, when 
Caesar's fortunes seemed to be turning (16. i) — when 
Caesar himself had got into more than one kind of false 
and dangerous position in Alexandria, when Domitius had 
been defeated by Phamaces, Gabinius had been unsuccessful 
in lUyria, Cassius Longinus had become unpopular in 
Spain, when there was much confusion and disaffection in 
Rome and Italy, and above all when the Pompeians were 
gathering together a very formidable host in Africa ^ 
The quarrel with Quintus weighed heavily on him too, 
though he magnanimously wrote to Caesar (who con- 
sidered that it was Quintus who was the trumpet that 
called Marcus to the Pompeian camp) exculpating Quintus 
on that score, saying that Quintus rather followed than 
led him, and had always urged his joining Caesar's side 

He proves that letters took about eight or nine days to pass from Rome to Brundisium, 
Ovid, Pont. iv. 5. 5. Thus Att, xi. 6 (Nov. 27) asks for a speedy reply, which reaches 
Cicero on Dec. 17 (xi. 7). Schmidt (p. 202) adds much other confirmatory evidence. 

^ 6. a. nu discessisse ab arms nunquam paenituit,. .'voluntatis me meat nunquam 
paenitebit, consili paenitet s cp. 7. 4: 8. i : 9. i : 14. 1 : 15. i, 2 : 16. 2, 3 : 24. i. 

> For allusions in Att. xi. to the gradual reconstruction of the Pompeian party in 
Africa q>* 7. 3* 10. z t 11. i : 12. 3 : 14. i, 3 : 15. i, 2 : 16. i. 


(12. 2) : and he thinks sadly how he would act on behalf 
of Quintus if he had the influence with Caesar which 
Quintus now had (7. 7). Cicero*s finances, too, were as 
usual in a disordered state : indeed he seems never to have 
been quite clear how he stood. Certainly at this time he 
was very straitened for money, so much so that sometimes 
he was in want for even the necessary expenses of himself 
and his family (i 1.2: 14. 3 : 21. i : 23. 3 : 25. 3) : and 
Terentia, along with her freedman and steward Philotimus, 
appears to have acted selfishly and dishonestly in money 
matters during Cicero's absence^, and especially in respect 
of a will which she made at this time in which, as we 
may gather, she did not make proper provision for her 
children (2. 2: 16. 5: 23. i: 24. 2, 3). To crown all, 
Dolabella, the young husband of Cicero's much-loved 
daughter TuUia*, was acting most outrageously, not only 
by his political actions (12. 4: 23. 3), but also by most 
open and notorious profligacy (23. 3 : cp, 15. 3) : so that 
it seemed necessary in point of honour that a divorce 
should be effected (23. 3), to say nothing of the pecuniary 
loss wliich Cicero had incurred in the part payment of 
her dowry, which he would be quite unable to recover 
from Dolabella (25. 3). 'Every kind of misfortune,* he 
says (11. 2: cp. 15. 2), *I have to bear and expect': yet 
in his general humiliation he is ever blaming himself, and 
not his ill-fortune (9. i: 11. i, 2: 15. 2: 16. 2: 21. 3: 
24. 1 : 25. i). He was not in good health (5. 3) when 
he came to Brundisium, and the climate of the place was 
notoriously bad (21. 2 : 22. 2 : cp. Caes. B. C. iii. 2. 3), so 
that during the whole year he was most afflicted in mind 
and body (22. 2). At times he seems to fear that all his 
and Terentia's property will be confiscated and that they 
will have to go somewhere into exile (9. 3). Once he 
hints at suicide, or at least that he will soon be dead 

' Sbe seems to have done so also doring the period of Cicero's exile ; as this is the 
nose reasonable interpretation of the mysterious allusions in Att, iv. i. 8 : 2. 7. 
' Dolabella was about 22, Tullia about 31 at this time. 

66 L. C. PURSER 

(25. i). No wonder then that we find an utter lack of 
spirit in the letters of this period — and even, as in the 
letters from exile, occasionally a certain imperfection in 
expression \ Looking at the whole circumstances of 
Cicero's case one cannot but feel sincere pity for the 
sufferings of this good man, who always shone in times 
of peace but was too sensitive and scrupulous for that 
cruel age and who certainly was, as the Epitomist of Livy 
says (Epit. cxi.), nihil minus quam ad bella natus. On 
the letters he wrote to Atticus during this period a few 
notes are subjoined. (The letters of Att. xi. are in chrono- 
logical order up to Ep. 1 8 : after that the chronological 
order is 25, 23, 19, 24, 20, 21, 22.) 

6. 2. Quare voluntatis me meae nunquam paenitebit, 
consili paenitet. In oppido aliquo mallem resedisse quoad 
arcesserer : minus sermonis subiissem, minus accepissem 
doloris, ipsum hoc me non angeret. Brundisi iacere in 
omnis partis est molestum. Propius accedere, ut suades, 
quomodo sine lictoribus quos populus dedit possum?... 
quos ego non paulisper cum bacillis in turbam conieci ad 
oppidum accedens. 

Cicero does not regret his purpose (voluntatis) of 
retiring from arms in the conflict with Caesar, but he 
does regret the course he adopted {consili) of coming to 
Italy. He wishes he had settled down in some extra- 
Italian town until he was summoned to Italy. He must 
have considered Caesar's verbal suggestion to Dolabella to 

1 Thus, to take an example or two, we find words sometimes inelegantly repeated, 
e.g. factum (6. 3), diligentissime (8. i), sumere (11. 2): utinam non (9. 3), which is 
common in later writers, e.g. Quintilian, but elsewhere Cicero always uses nn the 
omission of dandas in cures litteras meo nomine (8. 2) : Achaici deprecatores itemque in 
Asia (14. i), 'likewise those in Asia,* compare ille in AcAaia (11. 2): Acbaici item ex 
Asia (15. i)bo2 cf ^Aa-iag, Such adverbial expressions are very rare in Cicero, cp. 
Lebreton, p. 90. There is a curious use of pergit in 14. 3 : Quintus pergjit — * is going 
on ' (sc. abusing me). Such a strong ellipse as this is an undue extension of such an 
allowable use where the verb to be supplied is dicere, e.g. pergam (sc. dicere) et insequar 
longius, Verr. iii. 51. Pergere with the accusative is rare, cp. Att, iii. 15. 5 : iv. 11. i : 
perge reliquOy and seems confined to this kind of phrase where dicere can be supplied, e.g. 
Leg, ii. 69 t though we find Phil. xiii. 40, per^t tn me maiedicta where Halm would add 
iacere or iactare, Clark adds dicere in the text ; and no doubt the usual Ciceronian 
construction of pergere is with the infinitive. 


write to him and tell him to return to Italy (cp. 7. 2) as 
insuf&cient, though in after times he speaks of this as a 
definite order of Caesar's {Phil. ii. 5) , and he was painfully 
conscious that the grants of an autocrat could always be 
revoked (20. i). He wishes he had not come to Italy, as 
often during the succeeding months (see above, p- 3 n. i ) . 
At first sight the word aliquo excites suspicion, as one 
wants a definite antithesis to BrunJisi; and one feels 
inclined to alter to Achaico. If the first syllable were lost 
(as in alia for Italia^ i o. 2 : quos for aliquos^ 1 3 fin.) -^ico 
might have been corrupted into aliquo. But the words 
resedisse and remansissem (§ 3) and arcesserer sufficiently 
imply that the town was across the sea : so no alteration 
is necessary. Cicero*s coming to Italy is ipsum hoc. For 
propius accedere of going nearer Rome, cp. 5. 2 : 20. 2 : 
22. 2. Nearly all editors adopt nunc for non^ as was 
suggested by Tunstall* It is most unlikely ; for Cicero was 
in Brundisium since the middle of October, and this letter 
ViTas written on November 27. Non is omitted by Lehmann. 
Stemkopf {Zur Cbronologie und Erkldrung der Brief e Ciceros 
aus 48 und 47, Dortmund Program, 1891, p. 23) joins it 
closely with paulisper^ non^paulisper^ * for a good while,* lit. 
* not for a little while.' But Cicero would more probably 
have said aliquantisper or more simply diu. I think that 
Lehmann's view is right. The corruption may have 
arisen from an attempted correction of paulisper into nuper^ 
nu having been written above paulis-- and subsequently 
getting into the text in an altered form. Non is some- 
times added erroneously in codices, e.g. Att. ii. 23. 3 \non 
ingrederis. M tiller gives many examples in his critica 
note on p. 84. 27 of his ed. of Att. and p. 3. 32 of Fam. 
6. 6. Sed velim haec aliquando solutiore animo. 
What is the ellipse ? tecum loqui vel ad te scribere 
(Corradus) : disseramus (Watson) : so too Shuckburgh (* I 
should like to talk over this some time or other when my 
mind is more at ease ') and cp. Heidemann {De Ciceronis 
m epp. verAorum ellipsis usu) p. 83 for this ellipse, which is 


68 L. C. PURSER 

common in such phrases as Sed haec coram {Att. ii. 17. 3) 
and often. But Heidemann (p. 67) puts this passage in 
the same category as Att. xiv. 20. 2, De regina velim atque 
etiam de Caesare illo, supposing that it is a part of scribere 
that is omitted (there the omission being scribas^ here 
scrtbam as in Fam. vii. 30, 2, sed haec alias pluribus). But 
the meaning hardly is * I can wish that I may be able to 
dwell on this topic in a less distracted state of mind/ but 
rather * I can wish that these deliverances of the Pompeians 
may sometime become less intense and overstrained ' : so 
that we should supply dicantur : cp. such passages as Att. v. 
21. II, multa de syngrapha sc. dicta sunt. For an action 
said to be done animo cp. Fam. vi. 7. i, non tam interest 
quo animo [liber] scribatur. 

7. I. Et [MSS. ed\ factum igitur tu [MSS. ui\ scribis 
istis placere (et placere) isdem istis lictoribus me uti quod 
concessum Sestio sit : cui non puto suos esse concessos sed 
ab ipso datos. Audio enim eum ea senatus consulta im- 
probare quae post discessum tribunorum facta sunt. Quare 
poterit, si volet sibi const are, nostros lictores comprobarc. 

The corrections and addition are due to Sternkopf 
{pp. cit. p. 25). 

Cicero's argument seems to be this. Balbus and Oppius 
(you say) approve of my retaining my lictors, as a similar 
permission has been granted to Sestius ; but Sestius's 
lictors cannot be regarded as having belonged to him by 
virtue of his imperium prior to the order of Caesar, but to 
have been lictors subsequently granted to him by Caesar. 
For Caesar disallows all the decrees of the Senate after the 
departure of the tribunes (on January 7, 49), and Sestius 
did not get his imperium until after that date. But the 
fact that Caesar disallows the decrees posterior to that 
date may be taken as evidence that he allows that all 
the decrees prior to the same date are legal and in due 
form : therefore he should, in order to be consistent, allow 
me to retain my lictors. Sestius was intended to be the suc- 
cessor of Cicero in Cilicia ; and he does appear to have gone 


there in the autumn of 50, cp. Fam. v. 20. 5. But during 
all the latter part of that year no legal and formal assigna- 
tion of the provinces seems to have been made, cp. Att. vii. 
7. 5 (about Dec. 20, 50) : Senatum bonum putas per 
quern sine imperio provinciae sunt (nunquam enim Curio 
sustinuisset si cum eo agi coeptum esset : quam sententiam 
senatus sequi noluit), cp. Fam. viii. 13. 2 and 8. 6. 
Accordingly Sestius had not the tmperium during his visit 
to Cilicia. He was back again in Italy in January 49, 
cp. Att. vii. 17. 2,* and it is stated in Att. viii. 15. 3, 
written on March 3, 49, that he then had the imjkrium. 
So it is probable that he, and perhaps two others mentioned 
in that passage (Fannius and Voconius), obtained their 
imperium within the first two months of the year, after 
Jan. 7, when the senatus consultum ultimum had been passed. 
Hence it is quite excusable that Plutarch {Brut. 4) should 
consider that Sestius was governor of Cilicia in the latter 
part of 50. He says of Brutus : €19 Y^CKxKxav [MSS. ZuccXmi/: 
corr. Vocgelin] ewAewrc wpeafievrrj^ /jeToi ^fitrrlov tov 
XaxovTiK Triv iirapx^v — ^for he was governor de facto^ if 
only for a short time, though not strictly de iure. 

7. 3. Hie opus est casu ut aliqui sint ex eis aut si 
potest omnes qui salutem anteponant. 

Boot says that with anteponant we must understand 
some word like honestati or gloriae or officio^ and that Cicero 
naturally does not express it. But anteponant is quite 
general : * give the preference to,* * put first * — if anything 
is to be supplied in thought it would be omnibus rebus 
(cp, heg. Agr. ii. 9 : Att. ii. 16. 3) — the special idea being 
that of preferring safety to a desperate and uncertain 
struggle. There is one other passage at least in the 
Letters in which anteponere is found without a dative, 
viz. Att. xiv. 13. I : est mehercule utriusque loci tanta 
amoenitas ut dubitem utra anteponenda sit, where perhaps 
we should read utra {utri} anteponenda sit. It is also used 
without a dative expressed in Fin. ii. 38. 

8. 2. Furnius est illic mihi inimicissimus. 

70 L. C. PURSER 

Illic means at Alexandria, where Caesar was. Editors 
reject Furnius : for the only Furnius mentioned in Cicero's 
Epistles was always his close friend. Manutius altered to 
Fufius^ i.e. Fufius Calenus, the life-long enemy of Cicero. 
But at this time Fufius was governor in Achaia (cp. 15. 2: 
16. 2: Caes. B. C. iii. 55), where he plainly had enough 
to do to watch the Pompeians in that province. It is 
hardly likely that he would have made the long journey 
to Alexandria, and even if he did he would not have made 
a protracted stay there, as est would seem to indicate. 
I would suggest Furiusy i.e., Furius Crassipes, Cicero's 
former son-in-law. His relations with Cicero had recently 
been strained. Hirrus and Crassipes were the only two 
friends to whom Cicero did not write requesting them to 
support the vote for his supplicatio {Att. vii. i. 8). He 
visited Cicero at Formiae in the middle of March 49, 
having apparently abandoned the Pompeian side {Att. ix. 
II. 3). It was natural that he should be at Alexandria 
with Caesar. It is true that Cicero always elsewhere 
calls him Crassipes and not Furius : but such varieties of 
nomenclature sometimes occur, e.g. in the case of that 
very Fufius Calenus. Cicero elsewhere in his corre- 
spondence calls him Fufius^ but in Att. xvi. 1 1 . i he calls 
him Calenus : and there is considerable variety in the case 
of the same man within a single chapter of Caesar (J5. C. 
iii. 55). The brother of Pilia, wife of Atticus, Q. Pilius 
Celer, appears in Cicero's correspondence as Q. Pilius 
{Att. iv. 18. 5); Pilius {ad Brut. ii. 5. 4) ; Celer Pilius 
(^^- § 3) • 0- ^^^^^ (-^*- vi. 3. 10) : and Celer often {Att. 
X. I. 4: xi. 4. I : xii. 8). 

9. I, nee in uUa sum spe, quippe qui exceptionibus 
edictorum retinear quae si non essent sedulitate et bene- 
volente ualiceret (so M : W. gives benevolentiae qua liceret) 
mihi abire in solitudines aliquas. 

The old correction was benevolentia tua^ liceret \ and 
Cicero does seem at this time occasionally to give vent to 
peevish complaints of the conduct of Atticus and other 


friends, e.g. 22. 2: Quaeso attende et me, quod adhuc 
saepe rogatus non fecisti, consilio iuva: 25, i : miseriis et 
animi et corporis quibus proximi utinam mederi maluissent. 
But it is hard to believe that there would not have been 
plainer references elsewhere to this intervention of Atticus, 
and that Atticus would not have excused himself more 
than Cicero's letters at this time would warrant, if he had 
really been instrumental in getting this exception intro- 
duced. Sternkopf {op. cit. p. 31) very brilliantly suggests 
Fa{tini), as Vatinius, who was a good-natured man on the 
whole, seems to have been on friendly terms with Cicero 
at this time (5. 4: 9. 2). O. E. Schmidt {Briefwechsel^ 
p. 2 1 5) adopts this, comparing for similar truncated proper 
names Att. ix, 18. 3, where he thinks that Pelanum (so M: 
Pedanum Malaspina) is a corruption of Ped{i Norb)anum. 
But this is very doubtful. We have no account given of 
the q in qua of the Wurzburg MS., and Cicero does not 
usually mention any people except his immediate family 
(Terentia, TuUia, Quintus father and son, etc.) by abbre- 
viations. Corruptions due to loss of letters, too, generally 
are at the beginning, not the end of words in the 
manuscripts of the letters in this book. Sternkopf s other 
view that an ordinary adjective has been corrupted seems 
more probable. He suggested intempestvoa. Rather perhaps 
prava. If it was written p^ua it might have passed into 
qua. The sedulitas et benevolentia prava was probably due 
to L. Lamia (7. 2), who was always a friend of Cicero's 
(cp. Fam. xi. 16. 2), and seems to have been on good 
terms also with Caesar and Balbus {Att. xiii. 45. i). 

As to the person alluded to a little further on — Quid 
autem me iuvat quod ante initum tribunatum veni, si 
ipsum quod veni nihil iuvat ? lam quid sperem ab eo 
qui mihi amicus nunquam fuit, cum iam lege etiam sim 
confectus et oppressus — who was he ? Caesar, say Corradus 
and Sternkopf, on account of ilium following (multaeque 
[litterae] multorum ad ilium fortasse contra me) : but 
Cicero at this time often {j* 71 8. i: 15. i: 16. i, 2: 

72 L. C. PURSER 

17. 3: 18. 1 : 21. 2, 3 : 25. 2) alludes to Caesar as /7/f, 
the personage, without any precedent mention of him. 
And it was the interest of the subordinates of Caesar, not 
of Caesar himself, that Cicero was endeavouring to secure 
at this time : and the passing of the law — it was probably 
that which gave Caesar absolute power over the Pompeians 
to do what he liked with them: 'not that he had not 
such power already,' says Dio (xlii. 20), *but it gave 
legal authorization to that power* — would not have made 
Caesar more ready to injure Cicero, but it would have 
made his subordinates less ready, until they were aware of 
Caesar's intentions, to do anything which would be very 
favourable to Cicero. O. E. Schmidt {Brief wechsel^ p. 2 1 6) 
thinks the reference is to Antony: for he considers it 
impossible that Cicero should say that Caesar was never 
a friend of his (though indeed Cicero's words may only 
mean that Caesar's apparent friendliness was always in- 
sincere) when one remembers his relation with Caesar in 
March, 49; and Antony was the person who had real 
command in Italy at this time, and had the power to 
alleviate or aggravate Cicero's distress. This is quite 
possible: but the reference to the tribunate and the 
association with Dolabella which that reference suggested 
make me think, as Boot holds, that it is to Dolabella that 
Cicero is referring. His friendship with Dolabella was 
becoming impaired owing to Dolabella's treatment of 
TuUia. It is noticeable too that though Dolabella had 
informed Cicero of Caesar's certainly verbal, and probably 
very vague, recommendation to return to Italy, Cicero did 
not ask Dolabella to assure Antony that Caesar had given 
such recommendation, but sent Lamia to him; and he 
docs not appear to have asked for Dolabella's intervention 
in any way. It is true that Antony at the time (Dec. 48) 
was, as Judeich has shown {Caesar im Orient^ pp. 182 — 3), 
in Campania, while Dolabella was probably in Rome : but 
at least Cicero would have got Dolabella to write to 
Antony, if he had been on friendly terms with him. 


Cicero considers that his son-in-law had never been 
friendly with him, and will be less so now, when actually 
by law Cicero and all the Pompeians are placed absolutely 
at Caesar's mercy. 

9. 2. Hie Ligurius furere : se enim scire summo ilium 
in odio fuisse Caesaris, ilium tamen non modo favisse sed 
etiam tantam illi pecuniam dedisse honoris mei causa. 

That the first ilium and //// refer to Quintus is plain : 
it is accordingly difficult to suppose that Caesar could be 
referred to by the intervening illum^ though in 7. 7 fin. 
we find illi and ilium within a few words of each other 
referring to different people : Utinam illi qui prius ilium 
viderint me apud eum velint adiutum — though the differ- 
ence in number renders this less marked, and there is not 
a third ille referring to the original ////. We might 
perhaps attribute it to careless writing, as it is not always 
easy to keep the third personal pronoun strictly referring 
to the same person in oratio obliqua either in English or 
in Latin. Klotz and Miiller let it pass : but Wesenberg 
reads eum^ Peter and Baiter hunc. Perhaps we should 
read illi eum tamen or illi tamen eum. If eum had been 
originally omitted and added above tamen the corruption 
might have arisen. 

14. 3. HS. XXX. potuisse mirarer, nisi multa de 
Fufidianis praediis. "fEt advideo tamen te exspecto, 
quern videre, si ullo modo impost enim res pervelim. lam 
extremum concluditur . 'fibi facile est quid quale sit hie 
gravius existimare. 

The last clause would seem to show that there was 
considerable disorder in this passage. It certainly looks 
as if we should read quod (so M . quid Z) quale sit ibi 
(sc. at Rome) facile est^ hie (sc. at Brundisium) gravius 
existimare. 'The final issue (cp. 25. 3, mihi videtur 
adesse extremum) is reaching its end, the exact nature 
of which is easy for you at Rome to estimate, harder for 
us at Brundisium.' That advideo is a corruption of avide 
is also very probable, as the collocation avide exspecto 

74 L. C. PURSER 

occurs elsewhere {Att. xvi. 13 c, i: Fam. xii. 4. 2). The 
ellipse of the verb with multa is distinctly harsh. For 
post Bosius says that Z has potest^ and Bosius may be 
believed in what he says about that manuscript: so 
editors rightly adopt it, potest for potest fieri being quite 
common. (There is a somewhat similar ellipse in potuisse 
just before: *I should have been surprised that there 
could have been [i^otvisst^ potuisse esse) thirty sestertia.') 
Out of enim res editors make a short parenthesis {est) enim 
resy * it is worth while ' (Bosius, Boot) : (poscit) enim res 
(Graevius, Baiter), or {postulat) enim res (Wesenberg). 
But it seems unnecessary: Atticus would have been at 
a loss to know in what the specific urgency consisted. 
I think enim res is the remnant of venirent (or venissent) 
which has got out of place and should follow praediis. 
For venire in the sense of an inheritance coming to one, 
cp. Verr. iy. 62 : Hie Verres hereditatem sibi venisse 
arbitratus est : Caec. 74, PhiL ii. 40. 

17. I. Itaque fematiam cum primum per ipsam 
liccret, eram remissurus. 

Bosius conjectured matri eam. O. E. Schmidt {Jabr^ 
buch^ 1897, ?• 597) thinks that as Cicero's relations with 
Terentia were strained at this time, and as Terentia does 
not appear to have acted well towards Tullia (cp. 2. 2) — 
not to mention that Dolabella was in Rome at this time 
and her husband's house was the natural place for Tullia 
to go to — reads Egnatia eam. He would accompany her 
to Egnatia, and thence send her to Rome. But why 
should he accompany her just a small part of the way ? 
Lambinus (ed. 1584) reads eam tibi iam ' I shall presently 
{iam) send her back to you when first she will let me.' 
Atticus had been so kind to her (6. 4: 7, 6: 17. i) that 
it was to him that Cicero said he would send her back. 
He would not send her to Dolabella, who had been 
behaving so scandalously, nor to Terentia, with whom he 
was on such bad terms just now. This seems to be the 
best reading to acquiesce in for the present. 


17, I, Pro ea +que ad modum consolandis scripsisti 
putato ea (so Malaspina: P. tanta eo M) me scripsisse 
quae tu ipse intellegis responderi potuisse. Quod Oppium 
tecum etc. 

In this * locus conclamatus' possibly the reference is 
to a letter of Balbus, as Cicero goes on to speak of Caesar*s 
other agent, Oppius, in the next sentence : and I would 
suggest some such alteration as this: Pro epistula quam 
ad modum consolationis scripsit iste, puto (or perhaps 
fmtato) tanta me scripsisse quae tu ipse intellegis re- 
sponderi potuisse. Cicero may have sent the letter in 
question to Balbus by the same letter-carrier (tabellariis 
dienis) as he sent 17. i. Pro is used as in such phrases as 
par pro pari referre, Ter. Eun. 445. Cicero with some 
touch of irony refers to Balbus's letter as a studied formal 
specimen of the rhetorical exercise Consolatio (cp. Tusc. 
i. 115, in Consolatione Crantoris ; cp. De Orat. ii. 50 : 
iii. 211). The letter of Balbus was no doubt full of 
platitudes and the common-places addressed to one in 
trouble. Or perhaps we might read consolandi^ the gerund 
being taken for the action quite abstractly as in Orat. 237, 
quae duo sunt ad iudicandum levissima. The objection 
is that ad modum with a genitive is not, as far as I know, 
found in Cicero: but it is found in Quintilian, e.g. 
xL 3. 1 20 : utraque manu ad modum aliquid portantium 

19. 2. Philotimus dicitur Idib. Sext. 

The ellipse is adfore^ cp. Att. xiii. 21.6: De Caesaris 
adventu scripsit ad me Balbus non ante Kalendas Sextilis, 
sc. eum adfore. Att. xvi. 4. i : Quintus altero die se 
aiebat, sc. adfore. 

20. I. quod ego magis gauderem si ista nobis im- 
petrata quicquam ad spem explorati haberent. 

Boot says nobis depends on haberent and so should 
come cither before ista or after impetrata. He is, I think, 
in error; cp. 22. i: illud molestius istas impetrationes 
nostras (* these concessions to myself *) nihil valere. 

76 L. C. PURSER 

22. I. Nam quod te vereri scribis ne illi obsint eique 
rei mederi, ne rogari quidem se passus est de illo. 

The archetype seems to have read negari quidem^ cor- 
rected by Victorias to ne rogari quidem^ which shows that 
the initial letters of words were at times omitted. As to 
mederi Madvig {Adv. Crit. iii, i88) is right that it was 
not Atticus who was trying to remedy the mischief to 
Quintus caused by the letters which Quintus wrote, but 
was urging that Cicero ought himself to do so ; as indeed 
he did, e.g. 12. 2. Madvig accordingly reads eique rei 
{me vis (or iubes)) mederi. Perhaps the corruption will be 
more easily explained by supposing that the words {me 
debere) were lost after mederi. 

A little further on we should probably read Pharnaces 
item (for autem). An additional reason is given why 
Pharnaces will cause delay. 

24. I . Quae dudum ad me et quae etiam ad me bis ad 
[so Z (teste Bosio) : ad me visat M] TuUiam de me scrip- 
sisti, ea sentio esse vera* 

Victorius reads ante bis ad. Wesenberg simply omits 
ad me. Lehmann {Quaest. Tail. p. loi) suggests ad me et 
— quae etiam ad me vis — ad Tulliam. He supposes that 
Atticus may have said in writing to TuUia, 'You will 
show this to your father.* Sternkopf {op. cit. p. 40) reads 
eadem bis. Miiller gives ad meos^ id est ad Tulliam. 
Possibly we should reject ad me bis as a gloss : ad me had 
been written twice, and this was noticed in the margin, a 
note which subsequently was incorporated in the text. 
Glosses are occasionally found in the text of the letters : 
see Sjogren {Commentationes Tullianae^ p. 155 fF.). 

24. 2. Vide quaeso etiam nunc de testamento quod 
tum factum est cum ilia querere coeperat. 

The usual correction of querere is that of Pius, haerere^ 
*to get into difficulties.' Terentia had got into money 
difficulties and apparently had to make provision in her 
will for her creditors. This is very ingenious. Some- 
what the same idea might perhaps be obtained by 


reading quaerere. That word has the meaning of en- 
deavouring to make money, cp. Hon Epp. i. 7. ^j: et 
properare loco et cessare et quaerere et uti; A. P. 170: 
quaerit (senex), et inventis miser abstinet, somewhat as 
we should say *to go into business' or *to speculate.' 
If Terentia borrowed money to speculate with, she may 
have been required to secure her creditors by making a 
will in their favour. But perhaps this is not the meaning 
at all: and we should alter to queri de me^ as has been 
suggested by an anonymous scholar, a suggestion which 
Mviller, however, considers hardly worthy of mention; 
but when relations between Terentia and her husband 
became strained she may well have been induced to make 
a testamentum inofficiosum. 

24. 2. poteris eam monere ut alicui committat 
(sc. testamentum) cuius extra periculum huius belli 
fortuna sit. Equidem tibi potissimum velim, si idem 
ilia vcUet, quam quidem celo miseram me hoc timere. 

It is hard to take ilia as referring to anyone except 
Terentia, who is meant in eam. Yet Cicero's feelings 
towards his wife were more than cold at this time, so 
that he would hardly show towards her the tender 
solicitude indicated by the next clause. (For the strained 
relations of Cicero and Terentia at this time see 
O. E. Schmidt, Neue JahrbUcher fUr das klassiscbe 
Alterthum (1898), pp. 180 — 185.) So ilia should pro- 
bably be corrected to Tullia^ another possible example 
of initial letters being lost. Tullia was with Cicero at 
this time (cp. 21. 2) : but he would not mention the 
matter to her until he had obtained a promise from 
Atticus to take charge of the will: thus too he would 
stave off for a time the distress it would cause him to add 
yet another anxiety to TuUia's load of trouble by telling 
her of the danger which was involved if the will were 
not in the custody of one whose property was not liable 
to confiscation, as Cicero feared Terentia's was (cp. 9, 3). 

24. 3. Scripseras ut HS. xii. permutaret, tantum esse 

78 L. C. PURSER 

reliquutn dc argento: misit ilia ccidd mihi et ascripsit 
tantum esse reliquum. 

Editors since Corradus have altered permutaret to 
permutarem. This is hardly necessary : either the person 
who receives the money {Att. v. 15. 2), or the person 
who supplies the money {Att. xvi, !• 5), is said permutare. 
Atticus wrote to Terentia to send a note of credit 
(a cheque as we would say) for twelve thousand sesterces, 
that this was the balance. The money was doubtless 
Terentia's, or at any rate standing to her credit, so that 
she should give the authorization for payment. We read 
of her before supplying her husband with money for 
necessary expenses (11. 2) : id quoque velim cum ilia 
videas ut sit qui utamur. 

25* 3* Quod ad te iampridem de testamento scripsi 
apud -fepistolas velim ut possim adversas^f-. 

That the reference is to the safe-keeping of Terentia's 
will seems almost certain : hence Wesenberg conjectured 
adservari for adversas^ which may have been corrupted 
when epistolas was developed out of whatever may be the 
reading it conceals. Bosius thought of a Greek word, 
apud evTTurrop illas velim; ut possint advertas^ and this 
euTTioTop has met with much favour. But in the letters, 
both from Brundisium and previously from exile, when 
Cicero was in deep depression, he does not use Greek 
words at all. This evma-rop^ as Miiller says, is Si/o-Tricrrcf- 
Taroif. O. E. Schmidt {N. Jahrb. fUr das klass. Alt. 
p. 183) proposes to add several words, apud aliquem 
(cuius fortuna extra periculum sit) velim ut possit adser- 
vari ; comparing 24. 2 : At poteris eam monere ut alicui 
committat cuius extra periculum huius belli fortuna sit. 
Equidem tibi potissimum velim. This passage should 
certainly be compared: and it leads one to think that 
ut possim should not be altered to ut possit or ut possint^ but 
is a corruption of potissimum. I should suggest apud te 
tabulas (so Wesenberg conjectured) velim potissimum 


In the next clzust /acu/tate may be a corruption of 
facilitate^ * easiness of disposition/ ' patience/ evKoXia. It 
distracted Cicero, who was always full of complaining and 
indignation, that Tullia took all her misfortunes so calmly 
and gently. He marvelled that she did not exclaim witlx 
him against their enemies. For this use of Jaci/itas cp. Of. 
i. 88, in liberis vero populis et in iuris aequabilitate exer- 
cenda etiam est facilitas et altitudo animi quae dicitur, ne, 
si irascamur aut intempestive accedentibus aut impudenter 
rogantibus, in morositatem inutilem et odiosam incidamus. 
The altitudo animi in this passage is the fiadvrri^ of the 
Epistles {Att. iv. 6. 3: v. 10 3: vi. i. 2), 'self-restraint,* 
cp- Part. Orat. 77, altitudo animi in capiendis incom- 
modis et maxime iniuriis. Tullia appears to have been a 
calm, loving, gentle creature, trained in the school of 
misfortune, which she bore with quiet courage, cp. Att. 
X. 8. 9: cuius quidem virtus mirifica: quomodo iUa fert 
publicam cladem! quomodo domesticas tricas! quantus 
autem animus in discessu nostro ! Est (rropyrij est summa 
<n/KTij^is. Tamen nos recte fjcere et bene audire vult 
(cp. ix. 6. 4). Cicero could not but think that her like 
had never been found: cp. what he says about Porcia, ad 
Brut. i. 9. 2, id enim amisisti cui simile in terris nihil fuit. 

25. 3. Te oro, ut in perditis rebus, si quid cogi, con- 
fici potest, quod sit in tuto ex argento atque {teque codd. : 
corr. Schiitz) satis multa ex supellectile, des operam. 

Mr Shuckburgh translates, 'if any money can be 
collected and got together and put in safe hands from sale 
of plate and the fairly abundant furniture.' I doubt if 
satis multa is ablative with supellectile ; the order of words 
is against it. Rather Cicero means : ' if a fairly large sum 
of money can be got from the sale of the furniture.' The 
furniture should not be sold unless a good price could be 
got for it. But it would be better to supply si before satis 
than to carry on the si from si quid. For si omitted, 
cp. 19. I. 

L. C. Purser. 


There is a passage near the commencement of the 
Poetics which is evidently of great importance for the 
student of Greek metre, and moreover cuts dovirn deeply 
into Aristotle's whole theory of poetry in the largest 
sense. The passage has a curious history. It is the 
object of the present paper to show that it has a simple 
and natural meaning, although the treatment it has 
generally received from commentators (including un- 
fortunately the latest English ones) has rendered it fairly 
hopeless in its perplexity. 

The passage is as follows (I give the readings of 
Codex A, and of Margoliouth, with the exception of one 
word which is relatively unimportant and does not affect 
my argument) : 

fj he tTroiroiia fxovov Toi^ \6yoi^ ^iXoh tj toT^ fjairpoKj 
Kai TOVTOi^ eire juuypuo'a julct oWifXaii/ etff evi Tivi yivei 
XpfOfieuti Twv fxeTpwp Tvyx^^ov<ra fJi^XP^ '^^^ ^^* ovhev yap 
av exoifiep ovofxaaou koivop toi)s ^w(j>popo^ Kai "Zei/dpxov 
fxifxov^ Kai Tov^ ^(OKpariKOv^ Xoyov^y ovhe et Ti9 hia 
TpifxiTpwp ri iXeyeiwv ij twp oWwp tipcop twp toioutwp 
ttoioTto Trip fJiifUifjc^^' 'rrXnp oi apdptairoi ye arvpairropre^ tw 
IJ,€Tpio TO TTOielp eXeyeiOTTOiov^j tous de iiroTroiov^ opojid^ovarip 
ovx ft>5 TriP KOTCL fxijULriarip woifiTa^ dWd Koipfi KaTci to 
fieTpop irpocrayopevopTe^j Kai yap ap iaTpiKOP tj (pvctKOP^ 
Ti hid t(Sp fieTpcop eK^ipaxriPy ovT(a KaXeip eioidaarip^ ouhep Se 

^ Margoliouth argues strongly in £givour of fiovtriKoPf the Manuscript reading : but 
I am not quite convinced. 


KOivov icTiv 'Ofjoipw Kai 'EjUTTcSoicXec irXriv to fi€Tpov. ito 
TOP /JLSP irotnrriv Sucaiov KoXeTv top he ipvcrioXdyop pa\Xo¥ 
fi TTOiTiTiiv* ofioiios Bc K&v 6i TI9 awavTa Ta fierpa /uypvwv 
^oiOiTO TfiP fiififiariv, Kaddirep Xatpiifjuop eiroinare ILivravpov 
fwcTfjv paylrwhiav i^ dirdvrwv twv fAeTpwPj Kai iroifir^p 

The first thing to consider is the context of this 

Aristotle is commencing his treatise on poetry, and 
rightly devotes himself to the business of classification. 
His first words are wepi iroirjTtKfi^ aurfj^ t€ fcoi twp eiSwp 
airr^. He mentions that his aim is partly practical 
wfcs Sei avpicrrcurOai Toik fivBou^ el fjueWei koXw^ e^eip 
n iroinori^y and in any case his method will be empirical. 
In all science classification is of the highest moment 
and never more so than where, as in the present instance, 
new ground is being broken up. We must never lose 
sight of the fact that Aristotle's philosophy is pioneer 
work, and it is so just because in it he follows his 
analytical method constantly and surely. Plato had no 
doubt worked over much of the ground, but he left 
to his less imaginative pupil the part of planting the seed 

And Aristotle's system will always be found to consist 
in passing from what is better to what is less known. 
He assumes certain postulates because they appear to his 
mind to be practically self-evident. It may however 
be pointed out in passing that in regard to such postulates 
a more critical stage of science will often question the 
truth of propositions which in an unsophisticated period 
have pa^ed as clear beyond need of discussion. We 
do not propose to criticise the doctrine of Aristotle, 
but merely to enucleate it. The points which appear 
to be postulated in the present instance are as follows : 

I. All Poetry, and indeed all Art, is essentially 
fii/uif(rc9, i.e. Representation of some pre-existing thing or idea. 
This then is to be taken as the basis of the classification. 

R. 6 


It is in fact the genus, of which we have to mark the 
species by discovering the differentiae. 

2. There is however another element. The very 
existence of Poetry can only be explained by universal 
natural instincts, and these are two-fold — the Love. of 
Representation and the Love of Rhythm. The Philosopher 
adds TO, yap fxiTpa oti fxopia rai/ pvOfAtSv earn <f>ai/€p6p\ 

3. Special forms may in common use be associated 
so closely with special branches of poetry as to be 
practically identified with them. But in such cases we 
ought to avoid confusion of the accidental with the sub-- 

If then /ii/ui7<ri9 is to be the true basis of classification, 
how is it to be applied in the enquiry ? Simply by con- 
sidering its actual method. It may be more simple or 
less so. It may address itself to a single faculty or to more 
than one. Its medium is of course normally language — 
but there may be also accessory media, the presence or 
absence of which may become a crucial test of different 
species of poetry. If musical interpretation be added 
to the art of language, if scenic display, including what 
we call dumb-show, be also added, then new forms of art 
will emerge which will be properly included in the 
classification we seek. To our minds the objection is 
obvious that these accessories, however important if con- 
sidered emotionally, are yet foreign to the essence of poetry 
as we conceive it— did this objection arise in the mind of 
Aristotle ? It seems not, for he does not proceed to argue 
the question, at least in this place. It would be an inter- 
esting problem to discuss why he takes for granted a 
crucial point which is by no means self-evident to us; 
but this would take us away from our aim, which is 
merely to enquire what Aristotle teaches, and not into 
the why and the wherefore of his teaching. It may 
however be suggested in passing that his use of the 
word pv6fw^ in this passage to express what would more 

^ 1448 b 21. 


ordinarily be expressed in Greek by opxno-K is perhaps 
due to his desire to connect this dumb-show with the 
essence of poetry« Certainly he held that pvdfxos in its 
ordinary sense is essential to poetry. 

If this last proposition cannot be admitted, then the 
passage in question is, to my mind anyhow, unintelligible. 
But I find that Aristotle always takes this principle for 
granted as something quite self-evident. It is simply 
because he is unconscious that there can be any con- 
troversy on the point that he never controverts it. He 
is entirely taken up with another question, which he 
recognises as highly controversial. To deal with this 
he girds his loins, for he knows well that he has against 
him the conmionly prevailing opinion of his fellow men. 
It is the question not of the existence of rhythm or 
metre as a necessary element in poetry ; but of its relative 
importance in the true classification of poetic forms. 

We may now return to the passage and state what 
appears to be its only possible interpretation. Then, 
before arguing in favour of this, it will be necessary 
to describe as briefly as possible the history of the extra- 
ordinary contortions to which the passage has been 
subjected at the hands of commentators. 

I take the meaning of the passage to be : * Epic 
poetry is the only class which employs language stript of 
accessories, metrical language of course, and it does so 
whether it combine different metres together or whether 
it employ one sort only — doing the latter indeed up to 
our time, but only as a mere matter of accident. / say 
this use of hexameters is accidental and not essential ^ because 
we could not embrace in a common appellation all sorts of 
compositions^ like the Mimes of Sophron and Xenarchus and 
the Socratic Dialogues — ^not even though the themes should 
be represented in trimeters or elegiacs, or any other such 
metres i much less if they should be represented in the epic 
metre. Whereas ordinary persons connecting the repre- 
sentation with the name of a special metre call one class 


elegy-poets and another epic-poets, naming them not 
according to the representation of their several themes^ 
but merely according to the metres they employ. They 
even go so far in this that they apply their nomenclature 
to a treatise on Medicine or Natural Science if they 
should happen to produce such in a metrical form, e.g. 
they call it an epic poem (although there is nothing common 
to the epic poet Homer and the Scientist Empedocles, except 
the use of the same so-called epic metre ; wherefore one of 
these only should be called a Poet or Composer j and the 
other a Writer-on-Natural-Science). Or to put the same 
doctrine in another form if one should compose his Repre- 
sentation by mixing together different metres (asChaeremon 
actually wrote his Kentauros as a declamation mingled 
from all kinds of metre), him also we should properly 
rank among the Epic poets/ 

The above version is intelligible and straightforward. 
Certain connexions of thought are printed in italics, as 
they would be added in ordinary modern style, though 
it is according to Aristotle's style to omit them. If the 
passage is however read without the italics it is still fairly 
intelligible with the exception perhaps of the first set 
of italics. If they are omitted, it is true the passage 
will not be intelligible, unless we bear in mind what 
is the main controversial theme of the writer. And I 
suppose this to have been so strongly before his own mind 
that he did not advert to the necessity of being more 
explicit in stating it. 

Is there then no further difficulty ? Certainly there is, 
and it all arises from the words in the first line, n toIs 
fjLerpoK. Hinc illae lacrymae. The confusion arising 
from these words is indeed something marvellous, though 
not altogether unnatural. It is obvious that (considering 
the usual disjunctive force of the particle ^) the words 
appear to mean 'or else by means of metres,* and therefore 
to be opposed to the preceding words roi^ \6yoK >/rcA.ois, 
which would thus signify Prose. 


Twyning, writing in 1789, translated the passage 
in this sense, and in his notes added ^ ^In my translation 
of this perplexing passage I have given the sense which 
is now generally adopted, and in which almost all the 
commentators are agreed/ 

But he had too penetrating a mind to be satisfied, and 
he proceeds to argue strongly through a dozen pages 
against a view which makes Aristotle ' advance a doctrine 
so new and so repugnant to the prevailing ideas of his 
own times that a species of poetry might subsist without 
verse.' In the end, however, he states (and rightly from his 
premises), that the true meaning of the passage has not 
been and never will be discovered. Tyrwhitt* on the 
other hand, who like Twyning was no mean scholar 
and moreover has the advantage of being far more concise 
in his commentary, is more thorough and consistent. 
He translates n to?? fdrpoi^ by * she metris,* thus cutting 
the Gordian knot. In a note he adds, ^ex his [verbis] 
nonnuUi concluserunt poetna epicumy secundum mentem A. 
in prosa condi posse. Sed perperam.^ He then declares that 
the particle ^ can have a force ^ explanandi sive declarandi,' 
and quotes the words \6yow n fivdov^^ in the middle of 
Chapter v. 

Then the trouble began to grow. It was soon dis- 
covered (I have quoted the perspicacious Twyning) that 
when once \6yoti ^ fjtirpois is taken to mean uprose or 
verse ^ the whole passage becomes confused and confusing. 
So the commentators began to rewrite it. They discovered 
first that there was a gap at the end of the first sentence 
of the passage which they filled up from the succeeding 
words— suggesting that the word avwuvfio^ had fallen out. 
This was the work of Bernays in 1858, but Vahlen in all 

1 JrisMi^s Treatise •n Poetry, Note 5, p. IS9 (cd. 18 is). 

* Hit edition was published (after his death) in the year 1 794. The italics are not 
printed fay hioi. 

s As a matter of fact in this quoted passage the MS. authority for J) is weak. A, B, 
and C all read cai \ hence Tyrwhitt was wrong in arguing from the passage ; but the 
reading is an interesting one all the same, and we shall have to refer to it again. 


his editions (1865 — 1885) adopted it; and hence it passed 
into the vulgate, Aristotle now was understood to mean 
that Epic Poetry :(taken so as to include prose and verse 
compositions) is a form of literature which is hitherto 
short of a common title. The joy that Editors found 
in this reading blinded them to the fact that it contains a 
patent contradiction in terms, and is therefore what we 
should call in a less dignified context simple ^bosh/ 
Ueberweg however found a heroic remedy (1870). The 
new predicate shall be kept — but the subject of the 
sentence shall be dropped. This method of emendation 
reminds one of the derivation of cheval from hippos. 
Change hip into chev and pos into al. For it is clear that 
we could equally change any one sentence into any other, 
e.g. *the enemy were short of provisions' into *the gar- 
dener's aunt has a toothache.' 

And now a curious thing happened. The Arab 
paraphrase of the Poetics came to light and was at once 
claimed as a confirmation of these strange emendations. 
Against those who defended the MS. text this authority 
was quoted as final; and the case has been referred to 
again and again as a palmary instance of critical acumen 
confirmed by an unexpected and very lucky piece of 
evidence. The Editor of the version. Professor Mar- 
goliouth, was naturally amongst those who so treated 
the case. For myself though I had great confidence 
in his scholarship, especially in regard to the Arab 
language which is his native tongue, I must confess 
with sorrow that I was not a little sceptical. The 
so-called version was known to be at best a loose repro- 
duction of the original, without critical value ; and 
of course there would be room for elasticity in interpreting 
such a text with a pre-conceived idea of what it should 
convey according to an emendation of wide acceptance. 
About seven or eight years ago however I had an oppor- 
tunity of consulting an Arabic scholar of some eminence 
who kindly inspected for me the transcription which 


is in Trinity College, Dublin, with the result that my 
misgivings were removed. The fact of the confirmation 
of Vahlen's text was established, and hence for a time 
I began like Twyning (who of course knew nothing of 
the Arab text) to believe that the mystery was insoluble. 
Later on I thought I saw an explanation. When 
Aristotle's text is wrongly read, the emendation of 
dywmfio^ is so obvious that it appeared not merely 
possible, but even antecedently likely, that different com- 
mentators should have hit upon it independently. This 
was perhaps desperate but nevertheless it was the only 
possible hypothesis! Butcher (1895) had followed 
Vahlen almost as a matter of course — anyhow without 
conmient. What is stranger, Bywater accepted it in his 
critical edition (1897) and one naturally awaited with 
great interest his long-expected commentary to see how 
an editor of such acknowledged weight would deal with 
the offending text which he had adopted as his own. 

When the extremely valuable edition appeared (1909) 
it was found that Bywater followed a sort of * via media.' 
In a long and learned review of the passage (extending 
over seven pages of a closely printed commentary) he 
entirely rejects the view hitherto maintained in support 
of the emended text, that \6y09 means prose, and >/rf\o9 
•stript of metre.* A0709 means 'language as such* (as we 
have maintained), and yfriXo^ = x^P^^ dpuxovim (we should 
add Kai dpx^W^^^)* Moreover he understands the passage 
about Sophron and Plato as we do, that is, directly 
and not as a 'reductio ad absurdum.' So that really 
his view of the passage approximates to what I would call 
the simple and straightforward interpretation as opposed 
to an artificial and contorted one. Yet he is under the 
dywwfw^ spell (partly no doubt on the ground of the Arab 
commentator), and this he has defended with considerable 
insistence. Thus in spite of the removal of the chief 
grounds for the strange emendations, they are allowed 
to encumber his page. This attitude was not wholly 


without encouragement, but it was all the same dis- 
appointing. 'And the little less and what worlds away !' 

Then last year appeared Professor Margoliouth*s own 
brilliant work on the Poetics^ ; I turned to the passage, 
but I confess rather languidly. Had he not been the 
chief bulwark of the intrusive readings ? And if Bywater 
after practically giving up the case clung to them, surely 
Margoliouth would naturally defend them, if without 
warmth, at least as a matter of course? Soon I had 
to rub my eyes. For I read in the new text hroiroua and 
found dvwwiuLo^ omitted ! There was some satisfaction 
here, and when I found the Editor's reason still more. 
In another context, as a mere * obiter dictum,' he says^ 
'In the case of Bernays' supplement {avdwfio^) the con- 
firmation of the Arabic does not help it, but merely 
shows that an infelicitous suggestion of the nineteenth century 
had been anticipated before the tenth.' This had been 
exactly my own later conviction. 

In dealing directly with the passage moreover 
Margoliouth argues powerfully and even unanswerably 
against the absurd emendations, adding the remark, 
which we think perfectly just, that ' the introduction of 
Bernays' interpolation has a tendency to destroy the whole 

For this open-minded attitude as to the main bearings 
of the passage the Professor has certainly earned a special 
title to our sincere admiration. And yet he has failed to 
understand the point which we have seen Bywater per- 
fectly recognised, namely, that \0709 in the passage 
cannot mean ' prose,' nor ^iXos • stript of metrical form.' 
The fact is that Margoliouth has evolved a special theory 
of his own which is both unnecessary, and, we may be 
allowed to add, so over-subtle as to be highly improbable. 
Hence though he came nearer to the solution which 

^ Thi PuHa ^'AriaoOi (Hodder and Stooghton). 

* In chap. II, Tiu Text \ftht Peetiot p. 117. (The italics are ourt.) 

* Wd^ p. 6S. 


wc are trying to defend than any of our other recent 
commentators, he has failed to reach its full simplicity^. 

Surely enough has been said to prove the confusion 
that exists among even the best editors as to Aristotle's 
true meaning, because they have allowed themselves to 
stray from the path of common sense. The crucial point 
we have to decide is whether the Philosopher intended to 
include among a class of Poetry, among Epic Poetry — 
call it by any other name, it matters not — unmetricised 
compositions. In other words, speaking generally, is 
metrical rhythm, or is it not, an essential character of 
poetry ? And this too expressed in a passage where there 
is certainly no question of defining the subtle qualities 
of poetical as distinct from prose style, or the possible 
approximation of prose to poetry ; but merely of 
arranging the main classes of poetry on a convenient 
basis for further scientific criticism. It is as though 
one should commence a treatise on botany by asking 
what are the main divisions of plant-life, and should 
go on to assert that it consists of Cryptogams, Endogens 
and Sentient Beings (defending this on the ground that 
certain Exogens appear to be sensitive to touch). In 
other words, if the Philosopher had held any of the 
exotic theories he is credited with, surely he would 
have found some clearer way of ventilating his opinion 
than by slipping it in when giving a preliminary 
classification of his subject-matter, which of all things 
ought to be clear, straightforward and incontrovertible. 

I am fully conscious that such a priori arguments, 
though not wholly out of place, are by no means sufficient 
to force conviction — nor does the case rest upon them. 
If we turn to other passages in the Treatise on Poetry, 
we shall find plenty of evidence to prove how far is the 
author from supposing that what we call Prose writing 
belongs to the subject-matter of his treatise. 

' The reader will andentand that I do not discuss Margoliouth's own theory further, 
beoiiiie it is oot my direct aim to criticise the interpretations of others. 


The clearest instance of the assumption that metre 
is essential to Epic is found in the opening words of 
Chapter xxiii: Trepi Se Ttj^ iittytiixariK^ Kai ev fjidTpto 
fuiJLfjTiKti^j where Butcher would read €i^/ fiirpw. This 
emendation is ingenious and might seem to weaken 
my argument slightly, but in reality it would leave it 
with considerable force. Besides the change is quite 
unnecessary, and neither. By water nor Margoliouth has 
referred to it. As the phrase stands in the MSS. it could 
hardly have been used unless the author felt that the 
metrical nature of Epic is something perfectly self- 
evident. Moreover, what strengthens this view of 
Aristotle's mind is the way in which he frequently 
refers to Epic metre as something familiar and univer- 
sally admitted. His mind is always intent on proving 
one thing, viz. that metre, especially the one variety 
of metre which is associated in our minds with Epic, 
is not really the essential feature which distinguishes 
Epic from other forms of representation. AfiXov oZv 

iK TOVTWV ^Tl TOP TTOlflTflV fliWoP TWW fwdwv chcu Sci 

TroifjTfiif fi tSv fjterpwv. (Chap. ix). This was not the 
prevailing view ; neither is it a statement of one who 
holds the exotic opinion that metre in poetry is essentially 
a mere matter of indifference. In the same chapter 
at the commencement he similarly states that the work 
of Herodotus would not be a poem if put into metre — 
which some have strangely understood to imply that 
a work could be made into poetry without metre — 
forgetting the adage ^bonum ex integr^ causi, malum 
ex quocunque defectu.' 

Aristotle is convinced of two things: (i) that all 
poetry is metred, (2) that Epic poetry is ordinarily 
and properly written in Epic or Heroic metre. What 
he objects to (we repeat) is the view that Epic is Epic in 
virtue of its special metre. In Chapter xxiv he says, 
ovSek fJuzKpav avfrracriv iv aWw irerroifiK€P ti t£ fipwtp* 
and he goes on to state that this wedding of Epic poetry 


to Epic metre is the work of nature and not of con- 
vention. And here he refers again to Chaeremon, now 
calling him draTrmrepov for mixing up the metres in his 
Epic, though we have been told in the passage under 
consideration that he must all the same be classed as an 
(Epic) poet. Is not all this discussion really incompatible 
with the theory attributed to Aristotle, that Epic poetry 
includes prose writing ? 

When starting this defence of the MS. reading, it was 
granted that the phrase n roi^ fUrpoi^ (which certainly 
was the *fons et origo mali') does contain a difficulty for 
our view. How then do we propose to deal with it ? 

I give three alternatives. 

1. Personally I should be very much inclined to 
expunge the phrase as a gloss. Nor should this cause 
much difficulty. It is notorious that our MSS. contain 
many glosses as also omissions and corruptions. If the 
passage be read without the words it is in every way 
improved ; and after an expression like Xrf7o/v ^iXoi? (whicn 
seems to require elucidation) a gloss would be extremely 
likely to have crept into the text. 

2. Another and simpler expedient would be to 
transpose n and read Xoyoi^ ij yfriXois tois fiiTpoKj which 
is confirmed by the use of the expression ^iKofieTpia 
in our sense in the following chapter. This does not 
wholly remove the difficulty about the use of ^, but 
considerably mitigates it. 

3. Must we assume that Aristotle could not have 
used ij for eire even though there is no clear instance of 
it in his writings ? If so, then it is not impossible that 
he wrote Kai which would make excellent sense, and I 
have referred above to a similar use of Kai which was 
changed into ti by copyists, though of a later date. 

None of the above expedients could be called violent, 
or thought to bear comparison with the emendations 
which have been incriminated in the above pages. 

Henry Browne. 


PoLYBius iii. 25. 6 — 9. Tov 8* SpKov dfivveiv edei 
ToiovTOPy iiri fihf twp irpwTtav avv6f\Kvov Kap^fj^oviov^ fxiv 
Tov^ 0€Ov^ Tous warpwovs, 'FwfjLalovs Se Ala \idov Kara Ti 
iraXaiov edo^j errl Si tovtwv top '^Aptiv koI tov 'EtnjaXtovm 
€<rTi Si TO Aia \i6ov toiovtov. \afifop €« nji/ X^V* \i0ou 
6 TTOiovfAei^o^ Ta opKia rrepl t£v avpOfiKwy^ hreiSav S/ioctf 
iflfjuxria rrio'Tei, \iyei rdSe* evopKOvvri jjuav fioi eitj TayaOd* 
€1 8* dWio^ iiavofiOeifiP ti {j wpd^cufUy Trdvnav Tav oKKmv 
crtf^ofievfav iv xai^ iSiai^ iraTpiariVj iv Tok Ihioi^ vdfioi^^ iiri 
t£v iSiwv fiiwp, Upwvy Td(ptaPy iyw ixovo^ eKniaroifu ovrto^ cJs 
6i€ Xido^ vvv. Kal TavT eijrwv piirret tov \l0ov he t^^ 

Cicero aJ Fam. vii. 12. 2. Quo modo autem tibi 
placebit louem lapidem iurare, cum scias louem iratiim 
esse nemini posse ? 

LivY i. 24. 6 — 9 (describing the oldest treaty known 
to him). Pater patratus.,/audi/ inquit, *Iuppiter, audi, 
pater patrate populi Albani, audi tu, populus Albanus... 
illis legibus populus Romanus prior non deficiet. si prior 
defexit publico consilio dolo malo, turn ille Diespiter 
populum Romanum sic ferito, ut ego hunc porcum hie 
hodie feriam, tantoque magis ferito, quanto magis potes 
poUesque/ id ubi dixit, porcum saxo silice percussit. 

LivY xxi. 45. 8 (Hannibars pledge to his troops in 
Cisalpine Gaul). Eaque ut rata scirent fore, agnum laeua 
manu, dextera silicem retinens, si falleret, louem ceterosque 
precatus deos, ita se mactarent, quem ad modum ipse 
agnum mactasset, secundum precationem caput pecudis 
saxo elisit. 


LivY XXX. 43. 9. Fctiales cum in Africam ad foedus 
feriundum ire iuberentur, ipsis postulantibus senatus con- 
sul turn in haec uerba factum est, ut priuos lapides silices 
priuasque uerbenas secum ferrent. 

Plutarch Sulla 10 (Cinna^s pledge to Sulla). *0 he 
dyafim eh to KcnriTiaXiov e')((av ev ttj %6IjO< \i6ov wfiwevy 
eiTa eTrapcurdfAei/o^ eavrw fvf (jyvXaTTOPTi tviv irpo^ eKeivov 
eivoiav eKTrecreiv Tfj^ iroXew^y wo'Trep 6 \i6a^ Sid tij9 x^V^^ 
fcarefiaXe x^l^^^'^ '^^^ Xidop. 

Apuleius De deo Socratis 5. lurabo per louem lapidem 
Romano uetustissimo ritu ? atque si Platonis uera sententia 
est, numquam se deum cum homine communicare, facilius 
me audierit lapis quam luppiter. 

Gellius i. 21. louem lapidem, inquit, quod sane- 
tissimum iusiurandum habitum est, paratus ego iurare sum. 

Festus [Paulus] s.v. Feretrius. Feretrius lupiter dictus 
a ferendo, quod pacem ferre putaretur ; ex cuius templo 
sumebant sceptrum, per quod iurarent, et lapidem silicem, 
quo foedus ferirent. 

Festus [Paulus] sjv. Lapidem. Lapidem silicem tene- 
bant iuraturi per louem, haec uerba dicentes : Si sciens 
fallo, tum me Dispiter salua urbe arceque bonis 'ciciat, ut 
ego hunc lapidem. 

Lactantius i. 20. Quid, qui lapidem colunt inf ormem 
atque rudem, cui nomen est Terminus ? hie est, quem pro 
loue Saturnus dicitur deuorasse. . . . 

[Servius] ad Verg. Aen. viU. 64 !• Foedera, ut dixi- 
mus supra, dicta sunt a porca foede et crudeliter occisa ; 
nam cum ante gladiis configeretur, a fetialibus inuentum ut 
silice feriretur ea causa, quod antiqui louis signum lapidem 
putauerunt esse, sed huius porcae mors optabatur ei, qui 
a pace resilisset. 

Augustine De ciu. Dei ii. 29. i. Illic enim tibinon 
Vestalis focus, non lapis Capitolinus, sed Deus unus et 


In the old Roman ritual of treaties a stone or a tool of 
stone was used to kill a pig. The pig, no doubt, stands 


symbolically for the perjurer, the stone for the avenging 
power or its instrument. The passive part is taken by 
the pig, the active by the stone. But in Polybius, Plu- 
tarch, and the second passage of Festus, the stone's is the 
passive part. The rite which these authors describe 
belongs to the class in which the punishment of perjury 
is symbolized by spilling wine, breaking a saucer, extin- 
guishing a lamp, or the like^ In such a rite the lamp, 
the saucer, the wine, the stone, cannot represent the 
avenging power, the god. Hence the Master of Balliol* 
concludes that in louem lapidem iurare the two nouns are 
not in apposition, but each must be taken apart : * the 
stone-oath in the name of Jupiter,' not ' the oath in the 
name of Jupiter the Stone.* 

In point of syntax this interpretation of louem lapidem 
iurare is not very easy to accept. In support of lapidem 
iurare^ * to take the stone-oath,' is quoted calumniam iurare^ ^ 
* to take the calumnia^zth^' that is * to swear that one is 
not bringing a malicious charge.' But in the language of 
the Roman law-courts brachylogies are common : the 
language of ritual is not in such a hurry, and, anyhow, 
lapidem for per lapidem is no great saving of breath. And 
even if lapidem iurare were as good Latin as louem iurare^ 
it would not necessarily follow that the two could be com- 
bined. Latin can say falsum iurare : but does it ever say 
louem falsum iurare^ • to forswear oneself by Jupiter * ? 
Greek can say Ta% tnrovta^ dfju/vi/ai^ as well as rov^ deoik 
ofivvvai : but does it ever say toi)s deov^ ra^ cnroi/Sas 
6fjti/vi/aij *to swear to the treaty in the name of the 

' So Thyettet endorsed his curse by kicking over the tablet XaKrur/ui Mwov 
(vp^Ums TiOtig apq, (Aesch. Ag. 1601). 

* Selections frim Polybius edited by J. L. Stnchan-Davidson, pp. 73 — So.— After my 
essay was written, some of the questions with which it deals were discussed by Professor 
J. S. Reid in the Journal •/ Roman Studies, ii. (i 9 1 2), pp. 49 — 52. I have added references 
to his article here and there. 

' Caelius ap. Cic. ad Fam. viii. 8. 3 ; Livy xxxiii. 47. 5. 

^ If one ot the accusatives were a neuter pronoun, the double accusative would be 
easier; but in Xen. Cyrop, v. 4. 31, which a popular Syntax quotes in this connexion, 
raOra it not governed hf Zftpvfu, 


Stones have been worshipped as gods elsewhere. In 
Rome a boundary-stone was worshipped as Terminus, a 
fire as Vesta, a lance as Mars. We do not indeed find 
Mars Lancea as a double name, but we find luppiter Fulgur 
and luppiter Fulgur Fulfnen\ Add the syntactical con- 
siderations and the testimony of the commentary on 
Virgil, and a good case is made out for believing that to 
Cicero, Apuleius, and Gellius, louem lapidem meant 
* Jupiter the Stone *^ 

But the dilemma remains. In the slaying of the 
victim the stone represents the power of vengeance, the 
active part ; in the ritual described by Polybius, Plutarch, 
and the second passage of Festus, it represents the offender, 
the passive part. The stone which is hurled to perdition 
cannot be Jupiter the Stone*. 

Let us then distinguish not two forms only but three, 
in which 

(i) an oath is taken in the name of Jupiter the 
Stone ; 

(2) a stone, symbolizing the avenging power, is used 
to slay a victim, symbolizing the perjurer; 

(3) a stone, symbolizing the perjurer, is dropped or 
thrown away. 

In the first form no symbolic act is needed, any more 
than when a Roman swore by Jupiter Feretrius, or Socrates 

^ Mr Strachan-Dayidson (p. 74) objects that thete cases are not quite parallel with 
ovrsy 'for in these the god is identified with an instantaneous phenomenon of active and 
tremendous force... , not with an object that can be preserved and worshipped as a 
fetish.' Bot luppiter Fulgur is not needed as evidence (there is plenty) that a fetish can 
be identified with a god : it does shew that an identification, whether instantaneous or 
permanent^ can be e:q>ressed by an apposition, a double name. — Cf. Ztvs Yitpavv&s at 
Mantincia, B. C. H. 1878, p. 515. 

* If louim iapidem were not in apposition, it would be easier in point of syntax to 
suppose asyndeton, on the pattern of usutjhictus : * Jupiter and the stone* (H. Nettleship^ 
£aajn in Latin Literature^ P* 35 » cf. W. Warde Fowler, The Raman Festivals^ pp. a 30 £F.). 
—Professor Rdd tees a conjunction of accusatives a little like the double accusative with 
audenare {loe, eit. p. 5a). 

* L. Dieobaer in Neue JahrbfUher fltr das klassische AltertuMy xxvii. (1911), p. 333; 
'GOtter werden wohl manchmal geprOgelt, aber dass man sie zum Zwecke eines Analo- 
(ieritns von dch wirft, ist meines Wissens ohne Parallele, und vor allem : ftlr den Ritus 
at es vOUig gleichgOltig, ob der Stein gflttlich ist oder nicht.* 


by the dog. In the second form, although the avenging 
power is already symbolized, a god may nevertheless be 
invoked by his proper name, as in the first passage of 
Livy Jupiter is invoked, in the second 'Jupiter and the 
rest of the gods/ And of course a god may be invoked 
in the third form, where the avenging power is not sym- 
bolized at all. In the second passage of Festus Jupiter 
is named ; in Plutarch's story no god is mentioned, but 
the scene is the Capitol, Jupiter's seat. But since in this 
form a stone is already cast for a part, and that part the 
villain's, the Jupiter invoked must not be Jupiter the 
Stone ; to single out that title, of all his many titles, on 
such an occasion, would be a sad lapse from reverence 
and tact. 

This triple classification satisfies all the passages but 
one. Had the third book of Polybius been lost, modern 
speculation would sooner or later have identified Jupiter 
the Stone with the stone that strikes the pig, but scarcely 
with the stone that is dropped or flung away. But Poly- 
bius, it would seem, combines or confuses the first form 
with the third. 

On such a matter Polybius, a foreigner, may have 
erred ^ Mr L. Deubner* has already suspected him of 
confusing the ritual of a treaty, such as Livy describes in 
his first book, with a private oath, such as Plutarch 
describes. This may be so, but it does not help me, for, 
if my triple classification is right, I must still suspect him 
of a further confusion between the symbolical flinging of 
a stone and an oath by Jupiter the Stone. If he is to be 
acquitted of error, whether simple or double, then his 
meaning cannot be what it seems. 

Aia }d6oi/ means louem lapidem^ but AIA AI0ON can 

1 Warnings against his authority on Roman matters are uttered by Mr W. Warde 
Fowler, The Religious Experience of the Roman People^ p. 3x6, and by Professor Reid, Uc. 
cit p. 50. 

^ Loc. cit. p. 334. Cf. Reidy Uc, cit, p. 50 : 'Polybius has certainly confused two 
quite diflPerent formalities in which the silex played a part;... and he has not only 
confused the two, but has introduced mythical embellishments.' 


also mean per lapidem. May it be that per lapidem} is 
what Polybius meant ? 

If Polybiufi meant Aia in his introductory sentences, 
it is odd that his actual description of the rite should say 
act a word about Zeus. Further, if he meant Aia^ 
he has committed a somewhat bold ellipse ^ Moreover 
the manuscripts give neither A/a >sxQov nor AIA AI0ON, 
but ZwL Xidwi/ or Sia \i6ov : the oldest authority for Aea 
\i6oi^ i& a conjecture in the margin of a manuscript written 
in 141 7. The manuscripts^ however, have little weight 
on suich a point ; that the AIA of Polybius should be 
written Sid by medieval scribes, was as likely as that tieir 
hd should be changed to Aia by modern scholars. Nor 
will I insist on the difficulty of the ellipse. But the irctpd 
wf^eadoKMLVf the lack of any mention of Zeus in the actual 
description,, is very strange. 

If Pcdybius meant Sid^ we must choose between Sm 
\ji0ovj hid \i6oyy and Sia Xidwi/. The only evidence 
for >d0oy is the marginal conjecture aforesaid ; the best 
manuscript and others have ?u6wp ; one has \i6ov. AIA 
AIOON would have been ambiguous where it first occurred, 
in the company of gods ; as far as I can judge, the con- 
struction with the genitive is the better Greek' ; the 
plural, though awkward ^ is not impossible, and it has 

^ per as in per aes et libram^ not as in per louem. 

* This point can scarcely be argued, but try the effect of a substitution. If be had 
been going oo to describe an oath by £nyalios» could he have said tari dc t6 *Evvdktoy 

* Kohner-Gerth, Aus/, Gramm. i. 485 : 'Der Unterschied zwischen dem kausalen 
di^ r. g. ond dui e, a, ist gewissermassen wie zwischen per und propter* I cannot point 
to any other example of dui with ofiwfUf but the use seems possible, and I do not see how 
dse Polybius should have translated per lapidem, if that is what was in his mind. 

* Because the actual description speaJu of only one stone. But the change of 
number may be illustrated by Mr L. Preller's description of the flinging of the stone 
{RSmtche Mythdogie\ i. 24S) : 'Daher auch die Petialen gewiss diesen Jupiter meinten, 
wenn jif...den Jupiter Lapis in die Hand nahmen und zu dem Bide selbst...hinzusetzten : 
''So ich die Wahrheit sage...," nach welchen Worten er den heiligen Kiesel von sich 
xhlenderte^ der dabei gewiss nicht die passive Bedeutung jedes beliebigen Kiesels, 
ioodera die active dnes vom gOttlichen Geiste beseelten Donnerkeils hatte.' The end 
of this passage is a forlorn attempt to combine incompatibles ; it is sufficiently answered 
by Mr Stiachan-Davidson (p. 78}. 

R- 7 


the authority of the most and best manuscripts. Perhaps 
the least evil is 8ta \i6wi/. 

Those who cannot swallow hd \i6wv may leave the 
blame on the head of Polybius. But if Sid XiQtav is read, 
there goes the only evidence for the identity of the god 
with the stone that is flung. 

Even the stone that strikes, in the second form, is not 
to be identified with the god. The silex with which 
Hannibal slew his lamb was neither the Roman Jupiter, 
who was not at Hannibars service, nor even the Punic 
Baal ; for anything that Livy tells us it was just a common 
flint ^. In the Roman examples, indeed, the saxutn silex or 
lapis silex is taken, according to Festus, from the temple 
of Jupiter Feretrius ; but, since more than one such 
implement was forthcoming at need*, they cannot have 
been Jupiter the Stone, unless indeed self-multiplication 
of fetishes occurred in ancient as well as in modern times. 

Who, then, or what, was Jupiter the Stone ? Was he 
an aerolite ? Was he Terminus under another name ? 
I cannot tell ; and I will not surmise that he owes his origin 
to Sid TsxQovy though eleven thousand martyrs, we hear, 
have been bred out of textual corruption, and any 
Pantheon might be proud of a god begotten by a stone 
on a preposition. 

£. Harrison. 

1 Livy may be romanizing here, of coune, or romancing ; but even so the paasage 
attests that to Livy the stone used by the fattr fatraJhu was not identical with a god. 
' See the third passage of Livy. 



The myth of Pandora given in the Works and Days 
is briefly this. Zeus, angry with Prometheus for the theft 
of fire, ordered Hephaestus to create, and various deities 
to adorn when created, a woman, who was afterwards 
named Pandora. This woman was conducted by Hermes 
to the house of Epimetheus, and Epimetheus, though he 
had been warned by Prometheus against accepting gifts 
from Zeus, received her, with fatal consequences. For 
the woman opened a jar^ from which a host of evils 
escaped among men, and closed it only when Elpis alone, 
of all that the jar had contained, was left inside. 

This account notoriously bristles with difficulties. In 
the first place the Trf^os-myth is an unexpected and highly 
unsatisfactory termination to the earlier portion of the 
story. The narrative begins* as if it were to be a version 
of that recounted in the Theogony^ where woman is herself 
the punishment inflicted — woman the beautiful bane, idle 
and luxurious, no helpmeet for man. Instead of this the 
sequel presents us with woman not directly ruinous to man 
but only the indirect cause of his misfortunes through the 
curiosity (or other unspecified quality) which leads her to 
open the jar. To this second story the preceding account 
of the creation and adornment of Pandora has little rele- 
vance, and it is reasonably clear that the Works and Days 

^ I will mggest in patting that the box to often attributed to Pandora by modern 
writcn really belongt to Ptyche (ApuL Mh. yL i6 teq.). The error it tome centuries 
Mi9BtJ.H,S. XX. p. 99 f. 

• 59 — S9. • 565 ff. 


loo A. S, F. GOW 

at this point presents us with a combination of two different 
myths ; first, the story given in the Theogony^ which I shall 
call for convenience the Misogynist's Myth, and second, 
the TTi^os-myth, 

Secondly, neither of these two stories is intact in itself. 
The Misogynist's Myth may in its present form contain 
two elements, since the instructions issued by Zeus for the 
embellishment of Pandora^ differ materially from the ac- 
count of these processes as subsequently carried out*, and 
it has been cut short in order to fit the Trt^os-myth. The 
latter also has suffered by the process, for its beginning has 
been shorn off with a violence which leaves commentators 
debating whether the all-important jar was brought by 
Pandora from heaven, or whether they shall rather believe 
with Proclus that Epimetheus was housing it for Prome- 
theus who had it of a satyr*. 

I mention these difficulties here chiefly to show that 
the strange collection which has come down to us as the 
Works and Days of Hesiod is in sad confusion at this point. 
This paper is concerned with another difficulty in the 
7r4^o9-myth. This I may best express in the form of two 
questions to which commentators have at one time or 
another tried to find answers : 

i. What is Elpis doing in the jar ? 

ii. Why does she remain in it after its other contents 
have escaped ? 
As I shall show immediately, these two questions are usually 

Before we consider the various answers which can be 
given or have been given to these problems, it will be well 
to ascertain what deductions may be made from the story 
itself. * Aforetime,' says Hesiod, * the tribes of men lived 
on earth apart from evils and stern toils and dread diseases 
which bring death to men. But the woman, taking with 

* 59 — ^'^ * ^9 — **• 

' The composition of this passage is discussed by Kirchhoff {Hesiodas' MaknliiJer- 

an Perses pp. 44 ff.) and various more recent writers. 


her hands the great lid from off the jar, scattered ; and 
devised baleful griefe for mankind. And only Elpis re- 
mained within in the unbreakable abode under the lips 
of the jar and flew not forth, for she [the woman] first 
put on the lid of the jar. But countless banes beside 
wander among men, for full of evils is the land and full 
the sea, and diseases, some bv day and some by night, of 
their own power go to and fro and bring evils to mortal 
men, in silence, since Zeus the Counsellor hath deprived 
them of speech.' Here then two obvious deductions are 
to be made. First, since men were happy before the 
opening of the jar and unhappy afterwards, and, more 
specifically, since before they were free from diseases 
whereas afterwards diseases went to and fro upon earth, it 
follows that the contents of the jar were evils. Secondly, 
since the opening of the jar meant the communication of 
its contents to mankind, the closing of the jar with Elpis 
inside can only mean that mankind is deprived of Elpis. 
These are the first considerations to be taken into account 
in explaining the passage and no explanation which ignores 
these conditions can be accepted. 

Further, the passage must be approached without pre* 
judices as to the character of Elpis ^. Elpis may be either 
good or bad, as is sufficiently proved by Theognis : 


*BX'3rl9 xal KLvSvPO^ iv aydpiytroio'tv ofiotoi^ 
oiroi yhp yoKeiroX Saifiov€^ &iJL^OT€pot\ 

This is highly significant, for the character of Elpis deter- 
mines the relative importance of the two questions in which 
I have expressed the problem before us. If Elpis is evil, 
her presence in the jar needs no explanation but we shall 
be put to it to explain why she is singled out from the 

1 Cf. Eustath. p. 919, 4.8. * XI 35* 

> 637 f. For further iUustrations, see the full discuanons by Nlg^ebbAch (Nack~ 

kamariichg Thnio^e^ pp- 3S2 ff.) and L. Schmidt (Ethik d. AUen Gritchem^ ii. pp. 70 f.). 

The evil Elpis is treated by Mr Comford {^hutyJ&des M/tkutmcuty pp. 224. ff.). 

I02 A. S. F. GOW 

other evils for separate treatment. If she is good, the 
separate treatment may be intelligible, but what is she 
doing in the jar at all ? 

Here then is the problem in simple terms. Com- 
mentators have not, as a matter of fact, been at the pains 
of reducing it to these terms and their answers are in 
consequence often inadequate, but, such as they are, we 
must consider them. We may begin with the scholiasts : 

(i) Proclus held that Hesiod*s jar corresponds to the 
two jars of good and evil which stand on the threshold of 
Zeus\ and that the woman let out of it both good and 
evil. This answer is logical as far as it goes: Proclus, 
who regards Elpis as good, explains her presence in the 
jar. His explanation is in fact untenable because the text 
gives no hint that the jar contained goods as well as evils. 
Moreover, if the jar did contain good as well as evil, then 
the second question. Why is Elpis left behind ?, still re- 
quires an answer and he offers none. He does indeed 
quote Aristarchus's opinion that i\7ris dyadwv actually 
came out while iXirk kokcSp remained inside (a distinction 
for which the poet gives no warrant), and mention is also 
made of the alternative view that Elpis is 'EXttiV ic6i/if, but 
these hypotheses leave the difficulty untouched. 

(2) Tzetzes has a long note in which he maintains 
that before the opening of the jar men were really unhappy 
but did not know it. As his remarks, which are in any 
case extremely silly, do not touch any of the difficulties, 
I shall not waste time over them. 

Modern critics ^ in spite of much ingenuity, are hardly 
more successful. 

(3) Goettling, Paley and Flach hold the point to be 
that Elpis remains to mankind even under the most 
grievous afflictions ^ and they account for her presence 
in the jar by regarding her as an evil. As we have seen, 

* //. xxiv. 527 ff. 

' The references, unless otherwise stated, are to editions of Hesiod. 

^ So Daniel Heinsius, ed. 161 3, p. 25a. 


however, her continued presence in the jar cannot bear 
the construction here put upon it : if it means anything, 
it must mean that mankind is deprived of her. 

(4) Van Lennep offers a similar explanation except 
that he regards Elpis as good. Her presence in the jar 
he explains by the fact that the existence of Hope involves 
and depends on the existence of evils : though good her- 
self, she can only exist when there are evils against which 
she can operate, and hence she is here associated with evils. 
Few, I think, will care to read these metaphysical subtle- 
ties into Hesiod. 

(5) All these critics have fallen into error by not ob- 
serving that when the lid of the jar was replaced Elpis was 
withheld from, not communicated to, man. The error is 
not unnatural, for it is not easy on general grounds to sup- 
pose that the poet would have denied Elpis to mankind ; 
and this is a point to be remembered in considering the 
passage as a whole. L. Schmidt^ and Waser* however 
have an explanation of the reservation. They suppose 
that Elpis remains in the jar to be communicated to 
mankind later by Prometheus. To this theory there are 
several minor objections: I will only urge however the 
new dilemma it involves. If Elpis is good (and in the 
only passage where Prometheus is connected with her she 
is spoken of as a good comparable with the gift of fire*), 
again what is she doing in the jar P If she is bad, what 
has Prometheus, the benefactor of mankind, to do with 

(6) Two critics have given a new meaning to the word 
eAsris in this passage. Waltz* says she is *sans doute Tat- 

' BiMk d. Alien Griecfun^ ii. p. 70. 
' 8.T, Elpis in Pauly-Witsowa. 
« Acsch. P. V, 264 ff. 

n. BvjjTovs twavaa 11^ irpoli4pieta'3tu fi6pap» 

X. TO ftoiov 9vpit9 rri<rfi€ ^tdpiuLKOv »6<rov; 

n. Tv<t>Kat €V auroif tXirtdas naenj^Kurcu 

X liiy »<l>thffJM Tovr* ib»pr\(r» pparois. 
Some critics regard the comment of the chorus as ironical, but thejr have not, I think, 
considered the context with sufficient attention. 
* Hldodi tt S9Hpohne moral, p. $6, 

I04 A. S. F. GOW 

tente, la prescience du malheur * — a rendering for which 
we require rather more evidence than his unsupported 
conviction, and Gruppe^ explains the myth by a mysterious 
allegory, Elpis, he says, is error which remains behind, 
the other contents are sorrows which get abroad. This 
extraordinary view seems only to increase the difficulties 
of the passage and it need hardly be discussed here. 

(7) Finally, I have noted two theories as to the con- 
tents of the jar. Girard' supposes that it contained both 
good and evil, and that when it was opened the good ilew 
away and the evil got out into the world. This is the view 
which we have already condemned in Proclus : stated in 
this form it involves this conclusion. When good and 
bad were in the jar together mankind was in possession 
of the good but deprived of the evil — ^that is to say, the 
whole story is reduced to an absurdity. The second theory 
as to the contents of the jar is that of Weizsacker^ who 
supposes that the poet is vague and leaves them undefined. 
This is a counsel of despair. 

Confronted with the problems of the passage critics 
thus prove ineffectual, nor, so far as I can see, is there any 
likelihood of finding a satisfactory conclusion along the 
lines followed hitherto*. The fluctuating character of 
Elpis gives us indeed a choice between two problems, but 
that helps us little, for both are, in my opinion, insoluble. 
One other way remains which appears more hopeful. 

In Hesiod's wifios-myth the contents of the jar are, as 
we have seen, evils. There is however another story. An 
epigram in the Greek Anthology ^ ascribed to Macedonius, 
speaks of Pandora opening a jar, but there it is a jar of 
goods which fly away and are lost to man. More impor- 

1 Griech, MythoL u, Reiigionsgesch^ p. 1024. f. 

* Rru, d. £t Gr. xxii. (1909), pp. 217 fF. 
' 8.V. PatukrOj in Rotcher's Lexthu. 

^ Logically one might tappote, with vtn Lennep, that Elpis is a good included 
among evils because her existence is bound up with theirs, and, with Schmidt, that she 
is retained to be communicated to mankind by Prometheus ; but this theory is not, 
I imagine, likely to find many admirers. 

• Anth, Pal, x. 71. 


taut because more clearly independent of Hesiod is the 
version given by Babrius \ Here Pandora is absent ; Zeus 
gives to a man a jar containing all goods, the man opens 
it and all escape and fly up to Heaven save Elpis who is 
left inside when the lid is replaced. Now in this story 
the presence of Elpis in the jar and the meaning of her 
remaining behind are perfectly intelligible. The jar con- 
tains goods, among which is Hope, but here to be in the 
jar means to belong to mankind and to escape from it means 
to go beyond man's reach. Hope remains in the jar, for 
she is the one good thing left to miserable mortals. This 
is clear and satisfactory ; in Hesiod, where the symbolism 
of the jar is reversed, the presence of Elpis is unintelligible. 
I am therefore forced to conclude that the account of Elpis 
in the Works and Days belongs to the version of the story 
told by Babrius and does not belong to the version which 
now prevails in the text of Hesiod. 

The Jar of Goods seems not to occur except in the two 
passages mentioned above and Babrius's account is charac- 
terised by Rutherford* as ' late * and ' garbled and absurd.' 
As to its absurdity, the two stories seem to me to be exactly 
on an equality. There are two jars, one of goods, the other 
of evils, which stand on the threshold of Zeus': either 
might serve to point a moral or adorn a tale, whether the 
moralist be pessimistic (as happens to be the case in both 
our versions) or optimistic. The choice of jar and corre- 
sponding choice of symbolism are merely matters of taste. 
Neither can I admit that the Babrian story is necessarily 
late and garbled. If it comes to a weighing of authorities, 
we have apparently (omitting Hesiod as still sub judice) 
Eustathius^ Philodemus^ and Porphyrion* (none inde- 
pendent of Hesiod) for the Jar of Evils, Babrius and 

1 hill. * Babrius, p. xlxii. 

> I exprcM no opinion as to the relation in myth between theK viBtn and those we 
are considering. 

* p. 13^3. *4- 

* «vpt <ir€/S«»af>9 gddl (Gomperz, Herkulanheke Studten, ii. p. 51). 

* At Hor. C. i. 3. 39* Eostathins and Porphyrion are discassing our passage, Philo- 
deniiis it talking of Hesiod and qnotes W,D, 8z f. just below. 

io6 A, S. F. GOW 

Macedonius for the Jar of Goods ^ The a priori pro- 
babilities are moreover in favour of the Babrian myth 
being the earlier of the two, for a ttiQo^ is primarily a 
store-chamber for wine or grain, that is to say, a receptacle 
for blessings not for banes. 

What exactly has happened at this point in the tradi- 
tional Works and Days is a matter of some uncertainty*. 
Two alternatives are possible. Either Elpis has been in- 
consequently thrust into the jar of evils, in which case 
11. 96—99 contain alien matter and the original story is 
resumed at 1. 1 00, the juncture being roughly patched by 
alteration in 1. 100; or — and this seems to me the prefer- 
able hypothesis — 11. 100 — 104, belonging possibly though 
not necessarily to some version of the Jar of Evils, have 

^ There it possibly, I think, earlier evidence than these passages for the Jar of 
Goods. When Theognis, in a poem to which I have already alladedy writes (i 135 ff.)» 

SKKoi d* OdXvfiirovd' cKirpoXiirdvrcff e/Sov* 
f ;(cro fJMv Tlia-TiSf fitydXtf 6t6s^ icr.X., 

it looks as if he knew and was embroidering on the version of the myth recounted by 
Babrius. The language and tone of this poem are however strongly reminiscent of 
other parts of the fForis and Days, and it is possible that Theognis has merely trans- 
ferred Elpis from its present Hesiodic context to a new one, suggested perhaps by the 
flight of ^idos and Nemesis predicted at fF, D. 200 if. I will not therefore linger over 
the dark problems suggested by the hypothesis that Theognis, in a passage reminiscent 
of Hesiod, utilises the Babrian version of the nlBos-myth, 

^ I append for the convenience of the reader Kzach's text of the passage with such 
critical notes as seem relevant. 

90 irplv fUv yhp {titaKOP ciri ;(^oi'i <f)vX av6pt&n&v 
v6(r<l>iVj aT€p r€ KaK&y Ka\ Srtp 'xaKtwolo irovoco 
¥ova»v T apyakiwfy at r dpipdai Ktjpag Idoticav. 
[arifra y^ iv KaK^irrfri fiporol Karaytfoda-KOvtripJ] 
dKka yvvrj x€ip€<r<n wiBov lUya w&ft d<f>€Xwo'af 

95 tCKidatr*' apBotifrouri d* ipaifraro ici^dca Xvypo. 
fMvvi; d* avT66i 'EXirlr iv opprfKroun dofwurttf 
tfpdov tffufivt wiOov vir^ ;(CtXro-cv, ovdc BvpaCt 
fffeVn; * wpoaBtP yhp tw€fifiak€ w&pa wlaoto 
[oiycoyov /SdvX^i Ai^ ptifMiXtfytpirao,'] 
XOO clXXa Ci ftvpla Xvypii kot dpdptiirovg dXdikrfrag^ 
nXtitf fup yap yaia KaK&p wXtitf dc ^dXacrcra' 
povaoi d' dp6p»iroiinp i^* hl'^Pd ^^ ^ '*"'^ PvttrX 
alrroparot ^oArttcrc kok^ Bpt/roun <f>ipovaai 
fnyif itrtX ^a»v^y i^iKtro /ufrUra Zcvr. 

92 icjjpat Qir^ Origenes, yrjpas codd. quidam dett. 93 ii^ textu habent GEQ^ 

m. rec. in marg. ^i^bNP, om. codd. cett. Origenes. 99 exhibent Oi^, legemnt 

Tzetzes et Moschopulus; non agnovit Plutarchus, neglexcrunt Origenes Stobaeua^ 
104 a^crctroi d< 6 ari\os X4y<»p iri a<f>»Poi al poiroi Schol. Procli. 


replaced the end of the other story \ However, the 
Works and Days in general and, as I have said, the Pan- 
dora-myth in particular are in such a state that complete 
certainty can hardly be attained in matters of this kind. 
It is conceivably not without significance that between 
L 98 and L 100, a critical place on either hypothesis, 
occurs in all MSS. a line unknown to Plutarch and other 
ancient critics* and therefore alien even to our traditional 

I have no general solution of the Hesiodic problem 
and shall not discuss here the cause or origin of the con- 
fusion in the ^i^os-myth. Neither is it any part of my 
present purpose to track Pandora through the mazes of 
Greek religion. One question however remains for brief 
consideration. Elsewhere Pandora is Ge*, or Rhea*, or 
the wife of Prometheus*, or the mother of Graecus^, or an 
under-world daemon with an iron body^ Now Pandora, 
the Earth-Goddess, might well be armed with a jar of 
blessings or even a jar of banes^ but what is the evidence 
connecting her with the two w-f^os-my ths we are consider- 
ing ? In Hesiod, if the facts stated at the beginning of 
this paper are correct, the connexion is accidental; the 

1 Against this view is the fiict that in 11. 91 f. the poet ascribes to mankind before 
the disaster not the goods which this jar contained but merely freedom from the ills 
contained in the other. As however we cannot teU what immediately preceded 1. 90 
in the original story, this objection is not very serious. The line which originaUy 
followed 98 may wdl have contained the missing nominative to cV^^/SoXc. 

' On L 99 see Dimitrijevid, StuMa HenotUa^ p. 174. Possible examples of inter- 
polation at junctures are to be found elsewhere in Hesiod. L. 93, interpolated at the 
point where, on the other hypothesis^ the Jar of Evils is interrupted by Elpis and the Jar 
of Goods^ is on a different rooting. It is a gloss on the false reading y$par for tajpa^ in 
L 92 borrowed bodily from Od, zix. 360, and it is not found in all MSS. 

* When I wrote this paper I was aware from Rzach's i^aratus that Spohn had 
considered lines 96 — 98 to be aliemu indolisj but I was unable to find either lus edition 
or any report of his reasons. While correcting the proofs I discovered that £. Lisco in 
his Quaestiatus Henodioi (Goettingen mcmiii : p. 36) has reached a similar conclusion ; 
he regards 96 — 99 as an interpolation replacing some part of the story of which 90 — 104 
is a fragment. His argument is that Elpis is good and must therefore belong to the 
Bahrian version of the iri^or-myth. 

* Schol. Ar. A*u. 971, Philostr. Fit. Af, Ty, vi. 39, Hesych. s.v. navdo^pat cf. Horn, 
^tgr. vii. I. 

* Diodoms^ iii. 57. * Hesiod, fr. 2 R. ' Id. fr. 4 R. 

* Off A, Argm. 975 ff. ^ Cf. Miss Harrison, ProUgnmnOj p. 285. 

io8 A. S. F. GOW 

violent juncture effected between the Misogynist's Myth 
and the ^i^os-myth involves the identification of the 
Pandora of the one with the nameless woman of the other 
but gives little ground for supposing them identical origin- 
ally \ It is even possible that the nameless woman is not 
original either but comes in through recasting when the 
two myths were joined together. It is not without signi- 
ficance that Philodemus mentions another tradition that 
the jar was opened not by Pandora but by Epimetheus*. 
In Babrius also, though Epimetheus is not named, it is a 
man who opens the jar. 

The Hesiodic evidence, although it will not stand in- 
vestigation, does to the ordinary reader connect Pandora 
with the jar, and this connexion is duly made by Philo- 
demus who takes the story from Hesiod. There remain 
Nonnus', who mentions Pandora with a jar of unspecified 
contents, and Macedonius, in whose epigram Pandora opens 
a jar of goods. These then are the only direct authorities 
for Pandora's jar, and the value of their evidence depends 
on the assumption that they did not derive the story from 
Hesiod. This is an assumption which I for one should 
not make with any confidence*. Pandora has many other 
occupations in Greek mythology, and we shall be inflicting 

^ Hermuin (/tfAr^. f, PAiL xxi. 1S37, p. 129 f) would banish Pandora from tke 
fForks and Days altogether, leaving (by the excision of U. So f.) the woman of the 
Misogynist's Myth nameless as in the Tke^gony, The other evidence connecting the 
name Pandora with the first woman and Pandora with Epimetheus (ApoUodorus, i. 7, 
2$ Palaephatus, xxxiv. ; Hyginus, Fob. cxlii. ; Plotinus, £frif. iv. 3. i4,etc. ; and the 
vase, /. H. S, xxi. pi. i) seems to make this hypothesis precarious, though it is possible 
that the name is introduced into the fF^ks and Dayi nom some other version of the 

^ 9r. €iorvj9. cxxx. : cfcoi dc rhv UpOfOf^itts Adf\4>6v *^irifUfS4a r6v viB^v d^oi^ai r&v 
KOK&v roir AwBpeSitiHS ifivitftrav dXX* ov r^ Hav^aipav, Possibly Produs's comment at 
fF. D, 89 (where it is stated that the jar was left in Epimetheus's charge by Prometheos 
who received it from satyrs) belongs to this version of the story. Welcker wished to 
see Pandora's jar (box, he calls it) in the object held by Epimetheus on a curious glass 
cup from a Roman grave at Cologne {Jakri. d. Ftr. f, AUertbunu/reunde im RAiinlande 
xxviii. T. 18). The object is however neither jar nor box. 

• Dionys. vii. 56 ff. 

^ I entertain so much doubt as to the meaning of Macedonius's epigram thtt 
I speak hesitatingly about it, but the references to old age look as if they were due to 
yfipas in XT. D. 91. In 1. 5 of the epigram lurh n&fia is perhaps only a copyist's 


no hardship upon her if we grant an interim injunction 
depriving her of the jar until she has produced a better 
title to it. At present she stands, like Perses, under grave 
suspicion of having seized and carried off more than her 
fair share in the heritage of myth. 

A. S. F. Gow. 

Rminiscence of Hesiod : at least I cannot share the confidence of commentators who 
tianslate 'after the lid was removed/ Waltz (Rev, d. £t. Gr. xxiii. p. 54) renders: 
*a laissd retomber avec It courvirch la brillante parure de ses charmes/ At iif. D. 230 
the same writer announces that ' la le9on des MSS. (/icra suivi du datif ) est incorrecte.' 
Both views suggest that he is imperfectly acquainted with the uses of this preposition. 
If Macedonios's epigram is based on Hesiod the Talue of his evidence as to the Jar of 
Goods is diminished, but, even if we had not Babrius, we should in my opinion be 
compelled to postulate that version of the myth in order to explain the passage in 


In 1884 the late Mr Greville J. Chester presented to 
the Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities in the 
British Museum a small hoard of 28 pieces of metal, 
found near Smyrna. One of these was a lead weight (?) 
of triangular form, with three dots on one side ; of the 
remainder, 16 were bronze coins and 8 pieces which are 
apparently blanks for striking^. 

There were also two amorphous pieces of fused bronze, 
and a small piece of iron pyrites*. The whole hoard, 
with the exception of the weight, has since 1906 been 
transferred to the Department of Coins. The description 
of the pieces of bronze, whether coins or blanks, is as 
follows : 

Gambrium in Mysia. 

1 . Head of Apollo r., laureate. 

Rev. Bull butting 1. 10 to 9*5 mm. Five 

Cp. B.M.C. Mysidy p. 63, nos. 14 — 16 (* Third 
century B.C.'). H. von Fritze, Mysien, p. 145, no. 426 
(* after middle of fourth century'). 

2. Head of Apollo r., laureate ; border of dots. 

Rev. FAM Star. 10*5 mm. Two specimens. 
Cp. B.M.C. Mysia^ p. 62, nos. 9— 11 (* Third cen- 
tury B.c.'). H. von Fritze, op. cit.^ p. 144, no. 422 
(*^ter middle of fourth century'). 

^ One of thete (17 below) might perhaps be better pbioed in the next category of 
amorphous pieces. 

* The material which I had suspected to be iron pyrites is identified as such by 
Dr Prior, of the Natural History Museum. As regards the reason for its presence in 
the hoard, he suggests that ' it may have been mistaken for copper pyrites, the mineral 
from which the copper of the bronze may have been obtained. By ancient writers such 
as Pliny and Dioscorides the two minerals were often confounded. Dioscorides, in fact, 
calls pjrrites an ore of copper. The name ** copperas *' for native sulphate of iron was 
given no doubt as a result of such a confusion.* 


3. Head of Apollo r., laureate. 

Rev. lAM Tripod, i o mm. One specimen. 

Cp. B.M.C. Mysia^ p. 63, nos. 18 — 25 (* Third 
century b.c.*). H. von Fritze, op. cit.^ p. 146, no. 427 
('after middle of fourth century*). 


1 . Head of Athena r. wearing crested helmet* 

Kev. Two stars ; legend obliterated. 10 mm. 
One specimen. 

Cp. B.M.C. Mysta^ p. 112, nos. 24, 25 ('b.c. 310 — 
283 ') ; H. von Fritze in Corolla Numism. p. 52, PL II. 
1 2, and MUnzen v. Pergamon^ p. 5, Taf. I. 1 1 (' time of 
Lysimachus ') . 

2. Head of Athena r. wearing helmet ornamented 
with griflSin. 

IJw. 0IAE|TAIPO[Y]. Strung bow. 12-5 mm. 
One specimen. 

Cp. B.M.C. Mysia^ p. 119 (* b.c. 281 — 197 ') ; H. von 
Fritze, in Corolla Numism. p. 54, PI. II. 22 and MUnzen 
V. Pergamoriy p. 23, Taf. I. 31 ('belongs to the earlier 
period of the kings'). 

Aegae in Aeolis. 

I. Head of Apollo r., laureate. 

Rev. Goat's head r. ; legend obliterated. 1 1 mm. 
One specimen. 

Cp. B.M.C. Troasy p. 95 ('Third century b.c/). 

Cyme in Aeolis. 

I. Eagle r. ; legend obliterated. 

Rev. KY Vase with one handle. 10*5 mm. One 

Cp. B.M.C. Troasy p. 107, nos. 27 f. (*circ. b.c. 

H2 G. F- HILL 

Elaea in Aeolis. 

I. Head of Athena L, wearing crested Corinthian 

Rev. Barley-corn between two branches of 
olive. lo mm. One specimen. 

Cp. B.M.C. Troas^ p. 107, nos. 6 ff. (* fourth century 
B.C., after circ. B.C. 340'). 

Myrina in Aeolis. 

1. Head of Athena r., wearing close-fitting crested 
helmet ornamented with griffin. 

Rev. [M]Y PI. Amphora. 14-5 mm. One 

Cp. B.M.C. TroaSy p. 135, nos. 20 — 26. (These are 
assigned in the Catalogue to the second or first century 
B.C., but in the margin of a copy of the book Mr Wroth 
has noted that they may be as early as the fourth century.) 

Erythrae in Ionia. 

I. Head of young Heracles r. in lion-skin. 

Rev, Bow-case r. and club 1. ; city-name and 
magistrate illegible. 10*5 mm. One specimen. 

Cp. B.M.C. Ionia, p. 124, nos. 66 f. (*circ. b.c. 387 — 
300'). The club and bow-case are arranged as on the 
hemidrachm no. loi, of the next period ; but in other 
ways the coin seems to belong to the fourth century series. 


I. Head of Apollo 1. 

Rev. Uncertain type ; female head l.(?). 12 mm. 
I specimen. 

One specimen 


The 8 blanks vary considerably in shape and size ; the 
largest is 11*5 mm. in diameter, and 4 mm. thick; the 
smallest is only 4*5 mm. in diameter but over 4 mm. 
thick. This almost looks as if it were cut from a bar or 
stout wire ; the thinner ones may have been cast in their 
present shape, and this is I think certainly the case with one 
which is flat on one side and convex on the other. The 
weights of the blanks (a — 6f) and pieces of fused metal 
(1, k) are as follows : 



a . 

. 48-4 


i . 



fC . 

. 26-8 


/8 . . . 



7 • 



8 . . . 



6 . 

• ii-S 


Cn . . 

1 1 '2 


. . 

■ 7-8 


This curious little collection has every appearance of 
being the sweepings of a mint. For in what other place 
would one be likely to find unstruck coin-blanks of bronze, 
together with a variety of struck coins of corresponding 
size, also of bronze ? Had the metal been gold or silver, 
one might have assumed that we were in a goldsmith's 
or silversmith's shop (as in the case of the well-known 
Naucratis hoard) ; but there blanks would be out of place. 

The coins are all in poor condition ; it follows there- 
fore that, if the place where they were found was really a 
mint, they had not been produced there. Nor, although 
little towns like Gambrium and Aegae might have ' put 
out * their minting, is it likely that Pergamum or Myrina 
should have done so, even in the case of their minor 
bronze coinage. We must assume, therefore, that the 
coins were some of a number which had been collected 
to be used for making new ones. Most probably they 



114 G. F HILL 

would have been melted down and cast into new blanks, 
similar to those which have been preserved ; but some of 
them might well have been placed between the dies with- 
out recasting. 

It is unfortunate that we have no precise indication 
of the locality or circumstances of the discovery of the 
hoard to help us to say whether the mint was the mint of 
Smyrna itself, or of some neighbouring small town. 

The coins date, it will be observed, from the fourth 
and third centuries B.C. ; the only one (that of Myrina in 
Aeolis) which has been attributed to a later date was on 
second thoughts, as Mr Wroth noted, moved upwards to 
the fourth century. 

Probably the events which led to the burial of the 
hoard (if it was a hoard), or to the shutting down of the 
workshop of which these pieces formed the sweepings, 
took place towards the end of the third or beginning of 
the second century. If this was a mint, the pieces may 
well have been used to produce such small bronze coins 
as those which are attributed to Smyrna in the third 
century b.c. after the death of Lysimachus^ The weights 
of the coins of this class in the British Museum are as 
follows : 

B.M.C. lonicy Smyrna, no. 


Grains Grammes 


65-5 4-24 


47-0 3-05 


40*2 2-6o 


327 2*12 


23-8 1-54 


l8"9 I'22 


6*2 0*40 

The weights of Greek bronze coins are, it is well 
known, very irregular, and little stress can be laid on them; 
but it is at least possible that blank a might have been 

^ Head, Hisi, Num.\ p. 59s. 


used to strike a coin like no. 13, and for a coin like 
no. 12. 

After the battle of Magnesia Smyrna started the new 
coinage of which the large silver pieces with the head of 
Kybele form the most characteristic and best known issues. 
It may have been then that the modest installation which 
is indicated by the little collection which we have been 
considering was superseded by a more elaborate mint. 

The reader will by this time have had enough of con- 
jectures; but he will, it is hoped, excuse them for the 
sake of the peg upon which they are hung. Let me 
add only that the absence of coins of Smyrna itself from 
the collection is in favour of the hypothesis. 

G. F. Hill. 



There arc three obvious objections to Noack's theory 
that the ancient name of Gla was Arne (^ ein vorb5otisches 
Arne ') ^ : 

(i) The traditions concerning Arne. 

(a) It was the old name of Chaeronea* : this Noack 
rejects on the ground that it is unlikely. As Chaeronea 
was the first town captured by the invading Boeotians 
from Thessalian Arne^ it seems very possible. 

{6) It was the old name of Akraephnium^ : this he 
rejects in one sense, accepts in another, by making Arne, 
i. e. Gla, the old site of Akraephnium, there having been 
an dvoiKiO'fio^ after the flooding of the Lake. Arne could 
not have been the later Akraephnium, as no Mycenean 
remains exist of the latter place ; the same remark would, 
however, apply to Haliartus, Copae, Coronea, and many 
other towns that undoubtedly existed in Minyan times. 
Akraephnium was said to have been founded by Athamas^ ; 
this legend really belongs to Gla, according to Noack, 
situated in the Athamantine plain. 

{c) It and Midea were destroyed by floods in the 
Copais, their sites were unknown*, and Gla stands too 
high ever to have been flooded. Noack disposes of this by 

1 Ath. Mitth. xix. (tS94)» pp. 410^.9 ctp. 463-81. Leaf {Troj^y p. S7) accepts 
Noack'f view. For an account of the fortten and palace tee de Ridder, B. C. H. xviii. 
(1S94], 271 — 310 { Soteriadhes, '£0. *Apx* >903y p. 76 (n. i to p. 74, ad Jin.) i Frazer, 
Paus. V. pp. 120-S. 

* Paul. ix. 40. 5 — 6. 

' Plut. Fit. Cim. § i j see Buiolt, Gr. Gisch. i\ p. 255. 

* Strabo, ix. p. 4x3. * Steph. Byz. s. v. 
^ Strabo, i. p. 59; ix. p. 413. 


rejecting the story as unhistorical, on the ground that it 
is a mere repetition of the earlier (and true) story of the 
destruction of the prehistoric towns, Athenae and Eleusis, 
by floods^ 

(ii) Homer wrote : o« t€ TroXva-TaipvXop ''Apptip ^xop, 
oi T6 Mii€iap\ and the soil of the Copais around Gla is 
much too heavy for vine-culture, as M. de Ridder pointed 
out^ Noack ignores this altogether ; he notes only 
Zenodotus' emendation "AcKprip^ and rejects it for the 
same reason as Aristarchus — did not Hesiod say the climate 
of Ascra was bad ? — * und wer heute die kahle felsige 
H5he betrachtet, die das alte Ascra trug, wird ihm (Aris- 
tarch) nur beipflichten/ But these two distinguished 
scholars take Hesiod too seriously. As a matter of fact, 
vines grow in great quantities at the foot of the hill of 
Ascra, and we are told that it was not only TroXva-TtitpvXo^ 
but iroXvXnio^^. In any case ^oAi/crra^i/Aos is not an 
epithet that fits Gla. 

(iii) The legends of Arne, both of the town and of 
the heroine, are all Boeotian*, that is, post-Minyan, while 
Gla is Minyan. This Noack subjects to two criticisms : 
{a) Both Strabo and Thucydides state that the Boeo- 
tians came from Thessaly into Boeotia after the Trojan 
War^ This the Alexandrian scholars thought a very good 
reason for supposing ^'Apptjp to be a wrong reading^ But 
Noack does not think the text of Homer can be wrong, and 
supposes this to be evidence that there was a pre-Boeotian 
Ame. He puts great trust in these statements of Thucy- 
dides and Strabo : ^ Hier steckt, meine ich, wirkliche 
Gelehrsamkeit, die mit historischen Daten rechnet und so 

> Straboy ix. p. 407 s Paus. iz. 24. 2 } Steph. Byz. t. v. *A6rjvai (Noack, p. 416 ff.). 

* B 507- ' B. C. H, xviii. 446-52. 

* Strabo, p. 413 ; Schol. B 507. 

* Paos. ix. 3S. 4 (epitaph on Hesiod's tomb at Orchomenus). 

* See Rotcher and Pamy-Wittowa, s. ▼. 
' Thoc. L 12. 3 } Strabo, ix. p. 411. 

' 'Die Didymoitcholien, die, wie wir jetzt winen, auch beste und ftlteste alexan- 
drinische GelehrBamkeit enthalten, geben den Anlass zur Anderung mit den Worten an t 
in 9VX tvpUrK€Tat Kara rovs TpaiiKovg xP^^"^"^^ ir<{Xi( BoMtruv.' 

ii8 A. W. GOMME 

weit gekommen ist, als man mit der damaligen Erkenntnis 
kommen konnte.' But unfortunately the same writers 
state plainly that the name Arne came with the Boeotians 
from Thessaly, after the war, according to those who 
would alter the reading, or before, as part of the aVo8acr- 
ftos of Boeotians which is mentioned in the Catalogue. 
At this conclusion of * real scholarship,' Noack's trust dis- 
appears : ^ £s ist lediglich ein Schluss, der aus der falschen 
Voraussetzung schon im Altertum gezogen ist, dass wenn 
die BSoter aus dem thessalischen Arne kamen oder doch 
sicher aus Thessalien, wo es ein zweites Arne gab, sie auch 
diesen Namen zuerst in B&otien eingef iihrt haben miissen/ 
Whence the tradition that the Boeotians came into Boeotia 
after the Trojan War arose, we do not know : it is clear 
that in the Iliad there is more than a mere dirolaa-ixm 
there — ^for they occupy more than nine-tenths of the 
country, all except Orchomenus and Aspledon, and there 
are no longer any Cadmeans — and that, at any rate, Arne 
has as much right to be considered Boeotian as any of the 
other places or as the leaders themselves, Peneleos, LfCitus 
and the rest ^ 

> Mr T. W. Allen argues that the name Boeotia was earlier used in its classical 
meaning than the invasion from Thessaly. He refers to Thucydidcs' statement, 'whence, 
as the Boeotians are in Boeotia in Homer, it has been inferred that this part of the 
Catalogue is post-Dorian. Thucydides was probably misled by the nomenclature. 
Some races certainly carried their names South with them, the Hellenes, Enienes, 
Phlegyae, Achaei, whom we can see moving \ others took the name of the country 
which they occupied and this seems generally true of the Dorians, who became in Argos 
*Apyuoif in Lacedaemon Aaxcdat/iovioc, in Ells 'HXcioi, and similarly probably in 
Boeotia BoMoroi. There is no evidence that the name Boiwoi was ever borne by anyone 
North of Oeta. The Dorians in general took their name according to their own 
tradition from A«p/r, or according to Herodotus from Dryopis ; they were not called 
Dorians till they arrived in the Peloponnesus ; when therefore we find a place called 
Acopcov in Peloponnesus it is a simple case of the same place-name recurring in Greece, 
like Ephyra, Oechalia, Orchomenus, Thebae, and has nothing to do with race* 
(/. H, S. XXX. p. 195). The tradition preserved in Thucydides and Strabo, against the 
testimony of Homer, must have been a strong one and probably contains the truth. 
Homer may have been guilty of an anachronism (which would still leave the Catalogue 
pre-Dorian, nor make one part of it later than another). Against Mr Allen's view is 
the fact that none of the early heroes of the country, Minyas, Cadmus, Alalkomeneos^ 
Hyrieus, for example, is ever descended from Boeotus, who is apparently a later eponymns. 
(One scholiast, ad Apoll. Rh. i. 230, makes Minyas a son of Poseidon and Hermippe» 
daughter of Bioeotus; another, ad //. ii. 511, makes Orchomenus a son of Zeus and 
Heimippe.) And the occurrence together of such names as Thebae, Coronea, Itonia* 


(6) One ancient author, Lycophron, states that there 
was an Ame belonging to the Temmikes, and this race is 
pre-Boeotian and comes from Attica \ 

Out of this Noack has constructed his theory of a 
pre-Boeotian Ame belonging to the Temmikcs (from 
which Menesthius of Arne also came)'; this tradition 
he considers to be well-founded ; *vielmehr diirfen wir 
constatiren, dass hier ein Stuck sehr alter Gelehrsamkeit 
fiir ein vorbOotisches Arnc in BSotien zeugt, das vielleicht 
auch dem gelehrtesten imd dunkelsten aller Dichter in 
seiner wahren Bedeutung dunkel geblicben war. Dieses 
Resultat crgiebt sich unabhangig von aller anderen t)ber- 
lieferung und darf also als selbstandiges Glied in die 
Untersuchung eintreten ' ; — «o independent indeed of all 
other traditions, that it contradicts them. But even so 
this Arne does not belong to the Minyans, but to the 
Temmikes, who are joined by Strabo* with the Aones, 
the Leleges and the Hyantes, who in barbarous days, 
before the Cadmeans, inhabited Boeotia. This means 
that they were before the Minyans too, even if they 
ever inhabited Western Boeotia at all. Strabo implies 
that they dwelt in the Eastern plain only ; and even 
Lycophron's words would suggest this, for of the places 
which he mentions along with this Arne of the Tem- 
mikes, only one, Tegyra, is in the Copais district, and 
that probably a late foundation ; one, the Hypsarnes 
river, is unknown, while the rest are all in Eastern 
Boeotia ^ Strabo says that the Temmikes came from 
Sunium, and for this reason Noack thinks that the Minyans 

Ame, etc., in Thetsaly as well as in Boeotia, points to an original identity of race : it is 
no isolated phenomenon, like the two Orchomeni. 

1 Lines 644-7 > 'Others will sail to the far West, to the Balearic Islands and 
Tartessus: — 

"ApvTfg vaXouiff y^vpoj Ttfi/dKOv irp6fun^ 
Tpatav iro6ovvTt£ kcA Atovrdpvris irayovp, 
SiewXdy rr ical Tiyvpav *Oyxt<rrov ff ibo/Sy 
Kol X*^f^ Qfpfi»iovrog 'Y'^dpvov ff vd«p/ 
> H 9 folL ' ix. p. 401. 

* Leontame, according to the scholiast on B 507 (Dindorf, iii. p. 139), was situated 
below Helikon, and some said it was the Homeric Ame. 

I20 A. W. GOMME 

went from Thera to Boeotia and Thessaly (not vice versd) 
through Attica, and so were the same as the Temmikes. 
The conclusion is a rash one. In any case, Lycophron's 
line need not be an instance of * sehr alter Gelehrsamkeit,* 
but of very modern pedantry ; no more reliance can be 
placed on his use of TefxiaiKwv irpofioij than on the use by 
the Roman poets of the epithet Aonius in connection 
with Hesiod or the Muses. It is far more probable that 
Arne is * ein alter Stadtname, welcher dem Stamme der 
aiolischen Boioter eigentiimlich gewesen zu sein scheint\' 
Noack adds that so large a fortress as that of Gla 
must have been mentioned by Homer ; Wilamowitz had 
thought this too and supposed Gla to be a seat of Athamas, 
and either Arne or Midea : * Wilamowitz hat es fiir 
unglaublich gehalten dass diese grossartigsten Ruinen der 
Heroenzeit im homer ischen SchifRkatalog gefehlt haben 
soUte, wo doch Orchomenos, Tiryns und Mykenai nicht 
fehlen*.' But Noack himself realises that the occupation 
of Gla was only possible when the Copais was drained' ; 
and both the traditions of the wars of the Thebans and 
the Orchomenians and the turning of the Copais into a 
lake by Heracles*, and the fact that in Homer only 
Orchomenus and Aspledon belong to the Minyans, make 
it practically certain that in the time of the Iliad the 
Copais was no longer a plain, and Gla already uninhabi- 
table. This is the reason why there is no mention of 
this fortress in the Iliad^ or in Strabo and Pausanias ; the 
former followed the Catalogue, while the latter did not 

^ Hirschfeld, ap. Pauly-Wissowa, ii. p. 1202, 26. 

* Noack, p. 464 ; Wilamowitz in HtrmeSy xxvi. p. 205, n. x. 

' ' Die ganze Aolage, vor alien die vier Thore» sowie der Umstand, daas der auf der 
Nordseite, nach dem Ufer ftihrende Damm gar nicht auf das Nordthor Rockaicht nimmt, 
sondern im Falle irgendwelches Wasserstandes nur durch Klettem tkber schroffe Felsen 
and Ubersteigen der dort thOrlosen Mauer zu erreichen wflre, weiten deutlich darauf 
hin, dast tie auf ein ringsum trockenes, zugftngliches Gel&nde berechnet war. Diese 
Burg ist nur zu verstehen in Verbindung mil dem trocken gelegten Kopaissee' 
(pp. 439-40). 

* See Eur. Her, Fur, 217-21 ; Theocr. xn, 104 f. ; Pans. iz. 9. x, 37. i — 3, 3S. 7^ 
25. 4» &c. ; Polyaen. i. 3. 5 $ Diod. iv. 18. 7 ; Apollod. ii. 67 (ed. Wagner) ; Strabo* 


pass by the island ; it makes Noack's theory quite un- 

Many names have been suggested for Gla : Dodwell, 
followed by Ulrichs and Bursian, supposed it to have been 
the old site of Copae, though we do not hear that Copae 
ever changed its site ; *sie konnten sich auf keine Ober- 
lieferung stiitzen * ; Leake suggested Athamantium from 
the Athamantine Plain, ^ where Athamas is supposed to 
have dwelt^'; Forchhammer and Vischer suggested 
Midea or one of the other sunken cities ; Ross would 
not name it — * ein namenloser Zufluchtsort ' ; and Lolling 
also refrained from making any conjecture '• 

Recently Mr T. W. Allen has suggested that the 
ancient name was Glechon, known only from a fragment 
of Hesiod^ As the only facts we know about either Gla 
or Glechon are that the Cephissus flows by each, and that 
each is older than Hesiod, this would fit very well. If I 
may, I will add one more to the list of conjectures. We 
need for the inhabitants of this fortress a people who were 
famous, but who are not located in any known city in the 
tradition ; and they must fulfil certain conditions — (i) they 
must belong to the Minyan period, the time when the 
Copais was a plain, and have been, at one time at least, 
friendly to Orchomenus ; for it is clear that the rulers of 
that city would not have allowed an enemy in a fortress 
so near them and their system of canals ; (ii) they must 
have been a warlike people, for Gla is entirely a fortress, 
as M. de Ridder pointed out ; and (iii) they must have 
occupied the island for a short time only; for the remains 
at Gla are of a single period (though M. de Ridder 
appears to suggest that the decoration of the palace is 
later than the rest) * ; very few fragments of pottery were 

1 Paas.iz. 24. x t the Athamantine Pkin was that north-eastern Bay of the Copais, 
now known at the Bay of Topolia, at the western end of which Gk is situated. 

s For these, see Noack, pp. 463-4. 

2 Class, Rev. 1903, p. 239 s Hes. fr. 38 (ed. Rzach 1902). Steph. Byz. does not 
Aodce Glechon. 

* loc. at, pp. 305-6. 

122 A. W. GOMME 

found, all of the Mycenean type akin to that found by 
Schliemann at Orchomenus, and ' the style of masonry of 
the walls is so thoroughly homogeneous that we cannot 
doubt that they were aU built at the same period, probably 
within the space of a few years.. • The fewness of the 
objects [" Kleinf unde "] seems to indicate that the popula- 
tion of the place was small and that it was not resident 
for long.. .It seems to have been erected at a blow and to 
have perished at a blow ; for everything in it bears the 
imprint of a single period and of a single plan, there is 
not a trace on the plateau of an earlier or a later settle- 
ment. The scantiness of the remains of pottery, and the 
seemingly total absence of all other objects of daily life, 
indicate that it was inhabited only for a short period ; and 
the traces of fire in the palace point to the conclusion that 
its end was sudden and violent^.* Only the Western part 
of the island could ever have been inhabited at all, and 
this is nearly all occupied by the palace and agora ; for 
the Eastern half is covered with huge boulders ; it was 
not therefore a large trading town or the centre of an 
agricultural district merely. These conditions seem to 
me to be filled by Phlegyantis or Phlegya, the city of the 
insolent Phlegyans. Stephanus says of ^Xeyva* ttoXi^ 
BoiiOTia^j drro ^Xeyvov toS ''Afjeo^ Kai Xpv(rri^ waiSo^^ not 
saying where it was to be found, and no other writer 
mentions the city under this name. Pausanias is the 
authority (the only one) for Phlegyantis, and this gives 
the story of the Phlegyans : * Xpv<ni^ ^^ 'rij^ "AX/ioi; kus 
"A/oeoi^ €X€i (piifJLfi yeveirdai ^Xeyvav^ koi ti}i/ opx^^ *Et€0- 
kXcovs dwodaifOPTO^ airaiZo^ 6 ^Xeyva^ €<r;^6i/ oIto^. tpj 
fjt€V Sfi X^P9 '^? irdo'ij ^Keyvavriha opojuia etvai fxerlQevro 
dvrl *AifSpriiSoSy ttoAxv Se eyevero tj re i^ dpxn^ oiKiO'deia'a 
ij *KvZp}]L^ Kal 7rpoa'€KTio'€P 6 ^Keyva^ dfrnvvjiov avTW^ tov^ 
Ta TToXefUKct dpicTov^ *EX\r\vwv cri/We^as 69 avTifu. Kal 
direo'Ttia'av Se dud xpo^ov diro twv dWwif ^Opxofievitov iJrro 

1 Frazer, pp. 121, 126, 128. How Noack reconciles this with his idea that Gla 
was Arne, 1 cannot imagine. 


dvoia^ Kai ToXfXfis oi ^Xeyvai Kai tjyov kcu e(p€pov tow 
irpocoiKOV^. Te\o^ he Kai eiri to iepov arvXtia'ovTes (TTpa- 
Teuowri TO ev AcX^ots . • . toi)? he ^Xeyva^ TroX^fjua lULoXurra 
'EAAiffftM/ x^ipeiv /juxprvpei fioi Kai errti twv ev *I\«aSi irepl 
''Apeto^ Koi ^ofiov Tov ''Apew^ ireiroirifieva — 

TftJ fxkv ap eU *E(f>vpov^ woKefiov fxeToi dtapi^aro'ecrBovj 
rii fjLeTd ^Xeyva^ fdeyaXsiTopa^. 

But God smote them with thunderbolts and earthquakes, 
and fever carried oflF the rest, though some few escaped to 
Phocis 1 ' 

In the legends however that told how the Phlegyans 
attacked Thebes, unsuccessfully at first against Amphion 
and Zethus, then successfully after the death of the 
brothers, under their king Eurymachus, they are localised 
at a place called Gyrton*. This legend is combined with 
the attack on Delphi by Pherecydes, but it does not appear 
that it occurs outside that author ; Eurymachus is only 
mentioned by him and by Eustathius'. Gyrton was named 
after a Gyrton, Phlegyas' brother, or Gyrtone, his daughter^ 
but it was in Perrhaebia near Olympus ^ and seems to 
have belonged to the Thessalian Phlegyans, iwhence it 
may have been transferred to Boeotia, for no town of that 
name is otherwise known there. FvpTiopa ^Xeyvai KaToi- 
Kovpresy said Pherecydes : KvpTwptiv^ at once suggests itselr 
as an emendation, but we should not expect to find the 
Phlegyans in the mountainous district north of the Copais ; 
this would not be convenient for an attack on Thebes. 
(Is FAiix^Si/a perhaps the right reading ?) But either 
Phlegya or Gyrton might be the ancient name of Gla. 


1 Paus. ix. 36. I — 3. Elsewhere (ix. 9. 2) Pausanias says that among the mer- 
cenaries that supported Thebes against the Argives were wapa 4>«icc»y Koi ^k rfjg 

Moruadoff x^P*'^ ®^ ^Xcyi/at. 

* Pherecydes is the chief authority for these legends ; fr. 102 a {Fragm. Hist. Gr. i. 
pp. 95~6, from the Scholia to X 263 and N 302, which state that Amphion and 
Zethus first walled Thebes, then Cadmus again afterwards). 

» Roscher, s. v. * Roschcr, s. v. 

» Steph. Byz. s. ▼. • Paus. ix. 24. 4. 



OF VV. 36 — lOI 


h^ The Gods avenge ! And happy he 
Who passes in tranquillity 

His day, without a tear — 

A Group of Maidens. 

I sing the radiant Agido. 
^^ She bids the sun look out and show 
He has a rival here. 

Another Group. 

Her Leadership's nobility 
Forbids me praise your Agido, 
Or criticise, my dear. 
'^*' Her Leadership appears to me 
So exquisite, a racer she 
Among the common cows might be^ 
Of pride and prance and pedigree — 

The First Group. 
Fancies have wings, I fear I 

The Second Group. 

^^ The horse I mean — why, can't you sec?-— 
Venetian — Hegesichore, 

My cousin, with her hair 
That shines like perfect gold, and, Oh, 
The perfect face that shines below — 

^ For the text tee Bergk» P. L, GA iii. pp. 23 tqq., and Blast in R^eim, Mm, xL 
(cf. HermeSf xiv. pp. 467-9). Various interpretations by Bruschi in Rhf. di FM^ 
xxiii. 1895, Diek in Hermes^ xxxi. 1S96, Weil in Journal dti Sa^oftts 1S96, Jorenka in 
PhiUUgus^ Ivi., the most important paper of von Wilamowitz in Hirmis^ zzxii. 18971 
Kukula in PhiUUgus^ Ixvi. 1907 (criticism by Jurenka in ZtfftrOst, Gjmn. 1907, p. 1084, 
reply by Kukula, ib, 1908, p. sS6)j W. W. Wilson in Am. J. PAil. xxxiii. 191a. See 
also Smyth, Melic PoitSt pp. 175 sqq. 


Thb First Group, 

^^' To speak plain truth I'll dare. 

Her Leadership is all you say. 
And yet she is not Agido, 

But makes the perfect pair. 
For see, on night*s mysterious way, 
to Like Sirius, with jealous ray, 

The Pleiads rise, our rivals they. 
As for our Lady's festal day 
Her sacred robe we bear. 


No pomp and purple make us bold, 
63' No twisted chains of cunning gold 
To twine about our hair : 
No, nor the coif that is the pride 
Of Ly<lif> that lovely eyed 
Delicate maidens wear — 

The Second Group. 

7C> Cleesithera, Arete 

Or Thulakis may be denied. 

Or Nanno, though ^ rare— 

The Fxrst Group. 

Who goes to Ainesimbrote 
For >Gtaphis?'Demarete? 
Philylla ? lanthemis, though she 
Is lovely? 

The Second Group. 


Alone can make us dare. 

Why, where is Hegesichore? 

Our dainty dancer, where is she?— 

The First Group. 

^ Aha! She's over there. 

Close, very close, to Agido, 
Praising our gift; and now they go 

To pray. God hear their prayer I 
Only the leader brings increase, 
1^' Ana I, since like a chatter-crow 
I talk, the name I'll bear. — 


The Second Group. 

Only our Lady I would please 
Our Lady, who has sent release^ 
And made our troubles all to cease, 
■'jo When Hegesichore brought peace. 
Sweet peace, for all to share,— 


The car must run behind the horse, 
And mariners at sea, of course. 

Obey the man that steers: 
Our leader sings, not better than 
The Sirens, no, for no one can, 

No mortals are their peers: 
She's worth eleven maidens, when 
You hear the singing of the ten, 
A lovely swan with plumage white. 
Singing where Xanthus stream runs bright. 


* I have had a most rare vision,* cries the unsophisti- 
cated reader, and is apt to add * I have had a dream — past 
the wit of man to say what dream it was/ His confusion 
is not lessened when the commentators go about to ex- 
pound. Is Agido the leader, or Hegesichore ? Is the 
dance an act of worship, or a competitive display, or 
simply a piece of domestic merry-making ? Are the 
dancers twenty-one in number, or twelve, or eleven, or 
ten ? Do they sing together, or in groups, or one by one, 
or how ? Or is this latter part of the poem an address to 
the thiasusy delivered by one member after the choral 
solemnity, the song of *the cousiiT of Hegesichore,* who 
praises ail her companions but leaves herself unnamed? 
In a matter of such difficulty, perhaps even the mistakes 
of an amateur may help. In my version many difficulties 
are shirked and many liberties are taken ^. The attempt 
has been to suggest the spirit of the original. But I have 
tried strictly to follow the natural (Greek) emphasis of 

1 I translate i^pos 'robe,' and Kukula*s theory (<^o/Hi9«B£phesian o-vcTpov*" Attic 
ir/irXoff and ^Axn^piasEphesian cvmxV^P^"" Attic ^TTriypfa) is attractive. But I have 
no right to an opinion on this question. Wilson's ^apors^^pofaarvpof, whence 
ambroAdX night, is as perverse as Ivnot iroycw ■■ Pegasus ■■lecXiyr a2vucnK<$r« 


the sentences, to observe the logical connections and to 
distinguish singular, from plural pronouns. 

We do not know the conventions of Alkman^ but, 
until we have some reason for doubt, we ought in so 
simple a poet to expect a simple convention, and in so 
lively a poet to expect that the words have point and the 
order of the words has point. So we start by translating 
eyw¥ as I and afiiv as us^ leaving open the question whether 
the singular is used by a soloist or by a group of singers, 
but assuming (for it is an assumption) that ifxiv refers to 
the whole chorus, iywv to a part. We next notice that in 

two places (w. 39 — 43 iywv 8* deihw A71S055 to <j}m 

d/JLe 5* OUT iTTaivfji/ ovre lULw/xtja-Oai viv a... xopayo^ ...ifi and 
85- — %j iywv fjuev avTa...eywy Sc...) the natural stress of 
Greek implies a contrast between two persons or groups. 
Unless we are prepared to admit that the plea ' The Ae^is 
is eipofjLeuYi^ (admissible enough in 57-8 Aytia-ixopa fiev 
mrra^ dSe...) can excuse intolerable flatness and neglect of 
the order of words \ we are driven to abandon the attractive 
theory that the whole is sung continuously by one soloist. 
At least two singers or two groups of singers are con- 
trasted. Now in 70 — jz a group of four persons is 
mentioned by name, and in 73 — 76 a group of four or 
five (Ainesimbrote may be a school-mistress like Sappho 
and take no part, or she may be the leader of her group*). 
With Agido and Hegesichore the performers mentioned 
by name are therefore cither ten or eleven. But ten and 
eleven are the numbers mentioned in 98 — 99, in a sentence 
which is diflicult, but clearly has reference to the number 
of the singers. It is perverse to resist the doctrine of von 
Wilamowitz that the list of names in 70 — 76 is pointless 
if any member of the thiasus is omitted. Whether the 
whole company consists of ten or eleven, depends on 
Ainesimbrote : if she performs, we have a half chorus 
of four plus Agido, the sub-leader, answered by a half 

^ See W. Headlam, C R^ xit. p. 114. 
' So Kukttla and Jurenka. 


chorus of five, who arc more modest, as befits the 
members of the second rank, and praise Hegesichore 
the leader of the whole company. If Ainesimbrote is 
not a performer we have two companies of five, made 
up respectively of 4 + Agido and of 4 + Hegesichore. 
On the former view din-ih' evheKa... has more point \ but 
I am doubtful whether €9 Aii/ria-ififipoTixo^ allows us to 
make Ainesimbrote a performer. 

All this is, of course, not proven ■. We do not know 
the conventions. Pindar does not help us. Even in his 
Daphnephoricofi his chorus is highly conventionalised — but 
not once do they speak of themselves in the plural. In 
the Epinikia the formalism is even more apparent, though 
we shall hardly find a parallel for the supposed * con- 
ventional * variation between singular and plural (I mean 
a passage in which the variation makes so crude an efiPect 
as the variations attributed by the current view to Alkman). 
Sophocles, though his chorus generally uses the singular, 
has occasionally variations which might serve as a parallel. 
We turn to Aeschylus to see whether the older tragedy 
was more or less wooden in this respect than the Sopho- 
clean. Here again we find variations, but none so violent 
as the few in Sophocles, and none at all like the alleged 
enormities of Alkman. On the whole the treatment by 
Aeschylus is more natural, as we should expect, than that 
of Sophocles. It is worth while to notice especially those 
passages in Aeschylus in which the chorus breaks into 
groups, or (we do not know how formally or how in- 
formally they were divided) into semi-chorus. It is 
difficult to believe that in the last scene of the Persae no 
reality corresponds to the numerical difference between 
the repeated /3oa wv dm-iSovwd fxoi of Xerxes and his last 
imperative yoaa-de. Difficult as they are to interpret, it 

1 I believe Professor Jebb used to translate awri 'as good as...' (cf. //. ix. 1 16, viii. 
163 Leaf) : the gap in the Papyrus is not large enough for 6d* (W.-M,)> but allows 
or (Blass). 

* The view is supported by the scholiast or by the Alexandrians whom be usea^ but 
we do not know that their knowledge was better than ours. 


is clear that the shifts from singular to plural are dramati- 
cally significant in the mouth of Clytaemnestra when she 
wakes the Furies, and in the mouths of the Furies as they 
respond. If we believe that iTrddo^Mevj iradov<ra...iyiOy 
ewadofxev^ aypav wKeara are simply conventional variants, 
we shall probably beUeve that the poem of Alkman was 
sung continuously by his whole chorus in unison. If we 
think that av he OeXyoK ap... marks no division of the 
chorus at the end of the SuppliceSy we shall refuse to 
believe that in Alkman the €/u€ which introduces the 
praise of Hegesichore is sung by a different group from 
the singers (iy(op) of the praise of Agido* Further, if 
we ignore the metrical doctrine of Wdter Headlam, and 
refuse to accept his interpretation of Supplices 86 sqq. and 
Cho. 622, we shall probably refuse to allow the chorus to 
divide in the course of the strophe, and at different places 
in successive strophes^. For my part, I believe that the 
chorus of Hegesichore treats strophic pedantry with a 
freedom as remarkable as the freedom with which it 
treats the charms of its leaders. 

The freedom with which Aeschylus handled his chorus 
is, so far as it goes, encouraging. But tragedy is strictly 
irrelevant, and the only test our ignorance allows is the 
admittedly unsatisfactory test — ^whether our theory works 
when it is applied. If we are allowed to imagine a lyrical 
dialogue between two groups, we have a simple convention, 
the words have their natural stress and the whole poem 
gains point. But other serious difficulties disappear. 

What, on the continuous theory, is made of Soicei yap 
iifM€P oarra | hatpenr^^ tw^ wawep cu tk | ei/ (ioToh CTaareieu 
timroy | irayov diS\o(^pov Kavaxairdha | tUv VTrajreTpihitap 
oveipwv ? 

iv /3oTo79, though not generally understood, is simple 
enough. Hegesichore is ^i' /3oTo«s..,lf7r7ro« ; not * a horse 
among cows,' for Kaibel was right in saying that fiord are 

^ For the whole tubyect see hit notes on Suff. 88 and CAo, 6a a in the prose transb- 
tioDt, also C. R. xiy. p. 197, xrii. p. 240. 

K. 9 


not specifically bovine ; but still less ^ a fine horse among 
common horses/ for not all (ioTa are horses, and the finest 
of horses are still /ioTci, and the phrase is not ip imroK 
wayov Thr'jroPf nor ip <l>avXoK ^ittwoi^ twrrov irayov^ nor 
iv <l>av\oK fioTok imrov irayov^ nor even iv fioroT^ 
irayov *iinrov. The rhythm and the natural stress of the 
sentence forbid us to drag the adjectives into service. 
The meaning is this : — since fiord are allrmanner of grazing 
creatures, cows and horses both included, and since iv /3o- 
Toi^ iKTrpeTTfi^ 6 iWos, Hegesichore is ip irapdepoi^ eKTrpewti^ 
just as a horse is iKTrpewn^ ev fioroh^. Just so is the 
eagle oiicik ip irorapoh (Pind. Nem. iii. 80), and Lampon, 
aphp ip deOKfiTaiaiP . * .^a^iap werpaK ip aXKaa . . . axopap 
{1st Am. vi. 74), is himself an athlete, and more, a maker 
of athletes. Similarly Pytheas {Isthm. v. 59) is ip yvio^ 
SdfjLats the finest possible boxer, namely one who has run 
* the race of blows ' as well as Phylacidas himself — a fine 
compliment to Phylacidas, too often misunderstood. We 
lack the idiom in English, and in my version I have 
allowed myself the picturesque inaccuracy of *cows.' 
Similarly it is impossible adequately to translate Pindar's 
apiiTTOP fiep ijSwp—^JvLSt as water is best in one sphere, 
gold the most precious of precious things, the sun 
brightest of lights and hottest of hot things, so among 
festivals the Olympian games are greatest/ Hegesichore 
might have been called ip icredpoK xp^^o^ or ip dirrpoi^ 
iiXio^ : she is called ip fiorok iTnro^. 

The serious difficulties now begin, when the singers, as 
we are told, pass from flattery to hyperbole. To translate 
^a horse such as one sees in winged dreams,' adding that 
*thc genitive is descriptive' is to ignore t£p and to imply 
that an impossible genitive is made possible if we give it 
a label. The best that can be done (on the continuous 
theory) for riip and the genitive is to translate *a horse 

1 The word (rnjcrfifv limply means * pasture' as ia Xen. Mem, ii. 9. 7 toroMu 
(cf. irroo-tf £ur. Fr, 442 N.)* 


from the stock of, from the breed of winged dreams^/ 
On this view, grammatically defensible, we have to admit 
that Twp implies familiarity of the poet or his audience 
with the notion of horses bom of dreams, or of horses 
born of a certain class of dreams 'winged* or * living 
under rocks/ But there is no evidence for such a breed. 
Horses, we know, might have wings : Pegasus, sired by 
Poseidon and foaled by Medusa, we remember. And 
there are horses that were sired by Zephyrus and Boreas^. 
But the offspring of dreams have left no memory. Still, 
we are asked to believe that since Winds and Furies and 
Harpies and some gods could take equine shapes, therefore 
dreams may have done the same thing. And if winds 
beget horses, why, indeed, not dreams? Of course, if 
they did, there is no more to say. But the bare possi- 
bility does not greatly help us to decide whether on the 
strength of this one passage we are to add dream horses 
to our list of marvels. We are further distressed when 
we try to imagine what manner of horses these would be. 
If this is really a compliment to Hegesichore, we may be 
sure that the dream horses are not ciperipa eucora yiwa. 
Homer called dreams, true dreams as well as false, d/jeiffipwp 
{Od. xix. 562, Hesych,, rightly, dirOepwp). opap a-Kim 
mSponro^ Pindar says, and the old man in Aeschylus opap 
niM€p6(^PTov a\aip€i. We think of the Magi in Hero- 
dotus (i. 120), flattering their master with the assurance to 
ye Twp opeipaTwp ij^ojjepa Te\€(0£ es curOeph epxerai ; of the 
feeble Oedipus, bidden (Eur. Vhoen. 1722) robe iroha Tidei 
...tMTT opeipop (Uropeipop) iar'xypi of the contemptuous 
birds, with their dpepes eUeXopeipoi ; of Dareius, who 
divided his empire into satrapies 101^ km pvp en arfwcpa 
opeipara \e\etirTca (Plato, Legg. 695 c), and of those 
glories which, the comedian wrote, compared with the 
deb'ghts of dining, Kdjuaroi Kepoi -^^^ixpovaip dpr opeipdrwp 
(Meineke iii. p. 395). This is the normal Greek concep- 

^ Ton Wilamowitx. 

' Ridgeway, Oripu and Influence rf'the Thwnughhred Horsey pp. 286, 196. 


1 32 J. T. SHEPPARD 

tion of dreams, and we may add, if we are unscrupulous, 
that on the principles of some eugenists our ideal horse 
is likely to prove blind as well as feeble (Nauck Fr. Ad. 
335). Add Aesch. P. V. 449, dveiparwv oKiyKioi iiop(paiari 
and 547 oXiyoSpawiap aKucvy, icoveipov . . . ^ Minmermus 
5. 4 oXiyoxpoPiov yiyvercu mnrep ovap if fin (■sTheogn. 
1020), Theocr, 27. 8 iroLpipx^Toi w^ ovap nfin- 

But perhaps, after all, we may be invited still to ignore 
T&v and label the impossible genitive, translating ^ horse 
such as one sees in dreams/ This is fair sense, for after 
all, some dreams are pleasant, though all are unsubstantial. 
Indeed wretchedness proverbially ovap irXovrei. A poor 
man dreams of riches, a starveling of food, a cold man of 
warmth \ But we look in vain for anything that implies 
the notion that we need. We want an opinion so well 
known as to create a general presumption that anything 
seen in dreams is likely to be good of its kind. The 
dream house must be normally a fine house; if we can 
prove that, we shall naturally understand that a dream 
horse is a fine horse. The commentators quote Theocr. 
ix. 1 6 oao"' iv dveipw, TroAXck fjiv oif9 . • . , a variant of the 
6v€ipo^ d<j>€voto where the matter is still one of quantity, 
not quality. The best I can produce is Eur. Fr. 533 'AcSdi/ 
a'KOTo^ oJS* ek oveipov i;Sik... If this contents us, we 
must remember that we have still to reckon with our sin 
against t&v. But we are not content, for we desire 
' ovK ovap dhX uTTap e<r6\6v 6 rot rereXecfiivov earrat * 
{Od. xix. 547). 

ithroTreTpiSiiev adds something to our difficulty. The 
interpretation 'under rocks* has no better defence than 
the fact that winds in Homer live in a cave. The in« 
genious synthesis of Ovid {Met. xi. 591 sqq.) has only to 
be read in order to be dismissed as irrelevant. On the 
whole (though we cannot be certain about 'Laconian 
fancy *), since philologists allow the form viroTrerpihiwv for 

1 See Ar. Feip. 1218 Starkie, Plato» Lys. ai8 c, Tieoit. 208 b, Ap. Rh. ii. 306, 
Lucian, Nov. 46, Timon 41. 


vir<nrT€pwPy since dreams are often winged, since the alleged 
cave is irrelevant and (for dreams) unsupported, we prefer 
* winged.* Horses with wings are swift. So, we are to 
suppose, are winged dreams. But the matter is not so 
simple. Elsewhere in Greek poetry the wings of dreams 
have another purpose than mere swif tness^-^winged dreams 
are transient, cheating, swift to fly away. The dreamer, 
like the sinner, Su»fc6c waU iroravov opviVy rmipd^ dt&iK€i 
i\7riia^\ The more false the dream and the more absurdly 
6v€ipwTTOfji€yj the more surely is our dream winged. 
TpiV ie fMOi ac x^c/o&y orKin eiK^Xov n fcai ovelpm eirrarro {Od. 
xi. 207) is typical. jSepcucep o-^e? ov fudvfrr^pov irrepoU. . . 
{/ig* 443)9 Opdcfceis^ £ rpnroOftre^ irodo^ ii fxoi ois 6vap etrTfj 
(Bion i. 58). The €i8w\op {Od. iv. 838) ws eiwop (rradfjmo 
irapa fcAifiSa Xicur&fi is wpoia^ dpefjuoPy and Oedipus (Eur. 
Phoen. 1543) is d(paph eiSwXop fj pckvp epepdep ti wtupop 
opeipop. The point is clear in Eur. J. Tl 569 — 571, 
^^i/Scis opeipoi, . . ov8e . . . ^aifAOPes Tmipwp oveipwp eifrip d^vS-- 
iarepoi. There is an exception Eur. Hec. 70 (and again 
702) in the case of the * black-winged* visions, sent by 
their mother earth, winged like Kti'p^ or ipipve^. Normal 
usage certainly does not suggest that vwoirerpiZiwp is likely 
to be felt simply as a conventional epithet like ^wing- 
swift*: it rather suggests that the compliment to Hegesi- 
chore, imperilled by the associations of Speipoiy is weakened 
again by viroir€TpiSio3P^ 

Admit that we have here a playful interruption*, and 
everything falls into place, rwp is now correct, i/TroTre- 
TpiSiwp has its naturd meaning, the dreams are really 
dreams (cf. Ar. Ran. 5 1 icar €7017' e^tiypofJiriVj Eur. Cyc/. 
8 (the boast, then) (^p' iSa>* tout ihtap opap Xeyw ; Plato 
Ctmv. 175 K ti ifjin {(ro(f>ia) i^avKri '^^^ ^^ ^^^ f^^^ diJL<J>i- 
cr/3fiTti(rifA09 w(nr€p opap ovara^ TAeaet 201 £ uKOve hrj opap 
eutr opeipa^os . , . edoKOVP dKov€ip...j I^SS* v. 746 A olov 

* So irXovrof It vir^irrfpor Eur. Fr, 420, $1%. Cf. dvrtpos i^dnt Aesch. Ag, »88, 
HauUam (ownpmw a 8 6). Similarly youth, Theocr. xxix. 28 ve&rara d* ex'iv flroXuriypcroF 
06c loTt' impvyar yap iwrnftadUus ffiopft 

s The adffliren of Agido exclaiming *0h, what winged dreamt 1 * 


oveipara Xeyoav n frXarrtop (proposing an Utopia)). Finally 
n ovx op^^ is the natural rejoinder of the interrupted 

As for the genitive, though Gregory of Corinth will 
have it that the use without ^€5 or « or the like is Attic, 
his commentators long ago remarked 'ne credamus Grc- 
gorio, admonet Theocritus xv. 75 'xpn^rrw KoiKripiiovo^ 
avlpo^.^ Indeed it is not specially Attic to omit or to 
insert the exclamatory word. We read in Eur. Bacch. 273 
riis Ivara-efieim (Reiske), and feel no difficulty when 
Dicaeopolis exclaims Ach. 87 rwi/ dKa^opevfAoruiv. In 
Ach. 770, when Mr Starkie invites us to read ra^ mri- 
a-Tia^ for the impossible tm dwurrim we are not deterred, 
even if we are not encouraged, by the fact that the 
speaker, like the gossips of Theocritus, like the maidens 
of Alkman, is Dorian. 

On many points the version will explain itself. I 
have made the Peleiades a rival chorus, partly because I 
cannot believe that afxip (aveipofievat) fjuixovrcu means 
* fight on our side,' but still more because, if the con- 
stellation is suggested (and by aveipofAevai it surely is), I 
cannot believe that Agido and Hegesichore are meant. 
The constellation might do as a comparison for a single 
person, would certainly suit a group of seven, and 
would probably suit a small group of any number large 
enough and not too large. But it will not do for two 
persons. The connection is natural if we realise that in 
oicujkziap ri roi Xeyto ; the admirers of Agido suggest a 
compromise. They admit that Hegesichore deserves all 
the praise she has received, slyly insist that Agido deserves 
more, and finally allow that they shall run as a well- 
matched pair, a Scythian and a Lydian — about which the 
audience, like the commentator, would be hard put to it 
to decide which was intended to be the superior. And 
the compromise is proposed, because {yap) there are rivals 
in the field, and union is necessary. 

So they all join in a modest declaration that their 


finery is not enough to win the victory (which is not, as 
Kukula seems to think, an admission that they are shabby 
— such modesty is simple modest boasting). But presently 
mischievous comparisons begin again. The party of 
Hegesichore, this time the aggressors, half seriously deny 
that the charms of Agido's companions are irresistible : 
this brings the retort that Ainesimbrote's companions are 
themselves no more desirable than the rest, but the faithful 
five reply that Hegesichore is enough for their defence. 
While they sing this confident rejoinder, they see that 
Hegesichore has danced away to the side of Agido, joined 
hands with her, and so brought final reconciliation. 

So, I have told my dream. Whether, oveipaTwv ZIktiVj 
repTTPov ToS* iXdov <l>£^ €<j>ti\mar€v ippevasy perhaps 6 Kehvo^ 
imroypiefjLwp himself will tell me. If I am deceived, I 
will bum my books like Metrocles, and say ra^ €<rr oveipwy 
vwripwv (JMPTcurfiaTaK But I have hope, since even in 
Greek not all winged shapes are always deceptive: ovSe 
yap 6 6/MOS Trapepx^Tcu Ta;f€ftis, Kaiwep eivai im/i'os Xeyo^ 


J. T. Sheppard. 

1 oZdv X$/>or» Naack, Fr. Ad. 285, Diog. L. vl. 95. 
s Plutarch in Stob. Fhr. p. 403, 3a. 



The Satyr-Trackers with their leader Silenus are in 
full cry after the cattle of Apollo. Suddenly they stop, 
frightened by a strange sound. Silenus scolds them for 
their cowardice. They take heart; but again break oflF, 
terrified by a repetition of the unknown sound which 
seems to issue from the ground. They ask who and what 
is there, but get no answer. Silenus takes the matter into 
his own hands. By leaping and kicking on the ground 
he will find out what the noise is and who is making it. 

o [S* o]v ^ai{€ir]a« roia-iv aSX iyu> rd^a 
ifi>[€p]<ov icTv[7r]oy iriZoprov i^avw^Kaao^ 
IT yiiyiliaiTiV Kpaiirvola-i teal XcucriapMaiv 
S^^iryr elaa/eova-ai /eel \lav tc<o^6^ Tt9 [^]* 

The summons of Silenus is answered. Kyllene appears, 
protesting against their tumultuous onset upon her wooded 

Orjpe^, rt \ro\vhe ^(Xjoepbv vXdStj wdyov 
lp[0]fipov d>pfiij0ijT€ <rvv troKK^ fio^; 

Whence and how does Kyllene appear, and why docs 
Silenus summon her by making a TriSoprov ktv^ou by 
means of wtiStj/xao'iv Kpanrvoifri km XoKrio'ixaa'iv ? If 
Kyllene is living in a hill cave, why does he not, instead 
of stamping on its roof, come round and knock properly 
at the cave-door ? Is it mere unmannerliness, or does 
there lie behind some traditional ritual usage ? 


Kyllcne lives not only in some sort of cave but in or on 
some sort of A£tf, a * wooded hill, abode of wild things.* 
This combination of cave and hill recalls immediately 
a class of vases which have long puzzled archaeologists 
and of which a specimen* is given in Fig. i. 

The design looks almost like an ' illustration * of the 
scene in the Icfmeutae. Goat-daemons and horse-daemons. 
Satyrs and Silenoi are leaping and kicking round a hill or 

Fig. I. 

artificial mound. In answer to their summons a figure 
rises up from the cave inside the mound. The hill is 
ivBjiptK and it is ;^\o€p(k and vKtaZtti : witness the branches 
and the upspringing tree. 

But the vases, though their analogy to the scene in 
the Ichneutae is clear, do not take us much further. What 
is the exact nature of the hill-cave out of which rises the 
nymph or goddess } Is it a fancy structure or has it any 

* Late red-figured knier. Berlin Antiqaarium Cat. 1646, Moo. dell' Intt. »i. Ut. \. 
Other inatancei of the Mine clan of dccign are given in mjr Pnltpimita, pp. 177 — xii 
asd £40, and Tiemit, p. ^ix. 


corresponding reality ? Vitruvius* explains what the 
vase-painter leaves obscure. 

'Phryges vero, qui campestribus locis sunt habiOuites, propter inopiam 
silvanim egences materia eligunt tumulos naturales, cosque medios fossura 
distinentcs ct itinera perfodientes dilatant spatia quantum natura loci 
patitur. Insuper autcm stipitcs inter se religantes mctas efficiunt, quas 
hanindinibus et larmcntis tegentes exaggerant supra habitationes e terra 
maximos grumos. Ita hicmcs calidiisimas, aestates firigidissiinas efficiunc 
tcctonim I 

f'g. J- 
The custom was not confined to the Phrygians. 
Xenophon' tells us of similar hill-cave dwellings among 
the Armenians, and he adds important particulars as to 
the modes of entrance. 


!• ai ii (tffoBot Tois f*iv wn-ofwytoi? opvKral, oi hi a»Opi»not 

> D* archiua. Ii. i. 5. For reference to lhe«* nndergroand ove direUing* I un 
indebted to Mr A. B. Cook j for their •pp1ic«iioo to the pu-ge in the Miumbu I 
■ID done renKiniible. Moit of the cUuical reference, tn collected in Scb»der"» Real- 
Lexicon, Unteriraittir Wahnun^n and Stall und Sthiuut. 

* Anab. IV. J. 15. 


lpvi0€% KoX rii Sxyova rovrmv, rk ii xrijvff vavra ^iX^S SvSov €Tpi<f>ovro. 

The kind of dwelling described by Vitnivius and 
Xenophon is roughly shown in the diagram in Fig. 2. 

Considering their dubious character, it was a delicate 
question by which mode of ingress, ladder or dromosy 
etiquette demanded that the Satyrs should enter. They 
decide for humanity's right of way. The well-like en- 
trance at the top of the cave would be closed presumably 
by a large stone. On this, the regulation front-door, 
they would knock by stamping with their feet, which 
was indeed the simplest and most practicable method. 
Kyllene hears them and rises in majesty from her under- 
ground cave through her own front- or rather top-door. 
Her Epiphany must have been after the fashion of the 
Earth-Goddess in the vase-painting (Fig. i). 

If we ask the natural question, how could such an 
uprising be represented on the actual Greek stage, the 
answer is, I think, clear. The Greek theatre was provided 
with convenient apparatus for this very purpose, the x«fMwi/£oi 
KXi/tiojces, *trap doors' of Pollux \ Nor are we left to 
literary testimony. At Eretria and at Sikyon*, a stairway 
leads down from the proskenion, underground by a vaulted 
passage, and up again by another staircase into the 
orchestra. Nothing would be simpler than to erect a 
temporary x^A^ 7^^ over the trap-door in tl\e orchestra, 
out of which Kyllene^ would arise, and round which the 
Satyr chorus would dance. Up through this trap-door 

' IV. 132 id ht xBip^vun ic\ifiaKt£y Kor^ riis ix rmp €^ia\i»v Ka66dovt K€ifitvdij ra 
cSlo»Xa aw* tarrmp duaitifurotHn. 

* DOqvfeldy W., Das Griechische Theater^ pp. ii6 and 120. 

' Mr Cornford calls my attention to the striking similarity of the scene in the Pax 
of Aristophanes, where Peace is drawn up from the 'deep cave* below the earth (ampov 
^a6v,.,Katt^ where the has been imprisoned by War. Hermes assists at her Anidos and 
the Chomt dance roond her for joy holding their a<l)vpai, which recalls to mind the lost 
Satyric play of SofAiokles — Hav^pa ^ 2<^vpoKdiroc The 'Eirene-holding Ploutos' of 
Kephitcxiotos is^ like Kyllene and like Pandora, just the Earth-Mother holding the fruits 
of the earth. 


the ghost of Dareios also rose and the apparition of 
Sisyphos which iEschylus, in a Satyr Play, describes as a 
colossal field-mouse coming out of a hole^ 

Yet another point remains. Kyllene, after she has 
remonstrated with the Satyrs as to their unseemly onset, 
tells them of the divine child now dwelling in her cave- 
house, of its parentage and miraculous growth to maturity 
— how like a * blossoming branch ' it shot up, and by the 
sixth day the babe was a full grown youth. She ends her 
account thus (Col. xii, v. i o) : 

fiXaartf* roUvB€ wdiBa Offo-avpa^ 4rriy€$, 

Her cave-dwelling was a Treasury not only because for 
once it held a Wonder-Child but, it would seem, normally 
and naturally. We have seen from Xenophon that such a 
dwelling housed not only the human family but its flocks 
and fowls. It was above all, as Tacitus' notes among the 
Germans, the safest and most salubrious of granaries. 

^Solent et subterraneos specus aperire eosque multo insuper fimo 
onerant, subfugium hiemis et receptaculum frugibus, quia rigorem frigorum 
ejusmodi locis molliunt, et si quando hostis advenit, aperta populatur, 
abdita autem et defossa aut ignorantur aut eo ipso fallunt quod quaerenda 

Diodorus' gives us a glowing picture of the warmth 
and comfort of these underground ^Treasuries' for man 
and beast. The Greeks who went to help Cyrus against 
Artaxerxes were retreating through Armenia when they 
were overtaken by a terrible snowstorm. A whirlwind 
of hail blew in their faces ; their bodies were stiff with 
ice ; their beasts of burden fell dead about them ; they 
themselves must have perished, when happily they came 
on a village of these hill-cave dwellings ; 

^ .^schyluti frg. 2279 dXX' dpavpaiot rU t<m o-fUpBos M' vvtp<fnnit (DOrpfvld, ^. df. 
p. 249). The pretent writer has leen the apparition of a German savant with an 
umbrella emerging from the Charon's staircase at Eretria. 

' Germ. Cap. 16. 

» V. 2S. 


' these had passages for the cattle dug through the earth, but the people 
went down by ladders underground, and for the flocks there was hay and 
for men great abundance of sdl things needful for life^.' 

LfOng after man had learnt to build solid houses above 
ground, underground houses went on as * Treasuries ' for 
all manner of stores and especially for grain. Varro* in 
two passages speaks of underground granaries in both 
northern and southern countries. 

* Quidam granaria habent sub terriS| speluncas, quas vocant ceupov^ ut 
in Cappadocia, ac Thracia. Alii, ut in Htspania citeriore, puteos, ut in agro 
Carthaginiensi et Oscensi. Horum solum paleis substernunt : et curant, 
ne humor aut aer tangere possit, nisi cum promitur ad usum. Quo enim 
spiritus non pervenit, ibi non oritur curculio. Sic conditum triticum 
manety vel annos quinquaginta; milium vero plus annos centum.' 

And again he notes the importance of allowing time for 
ventilation when these underground chambers are opened, 
on account of the accumulation of dangerous gases. 

* Sub terra qui habent firumentum in iis quos vocant o-eipovv, quod cum 
paiculo introitur recenti apertione, ita quibusdam lit interclusa anima, 
aliquanto pott promere, quam aperueris, oportet.' 

More important still is another conservatism of man. 
Long after be builds overground dwellings for himself, he 
houses his dead in hill-caves, and these he still calls 
'Treasuries,' not merely because of the treasures of gold 
hid by a particular king but because from the outset they 
were storehouses for man and beast. Is the * Treasury' 

1 ^milar vndergroond shelters are, it would seem, still in use. Mr Warde-Fowler 
kindly tends me the following extract from A. Savage Landor's Across Cvuettd Lands — 
the scene it not far from the Afghan frontier : 'I was much interested in some curious 
circular and quadrangular pits only a few yards from where we had stopped, which 
were uted at thelters for men and sheep but were now deserted. They were from four 
to six feet deep below the surface of the ground, and from ten to thirty feet in diameter 
(wiien circular), a section being partitioned for sheep. ...In the part reserved for human 
beings there was a circular fireplace of stones, and some holes in the earth at the sides 
Ibr storing foodstuff.. -The difference in the temperature between the interior of these 
fits and the open ground was extraordinary. They were comfortably warm, even when 
h wat uncomfortably cold at one peeped out of them.' 

^ De Rt Rust. I. LVii. 3 and uuii., and see Dem. de Ckers, 45, for similar storage 
91^ in Thrace. The word o-tpor survives in the French ix/o^ grain-pit. For the 
whole subject see Daremberg and Saglio s. v, grauarium. 


of Atreus a treasury or a tomb F It is both, because it 
descends from another and an earlier form> the under- 
ground hill-house. 

'The treasury of Minyas,' says Pausanias', 'than which there is no 
greater marvel in Greece or elsewhere, is constructed as follows : It is 
made of stone : its form is circular, rising to a somewhat blunt top, and 
they say that the topmost stone is the keystone of the whole building.' 

Down to late days the ordinary Greek money-box' was a 
miniature ' Treasury ' (Fig. 4) shaped like a beehive tomb. 
A section of the * Treasury ' of Atreus is shown in Fig. 3 ; 
its analogy to the underground hill-house in Fig. 2 needs 
no emphasis. 

This ' Treasury ' of Orchomenos is specially instructive, 
because at Orchomenos we find, not 
only the underground treasury tomb, 
but also the circular foundations of 
the overground house that succeeded 
it'. Gradually, it would seem, the 
underground hut ventured to emerge 
to the upper air. The shape long 
remained round, that being the 
simplest form for a structure made 
of earth or clay or twisted boughs. 
The square form, so much more 
handy for the divided dwelling, 
pj needed a knowledge of post archi- 

tecture. The round and oval build- 
ings found by the excavators at Orchomenos have stone 
bases. These only remain, the upper portions of clay 
having naturally perished. The round form died hard. 
It was long maintained in Greece for sacred purposes in 
Prytaneia, Tkoloi^ temples of Hestia, and the like ; and an 

' IX. ]S. ] ax'tl"' "* fripilfitph tarxy air^, Kopu^i) ii ovjc it Syar i^ ar^yfiit^, 
r£v ftf avarrdTtt Tur \iSuw ifiairiw ip/towior iravri (iixu rf otiodofi^/um. For the 
taalogy of the 'tomb of Tintiloi' lee my Thunis, p. 401, Fig. ii». 

• Thtmit, p. 400, Fig. m. 

* See H. Bulle, OrcAemena, in Abh. d. k. bayer. Akad. d. Win. zxir. 1907, Abt. 11., 
specially (he chapter RMnJbaiuai unJ OvatbauUn, p. %6. 


underground sacred structure was in use in the days of 
Pausanias in the oracle of Trophonios. It is not a little 
curious that, while the excavators at Orchomenos were 
digging out the foundations of the round houses, a village 
of 30 — ^40 round huts was set up close at hand as a winter 
residence by a number of Vlachs^ 

The examination of all the sacred survivals of the 
underground hill-hut would take us much too far, but one 
instance is so instructive as to the 'Treasury' aspect that 
it must be briefly noted — the famous mundus of the 
Romans. Plutarch' records that at the founding of Rome 
a circular pit was dug zxA first-fruits of all the necessaries 
of life were thrown in and each of the settlers brought a 
piece of earth from his own country and threw it in. 
This circular pit was called the mundus from its sky- 
shaped dome, and round it as centre the city was built. 
On three days in the year, August 24, October 5, Novem- 
ber 8, the mundus was open. 

Mr Warde Fowler in his recent paper Mundus Patet^ 
has shown, I think conclusively, that it was as storehouse 
that the mundus was opened. On August 24, just before 
the Opiconsivia, the mundus was opened to receive the 
new seed-corn for storage. It was henceforth, for safety, 
concealed in this sacred storehouse below the ground. On 
October 5 the mundus was opened to take out the seed- 
corn of the rough grain known as far ; on November 
the 8th it was opened to take out the superior wheat 
{triticum)y the sowing of which Virgil* tells us was better 
postponed till after the setting of the Pleiades. 

I BoUe, 4f . cit. Taf. zii. For full account of circular and curved buildingi, ancient 
and modern, tee £. Pfuhl, Zur Gachichu d, Kurvenbausy A. Mitt. xxx. 1905, p. 331, and 
Mackenaie, Cretan Paiaca and tht JEgean chnitKotion^ lY. The Round Hut, B.S.A., xiv. 
(1907-t), p. 345. Mr L. Peanall Smith tells me that near Tarentum a whole village 
of drcnlar huts known locally as truiH may still be seen. 

* Fit. Ram. Zi. dwapxai re ir armr iotHs voft^ fiiv o>( Kokott ixpmvro ^vtru ^ i»t 

* Jomrmal •/ Raman, Studies^ 1912, p. 25. 

* Ge9rg. I. ai9 ff. 


The opening of the mundus had, however, according 
to Varro\ another purport: 

* Mundus cum patet, deorum tristium atque inferum quasi janua patet.' 

Of this Plutarch makes no mention, but it took strong 
hold on the popular imagination. Why do ghosts and 
seed-corn emerge on the same days from the same re- 
ceptacle ? Mr Warde Fowler thinks the gloomy exit of 
the ghosts may be a notion superimposed by a later people 
much concerned with thoughts of the underworld. But 
a simpler explanation lies to hand. The same structure, 
we have seen, is Treasury, Store-House, Tomb. Ghosts 
and seed-corn from the outset dwell together. It is 
indeed, perhaps, the main business of the ghosts in death 
to guard and tend the seed-corn, to foster the eternally 
recurrent cycle of panspermia and pankarpia. The Romans 
seem to have stressed their autumn sowing at the Mundus 
patet^ the Greeks the work in the spring at the Anthesteria 
with its Pithoigia^. 

The ritual of the Mundus patet has, I think, in the 
fate that at Rome overtook the guilty Vestal, a ghastly 
counterpart that seems to have escaped notice. She who 
lost her virginity was buried alive, but with ceremonies so 
elaborate that they must surely have ritual significance. 
Plutarch* writes thus — 

fi Se riiv vapOeviav Karaia")(vvaaa ^c5<ra KaTopvTTerau vapa riiv 
'KoXKivffV Xeyofiiprfv miXrfv* ii/ f tk Icriv ivri^ r^9 wokem^ 6d>pV9 
y€<iSff^ irapoJTeLvovca iroppw KoXeira^ Si vcS/ia StaXitcrip tQ AarlvmVm 
ivravffa KaracKeva^era^ Kararfeio^ oIko^ ov fiiya^ ej((ov avoaOev Kara* 
/Bacip, Keirat Be iv avrS Kkivf) re virecTprnfiepTf koI Xvyyo^ fcaiofieva^ 
d'frapxO'i re r£v irpd^ ro ^v dvarficaLtov iSpaxeial rive^, otov apro^^ vSwp 
iv ifffeUp, yoKa, IXatov wairep d<f)ociov/Ji4v{ov ro fjkif Xi/i^ h^a^Oeipeiv 
amiia rals fieyCarai^ KoOtepwfiepop ofyiareicu^. 

^ Cp. Macrob. i. i6. i8. 

' See TAemisy pp. 291 — 295. PitMoi were of course freely used, not only for storing 
com but for grain and for the burial of the dead. 

' Fit. Num, X. Mr Comford, in his paper on TAe dvapxai and the EUudman 
Mysteries in this volume, has shown that the lacus into which Quintus Curtius descended 
was in effect a mundus, I would conjecture that the threshold with the 'brazen steps to 
earth's deep roots* to which Oedipus came at Colonus (O. C. 1590) was a like structure. 


In dread procession the victim bound and gagged was 
carried on a bier to her living tomb. Dread prayers 
were said presumably to the underworld daemons, hands 
were uplifted to the gods of the upper air in token of 
devotio, and then the chief priest i^dyet avyKeKOLKvfifdvYiv 
K€u KadiCTYiiTiv eiTi KXificLKO^ eU TO oiKfifJia KOTio (pepovcifi. 

We cannot, of course, say that the shape of the 
mundus is paralleled, indeed the expression 6^pv^ yeoiSri^ 
TTapaTeipoiHTa woppio looks as though the x^l^^ ^^^ ^ ^o^g 
and narrow, not a circular mound. But one thing is 
clear, the Vestal who in life dwelt in the ' Regia * was not 
merely buried^ she was sent to dwell in an underground 
furnished house of the neolithic pattern we have seen, 
approached from above by a ladder. When the ceremony 
was over r\ t€ KXifxa^ dvaiperai kuI KaTaKpvTrrerai to 
oiKfifia yfj^ TToW^s avojQev eTrKpopovjULeini^ wcrre ifroweZov 
T« \oiw£ j^wfiaTi yevecdai top tottov. 

The particular shape of the underground house is a 
mere detail ; the all-important point of analogy with the 
mundus is that in the tomb-house of the Vestal as in the 
mundus cnrapxcu were stored. The word (hrapxai cannot 
mean merely specimens of food ; the mundus ^ as Mr Warde 
Fowler has abundantly shown, was the receptacle of the 
seed-corn for next year. The sheaves of seed-corn are 
the aTrapxai from which next year*s crop takes its start, 
begins^. Had not the uTrapxcii buried with the Vestal 
the like intent ? By Plutarch's time their meaning was 
lost ; they were just bits of food given to the victim that 
the pollution of murder might be avoided. 

But why, if not originally for vengeance, was the 
Vestal buried ? The couch buried with her is grim 
evidence. In Java, Mr Warde Fowler* reminds us, two 
garlands are made of ears of rice and called the rice-bride 
and rice-bridegroom. ...Later on, when the rice is being 

1 Some toch meaning of dirapxt^^ seems essential. The question is discussed in 
Mr F. M. Comford's paper on TAi dnapxai and the EUusinian Mysteries, 
* Op, cit, p. 33. 

R. ID 


got in, ^a bridal chamber is partitioned off in the barn ^fur- 
nished with a new mat^ a lamp and all kinds of toilet articles^ 
Sheaves of rice, to represent the wedding guests are placed 
beside the bride and bridegroom. The practical Roman 
saw that this wedding to fertilize the earth had best be 
underground. Thither to meet her underworld bride- 
groom, her Plouton, they led the living Kore, and under- 
ground the bridal bed was strewn. 

oiKfjai^ d€l<l>povpo^,..K 

For this mortal Kore there was no uprising, and no 
Epiphany of the Wonder-Child. 

To Kyllene and the Ichneutae we return. 

The Homeric Hymn^ records vaguely that Hermes 
was born in a shadowy cave. The infancy of the Wonder- 
Child is much more clearly presented on an * Ionian * hydria^ 
reproduced in Fig. 5. To the right the infant Herm^es is 
lying on a bed, watched probably by Zeus and his mother 
Maia and an attendant woman, possibly, though by no 
means certainly, Kyllene. There is nothing here to indi- 
cate the cave except the unfinished curved lines to the left 
which frames in the picture. As counterpart to the 
infant Hermes we have the stolen cattle, and here the 
painter clearly intends to represent a ylioepov iJAaiSi; irdyov 

^ Since the above was written a very interesting paper has appeared by Dr P. Cortsen, 
Dot Gefttngnis der Antigme^ in Neue JahrbOcher f. kl. Alterthum xxxi. 19139 pp. 226 — 
235. Dr Corssen desdbi with the use as prisons of structures analogous to Mycenaean 
beehive-tombs. He cites the numy and mostly familiar mythological instances ot 
underground prisons, Danae, Lycurgus, Ephialtes, etc., but suggests no ritual significance. 
A historical case of such a dungeon, that of Philopoemen, had quite escaped me and is 
of special interest because the dungeon was actually called a thesaurus. Plutarch, Fit, 
Philop, 19, thus describes the imprisonment : the Messenians led Philopoemen ccr rdv 
Kokovfttvov Qria-ayp6v^ oiKtifia fcorayeiov ovrc irv€vfia Xafi^dvop o(h'€ <fws c^tt^fv oCr€ 
$vpas cxoy, oKka fuyak^ \ido^ irtptayofup^ KoraieXcMi/Acvov, ivravBa KoraTiBtvro kcX rov 
\i6op tirippd^avTts ayopas €»6ir\ov9 ifVKk^ w^pUinrifTcaf. 

* IV. 5. 

* Louvre, £. 702. Nuove Memorie dell' Instituto 1865, pi. xv. My attention 
was drawn to the survival of the cave notion on this vase by the kindness of Mr A. B. 


Kyllene then issues, in the Icbtuutae, not vaguely from 
the earth or a cave but from her neolithic cave-mound 
house. Is this merely a vividly realised incident in a 
divine biography or is it an echo or travesty of some 
actual ritual? If we examine the series of 'Anodos* 
vases it is, I think, impossible to avoid the conclusion 
that some ritual act is represented'. Scholars are indeed 
practically unanimous in believing that we have here the 
rising of some form of Earth-Mother or Earth-Maiden. 
This rising is induced or accompanied by a ritual dance 
of Satyrs who beat with their feet upon the ground. Now 



Fig. S- 

Kyllene is nothing but a local Earth-Maiden ; she rises 
from the Earth to announce the Epiphany of the wonder- 
child Hermes, whose swift, supernatural growth from 
infancy to maturity she details at length. In a word, the 
scene presented in the Ichneutae is a form of the Spring 
dromenon, the resurrection of life and nature from its 
iwinter death. 

This dvoKXtfVfi^ this rite of summoning up or back, 
left traces in mythology. One of the most instructive is 
the myth of the resurrection of Glaukos represented on 

> As Bt the AnMtthra of Megara near the dty'i hearth, the Prjtineian, or ii^d in 
dK Htrmt «t Delphi. See my Themii, pp. 417 and 4 1 6, vhere we have the Calling s^ 
uid the LtaMitg Hf reipeciivelj of Korc and Semele. 



the cylix in Fig. 6; the story told by Apollodorus^ is well 
known. Glaukos, son of Minos, King of Crete, while 
yet a child, was chasing a fly, and falling into a pithos of 
honey he died. When he disappeared Minos had a great 
search made. He summoned his mantic priests, the 
Kouretes. The riddle they set in canonical fashion was 
solved by Polyeidos, who thereby proved his power to 
find the child. An owl showed him the way. The 
child was found, but Polyeidos could not restore him to 
life. Minos shut up the dead child and the seer in a 

beehive tomb. There, on the cylix' with white ground 
in Fig. 6, we see them ; the child Glaukos crouching in 
the characteristic burial pose. A snake attacks the child's 
body. Polyeidos slays the snake. Another snake brings a 
magic herb and resuscitates his dead companion. Polyeidos 
by the same magic herb restores Glaukos to life. 

> III. I. 1. For the myth of Glinko* »ee Piulr-Winowa i. v. Glauko* of Crete 
it obviously the tune u th« tea-god of Antheiloa and the ritual «nd mjth are of 
Boeotian origin. 

* Brit. Mm. D. 5. Mnrtajr, If/ilti Athtnian yaits, pi. i£, the vase u ngned b]r the 
muter { Zar]dA;f |. 


Setting aside the many fanciful details with which 
the story was tricked out, it is clear enough that we have 
a resurrection-myth, based no doubt on a ritual dromenon. 
We have the loss of the child, the death, the burial in a 
pithos, possibly the partial embalming in honey, then the 
summoning of the Kouretes, the ritual search, the final 
resurrection, and epiphany of the living child by the help 
of the snake. The myth was the subject of the Kf)^(r(rai 
of ^schylus, the MaWeis of Sophokles and the IloXi/tSo? of 
Euripides. It is not a little interesting that from this last 
play came the famous lines parodied by Aristophanes^ : 

rt9 V olSep el to ^rjv fthf iart KarOavelv 
TO KarOavuv ii ^fjv kotw vofU^erai, 

The myth of Glaukos was, Lucian* tells us, the 
subject of a ritual dance, and, most significant of all, it 
gave birth to a proverb^, TXavKO^ wiav /leAi ai^ccmj, which 
is explained as follows, ' said of those who are announced to 
have died and then to have appeared again^ 

I have elsewhere* discussed the nature of this dromenon 
and need only recall here that perhaps its simplest form 
was the calling or summoning of the Year-God in male 
or female shape. We can only conjecture that the sum- 
mons was answered either by a voice or by the appearance 
of a figure rising from somewhere underground. In any 
case the scene must have clearly paralleled that presented 
to us in the Ichneutae and depicted on the Anodos vases. 

Happily we know that at Athens there was an actual 
ceremony of summoning the earth-goddess in spring, per- 
formed it would seem- yearly, a ceremony that must 
frequently have been witnessed by Sophokles. Pindar^ 
wrote a dithyramb for it. He bids the Olympians come 

1 Ran. 1477 } the lines slightly modified also occur in a fragment of the Phrixos, 

S Apost. Cent. ir. 4S 4ir\ r&p Ktifn/xBivrtiVj m aviBavovy tlra <l>av(pavfuv»v, 
^ Thamsj chapter n, 

* Frg. 75 [45] Christ } see ThtmiSf pp. 203 and 418, and cf. the festival of Herois at 


to the omphalos of the city, smoking with incense, where 
many feet are treading, and to the market-place by every 
art enriched of blessed name, 

iroKvfiarov oXr aareo^ 
Ofi^aKJov Ovoevra 

olxveire vapScUSaXov r evtekf dyopcof. 

The passage has called forth wild conjectures. The 
wildest is perhaps that the 'omphalos' was a * poetical 
phrase for the Acropolis/ One thing however is certain : 
whatever that omphalos was, it stood in the agora, and 
the agora was certainly not the Acropolis. The puzzle 
has been, how could the omphalos, if omphalos it was, 
smoke with incense, and what had the omphalos to do 
with *the calling of crowned Semele* with which the 
dithyramb ends ? 

axel r« Sc/ieXai^ iKtKafitrvsca X^P^^ 

6/x<poiKdvf TrpvTaveiov doXoeiSes non procul ab orchestra in 
foro positum recte intellexit Boeckh. So Christ. Boeckh 
was indeed substantially right, though he did not, and 
scarcely could, realize the ritual import of his conjecture. 
The circular tholos-shaped prytaneion is the overground 
descendant of the neolithic underground hut. The om- 
phalos is, I believe, but an underground hut, at once a 
dwelling-house and a tomb, which has half emerged. 
Omphalos and treasury tomb are practically indistin- 
guishable. From such an omphalos house-treasury-tomb 
Kyllene, the local earth-mother, emerges on the hill of 
Kyllene, and Semele in the agora at Athens. *What the 
Greeks call the omphalos,' says Varro^ *is of the shape of 
a thesaurus^ and they say it is the tumulus of Python.' 

The omphalos smokes with incense because it is the 
city hearth, the centre of all things. There is the central 

^ Di Cinq, Lat. vii. 1 7...est quiddam ut thesauri ipecie, quod Graed vocant in<f>aK6wp 
quern Pythonot aiunt tumulum — tee ThemiSy p. 401. 


sacred fire and round it, to shield it, is built the primitive 
hut. This explains at once the difficult expression fxec- 
6fi(pd\o^\ difficult only because the conditions are not 
understood. The hearth is fiea'6fi<pa\o^ in a quite literal 
way ; it is in the middle of the mound. Kyllene would 
have a fire in the middle of her hill-cave house*. That 
central hearth is the first altar of the home ; personified it 
becomes 'Eo-rfa. It is also the oracular seat, because 
there the spirits of dead as well as living cluster ^ The 
city hearth was necessarily the place for all ceremonies of 
fertility because there were gathered the ancestral ghosts. 
Such a fertility ceremony disguised and half-forgotten we 
have in the Icbneutae^ the tracking, the summoning, and 
the epiphany of the Mother and the Wonder-Child, the 

I would guard against a possible misapprehension. 
I do not think that Sophokles was consciously writing a 
miracle play. Probably to him the scene where the 
Satyrs beat the ground with their summoning feet had 
lost all ritual remembrance. The Wonder-Child is lost in 
the Wonder- Worker. It is sheer comedy. Serious magical 
intent had given place to a rather senseless frolic; what 
was once a magical mystery has become mere mime^. It is 
a common human history. 

Be my contention of the ritual origin of the scene of 

^ Soph. O. T. 480 rh fif<r6ix<f>a\a y^f fuanfia — fi€(r6fi<l>a\of ccrrta, etc. 

* Kybele, the mountain-mother, dwelt also in a hill-house. Hesych. s, v, icv/9rXa 
•ays avTpa k€u BaXafwi j see Dr Eisler, Kuba-Kybeie, Philologus, Lzviii. (N. F. zxii.) i. 
pp. 118 and 161. 

* See Prof. Gilbert Murray, Four Stages of Greek Religion, 1912, p. 51. 

^ At the Lenaia. Ar. Ran. 395, see Themis, p. 421. Since the above was written 
Mr A. B. Cook has, with his accustomed generosity, allowed me to read in advance the 
section of his forthcoming book, Zeus, that deals with the Lenaia. Mr Cook connects the 
Anodos vases I have discussed with the winter Lenaia rather than the spring Dithyramb. 
I cannot here anticipate his important and deeply interesting argument. I suspect, 
however, chat a similar magical ritual was practised both in luinter and spring. It 
would be appropriate at any time between seed-sowing and harvest. 

* For this distinction between Mime and Mystery see L. v. Schroeder, Mimus und 
MysUriumj 1908 passim^ and Die Follendung d. Arischen Mysteriums, 191 1, p. 39. 


the mystery that underlies the mime true or not, it will 
at least serve as an example of the light that prehistoric 
enquiry can throw even on literature. As such it is 
offered as a tribute to the scholar who perhaps more than 
any other Hellenist has taught us the value of Realien^. 

Jane Ellen Harrison. 

^ since the above was written I have come upon an account of a dranuitic rite 
among the Pueblo Indians of Arizona which presents, I think, an instructive parallel to 
the Satyr dance in the Icbneutoi. Each village has a Ki'va^ a circular underground 
sanctuary, round which the interest of the ceremony centres. The entrance to the 
Krua is by a ladder and over the hole is a plank. The hole in the middle of the plank 
is the opening to the lower world, ' and the dancers stamp upon it to inform the spirits ot 
their ancestors that a ceremony is in progress.' That the ceremony has fertility for its 
aim is shown by the fact that the runners in the snake race deposit melon-vines, corn, 
and other products which they have carried from the fields. See Walter Haigh, T/te 
Moki Snake Dance^ 1898, p. 6, with illustrations of the dance and of the priest rising up 
from the Kiva, By the kindness of Miss Hope Allen I have before me coloured 
photographs showing the circular Khvas in the Hop! Pueblo of Shipaulovi, with ladders 
emerging, also the sacred altars inside the Ki*vas, See also for particulars of the dance 
Globus^ 87, p. 348. Its main gist seems to be to induce thunder, lightning and rain. 



The object of this paper is to take up a hint dropped 
by Dr Warde Fowler at the end of his illuminating article, 
Mundus Patet^. He suggests that his conclusions may 
throw light on some doubtful points in connection witn 
the festivals of Demeter and Persephone. After reading 
through various accounts of the Eleusinia with the mundus 
and its new significance in mind, it seems to me that 
certain difficulties can in fact be cleared up, if we may 
suppose the same simple facts to lie behind the Eleusinian 
ritual. I shall begin with the dirapxai^ or offerings of 
* first-fruits,' sent by the Greek States to Eleusis. It will 
be convenient first to resume Dr Warde Fowler's main 

At the founding of Rome, cejrapxcti of all kinds were 
thrown into the mundus. The mundus was opened three 
times a year : on August 24, October 5, and November 8. 
Dr Warde Fowler convincingly shows that these dates 
can be explained, if we suppose that the mundus was ' the 
place in which was stored, not, or not only^ the grain of 
the last harvest which would be needed for food, and for 
which the storehouse {penus) would need to be frequently 
opened in the old farmhouse, but the place of safety in 
which the seed-corn was stored.' The opening on 
August 24 will then mark the time at which 'the seed- 
corn for the autumn sowing was separated from the rest 

^ Jnamal pf Roman Studies^ ii. 25 fF. Much also ha« been suggested to me by 
Mi» Harriioii't paper in the present volume. 


of the grain, and deposited in an underground storing- 
place.' The two other dates, October 5 and November 8, 
mark the opening of the store to take out the seed-corn 
for the autumn sowing. Moreover, there are 'signs that 
the last sheaf of the harvest, which in innumerable instances 
is treated with reverence and made into human form, may 
represent the precious seed-corn set aside at the time of 
the threshing*; and this last sheaf 'is sometimes deposited 
in a special place, and even in an underground cavity or 
cellar, like the first-fruits which Plutarch tells us were 
deposited in the Roman mundus^ 

It may well be that here, as in other cases, Roman 
custom preserves the elementary facts which in Greek 
religion have become obscured by the overgrowth of 
mythical personification. From Dr Wardc Fowler's 
combination it follows that the dirapx^ ^^ ^^^ Roman 
mundus represent both the corn-maiden or corn-mother 
of the harvest and also the seed-corn used in autumn, 
or at least a specially sacred portion of seed-corn which 
might be mixed with the grain at the autumn sowing. 
The important point is this identity of the seed-corn 
with the corn-maiden, who, if Dr Frazer^ is right, is, 
at Eleusis and elsewhere, identical with Korc. This 
gives to the notion of dTrapxai a double significance. 
They have commonly been regarded, both by writers of 
the classical age and by modern students, as merely 
thank-oflFerings for the harvest, and with this goes the 
view of the Eleusinia as a ' belated harvest-festival.' But 
Dr Frazer points out^ that the date of the festival, falling 
as it does, not after the harvest, but just before the sowing, 
suggests 'a calculation on the part of the practical farmer 
that the best time to propitiate the Goddess was not after 
harvest, when he had got all that was to be got out of her, 
but immediately before ploughing and sowing, when he 
had everything to hope from her goodwill, and everything 
to fear from her displeasure.... On this theory, the Greek 

* G. I?.*, Part V. vol. I, p. 207 ff, * Ibid. p. 49. 


offering of first-fruits was prompted not so much by 
gratitude for past favours, as by a shrewd eye to favours 
to come.., ^/ I believe that this conjecture hits the mark, 
and that M filler was right when he interpreted a state- 
ment by Plutarch ^that the ancients used to sow at an 
earlier date, as we may see from the Eleusinian mysteries,' . 
as evidence that the Eleusinia were originally a sowing 
festival*. The view is supported, of course, by the 
parallel case of the Thesmophoria and by the fact that 
the * Festival before Ploughing,' the Proerosia^ fell either 
just before or just after the mysteries. It will become 
clearer still, if we fix our attention on the aTrapxai and 
their new meaning. 

The date at which the chrapxai were sent is not 
known; but it stands to reason that it must have been 
after the harvest in summer (May-June). We hear 
nothing of the use of them for ritual purposes till the 
Eleusinia^ What was done with them in the three 
months' interval? 

An inscription dated by scholars in the third quarter 
of the fifth century B.C. orders the construction of three 
subterranean granaries in which these onrapxM were to be 
stored. But the custom of sending the aTrapxai is described 
in this inscription as ' ancestral ' ; and, though the revival 
of it may have necessitated the building of new storing- 
places, the language seems to imply that the method of 
storage was not new, but traditional {KaTa tu Trdrpia^). 

^ Compare the temper of the epigram in Suidas, •.▼. dirdpx^frBeu : tl fuj ^ i( dX/ycor 
oXryiy X^*^> '^ ^ dcdoii/f | irXctova, koX 9roXXi»y, daifiop, dfrap^6fu6a, 

' Plot. Frag. 23, ot dc dpx<uoi cal frp«nair€pop tairtipop cal drjXov tK t&v 'EXcvcti- 
9im rcXcTtfr . Farnell, Cults, 1 1 1 . 183. 

* The uae of the dnapxal at the winter Haloia rests on bad authority (Frazer, ibid. 
p^ 60). See, however, p. 13, n. 2. At the festival of 'Ceres' at Cyprus mentioned by 
Ovid, Met. x. 430, dwapxal were offered {prtmittas frugum dant spicea serta suarum) and 
this does not seem a reason for saying (with Nilsson, Griech, Feste, 3 1 6) that it was ' a 
harvest^festival, not the Thesmophoria.' Famell {CultSy iii. 327) includes the passage 
among his references for the Thesmophoria. 

^ Dittenberger, Sylloge, 1S83, p. 25, olKohopiirai dc o-tp^r r/wr 'EXcvo-cvi Kara rit 
wirpiOj oifo ^p doxct rolf Upoirotols Koi roi dp[;(^]ir/«crovi ciriWdciov Ivoi. . .top di Kaptrop 
ipBau&oi tf/l^aXXfv. For the crtipos see Daremb. and Saglio, s.v. granarium, and 
Harrison in this volume. Dem. Chers, 45, vircp t&p iuiiapm» kiu t&p cXvp&p 


Probably the arrapxai had always been kept in an under- 
ground treasury {dticavpoij or megaron^ either like the 
Roman mundus^ or else a natural cave — in either case 
an * underground dwelling ^' 

The safe disposal of the seed-corn must, as Dr Warde 
Fowler remarks, have been in early days a matter of vital 
importance, only diminished in settled times, when the 
grain on which the next crop depends is secure from 
the depredations of enemies. From their storehouse the 
(iTrapxai must have been brought up again when they 
were used at the autumn festival. We may suppose, in 
fact, a procedure with which may be compared the ritual 
of the Thesmophoria, when live pigs and other objects 
were thrown into the * chasms' (xda-imaTa) or megara of 
Demeter and Kore, and certain women brought up their 
remains to be mixed with the grain for sowing, so as to 
secure a fertile crop^ So important a custom might be 
expected to leave its mark in the myth of Kore, 

Now, Clement tells us that the airia of the Thesmo- 
phorian ritual was *the flower-gathering of Pherephatta, 
the Kalathos^ her rape by Aidoneus, the rending of the 
earth, and the pigs of Eubouleus that were swallowed up 
with the Goddesses,' and that the Thesmophoria, Skiro- 
phoria, and Arretophoria celebrated the Rape of Phere- 
phatta. It is, I believe, generally assumed that this Rape 

T&p iv ToU 6pf «ciW tnpois iv rf papd6p^ x^H'^C^^^' Schol. ad loc, Toitg Orjactvpovt 
7i,povs tKoXovv ol Sp^K€S Koi ol Af^vfff A vvv ^Hxra-ia liutriKW. ra jcaraycia* 0€oiro/i- 
iro£ Koi Soi^oieX^ff (v 'li^av^, a-ipol KptO&p, Artemid. II. 24, a-ipol dc aral xaircrol icai 
<aX€oi KM ndvra rii w tng BrjaavpiCerai km dworiOrrai ra (rwfpfiara ; Id. IV. 34, «>f 
friOoi otvov icai cXaiov, Koi ctpoi (MS. (mpoX) irvpobg 1j KpiBds, 

^ Phot. s.v. Mdyapov* w fiiyapovj €h t ra fivariKa Uph KarariOtvrtw ovr»t Mtpo^' 
ipos. Hesych. s.v. pJyapa' oi piv ras Karcryftovs oiK^crecf ical pdpa$pa. oiKta KOt B€»v 
oiKffpa. Eustath. in Od, 1387, 17, Miyapov dc w cV prfropiK^ ^iperai Xe(iictt...Kara- 
y€ia oiKripara <f>ri<r\ rcuv Otaiv fjyovv ^r)p,rirpos Koi Il€ptr9<l>6yrjg, Of. Farnell, Cults^ III. 
66. A very ancient cave shrine of Pluton has been identified at Eleusis. The mundus, 
it may be noted, was* itself dedicated to Dis Pater and Proserpina, and was called the 
faux Plutonis and ianua Orci^ Macrob. Sat, i. 16, 17 $ Warde Fowler, loc. cit. p. 26. 
Was Ovid conscious of this second sense of mundus^ when Persephone and the Lord of 
the Shades are addressed x ' O pasiti sub terra numina tnundi, in quern reccidimuSy quicquid 
mortaU creamur* (Met, x. 1 7) ? 

' Clem. Alex. Protr, p. 14 P. ; Lucian's Scholiast, Rhein, Mus, 25 (1870), 548, 
quoted by J. £. Harrison, Prolegomena^ p. lai ; Farnell, Cultiy iii. pp. 89, 327. 


symbolises the disappearance of the corn when it is sown 
in the ground, and that the ascent of Persephone means 
the sprouting up of the new crop in spring. Certainly 
the myth was sometimes so interpreted in antiquity. But 
I would suggest that this is not the only possible inter- 
pretation- Some of the difficulties connected with Eleu- 
sinian ritual may become clear, if we reckon also with 
another Descent and Rising of Kore — her descent, namely, 
into the underground treasury and dwelling of Pluton, 
when the mrapj^ax were stored after harvest, and her 
ascent, when they were taken out again at seed-time. 
The legend persistently describes the maiden as carried 
oflF into a chasm in the earth, or a cavc\ No one ever 
soFwed com in a cave, but it is a very suitable place for 
storing it. 

The Descent and Ascent in question seem to be marked 
by the two Sicilian festivals recorded by Diodorus (v. 4). 
The Sicilians celebrated the two Goddesses at separate 
dates. *They held the Karaywyfj of Kore at about the 
time when the fruit of the corn comes to perfect ripe- 
ness.. ..But they chose as the moment for the sacrifice to 
Demetcr, the time of the beginning of sowing.* At this 
latter festival there was an aia-xpoXoyia to celebrate the 
laughter of Demeter after her mourning for the rape of 
Kore. Dr Frazer* translates rfj^ Kopti^ ttiv KaTaywynv 
*the bringing home of the maiden,* and remarks that the 
words *are explained with great probability by Professor 
M. P. Nilsson as referring to the bringing of the ripe corn 
to the bam or the threshing-floor {Griech. Feste^ Leipzig, 
1906, pp. 356 sq.). This interpretation accords perfectly 
with a well-attested sense of Karaymyr\ and its cognate 

1 At Enna there wat a (riri^Xaiov, all round which grew a multitude of flowers at all 
fftffffifi and through this X^V^ ^^ '^ virovoftor davfi<l>avTit by which the dpirayff took 
places At. Mirab, Auu, 8a. Diodorus^ v. 3, describes a smooth meadow with preci- 
pitous sides all round, which was the o/i^oXdff of Sicily. There was a large a"in)Katov 
with a x^f^ Kar6yftov towards the north. In the Vibia fresco (Maass, Orpheus^ p. a 1 9) 
the chariot bearing Pluton and Kore is conducted by Hermes to a round hole in the 
earth, the rim of which makes it resemble the mouth of a iri^or . 

s Ibid. p. 5S. 


verb KardyeiUy and is preferable to the other possible 
interpretation, "the bringing down/' which would refer 
to the descent of Persephone into the nether-world ; for 
such a descent is hardly appropriate to a harvest festival.' 
If my suggestion is right, and the corn-maiden was stored 
in an underground chamber, the two interpretations are 
really the same : Kore is both * brought home ' and ' brought 
down,' if she is carried into the subterranean megaron of 
Pluton, the God of the rich store-chamber \ 

Similarly at Hermione the XOoi/ia, which may have 
been the festival of the Descent of the Goddess into the 
under- world, was held in the summer ^ From the store- 
chamber she ascends again at seed-time, and it must surely 
be this ascent that, in the original version, put an end to 
Dcmeter's mourning, and corresponds to the autumn 
festival in Sicily, and to the ai/oSo^ of the Thesmophoria. 
If we adopt the promising suggestion that the dea-fxoi 
carried at the Thesmophoria were the treasures *laid 
down' in the dritravpos^j and this dtitravpo^ was the under- 
ground store of Pluton, we may not only say with Dr 

1 Orph. Hymn ZViii. to Pluton : 2 r6v vwox&oviov vaitav 66fAOv . „ir\ovTobor&p ytvirjp 
fipor4ffy Kapirois €vmur»v,..Ev^v\*f dyvoncXov Aijft^€pos off 9rorc wmda vvfM/ip§va'as 
\tifi&vos airo<rfradirjv dia iravrov rerpapois iirnoiaiv vtr* *AT6lbos ijyayts ivrpov brnuov 
'EXcvo'iyoff, t66i vtp nvXat tltr *Aidao. Claudian, ^/ rapt. Pen, I. $6 ; Dis is addressed 
as qui Jinem cunctis et semina praebes, nascendiqui uices altema nurte rependis, Pluton, 
as god of the store, is like the Roman Consus with his underground altar and service of 
dfrapxoit Dion. H. Ant. Ii. 31, €opT^v,.,K6»p(rovd\ia.,,€v § ^fios r« vviy€io£ iBpvfitvof 
wapa ry /Aryior^ rSnf ivirodp6p.<av, n-cpurKo^eiOi^r rrjg yrjff 6v€riaw rt koI vircpirvpoif 
dnapxcus yrpaipcrat. Wissowa identifies Consus' companion. Ops Consiua, with ' eine 
VerkOrperung dcr reichen FoUe des Erntesegens,' Roscher, Lex. s.v. It is noteworthy 
that Himerius (vii. i, p. 5 12) tells us that the mystae brought sAeaves qfcom (bpdyfiara) 
to Eleusis. See also note at end of this paper, p. 166. 

* Pans. II. 35. 5 : Xdovia 6* oiv 17 Btof r€ aMj KoXttrai ical XBdvta ioprffp Korh trot 
ayova-iv &pq, Btpovg, Apollod. I. 5. i, fiaOova-a dc (^fiqnjp) nap 'EpfJnop4»p m 
JjXovT»v auTTjv ^pTraatv, 

' Frazer, £ncL Brit.* 23, 296; Farnell, CuUs^ in. 15; Et. Mag. 44S. 15, $ia6ai 
rb Sr)(ravpi<ravBai iv ^Otva-atias v. ical rhv Bijiravpov *AvaKp4«»p 6€ap,6p fcaXct. 
Anakreon, Frag. 68 (Bgk), dw6 d* c^ciXcro 6t(rp^p fUyap, Warde Fowler, loc. cit. 
p. 33. Nilsson {Griech, Feste, 324) adds a reference to Comutus, Thecl. 28, p. $6 
Lang : BttrpoBivLP »,,ovK opBw tip<»p BttrpiiP vvdkafioPT^p ttprjaBat t6ip Kapvop dir6 
Tov avrhp dworlBta-Bai kcli Btiaavpi^ttrBaji. If the ' carrying of the Thetmoi ' is to be 
interpreted in this sense, it is clear that it might als9 be identical with the garayiry^ - 
the carrying of the dnapxai after harvest down into the store-chamber. Is this the 
explanation of the summer Thesmophoria at Delos? See Nilsson, Griech. Feste^ 
pp. 316, 317. 


Warde Fowler that the Thesmophorian sacra may have 
been * originally portions of seed-<:orn, but identify them 
with the mrapxcti and with Kore herself in her original 
form. We can thus meet Dr Farnell's objection^ that to 
apply the term avoZo^ to Kore at the Thesmophoria 'is 
out of the question, for the eleventh of Pyanepsion would 
be of all times of the year unsuitable for her return to the 
upper world.* It is exactly the right time for her ascent 
from the subterranean granary. The case of Attis appears 
to be exactly parallel : ' the story of his sufferings, death 
and resurrection was interpreted as the ripe grain wounded 
by the reaper, buried in the granary^ and coming to life again 
when it is sown in the groundV 

If then the Rape of Kore at harvest-time means her 
descent into the underground store, this place can be 
regarded at once as the house and treasury of Pluton, the 
bride-chamber of Kore, and her tomb. When Pluton 
brings back the ravished bride in the Homeric Hymn, 
his chariot is described as rushing lieK fxeyaptav^ and 
'Gemoll rightly notes that the realm of Hades is thought 
of as a huge house.... Otherwise the entrance of horses 
into the fiiyapop would be impossible^' Its aspect as 
a dna-cEvpo^ recalls the weTpw/ma at Pheneos in Arcadia 
opened at the Greater Mysteries, when the priest of 
Demeter Kidaria, wearing the mask of the Goddess, 
smote the Underground Folk with rods — a ritual Sum- 
moning for purposes of fertility*. Another title of it 
may survive in the daXdfxn^^ out of which sacra were 

^ Ibid. p. S8. 

• Frazer, Adonis^ 1906, p. 175 (my italics). J. Firmicus Mat. de err. prof, relig. 
III., Attin uero hoc ipsum uolunt esse quod exjrupbus nascitur^ poenam autem quam sustinuit 
hoc Moiunt isu quod fake messor ntaturis Jrugibus facit* mortem ipsius dicunt quod semina 
coUecta conduntur^ uitam rursus quod iacta semina annuls uicibus redduntur, Dr Frazer 
adds that (like Kore) Attis was also identified with the spring flowers. 

' Sikes and Allen on ▼. 379. 

^ Pans. Tin. 15. 2. The stone treasuries mentioned in the Andania Inscription 
(H. Saoppe, Die Mysterieninsckr, von Andania^ GOttingen, i860 $ Dittenberger, Sylleget 
18S3, p. 575)9 one of which was opened yearly at the Mysteries, appear to have been 
simply treasure-chests. 

* Sakafiof ^aX«t/uy are referred by Boisacq (Diet, Etym, p. 347) to the same root as 


* taken and distributed to those who had carried the 
Kepvo^^^ itself a characteristic receptacle of aTrapxai^* As 
a bride-chamber, was it not the underground place where 
the Hierophant and the priestess celebrated their sacred 
marriage'? Is it not from this chamber that the child 
Plutos is handed up to Hermes by the female figure rising 
out of the ground on the Kertsch pelikc*? Finally, when 
we think of it as a tomb, we remember that when Curtius, 
after solemnly devoting himself to the under- world powers, 
leapt into his /acus, the multitude threw in Jofia acfruges^ 
like the airap^fox thrown into the mundusy and those de- 
posited with the entombed Vestal virgin*. We think also 
of Antigone's «J Tviifio^^ w wiJi(f>€iov, to KaratrKatpri^ oiKfjCK 
deicppovpo^^ di iropevoixai irpo^ toi)$ efxavTij^j wv dpid/iop ih 
veKpoi^ irXeitrrov SeheKTai ^€p<r€(pa<r(r' oXwAotwi/, the Xi^o- 
(rrpwTOi/ Kopri^ wfx(p€iov *A«8oi; koTKov with its oucTepurro^ 
Traa-Tci^^ The suggestion throughout the Antigone is that 
the heroine becomes the bride of Pluton. Probably 
some Theban ritual of underground marriage lies behind. 
Antigone's tomb-cave has a aroiiiov closed with a heap of 
stones, and apparently leading by a dromos to the 'furthest 
part of the tomb' (XoicrOioi/ ruimlievfjLa). The whole de- 

Bokogf Gothic daly 'valley/ etc. : L'id/e premiire doit aruoir Hi ^courburtf d*ok 'ctt- 
vexitiT et ^ concavit/.* Cf. 6<f>-3dkft6sj Prellwitz, Etym, W9rterb. ^.v. Hesych. s.v., 
yviri;- KotXw/ui y^r, Bakdfju]y ytovioj and s.v. yvirap* JcaXv/3ap, Ba\dixas,..ot dc koto y^p 
otKriatig, oi di (TTr^Xaio. 

^ Athen. 478 c, quoting Polemon : furii dc ravra rrjp rcXcr^v irocct koI aiptl rh €k 
rfjg OaXdftijs kcu P€fx€i oaoi avta {hp h(n Casaubon) rh Ktppos irtpifvijvt^orts. For the 
Kemvphoria as ' nothing but a late and elaborate form of the offering of first-fruitk,* tee 
J. £. Harrison, Proiegpmenaf 158 if. 

' AsteriuSy Encom. martyr. 194 (Combe), ovjc cieci rh Ktrra^atop t6 a-Kortiwop leai al 
atfiveu Tov lfpo<f}dpTov irpos rfiv uptiav crvvrvxioi ; Farnell, CuUs, III. 176. 

3 Figured and discussed by Farnell, ibid. p. 253. 

^ Livy, VII. 6, donaque ac firuget super turn a multitudine usrorum ac mulierum con- 
gestas. For the Lacus Curtius, see below, p. 161, n. 6. For the Vestal, Miss Harrison 
in this volume. Cf. also Suid. s.v., dirapyfiar^v apl^v Koipwrtpov (citing Greg. 
Nai. XL. p. 646), avri rov ivayia-pamv^ it tU rovs Td<l>ovt €/9aXXoy. Ad eundem 
locum Basilius MS. Paris, ap. Gaisf., dvapypdnap di t&p dfrapx&v, &s im r&p Kara 
KOipovs Kapirap otmpStv t( kcu icoXXv/Soav icac KpiSrjs kcu <f>v\\6»p icoi dvBimp koL dirkStt 
T&p KaO* &pav dirdpTUP rovrois avripxapva, leai Tpi\ag dc oiKWias dwoKttpofitPOi Koi 
(^»p (r<l)aydt Ktu alpara rovrcnf cVayi^ovrffv ;|^a^c(oyrai«.«ircK^p...*£XXi7ircf. Note in 
Bemhardy*s ed. of Suidas. 

* Soph. Antig, 891, 1204. 


scription, as Jebb notes {v. 12 17), suggests the 'Treasury 
of Atreus' type. The chorus compare it to the rvfifiripri^ 
6a\afjL09 of Danae ip x^^^^^'^^^^ avXaU (v. 945) which 
Pherekydes describes as a brazen chamber (QoKafxov... 
XoXkovp) made undergroimd, in the courtyard (aiJAif) of 
the house. Pausanias saw at Argos this ^Kordyewv oIko- 
Sofifjfia^ with the Golden Thalamos over it\' 

Again, an underground structure of this type, called 
cipik in the Eleusinian inscription quoted above (p. 155), 
could also be called (ppeap^ the equivalent of the Latin 
puteus\ We hear of two, if not three, (ppeara at or near 
Eleusis : the Uapdei/iov (ppeap, where the Goddess, in the 
form of an old woman, sat grieving^; the ''Avdioi/ (ppeap^ 
perhaps identical with it, on the road from Eleusis to 
Megara^ ; and the Kallicboron^ close to the precinct, where 
the Eleusinian women first danced and sang to the goddess^ 
I would suggest that one of these (ppeara was closed at its 
mouth by the dyeXacTos irerpa^ the double of the ava- 
kKndpa at Megara, which, as its name implies, was the 
place where Kore was * called up.' The famous well 
Burrhina at Cos is of the same type*. It is curious that 

1 Pherekydes ap. Schol. Apoll. Rhod. 4. 1091; Paus. Ii. a 3. 7, both cited by Jebb 
on Antig, 945. Is Claudian^s description of Ceres* house at Enna, made by Cyclopes 
juul plated with iron, reminiscent of a similar structure {de rapt. Fen. i. 237) f Cf. 
also the Korayatov otcfi/ia into which Zalmoxis 'disappeared' {ri<f>aMia6ff) and from 
which he 'appnred again* (dvc^ovi;), Hdt. iv. 95. 

* PolL IX. 49, jcoroyfiot oZ«i}<rcir xoi irtipoi koL <l>p4aTa Ktu Xokkou 
' Horn. hymn. Dem. 99. 

* Paus. I. 39. I, <f>p€ap eoTiy "AvBiov Kokovfjuvov, tiroirfae di Ildfi<l>»t «frl rovry 
Tf fftpian KoBrjaBai Arfpjfrpa fura rrip Apway^v r^r frtudSs^ ypat tlKturfuvrfp, 

* Hjmn. Dem. 27a: Paus. i. 38. 6. The custom of dancing round a ^piap gave 
rise to the proverb tt^v irtpl t6 <f>p4ap Hpxrjtr^v opxtitrOai for 'skating on thin ice,' 
Plut. Mar. 68 B. A puUus must be meant, for there is no danger in dancing round 
an open spring. 

* Figured in Daremb. and Saglio, 11. 1229 : La firme de la C9uverture y rappelU,,, 
t architecture adoptee dans les anciens tr/sors ou caveaux Jun&aires^ et se retrouve presque 
identique dans Us tombeaux it coupole de Mychtes, Telle est aussi It Rome r architecture du 
Tulliansun. The Tullianum seems to have been a reservoir for the citadel. Some 
derive ita name from tuUii (tullios alii dixerunt silanos^ alii riuos^ Fest. 531 f.)- The 
Lacos Cortius was evidently a Xgkkos or <f>p4apf for it was marked by a puteal, supposed 
by some to endoee a locum fulguritum (Varr. Ling, Lat. v. 150). Suid. trip6sy 6 Xciicicor, 
coA inpoitf 6pvyfuun.v tv oh KararlBorai rii (nripfiara. AAkkw is used of a water-cistern 
ID Hdt. nr. 195. Compare the Xaicjcor in which Kallias 6 XaKK6fr\ovTO£ buried gold, 
Plut. Arist. 321 B I and the Xukkos kovuo-os (plastered) for storing wine in Xen. Anah. 

R. II 


this well was made by Chalkon, son of Eurypylos (son of 
Poseidon) and Klytia, who received Demeter when she 
was searching for Kore, and who were the ancestors of 
the men who celebrate the Thalusia at Demeter's thresh- 
ing-floor in Theocritus* Seventh Idyll^. I conjecture that 
the <l>p€ap at Eleusis where the Goddess sat on the 
dyeKaa-TO^ irerpa was the original scene of the summoning 
up of Kore, 

For Kore rises again. When we are told that the final 
revelation to the Eleusinian cpoptae was a craxv^ redepi" 
a/jjEvo^y and that, in the Attis-Sabazian mysteries, Attis 
himself is called a {rrdxvs dfxtjro^^ is it possible that we 
may see in this trrdxy^ the epiphany of Kore herself as 
represented by the Airapxai ? Varro calls her the seminum 
fecunditasy and Cicero speaks of Proserpine as the frugum 

IT. 2. 22 ; Suid. S.V. Xaxicoff* *ABripaioi Koi ol SKkoi r&v *EWtiv»v ipvyfiara vir6 lijp 
yijp notov»T€S tvpvx'^P^ '^^ arp&yyvka Kod rcr/>dya>v€^ icod ravra Kovt&vrwt ouHar 
vfTfiiXpvTO KoX Tk€uop ctf ovrd* Koi ravra Xakjcovp tKoXovv. Suidas* next entry is: 
Aajcjcor* 6 Bmfaros, €V(tt^ Xajcjco) frapairXijai»t 6 rd<f)Of 3pvrrcriu. Aa/9td* k<^ 
jfUMtf^orofuu rots KaTaficdvov<nv €is Xokkov (Ps. xxviil. i), assimilahmr descendentibus 
in locum (Vulg.). The Hebrew *m so translated means ' cistern^ ' ' pit,' ' a dry dstem 
used as a prison/ ' grave ' (Gesenius, HandwOrterh. Uber das altf Test,), Dion. H., Ant, 
II. 42, notes that the Lacus Curtius was tv fiitrt^ /idkurra rijt 'Fafiautv dyopas. For 
its significance as a munduSy see Wissowa, Relig, u, Kult, d, R9mer*f 235. Cf. also 
the puteal {<t>p*ap) in the comitium, where the rasor and whetstone of Attus Naviiis 
were buried narh yrjf vnh /9«/i^ rivi, (Dion. H. ill. 71). The legend of Curtius, whose 
self-devotion stopped a flood, and who was honoured with dona ac Jrugii thrown into 
his \6,KKost may throw light on the custom at Athens of throwing wheatmeal kneaded 
with honey into the cleft in the ground at the precinct of Ge Olympia where the water 
ran away after Deukalion's flood, Paus. i. 18. 7. In Genesis zxxvii. Joseph is let down 
into a dry y(l {cistemay Vulg.) and his coat smeared with the blood of a kid is sent to 
his Either, who laments and thinks his son is rent in pieces. Does this legend reflect 
a rite of tearing a Kid-God in pieces, and a burial followed by a resurrection, which 
might be paralleled by the sacrifice of the Hosioi at Delphi at the grave where the 
X€i'^tava rov ^u>pv<rmt were stored (Plut. Is. /f O/. 365 a) ? 

^ Theocr. Id. vii. 5, dir6 EXvrias r€ leat avr& XaXjc<»yo(, Bovpipav bt €K wob69 opv^ 
KpavaPy 9^ y ip^ptardptpos irirpq. yoyv. Schol. ad loc, n«pt Ev/>uirvXov d« k<u KXvrta^ 
UrroptirM in oiroi tla-tp ol ciri rfjf 'HpaK\4ovs froXiopxiaf rrfp K& KaroiKfjo-aprfS ical 
virodcdry/tcVot rrfp AfiptfrpaPy koB* ^p Kaip6p wepi^i (ifrovfra ri^y JUdpffp, For XoXietiv- 
XaXK<0d»y, see Pauly-Wiss. s.v. The fidpaBpop at Adiens is called by the Scholiast ork 
Ar. Plut. 431 x*^^h^ ^ <l>p€armd€S kcu, (TKcrftpdp. The Phrygian pofrpayvprrfw was 
thrown into it, when he announced on tpxfrm if Mi^p tU iwi^tfrriinp r^r Koy>9r. j 

The Goddess was angry and sent an aKapvia. Instructeu by an orade, the Atheniaas j 

r^ xdirpa KorixtMroPy r^y df Bthp l\it»p rais BwrLais ittolqaap. Hesych^ tAiympa' m\, 
IIMP rha Karmy^Unn otKrictts Kal fidpaBpa. 

* Farnell, CultSy iii. 183 ; Frazer, Adonii, 190^, p. 175. 


semen^ when she is carried oflF by Dis, hidden away, and 
sought by her mother^ 

On this view, I should regard the depositing of the 
mrapx^i in the underground store as originally intended 
to put these specimens of grain that was to be used for 
seed into fertilising contact with the sacred store, in which 
the life of the corn might be supposed to have a continuous 
existence ^ When this is turned into the language of 
mythical personification, Kore is carried off underground 
to become the wife of Pluton. She re-emerges as the 
potential mother of the new crop. That may be the 
reason why in Sicily she is a maiden at the time of her 
Bringing Down, but the festival before sowing is in honour 
of the mother^ Demeter. And so Photius speaks of the 
Ascent of Demeter^ and Clement compromises by repre- 
senting both goddesses as swallowed in the chasm ^ In 
the Attic festivals the two Ascents of Kore are represented, 
in autunm by the Eleusinia, instituted after the first return 
of Kore*, and in spring by the Lesser Mysteries of Agrae. 
The Eleusinian rites mark the most critical moment in the 
acwAo9 7€i/€(rcft>5, when the seed, which was the fruit of the 
last harvest, comes forth from its underground store into 

* Varro ap. Aug. Cvu. Dei, vii. 20 ; Cic. Nat. Deor. 11. 26, (Dii) r^uit Prostrpinam 
^,,quam frugum semen esse volunt, absconditamque quaeri a matre fingunt. 

* Miss Harrison calls my attention to the similar custom in Borneo, where the 
Harfcst Festival ' begins with the preparation of the seed-grain for the following season. 
Some of the best of the new grain is carefully selected by the women... enough for the 
sowing of the next season. This is mixed with a small quantity of the seed of the 
foregoing season, which has been carefully preserved for this purpose in a special 
basket. The basket contains grains of padi from good harvests of many previous 
yean. This is supposed to have been done from the earliest time of padi planting, 
so that the basket contains some of the original stock of seed, or at least the virtue 
of it leavening the whole. The basket is never emptied, but a pinch of the old padi 
it mixed in with the new, and then a handful of the mixture added to the old stock. 
The idea seems to be that the old grain, preserving continuity, generation after genera- 
tion, with the original seed padi of mythical origin, ensures the presence in the grain 
of the soul or spirit or vital principle of padi. While mixing the old with the new 
seed-grain, the woman calls on the soul of the padi to cause the seed to be fruitful 
and to grow vigorously and to favour her own fertility. For the whole festival is a 
cdebration or colt of the principle of fertility and vitality — that of the women no less 
than that of the paeU, C. Hose and W. McDougall, Pagan Tribes of Borneo 1912, 
I. p. III. 

» See Frazer, G. B? Part v. ii. 17. * Horn. Hymn Dem, 473. 

II — 2 

1 64 F. M. CORNFORD 

human hands, and is about to be committed by them again 
to the keeping of the earth at the sowing. Whatever 
magical processes are to be performed over it should be 
performed then, though they may be reinforced by further 
rites in spring, to secure the springing up of the new crop. 
This may explain why the autumn festival overshadows 
the Lesser Mysteries of the spring, which, on the ordinary 
view that the Rape of Persephone symbolises the sown 
seed lying in the earth, ought to have been the more 

What, finally, was done with the dirapxcu when they 
were taken out again ? The fifth century inscription at 
Eleusis orders that the finest of the onrapxcn shall be ofiFered 
in sacrifice, but that the rest of the grain shall be sold. For 
what purpose ? Surely not to be eaten, but to be mixed 
with the grain of the sowing, like the sacra of the Thes- 
mophoria. There is a redistribution of the mrapxai, 
which, I believe, is reflected in the myth of Triptolemos, 
charged by Demeter with the dispersal of the seed-corn 
to all the civilised world. This myth, and the final act 
of the mystic drama to which it corresponds, must have 
some basis in actual fact. It is not true that agriculture 
was discovered at Eleusis ; and the myth does not reflect 
the custom of which it is the alleged airiov^ the sending 
of dirapx^i to Eleusis. I do not see what it can stand for, 
if not the redistribution of portions of seed-corn sanctified 
by the potency of the sacred store, at the 'Metropolis of 
the Crops,* in which they were allowed to rest from harvest 
to sowing time^ It is possible that the Upd tpdyfrnra^ 

^ The emphasis is alwap on the use of the distributed com for So^ngt Dion. 
Hal. I. 12. 2, wtwoiTjrai, yap avra (So^oicXct, iv TpiTrroXZ/iO)) Arjfirfrrip dtdairicovo'a 
TpivroXffiov ooTjv x<&>pav avayKauri<rtr<u crv€ipw roig bo$«7<nv vir' avr^t luipirois 
diffcX^eii/. Xen. Hell. VI. 3. 6 : Xcyeroi ftiv Tp(frroX€/zo9...rov ^^firjrpos Kapirov €ls 
ftpwrrfv r^v TLfXairovvrja-ov air^pfia b^AptitrafrBcu, n&s oZv dixaior, trap* &v cXa/3rrc 
<rir€ppaTa,m„ Par. Mar. 13 : a^* o5 T/>tirrd[X€fiof...] €frir€ip€P €v rrji ^Papiai koKov 
fi€vrjt 'EXcvo-if ft. Diod. V. 4 : wtipii d( t&v *A$r)vaioi>y iroWol fieroKafiovrts rifs («c tov 
aiTov <f>ikapBpavia£ Kat rdis ir\ri<rtox^poK prradid6vT€S tov <rn4pfiarof„. ; ▼. 68. i, 
Demeter gave r^y tov o-itov cwopov to Triptolemos, ^ avvra^ai traa-ir dp$p»fr€H£ 
fteradovvai rijs rt 8<opias Kai ra ntpl r^v €pyaaiav tov trvopov didd$ai. 

' Callim. Hymn to DeloSf 283 : oi iiiv rot KoXo/ii/y re koI Upd bpdyfiara np&rot 


sent by the Hyperboreans to Delos were originally sent 
for the same purpose. Dr Frazer has collected cases of 
similar customs, of which the following is an example. 
In Sweden and Denmark the last sheaf of the harvest 
is made into the Yule Boar. * Often it is kept till the 
sowing time in spring, when part of it is mixed with 
the seed-corn and part given to the ploughmen and 
plough-horses or plough-oxen to eat, in the expectation 
of a good harvest^/ 

I conclude that we must recognise a double sense of 
the word chrapxaL It may denote offerings of first-fruits 
made after the harvest, with the intent of removing the 
taboo from the com which is to be eaten. Such, for 
instance, was the ddpyriXo^ or OaXjua-io^^ These dwapxai 
can be made into cakes and consumed. Not so the other 
€hr€ipXM, which are starting-points^ not for the consumption 
of the crop, but for the sowing of the next crop. These 
must, of course, be kept in the form of grain, and probably 
still in the ear. They may be dedicated and treasured, 
but not eaten. The rites connected with both kinds of 
aarapxoi may be combined in one festival, which may fall 
after harvest or before seed-time, or in the interval. The 
notion of first-fruit offerings tends to survive; the other 
sense of Airapx^ ^ seed-corn tends to disappear. 

A final point which these conceptions may help to 

mrraxmp if>op4ovin9. The same phnue recurs in the Hymn th Arjfujrpos koKoBov^ 20, 
KoXXiov, «or Kakdfujp rt Ka\ Upii dpdyfiara npdra daraxy»v dntKO'^t, Koi ip fidas jjjcc 
warmrOai^ dpiKa TpiirroXc^^ dyaBhv cdtdaorxcro r€\vav. 

* G. B.\ Part v. vol. i. 300 \ cf. vol. 11. 20. 

s Athen. III. 114 a: top 6dpyrj\oPy Sv riP€g jcaXovo-t 3akv<rtop. Kpan/c dc cV fi^ 
*Arrutijt Atak^KTov BdpyrjKop Kokttadai r6p ck ttjs ovyKOfj^id^t rrp&rop yipofitpop uprop, 
Eostath. on 11. 530^ p. 772, 22 : Bakvo-ia dc al dirap)(^aL,,rjyovp al fiera avXXoy^p t&p 
Kopnmp dMftfpai B€^ See J. £. Harrison, Prolegomena^ 7^ iF. ; Nilsson, Gr. Festey 
105 fF., 332. In connection with the alleged use of the dirapxai at the Eleusinian 
Haloia» it is worth noting that at the *ancera festival in N. Africa the new com is in 
tome cases eaten on the thresMng-floor^ Doutt^ Magie et Relig. dans rAJrique du Nordy 
190^ p. 568. 

' affapxh seems to be parallel to d<l)opfirfy * that from which you start.* Thus the 
original sense of the word is not ^ first-firuitSy regarded as thank-offerings for the ended 
faarvesty but indodes the fruit which is the beginning of the next crop. Cf. Ar. irfpl 
{fmfyrp,y 724 b. 19, tnripfia jcat Kapnof bia<f>ip€i rf vtnrtpop koi irp&rtpop, KCLpvbt 
futp ydp rm i$ SKkov eu^oi, Cfrippa dc rh §k rovrov ^CXXo, €irffl afi0«» yt Taln'6p ianp. 

1 66 F. M. CORNFORD 

clear up is the confusion about the sacred marriage at 
Eleusis^. We hear of a marriage of Zeus and Demeter, 
as well as of the more famous marriage of Kore and 
Pluton^ Now, the marriage of Zeus and Demeter, con- 
nected by Dr Frazer with the formula ve kuc^ must surely, 
as he says, be the marriage of the Sky or Rain God with 
the Corn or Earth Goddess. The ritual celebration of it 
must be designed, as the formula implies, to promote by 
sympathetic magic the actual fertilisation by the rains of 
heaven of the crop about to be sown. This natural fact 
is, of course, different from the marriage of Kore and 
Pluton in the underground store ; and when the significance 
of this was forgotten, it is easy to see how the Rape would 
come to be finally identified with the sowing of the seed 
in the ground, and the return of Kore with the sprouting 
of the crop; and so the two marriages would become 
hopelessly confused ^ 

May I hope that Professor Ridgeway, who has pointed 
out some of the difficulties in connection with the sacred 
marriage, will look kindly on the solution of them here 
offered i 


* Frazer, ihi^. 65 fF. 

^ Schol. on Plat. Gorg. 497 c, cVcXctro d^ ravra (the Mysteries) jca2 Affot Ka\ Kopi;, 
^i ravrqv fiiv UXovTcdv dpirdf cic, Aijoi dc fuytlrj Zcvf. See Frazer, Magic Art^ toI. II. 
p. 13S. 

' That confusion had already gone far when the Homeric hymn was composed is 
shown by the fact that it makes the Rape occur at a time when all the flowers are in 
bloom. This suits neither the harvest nor the seed-time — ^the two moments when the 
com really does disappear. It must be due to a ritual enactment of the whole story in 

Since this paper was printed, I have come upon a note in Servius (on Verg. Bucol. 
III. 104 Die quibus in terris„»Tris pateat caeli spatium non amplim ulnas) which all but 
identifies the cave of the Rape of Proserpine with a mundus .• alii (dicunt) specum in 
Sictlia per quod rapta est a Dite Proserpina f alii mundum in sacro Cereris^.^simpUciier 
intelUgendus est cuiuslibet loci puteus.,„Cf. Lobeck, Aglaoph. p. 832. 


Among the numerous examples of the use of prehistoric 
objects as amulets one of the best known is that of Aegean 
engraved sealstones as charms, generally to secure a flow 
of niilk. Such stones have various names, all signifying 
milk-stone ; in Crete they are called YaAxwrerjoes, in Melos 
and elsewhere 7a\oi;crcr€s, whilst yet a third form is 
^oKarroireTpa. The rarity and curious appearance of 
these stones is probably the general reason for the belief 
in their magic power ; the white colour of many of them 
determines their specific use as milk charms, although it 
must be admitted that many stones of other colours than 
white seem to have been used in the same way. Another 
use, especially of red or dark-coloured stones, is to check 
a flow of blood ; others again, called in Melos at least 
fiiurraxTtipe^j are credited with the power of saving 
women from miscarriage^. It should be noted that this 
use of seal-stones is only a local instance of the widely 
diflfused use of remarkable stones as amulets ; it is simply 
that where the prehistoric gems are found their superior 
interest makes them more regarded than any other kind 
of stone. 

Another very favourite or rather universal charm of 
the modern Greek world is the cross with certain initials 
set in the four angles, the commonest being I X NI KA, 
standing for 'Ii/croi;? Xpiaro^ NIKAi. This device appears 

^ Barraxnipatj 6, is of course derived from datrrnCat. In a folk-tale from Ph&rasa 
in the Anti-Taums moontaios a woman troubled in this way goes to the priests for 
hdp^ but in vain : J6 k parly kov da thty C9uld not secure Aer {^^dir r^v inparmm). 



regularly on the stamps impressed on the loaves used in 
the church service^, such small stamps being often hung 
as amulets round children's necks, and is very frequently 
painted or carved on the lintel of the door of a house. 
Other initials are sometimes, but much less commonly, 
used. I have noted a fine example painted on the wall 
at the entrance to the chapel of St George in the 
Monastery of St Paul on Mount Athos, with the fol- 
lowing letters: — 











E E 



K nr 



A <I>P 

where those below the horizontal line are to be read : 4^m 
XpuTToO 4^aii/€T<u riacri. 'Eic Qeou 'ESSOri Evptifui ^EXemi. 
To7ro9 Kpapiov HapaSeuro^ Fiyovev^ Touto to H1/A.01/ 
Aaifju)i/€^ ^Pirrovtri^. To these may be added XX XX 
for Xpurros \dpiv XpitrnavoU Xapi^ei^. It appears there- 
fore that the cross with four initials of some pious 
sentence or formula is just as established as an amulet in 
the Greek world as the curious stone or as the prehistoric 
gem so often used for this purpose in Crete and the islands. 

^ Pieces of bread are distributed at the Greek Mass as a substitute for Communion, 
and so called avridnpov. When the loaf is used for the Mass itself, the stamped part 
is called the (r<l>payU and plap a special part in the ritual, for which see Covel's Some 
account of the present Greek Churchy 1722, p. 29. 

* The letters TiOir are commonly seen at the foot of the Cross in eikons of the 

^ For this see also Brockhaus, Die Kunst in den AtSos-Kldsfem^ 1891, p. 276. 

^ See Atkriop rrjs XpiaruufiKijg *Apx(iuo\oyiKrjf *£ratpctcv, H', p. 30, Athens, 1908. 


A stone at present in a private collection, of which 
a drawing is given on the next page, combines the 
virtues of these two classes of charms. It is one of those 
lentoid gems characteristic of Melos, which, although the 
shape is purely Mycenean, must be dated to the seventh 
or sixth century B.C. on the evidence of the classical 
motives used on them, and because there is a strong proba- 
bility, if not more, that many were found in the archaic 
cemetery near the Chora of Melos, which yielded the well- 
known Melian vases. It has also been pointed out that 
the designs engraved on these stones sometimes bear a 
remarkable resemblance to the patterns found on these 
vases. They are in fact one of the most striking cases of 
the survival of a prehistoric type into the Greek period ^ 
The gem in question originally differed in no way from 
the generality of its class. The material is the pale apple- 
green steatite common in Melian stones ; on one side it is 
plain, and on the other there was a common type of 
design, presenting, as far as can be at present made out, 
some sort of winged creature. The head and part of the 
wing appear on the upper half of the drawing, and the 
feet below on the left. That so little of the original 
design is at present visible seems to be due to intentional 
defacement: the slightly convex surface of the field has 
been roughly flattened, and all the central part of the 
design thus obliterated. On the new surface thus obtained 
and over the remains of the old device a modern hand 
has cut the cross and letter design described above. The 
cross is roughly but deeply cut, the lines forming two 
diameters on the field. The letters, which on the stone 
can be distinguished quite clearly from the remains of the 
original animal, are undecipherable; it is indeed quite 
likely that no definite letters were intended, but that mere 
vague marks were made to fill up the spaces where letters 
should be in a way that would satisfy an illiterate possessor. 
The stone has thus had added to whatever virtues a pre- 

1 For these genu see Furtw&ngler's Antiki Gemnun^ iii. pp. 69 sqq. 

170 R- M. DAWKINS 

historic gem may have been supposed to possess the forti- 
fying powers of a Christian charm. It may in fact be 
called a reinforced amulet, and in this way finds its parallels 
in certain stone axes, on which have been cut Gnostic 
devices and inscriptions \ The axe itself, being supposed 
to be a thunderbolt — in modern Greek currpoweKiKi has 
both meanings — is an amulet against fire and lightning, 
and this, or possibly some other virtue, has been increased 
by the addition of the Gnostic device. The use of neo- 
lithic stone axes in modern Greece as amulets against fire 
is very comprehensive. I was told once by a man in Syme 
that one of the women of his family kept a stone axe 
among her yarn with the idea that it would protect the 
garments made from it from danger by fire. 

R. M. Dawkins. 

1 Of these one it figured by Sir John Evans in The Ancient Stone Implepunts •f 
Great Britain^ P- 6t, and another, which is in the National Museum at Atiiens, by 
Miss J. £. Harrison in B, S, A, XV. p. 318, Fig. x. 

Melian Gem. Scale z : z. 



The curious black figure vase that is here illustrated 
was found in a grave that I opened in 1908 when con- 
tinuing the excavations that had been begun by Professor 
Burrows in the previous year. A catalogue of the com- 
plete contents of this grave was published in 1909*, but at 
that time this particular vase had not yet been completely 
mended; accordingly it received only three lines in the 
catalogue, and its adequate publication was held over. 

A detailed description is rendered unnecessary by the 
illustrations^ The ground colour of the vase is a dull 
ferruginous bufF. The decoration is all in black. In- 
cisions are used freely, but there is no white or purple. 
The diameter across the mouth is '215 m. 

The grave in which the vase was found is shown by 
its contents* to belong to the middle of the sixth century, 
and the aryballoi point to its being one of the latest of 

^ Ptobftbly the ancient Mykalessoa, B. S, A, xiv. pp. 232 f. 

' Grave 51, B.S.J, ziv. pp. 265 — 270. Our vase is p. 268, No. 50. The siren is 
there wrongly described as a sphinx. 

' For the photographs of this vase I am indebted to Professor Burrows who took 
them in 1909. The drawing used on PI. I was made by M. £. Gilli^ron fils in 1910. 
It gives a correct idea of the scene as a whole, but in several details it is defective as 
compared with the photographs ; e.g. the tripod and the right hand of the man who 
ftces the bird. Possibly the vase, which is in oad condition, had suffered in the interval. 
Cp. the way the early b. f. Sophilos fragment appears to have peeled, Wolters, Jahrb. 
xiu. p. 17. I was unable while writing these pages to go to Greece and examine the 
actual vase in Thebes Museum ; and owing to the war it has not been possible, as it 
would otherwise have been, to obtain information from Thebes by correspondence. For 
the same reason the dimensions of the vase are not fully given. [Miss H. Goldman, of 
the American School, has kindly written from Thebes (June 7, 191 3) to say that the 
hgt. with lid is ''24.2 m., without lid '14 m.] 

* See below p. 172, n. 3. 

172 p. N. URE 

our mid sixth century graves. It is of course possible 
that a unique object like the vase here published may have 
been made some considerable time before it was buried. 

The shape finds at Rhitsona its closest parallel in 
Grave i8, No. ioi\ which is here illustrated, but the 
body of the Grave 1 8 vase is less hemispherical, the lid is 
flatter, and there are other slighter diflferences as may be 
seen from the illustration. Grave i8 contained a red 
figure vase in the style of Hermaeus"; the rest of its 
furniture is all of types that prevailed right at the end 
of the sixth century or the beginning of the fifth, and 
unlike the Grave 51 vase, this vase from Grave 18 is 
thoroughly typical of the grave in which it was found, so 
that it can be dated definitely from its context ^ About 
the beginning of the fifth century, i.e. roughly the period 
of our Grave 1 8, we find a yet squatter development of 
the same shaped which persisted till the end of the red 
figure period ^ 

As regards the place among archaic Greek fabrics to 
which the vase from Grave 5 1 should be assigned, perhaps 
its least remote connexion is with a series of bowls 
derived mainly from Stais' excavations at Vourva*, not 
far from Marathon. The typical Vourva bowl is not 
unlike ours in shape, except that the body is squatter ^ 

^ B.S.J, xir. p. 292, where hgt. is wrongly given as *io m. instead of 'ao. The 
smaller vase here illustrated is Gr. iS, No. loa. 
« B.S.A. XIV. p. 294, No. 255. 

• On Graves 51 and 18 see 5. ^. yf. xiv. pp. 265 f. (51), 287 f. (18), 305 — 6 ; 306 
(black figure) ; 308 f. (Boeotian kylikes) ; J.H.S. xxix. pp. 309, 310 and *Apx* *E^. 
191 2, pp. 113, 114, 253 (aryballoi) ; Ure, Black Glaze Pottery, pp. 5 f. 

* E.g. B. M. 64. 10^7. 1567 and 1569, Camiros, purple line ware like our Gr. 18 
vase but with black rays and vertical wavy lines on reserved bands. 

• £.g. B. M. Cat. Fases, iv. F 136, 137, 470—472, called ib. p. 8 and Fig. 17, 
lepastai; Taranto Mus., Necrop. Canosa fondo Piacenza Sep. i\ C, R. St. PH. 1860, 
PI. I; Lecce Mus. (from Ruvo) 162 and (higher and more spherical) 159. For 
hemispherical bowl with hemispherical lid, late r. f., cp. Bari Mus. 1501 and (no 
handles) B. M. F 306 (from Bari). 

* Ath, Mitt. XV. pp. 318 f. Cp. Nibson, Jahrb. xviii. pp. i24f. 

' For a deeper example see Graef, Fasemcherben d. Akrop. No. 496, which, ao 
Dr Graef writes from Jena, appears to be very similar in shape to our vase. No complete 
lids to Vourva bowls are preserved, but some of the vases have a rim to receive one, e.g. 
Graef. ib. Rand oben wie zur Aufnahme eines Deckels ausgehohlt { CoUignon-Couvc, 
PL XXIV, 608 A. For exunt fragment of lid, Jahrb. xviii. PI. 9. 


Stylistically only the siren, the band of S pattern, and the 
absence of red and white are common to both. Our 
vase has no animal friezes with fill ornaments like those 
on the Vourva bowls. Its main decoration is on the lid. 
Human beings are depicted as well as a siren, a bird and 
a flower, and the whole composition has at least the 
appearance of representing some incident or incidents. 
The net pattern on the body of our vase cannot be 
paralleled from Vourva^. These great differences in style 
do not however do away with the possibility of a direct 
connexion between our vase and Vourva ware. A first 
step in the transition is possibly to be seen in Jahrbuch 
XVIII. p. 1 34, Fig. 7 : just below lip a bold meander (cp. 
position of our net pattern) ; only one animal frieze (just 
below meander) and that narrow and with mere dots for 
fill ornament; instead of usual second (lower) animal 
frieze a broad black band ; usual rays springing from foot. 
It is worth noting that the frieze, thick band and rays of 
this Vourva bowl may be closely paralleled at Rhitsona on 
a black figure kylix* irom the very grave in which our vase 
was found. Still in the same grave another kylix was found 
(No. 234) just like the one already mentioned (No. 231) 
except that the animal frieze has been eliminated ^ 

These three vases are enough to suggest the sort of 
development that may possibly have connected our bowl 
with the Vourva series. They are of course no proof of 
any such connexion. Vases in small numbers may often 
guide us to the right question. Masses of material and 
excavators' reports are needed to establish the right answer. 
The cheerful confidence in a priori arguments based on 
style that once dominated the study of Greek pottery is 
now recognised to have been in its way as dangerous a 

1 Dr Giaef in a letter notices this point and inclines to the view that our vase is of 
Eastern or island fabric, but adds that since Vourva ware must have been under 
Eastern influence, the similarity of shape is in any case significant. 

t B.S.J. XIV. p. 269, Fig. 14, No. 231, and ib. PI. IX b. 

s On 231 see Droop J, H. S. zzx. p. 27, n. 42 (where 'exact' is inaccurate). Droop 
Laconian influence. I hope to discuss the Rhitsona b. f. kylikes in *Ap;(. *E^. 19 14. 

174 P- N. URE 

guide as was the idea of symmetry to the student of 
geography in the days of Herodotus. The shapes and 
decoration of vases among civilised peoples are always to 
some extent a matter of fashion, and fashions, like riven 
and mountain ranges, often follow devious courses, that 
can only be determined by surveying them step by step 
from beginning to end. It will be enough therefore with- 
out attempting to classify this one unusual vase, simply 
to point out that it was buried in East Boeotia about the 
year 550 b.c., and that Vourva ware, in spite of its occur- 
rence in the grave of the Marathon heroes \ seems to date 
mainly from about 650 — 550^ and has been found mainly 
in East Attica, the only homes that have been suggested 
for the style outside Attica being Euboea^ and, for certain 
careless and presumably late examples, Boeotia itself ^ 

It is worth noticing that Vourva shaped black figure 
bowls seem to have had a long continuous history in the 
districts just mentioned. A later series of bowls of this 
very distinctive shape discussed by Pagenstecher in the 
American yournal of Archaeology^ is recognised by him 
as having Boeotian affinities. Two of the three known 
to Pagenstecher in 1909 are said to have come from 
Marathon. Since then a fine example has been found in 
Boeotia itself and is now in Thebes Museum. Between 
the Vourva and this later series we may place such vases as 
Scheurleer, Catalogus Oudheden '/ Gravenhage^ PI. xxxvi. 
No. 388, similar shape, coarsely executed frieze of centaurs 
and men, buiten langs den bovenrand Z vormige lijnen. 
The Hague vase comes from Kaiditsa in Boeotia, cp. 
B.M., B. 85. 

1 Stais, Ath. Mitt, xviii. pp. 55 f. PL II, III. 

• NilssoD, Jahrb, xviil. pp. 143 — ^4. 

* Bohlau, Nekrttp, p. 116; NiUson, Jabrb, xviii. pp. 139 f. For Bretrian rather 
than Chalcidian influence at Rhitsona at this period q>. the Naukratite vate from Gr. 50 
(tlightly earlier than Gr. 51), 7. //. 5. xxix, pp. 33a ft also B. S, A. xiv. pp. 236 — 7. 

* Thiersch, Tymniiche Amphonn^ pp. 146 — 7 : cp. Graef, Vastruch, d, Ahxf, 
pp. 51, 52. 

• XIII. pp. 394 — 5 and Fig. 5, dated by P. ih. p. 397 late iv. cent., but probably v., 
cp. Ure, Black Clasu PMity p. 25, n. 9 (on A. J. A, xiii. p. 396, Fig. 6, which P. 
rightly groups with his Fig. 5}. 


These facts suggest the most interesting question raised 
by our vase. Does it throw any light on the little known 
pedigree of late Boeotian black figure ware ? But before 
dealing with this question it will be better first to examine 
the subject of the painting on the lid. 

The four figures that fill the main scene fall obviously 
into two pairs. The bearded^ siren faces one of the 
human figures. The other human figure is advancing on 
the bird. The tripod* that is placed between the pair 
first mentioned at once suggests a competition. Cp., e.g.j 
the tripods in the athletic competition, Thiersch, Tyr- 
rhenian Amphorae^ PL II, 2 and 4, IV'. The only record 
of a prize competition between sirens and a man^ occurs 
in one of the Greek virodiaeK to the Frogs of Aristo- 
phanes ^ The writer of this i/7ro0€cri9, comparing the 
contest between Euripides and Aeschylus with others in 
which the competitors were equally ill matched, mentions 
the struggle between Marsyas and Apollo and that between 
^mad Thamyris' and the Sirens. We are not told what 
the prize was in the latter case ; but whatever it was, a 
tripod would be a very natural emblem of the struggle. 
A tripod is found even in one of the vase paintings of 
Marsyas and Apollo ^ where the actual stake was some- 
thing very different. 

The other two figures arc still more obviously opposed. 
The absence of the tripod may possibly indicate that the 
struggle in this case is no prize competition but real 
earnest. There are several struggles between birds and 
human beings that our vase painter might have had in 
mind. The battle of the cranes and pygmies for instance 
appears on the Fran9ois vase. Possibly our picture is a 

1 At often on archaic vases, Weicker ap. Roscher, Lexicon^ Seirenen, pp. 6i8, 6a 8. 

* The similar combination of vessel and stand, Vasemch, d. Akrop. 5900, PL 27, is 
labelled XcjSi/r by the vase painter. > Also Vasemcb. d. Akrtp, 654, ^, f, PI. 41. 

* The carious scene of two sirens with a tripod between them, C. R, St. PA, 1874, 
PL II, 7 (cp. ib. 1866, p. 58), throws no obvious light on ours. 

* SckoL Ran. vnoB* IV (Didot, p. 374 : omitted by Rogers, FrogSf p. xlv, as 'very 
fltopid and worthless*). 

* r. f. amphora, Polygnotan style, from Rnvo, Roscher, Lexicofiy Marsyas, Fig. 5. 

176 p. N. URE 

reminiscence of the same struggle. The fact that the 
bird has more resemblance to a goose or swan than to 
a crane does not preclude this possibility \ On a black 
figure vase at Berlin a pygmy is seen fighting a crane that 
looks like a big swan^ Nor does the literary tradition 
always represent the pygmies' enemies as cranes. Accord- 
ing to Strabo^ and Athenaeus* the pygmies fought also 
against wephKe^ x^^^l^y^^^^^' This is enough to establish 
the possibility of our bird being one of the pygmies' 
enemies. Unfortunately it does nothing more, and the 
man leaves us as uncertain as does the bird : he is under- 
sized as compared with the normal human being, but 
distinctly overgrown for a pygmy ^ The uncertainty is 
increased by the possibility of alternative interpretations, 
e.g. a satyric Herakles engaged with one of the birds of 

One detail should be noticed that does not obviously 
fit into the explanation just offered. It is the wavy line 
that runs from neck to neck of the two human figures. 
Conceivably this line may represent a lassoo which the 
man facing the goose intends to use against it, but has 
got entangled in his companion's hair^ Nooses are not 
infrequently shown on black figure vases, e.g. British 
Museum B. 488. On a late red figure vase, Panofka, 
Collection Pourtales^ PL xvii., a winged Eros is seen bending 
forward to lassoo a goose (f)^ But in all these cases the 

^ There b no room on the missing fragment for the legs of a standing crane, bat 
q>. Ath, Mitt, xiii. PI. zii, Kabiric fragment with unquestionable pygmy and crane, 
where the crane's body almost touches the ground line, and the legs slope very much 
forward, crossing the ground line as do those of our siren. Or the legs might be 
regarded as doubled up in flight. For a human figure advancing on a bird (siren ?) 
that is apparently lising in flight, cp. Fasensch. d. Akrop, 654 a, PI. 4.2 (der Vogel scheiat 

* Furtwftngler, Berl. Cat. Fas. I. No. 1785, Kranich wie grosser Schwan gebildet. 

* rv. p. 71 1. * iz 390 B [Ath. omits xtvofieytBut}, 

* On B. M. B 77 the pygmy is twice the size of his bird. 

* Cp. e.g, Gerhard, Auserlesene Fasenbilder^ PI. cvi. 
T Cp. Punch cxLiv. p. 401, Fig. 105. 

* Panofka, ib, p. 90, speaks not of a goose and a noose, but of a swan and a leading 
string. For bird and leading (or rather driving) string, cp. Hague Mus. No. 393, 
below p. 177, n. 2 s but on Panofka's vase the string is not attached to the goose. 


noose is more or less obviously such. A much closer 
parallel to this detail is seen in Bibiiothique Nationale^ Cata^ 
iogue^ Fig. 10, No. 185, where two averted naked human 
figures grovelling on all fours ^ have their necks joined by 
a loosely hanging cord^ No explanation of the cord is 
offered in the catalogue. The phalli that are scattered 
about the picture suggest some obscene performance. In 
any case the cord on the Rhitsona vase may be regarded 
as merely a piece of burlesque by-play. That the treat- 
ment of our picture borders on the burlesque can scarcely 
be disputed, however great may be the uncertainty as to 
its interpretation ^ 

This brings us to the question of a possible connexion 
between our vase and the burlesque black figure vases 
from the Theban Kabirion. 

The Kabiric black figure pottery resembles our vase in 
several of its main features, notably in a certain dulness 
both of the ground colour and of the black, in the general 
absence of subsidiary colours, in the coarseness of the 
incised lines, and more particularly in the burlesque ten- 
dency of the painted decoration. On quite a remarkable 
number of the Kabiric vases, considering how few in all are 
known, there are grotesque representations of encounters 
between human beings and birds ^ These Kabiric 
vases with human figures are ascribed by Winnefeld^ 

> ' Exercice d*haltires (?) * de Ridder, ad loc. 

* As on our vase, one figure faces a bird (large cock). 

* Note comedies named 'Sirens' by Epicharmos (Mullach i. p. 14.0), Theopompos 
and Nikophon (Meineke, 11. pp. Sii, 850), that seem to have treated of the sirens' 
deaUngs with Odysseus. If our siren scene burlesques an epic legend we may compare 
B. S. A. XIV. PI. x.^fix>m Grave 50 (f^. p. 257 f), roughly contemporary with the grave 
in which our vase was found. A kneeling figure (Oedipus ?) is clipping the Sphinx's 
wings from behind. With this last cp. Vaiemch. d, Akrop, 654 «, PI. 42. A crouching 
n&an attacks a flying figure (only tail and part of wing preserved) from the rear. Graef 
suggests that the flying figure is a bird and the man a trnKayxvoirrrii t but B. S. A, 
xrv. PL z.^ suggests that the flying figure may be a siren. In that case the figures 
sdrring a \i^9 behind the man with the knife might be brought into connexion with 
the cifcns* cooking vessek mentioned in Theopompus* Sirens^ Meineke, frag. iv. 

* Ath. Mitt, ziii. PI. zii.; B. M. B77; Bostw Mm, Rtp, 1S99, p. 80, No. 321 
Scheuilecr, Cat, Oudheden 's Gravenkage, No. 393, PI. zzzviii.} Arch. Anz, 189I9 
p. 119, No. 18 (mannikin chases two swans). 

^ AtA. Mitt, ziii. pp. 423 f. 

R« 12 

178 p. N. URE 

to the fourth century, and put later than those with 
purely decorative painting. The published evidence is 
not decisive. The careless human figures of some of the 
Rhitsona black figure ware of about 500 b.c. point to the 
possibility of a somewhat earlier date for some at least of 
the Kabirion vases. 

In any case there is a gap both in date and style 
between our vase and those that have been quoted from 
the Kabirion. But the probability of there having been 
an unbroken tradition from the sixth century onwards is 
much increased by a vase at Athens published and illus- 
trated in CoUignon and Couve\ This vase has many 
characteristics of early black figure ware*; but as already 
pointed out by Couve', both subject and style* anticipate 
the Kabirion. The painting is rather burlesque, and 
depicts a draped bearded figure seizing by the throat 
a long-legged bird of about its own height. 

The shape too is characteristic of Boeotia. It is a 
'sorte de coupe profonde sans anses.' Variations of it 
are met with in late Boeotian black figure^. Few parallels 
can be quoted from elsewhere •. The vase was found at 
Thebes ^ Whether or no it is itself Boeotian ^ it is highly 
probable that it should be placed in the direct line of 
ancestry of the Kabiric black figure ware. 

[My explanation of the painting on PI. I does not 
account for the large flower between the two men except 
as an ornament separating the two scenes. Mr A. B. Cook 

^ No. 614, PI. XXV. and Fig. 5. 

* E^, lotus on 1. and running figure on r. of C. and C. Fig. 5 : the scene is said 
by Couve, B. C. H. xxii. p. 293, n. 2, to be 'assez voisin* to BerL Cat, Fas. 1785, a 
Kleinmeister kylix quoted above, p. 176, n. 2. ' ^. C tf. xxii. p. 293. 

^ * Figures noires, sans couleurs de retouchc;, sur fond jattne....Le dessin par endroits 
paratt viser 4 la caricature.' C. and C. 

^ Athens, one of the vases numbered 10530 (Kabirion); Ure, Black Glatu P9tt€fy^ 
PI. XVII. 29 (Rhitsona); Bonn Mus. Inv. 804 (Thebes). 

* I know only Edgar, Cairo Mus. Cat. Vas. PI. x. 26. 197 (bought, Alexandria, 
where Boeotian black figure traditions probably persisted, see Arch. Amc. 1909, p. 18). 

V B,C.H. XXII. pp. 289, 290. 

* A fairly thick red band running round inside (not noticed in Collignon and 
Couve) favours Boeotian origin : see /. H . S. xxix. p. 35 1. In C. and C. it is catalogued 
under Ancien Style lonien et Corinthien. 


points out that the figures immediately to right and left 
of the flower are animalistic in appearance and heraldically 
grouped. He suggests that we may perhaps have here a 
reminiscence of the pair of animals grouped heraldically 
on either side of a tree or pillar: see Evans, Mycenean 
T'ree and Pillar Culty J. H. S. xxi. He compares for the 
cord that joins them J. H. S. xxi. p. 158 Fig. 36, p. 159 
Fig. 39. The suggestion gives point to the flower, but 
the reminiscence, if there is one, is faint and formal. 
Heraldic animals completely averted do indeed occur, 
e.g. ib. p. 162 Fig. 42 tf, ^, but (i) our tulip-like blossom 
is neither a foliated pillar nor a tree. (2) the cord in 
J. H. S. XXI. pp. 158, 159 Figs. 36, 39 connects the 
animals with the central tree or pillar. Cp. Evans, ib. 
p. 1 59. (3) Mr Cook's parallels are very remote in time ; 
whereas the Bibliotheque Nationale vase quoted above, 
p. 1 77, is, like ours, black figure. (4) if an interpretation is 
sought from this possible reminiscence, the other figures 
of the picture are left unaccounted for.] 

P. N. Urb. 

12 — a 


The authenticity of the Lucianic dialogue ic^fl 
6pxn<^€^^ has been much disputed and was denied by 
Rudolf Helm in 1906 in a special appendix to his 
Lucian und Menipp. The most elaborate attacks have 
been based chiefly on points of language, with which 
I cannot here deal at length. My main purpose is to 
call attention to certain positive grounds for believing 
that the dialogue is in fact by Lucian, and that he wrote 
it at Antioch between 162 and 165 a.d. 

The form of the dialogue is simple. Two speakers, 
Lycinus and Craton, the second a philosopher, discuss the 
merits of dancing. When the dialogue opens, Craton 
has just delivered a violent attack upon the art and its 
admirers. Lycinus extorts the admission that he has 
never seen a performance, and persuades him to listen 
to a long panegyric of dancing in general, and of the 
pantomime in particular, a panegyric which fills by far 
the greater part of the work. At the end Craton declares 
himself a convert, and begs Lycinus to book him a seat 
as soon as possible. 

The authenticity of the De Saltatione was denied by 
Bekker : but the first who tried to shew detailed grounds 
for its rejection was Schulze^ He dealt chiefly with 
matters of language, and his other criticisms are of little 
importance. He admits that the style is Lucianic, but 
calls attention to Lucian's habitual silence about dancing. 
His chief argument is this : all exaggerated and hyper- 
bolical remarks in the dialogue must be meant seriously ; 

^ Niue Jahrh.f, PAilol. u. Paid, cxLiii. (1891}, pp. 823 E 


but they are in fact absurd: therefore the dialogue is not 
by Lucian, who would have felt their absurdity. He 
concludes that the author was a rhetorician of the Asiatic 
school, perhaps a pupil of Lucian's. 

Bieler\ the next hostile critic, also concerned himself 
largely with details of language: but his pamphlet con- 
tains some more general animadversions. He starts by 
asserting that in the manuscript H. Vindobon. Philos. 
Philol. 114, there is a note suggesting that the De Salta- 
tione is really by Libanius. But this assertion is a mere 
blunder, due' to the inclusion in this MS. of Lucian, 
as in several others, of Libanius' speech irpo^ 'ApifrreiStiy 
virep t£v opxn^rrwv. Bieler's literary criticisms are con- 
temptible. As Schmid remarked, it is enough to observe 
that he tries to show that the dialogue cannot be Lucian's, 
because it does not obey the rules for historical composition 
laid down in the vm Zei ifrropiav a-uyypdfpeiu. A typical 
remark is that all references to Homer ought to be con- 
secutive, whereas in fact they are scattered. He has no 
definite theory of the date or authorship of the dialogue, 
but thinks that it may be later than Libanius. 

Except for a review' of Bieler by Schulze, the only 
remarks of importance, between the date of Bieler's 
pamphlet and that of Helm's Lucian und Menipp^ 
were made by Dr Wilhelm Schmid*. He recognised 
the weakness of the work of Schulze and Bieler, and 
accepted the De Saltatione as authentic. 

Helm^ added little to previous criticism. He con- 
sidered the linguistic arguments of Schulze and Bieler 
important, though not conclusive. But his main reason 
for rejecting the dialogue was this. In the second chapter 
Craton says to Lycinus (who certainly represents Lucian) 

> Uhir dU Echtheit der ludanischen Schrift di Saliatione, Halle, 1894. 

' Of. Libtniiu, ed. FOrster, 1908, iv. p. 416. Schmid fell into the same trap when 
he ascribed to Rothttein {Quant . Lucian, 1888, p. 38) the opinion that Libanius wrote 
the Ludanic dialogue. See Bursian^ cviii. 1901, p. 254, and FOrster, /. c.f p. 407, n. i. 

' Wochttuckr. f, Kl, PhiM, 1894, No. 23, p. 627. 

* BunioMf cviii. 1901, p. 254. 

* Lucian und Meni^, pp. 365 — 370. 


ovK liiearOfiu fxovov virep covj dWd Kat i^viddriif, ei YlKdnoi/o^ 
Koi Xpvo'iWTrov Kai "ApurTordXov^ iKXadofjeuo^ Kadfitrai... . 
Lucian, says Helm, was never a Stoic, and could therefore 
not have applied such language to Lycinus. It is clear, 
however, from the conjunction of the founders of three 
distinct schools, that these names are chosen by Craton 
merely as those of typical austere philosophers. At least 
four^ almost exact and five more very close parallels for this 
collocation of names occur in genuine works of Lucian. 

That the conversational parts of the dialogue are 
typically Lucianic in matter and in style can scarcely 
be denied, and those who reject it are obliged to re- 
cognize therein the hand of a very skilful forger. The 
style of the panegyric is equally characteristic : especially 
noteworthy are the wealth of literary allusion and quota- 
tion, and the love of historical anecdote. Apart, therefore, 
from linguistic details, the attacks have been chiefly con- 
cerned with general criticisms of the matter of the 
panegyric. Before passing to this wider question, I must 
deal very briefly with the linguistic points. Both Schulze 
and Bieler make many blunders, but, apart from these, 
their work is vitiated by certain unexpressed and quite 
false assumptions about the nature of Lucian's Greek. 

The first of these assumptions is that Lucian always 
writes pure Attic prose : the second, that the presence in 
any work ascribed to him of a number of words not used 
by him elsewhere proves this work to be spurious. Both 
assumptions are easily refuted by reference to Jacobitz' 
Index, and to the statistics collected by Chabert' and 
Schmidt The removal of these fallacies destroys the 
force of both critics' statistics, which I have been at 
considerable pains to examine point by point. Schmid's 
contemptuous dismissal of both was entirely justified, and 
I will waste no further time on them. 

1 Pise, 8, i8, 25, a 6, 32, 37, Herm. 48, 63, Merc. Cond, 24. 
s UAtticismi dt Ludtn^ 1S979 pp. 124 ff. 
s Der Atilcismus^ 1887, I. pp. 250 ff. 


A feeling that Lucian could not have praised panto- 
mimic dancing led Richard^ in 1886 to adopt and 
exaggerate Grysar's suggestion that the panegyric was 
not wholly serious. On the strength of certain ironical 
phrases he concluded that the dialogue was partly a satire 
on contemporary panegyrists, but mainly an attack on 
philosophers, who professed to decry such performances, 
but jumped at any excuse for seeing them. This view is 
no less exaggerated than Helm's^ who concludes from 
the resemblances between the De Saltatione and Libanius' 
dreary speech virep rwv 6pxn<Jf"rwu that * these correspond- 
ences suffice to show that the idea that Lucian's work 
is any way satirical is entirely built on sand/ The most 
reasonable view is that held by Maurice Croiset^ and by 
Schniid* that the dialogue is a jeu if esprit^ half serious, 
half ironical. Schmid further threw out the suggestion 
that it was * perhaps written for the Emperor Verus, who 
was a great lover of the pantomime.' 

It is generally admitted that Lucian wrote the 
Imagines and the Apologia pro Imaginibus to flatter Lucius 
Verus' mistress, Panthea of Smyrna, during that Emperor's 
residence at Antioch, between 162 and 165 a.d., at the 
time of the Parthian war. This was ably proved by 
Maurice Croiset^, and there is no need to repeat his 
arguments: the internal evidence, combined with the 
statements of Lucian's scholiast and of Julius Capitolinus, 
and with an interesting passage of Marcus Aurelius, make 
his main conclusions quite convincing. We have more- 
over Suidas' authority for the statement that Lucian was 
TO irplv Sucfiyopos iv 'Avriox^ioL r^s ^vpia^j ivcwpayna'a^ 
5* €F TOVTip iiri TO \oyoypa(j>€iif eTpdirti. 

In the Imagines^ as later in the Pro Lapsu in Salutando^ 
we find Lucian a consummate courtier. He extols Panthea 

^ LykinosMalogi^ Progr. Hamb. i8S6» pp. 35^. 

' tp. cit. p. i6st n* 2. 

' £ssM sur la Fie et la (Euvns dt Lucieftj 1S82, p. 49. 

* l.c, I did not see Schmid't reference to Verus till after my own theory was formed. 

* VAuHuaire de rAssocialUn pour let itudei grecques^ > 879. 


as the crown of physical and spiritual perfection, and 
speaks of Verus as *the great king, good and gentle/ In 
his charming answer to Panthea's protest, the Apologia 
pro ImaginibuSy he interweaves subtle mockery with the 
flattery, and yet leaves it exquisite flattery still. This 
is exactly the spirit of the De Saltationei if this could 
be shewn to be its date, Lucian's passion for the panto- 
mime need not surprise us. It is noteworthy that, on 
general grounds, Croiset assigned the De Saltatione almost 
exactly to this time, putting it immediately after Lucian's 
return from Antioch to Greece. The close resemblance 
in style between the De Saltatione and the Apologia pro 
Imaginibus is exceedingly striking. 

Two facts, in this connection hitherto overlooked, 
suggest that the De Saltatione was in fact written during 
the same stay at Antioch, and with similar motives. 

First, the De Saltatione contains a remarkable compli- 
ment to the people of Antioch, a compliment^ unique 
in Lucian, who had little love for his fellow-Syrians. 
Croiset, who does not connect the De Saltatione directly 
with Lucian's stay at Antioch, takes the compliment 
quite seriously, and writes*, on the strength of it, *cette 
ville lui plaisait par sa beaut^ et par le caract^re de ses 
habitants.' The passage^ runs as follows: ideKta yovv cot 
Kal hrifMOv Tipos ov ipavXov tol roiavra eirurtifxaiveirdou /ioa^ 
eiTreiy* oi yap Amo;^€£s €i/^i/€<rTaTi; TrdXi^ Kai op'xjno'ip 
fjuxXitrra Trpecfievovira ovrw^ iTriTtipei t£v Xeyofxivtov Kal 
T£y yiyvofUvtav CKcurra^ ois fjoffiiva ixtfikv avrwv iiaKavQdveiv. 
Lycinus then quotes a series of witticisms made by the 
audience at Antioch at the expense of ill-proportioned 
dancers. No other town is named in the dialogue, 
except as the seat of special myths or dances. 

We know that Lucius Verus threw himself at this 
time into the theatrical amusements of Antioch. Julius 
Capitolinus^ states this, and adds that on his return to 

^ I know of only one other allusion to Antioch in Lucian, PseuM, 20, at. 
' Essai, p. 18. * De Salt, 76 « l^iruiy 8. 11. 



Rome he brought home crowds of performers : * Addux- 
erat secum et fidicinas et tibicines et histriones scurrasque 
mimarios et praestigiatores et omnia mancipiorum genera, 
quorum Syria et Alexandria pascitur uoluptate, prorsus ut 
uiderctur bellum non Parthicum sed histrionicum con- 
fecisse/ Capitolinus says also\ *Risui fuit omnibus Syris 
quorum mult a ioca in theatro in eum dicta extant/ Lucian 
must have been tempted to quote them. 

If we suppose that Lucian wrote the De Saltatione 
partly to flatter Antioch, and partly, like the Imagines^ 
to flatter her imperial visitor, we at once get an expla- 
nation of the many allusions to Roman and Italian matters 
which have surprised the few critics. Helm in particular, 
who have noticed them. 

The most remarkable are these : a complimentary 
reference* to Roman dancing, and to the Salii in particular; 
the statement' that dancing first reached perfection under 
Augustus; two anecdotes* about Nero, never mentioned 
elsewhere except in the doubtful Nero ; the mention* of 
Italians in careful contrast to barbarians, and the praise 
of their invention of the word pantomime ; the inclusion ^ 
of the story of Dido and Aeneas in the list of myths, 
Lucian 's only mention of either, save for two references^ 
to Aeneas as son of Aphrodite in the disputed De Astro- 
login. There are also several allusions^ to Italy and to 
Italian myths. 

These points are significant, in view of the rarity and 
general unfriendliness of Lucian's references to Rome, 
apart from the two late and politic works Apologia pro 
Mercede Conductis and Pro Lapsu in Salutando. Where 
he speaks of her at any length, from the early Nigrinus 
to the mature De Mercede Conductis^ it is usually with 

D. S. Robertson. 

* i*. 7. 4. * c 10. • c. 34. * cc. 63, 64. 

* c 67. The Oxford translators render 'IraXi&rcu * Italian Greeks,' but Lucian 
it of Romans, e.g. D. Mtrt, xi. 7, Ftr, Hist, a. 17. 
' c. 46. * c. ao. • cc. a I, 3*, 55. 


The vase that is here reproduced is not unknown. It 
was published in 1825 by James Christie in his Disquisitions 
upon the Painted Greek Vases^ and has been twice since re- 
produced*. It has, however, been lost sight of for many 
years and doubts have arisen as to its genuineness^ I 

found it a few months ago among the 
vases of the Hope Collection. The 
reproduction is from a new drawing 
and needs no apology, as the original 
publication is bad and misleading and 
the others, being derived from it, not 
less so. 

The vase, which, according to 
Christie, comes from Sicily, is an 
archaic black-figured lecythos^ •36 m. 
high, with a large, broad body and 
small neck and mouth. It has been 
broken into very many pieces and rather 
carelessly mended. Such restorations 
as there are have been indicated on the 
plate by blank spaces, bounded by a 
broken line. Mouth, base and foot are varnished black. 
The neck is plain. On the shoulder, above, are tongues ; 
below, large, joined lotus-buds. Above the base are two 

1 PI. xii, p. 81. 

' Millin, Gall, Myth. ii. pi. cxxv, no. 466. jfo. Cer. in. 14. 

' Schneider in Arch. Epig. Mitt, aus Oest. iS79» P- ^h thought the vase to be a 
foigery, though he had never seen it. Further mentions are made by Hartwig in 
Mmtenchalefif p. 59, and by BuUe in Rcschirt Lexihn^ in. 2, p. 2855. 


black bands with a purple line painted over each. Much 
of the white paint on the design has been rubbed away. 

The design covers three-quarters of the body of the 
vase and shows the very quaint subject of Poseidon, 
Heracles and Hermes engaged in fishing. Christie's 
description and commentary on the vase are humorous 
enough to justify partial quotation. He writes : — 

* The triad of grisly figures consists of Hercules, dis- 
tinguishable by the lion's skin and quiver, kneeling on a 
rock in the centre, Neptune angling, and Hermes seated 
to the right, reaching forward the caduceus. The anxiety 
and attention of Hercules are well expressed by his attitude 
and by the hand inverted, as if he were watching the 
expected bite. The sovereign of the waters, behind him, 
grasps a fish that he has just hooked, and Hermes, who 
could either consign to the deep or resuscitate with 
equal facility, by means of his caduceus, needs no better 
implement on the present occasion. Thus each pursues 
his sport with equal prospect of success. But who would 
expect from a subject so grotesquely detailed, that the 
painter had designed the triple power of the deity, drawing 
the principle of life from the primary abyss ? ' 

The vase deserves a rather more serious description. 
Below is the sea, which is represented in black, the surface 
being wavy and bounded by a white line (now mostly 
rubbed away), to mark the foam. From the sea rise 
three rocks, having large white patches on them, pro- 
bably sea-weed. From the middle rock rise plants of the 
usual b.-f. type, while from the side on the left grows a 
little white flower. On the left-hand rock sits Poseidon, 
facing right. He wears chiton and himation. Hair and 
beard are long. In his right hand he holds his trident, in 
his left a fish he has just spiked. The fish's mouth and 
the space between it and the trident are a restoration. 
One of the plants, which rise from the middle rock, 
intersects the spikes of the trident and causes some con- 
fusion of drawing, which the restoration round the fish's 

1 88 E. M. W. TILLYARD 

head makes the more difficult. The line which joins the 
middle and lower spikes of the trident is really the plant, 
but the artist, not liking the effect, changed his mind, left 
this piece without berries and began the plant again from 
the upper spike. The restorer of the vase did not see 
this, but thought this line to be a fishing-line attached to 
the trident and accordingly restored the fish's mouth as 
hooked to it. This mistake was made in the original 
publication and repeated in all the others. The line below 
the middle barb of the trident seems to be a mere slip of 
the brush. On the middle rock squats Heracles towards 
the right. He is dressed in his lion's skin. On his 
shoulder he wears his quiver and at his side a sword. In 
his right hand he holds his bow, with which he is angling, 
the bow-string serving for line. On the right sits Hermes, 
facing Heracles. He wears petasos^ chlamys, high boots, 
and in his right hand holds his kerykeiony which passes, 
notwithstanding, the left side of his body. His left hand 
is outstretched, and below it, about on a level with the 
calves of his legs, is a square object, which, from the 
action of his fingers, he seems to be holding up by means 
of a string, now invisible. The object is not plumb below 
his hand, for the reason that Heracles' bow-string occupies 
that place. 

The vase would date from about 550 b.c. For 
delightful quaintness it can hardly be paralleled. 

The methods, in which Poseidon and Heracles are 
fishing, are plain enough, but that of Hermes is a little 
difficult to make out. The ancients knew of four instru- 
ments of fishing, the line, the net, the weel and the 
trident. Of these, all except the third are quite unsuit- 
able to Hermes, and even here the difficulty arises that the 
square object, which he seems to be letting down, is too 
small to be a weel and indeed of the wrong shape. 
Possibly a passage from Oppian may help to an explana- 
tion. In dealing with so conservative an art as fishing, 
so great a discrepancy of date between vase and author is 


of little account. Speaking of fishing with weels, Oppian ^ 
writes : — 


''AZfXiaiTLv 8* hrl KVpTOv o-mapivov owXi^ovrcu 
ourvivovy fxecaouri S* iv othfiaaiv opfxi^ovo'if 
pipdep dpayl^dfi€i/oi TpriTOV Xidov evvao'Tvipa^ 

Very probably Hermes is in the act of letting down or 
pulling up a weel from the sea, while the square object 
is the ^Wos or cork, which was used as a float. 

Very interesting is Poseidon's trident. It is made of 
a short, curved stick, lashed to a long, straight one, so 
that three spikes are formed. It is a fish-spear of a most 
rude and primitive type. Occurring, as it does, on so 
early a work of art and being among the first representa- 
tions of Poseidon's trident that exist, it gives us valuable 
evidence as to the origin of that instrument. 

The view held throughout antiquity was that Posei- 
don's trident was simply a fish-spear, as is here represented. 
It has been reaffirmed by Wieseler* and is still held by 
such scholars as Gruppe, Bulle and Ridgeway. It has 
been recently combated by Walters' and later still by 
Usener^ and Blinkenberg^ Walters holds that Poseidon's 
trident is derived from Zeus' lotus-sceptre, Poseidon being 
Zeus in his marine aspect. The process, he thinks, was 
helped by Poseidon's attribute, the timny. He relies for 
his evidence on a number of votive pinakes^y found near 
Corinth, which show various tridents, many with heads 
of distinctly lotus form. 

Usener% on the other hand, thinks that the trident 
was in origin a thunder-weapon. He points out that the 
so-called trident-marks in the Erechtheum were left un- 
covered, just as was the custom with places which had 
been struck by lightning. Blinkenberg points out that 

1 III. 371. * D# Fario Usu TruUnHs, 

s /. H. S, zili. p. 13. ^ RAiin, Mus. 1905, p. i ff. 

* 7i# Thundir-nueapm in Reiipon and FolkUarey chap. vii. 

* PuUiihcd in ptxt in Ant, Denk, 1. pL 7. ' U, p. 13. 


the thunder-weapon is represented in a trident-like form 
over a very wide area of country, including Babylonia and 
Asia Minor. It is so found on Hittite monuments. He 
thinks that the Homeric trident, which is used to stir up 
nature generally and has no hint of use as a fish-spear, is 
best explained as this Oriental thunder-weapon. He 
rejects Walters* theory as not explaining the Homeric 
use of the trident. 

The present vase distinctly favours the old view, that 
the trident is nothing more in origin than a fish-spear. 
Though later in date than the majority of the pinakesy it 
is, unlike them, quite free from Oriental influences and is 
so simple and natve in style, that it takes us back to a 
much greater antiquity. That the trident here is de- 
scended from a lotus-sceptre is an impossibility, while the 
fact that it is more obviously a fish-spear and less like the 
Oriental thunder-weapon than the later and more usual 
form of Greek trident, makes Usener*s derivation the 
more difficult ; for, if he is right, we should expect the 
exact opposite. 

Nor do the opponents of the old theory prove that 
the explanation of the trident as a fish-spear fails to explain 
its various uses. The lotus-forms of the tridents on the 
Corinth tablets are largely due to Oriental influences, 
while many of the forms would suit a fish-spear perfectly 
well. Nor is the Homeric use of the trident, as a weapon, 
incompatible with its use as a fish-spear, which would be 
widely used as a weapon by a population dwelling by the 
sea and engaged in fishing. Now if, as Professor Ridgeway 
maintains, Poseidon is a pre- Achaean god of a people 
dwelling mostly on the shores of the Aegean, is it not 
natural that when adopted by the Achaeans, who were 
landsmen, his attribute should lose something of its marine 
aspect and tend to be looked on more as a weapon ? As 
to the marks in the Erechtheum, they may be of an even 
greater antiquity than the worship ot Poseidon and have 
been connected with him later. Thought of originally as 


lightning-marks, it would be very natural to explain them 
as dints of the trident, when Poseidon became associated 
with the spot. As far as shape goes, the trident resembles 
the fish-spear with equal, if not greater closeness than the 
Oriental thunder-weapon. If, then, the old explanation is 
subject to no fatal objection, but attested by some of the 
earliest works of art and believed throughout antiquity, 
we shall have great justification in accepting it. 

The question arises, why just these three gods should 
be fishing. Poseidon, as sea god, is naturally there ; 
Hermes was worshipped by fishermen and looked on as 
the inventor of certain methods of fishing ^ ; Heracles has 
nothing to justify his presence, except that he was popular 
with the early Attic potter. Possibly there may be an 
explanation, that would apply to all three at once. Pro- 
fessor Ridgeway considers Poseidon, Hermes and Heracles 
as pre-Achaean in contradistinction to, say, Zeus and 
Apollo. They are also typical of the three most impor- 
tant occupations of a primitive coast-dwelling people, 
namely fishing, pasture and fighting. To an Attic potter, 
who could well inherit some of the traditions of the pre- 
Achaean race, it would be natural to associate these three 
gods together. If we were to accept this idea, it would 
agree well with what we have said before about the trident 
and we should have on the vase a representation of one of 
the earliest conceptions of Poseidon. 


1 Cf. Oppian, III. 26 'Epfuia ieXvr(f|9ovXr, <r€ 9* ^fo^ov tK6a'Kowr(u ix^P^oi, For 
Hermes fishing tee El. Cer. in. 75, from a b.-f. fylix. 


The royal signets of classical times cannot now be 
identified, as they in no case carried the owner's name, 
and in no recorded case even his portrait. The well- 
known chapter in Pliny (xxxvii. 4) mentions that Au- 
gustus first used a signet with a sphinx, later with a head 
of Alexander; Maecenas used the sign of a frog; and 
the succeeding Caesars of the twelve sealed with the head 
of Augustus engraved by Dioscourides. 

The case is different when we turn to Egypt. There 
the personal name and titles were the regular subject for a 
signet. Here I shall describe five which have been pur- 
chased by me in Egypt, and only one of which has been 
published. Though they may not have been strictly the 
individual seals of kings, they were all apparently to be 
used in the king's name as giving the royal authority. 

The first is Khufu's signet cylinder of the Great 
Pyramid 4700 b.c. It might seem a fanciful dream to 
have such a unique object ; yet it was handed out of his 
pocket by a Pyramid Arab, and the condition of the 
basalt in which it is engraved unquestionably shows its 
antiquity. It reads ^Neter nefer^ Lord of both banks of 
the Nile, KHUFU the great God, the Hawk triumphing 
over the Evil one, (of his) domain of the pyramid Akhet^ 
Akhet * the glorious horizon,' or resting place of the sun, 
was the title of his pyramid, as compared to the western 
horizon of the setting sun. The initial words Neter nefer 
are usually taken as being a title of the king, * the good, 
or gracious, God.' But as this is always a prefix to the 




other royal titles, and never mixed with them, it seems 
curiously parallel to the Coptic prefix to formulae n HOTTG 
n xrxeoc ; which in turn can hardly be separated from 
the prefixes Bismillah^ In nomine Deo^ &c. If so, we may 
regard it as equivalent to the English phrase * By the grace 
of God,' king of such a land. 

The second is the signet cylinder of a Babylonian king 
of Egypt, about 3000 B.C., cut in dark-green jasper. That 
it belongs to the Syro-Mesopotamian family is clear by its 
style of work, by the row of ibexes, the guilloche pattern, 
and the Mesopotamian figure with its spiral dress. Yet 
it shows a king wearing the Egyptian kilt and crown, with 
his name KHANDY in a cartouche, and with other 
Egyptian signs, while the secondary subject is an Egyptian 
holding a papyrus. The additional signs are, before the 
king ankh *the living one,' giving the ankh sign to the 
nearer subject as conferring life. The Egyptian servant 
has hon * servant ' before him. This is a precious monument 
of the time when Mesopotamians were pushing into 
Egypt and rising into supreme power there, while still 
retaining authority in Syria. Such were doubtless the 
forerunners of the Hyksos conquest of Egypt. The 
name is not Egyptian, and may well be Semitic, ^ the 

The third signet is of Akhenaten, 1370 B.C. It is of 
bronze, but more finely engraved than the gold rings. It 
reads *The living one, the Solar hawk living in the two 
horizons (east and west), loving Truth.' 

The fourth signet is a bronze ring which has been 
gilt. The head is obviously one of the Diadochi, and 
from the coinage it is identified as Ptolemy IV, Philopator. 
This was an ofiSicial ring, probably for sealing with the 
king's authority. 

The fifth signet is a massive gold ring, bearing the 
cartouche of Antoninus Pius. There can be no doubt that 
this is an official ring. From the jealousy of the Roman 
law about the use of gold rings, it is unlikely that such 

*. 13 


would be granted to obscure native officials, and this was 
therefore probably the ring of the eques who was Prefect 
of Egypt. Whether it was lost, or was buried with him 
and found in his tomb, we cannot say ; it appeared from 
the pocket of a Pyramid Arab this year. 

All of these, except the Akhenaten ring, arc entirely 
unique of their kind, and I do not know of any parallel 
to them elsewhere. They are now the property of 
University College, London. 

W. M. Flinders Petrie. 


I do not think sufficient weight has been given to the 

discovery of thirty years ago, that the Greeks used an easy 

and practical script for numbers, quite dilBFerent from 

the lapidary script universal in the Parthenon accounts. 

The only difficulty seems to be why the cumbrous system 

in these inscriptions lasted so long. It is not necessary to 

give examples of the two systems, as all modern scholars 

are acquainted with them. They have, however, not 

used this knowledge sufficiently in the emending of texts, 

when the numbers written out in our ordinary editions 

are absurd. For then it becomes very important to know 

what the easiest change is, which will restore the sense. 

It seems to be worth while to give a few examples which 

occurred to me during my long studies of these texts, in 

the hope that they may suggest to others further instances 

where this care may restore us the author's meaning. 

Long since I pointed out that in Thucydides* account 
of the revolt of Mytilene, the closing sentence is absurd. 
Tow $€ 'irXeiCTov a^ioi/s hietpdeipap ol *A6. tiarav Be oXiyta 
^Acioi/s ;^i\i(0i/. As the whole population of Mytilene did 
not amount to 5000 men, the ringleaders could hardly be 
over 1000, and moreover they had been interned on the 
litde island of Tenedos, where there is no accommodation 
for such a crowd and their guards. What an early scribe 
had before him was 6\iyw TrXeiovs A which might 


196 J. p. MAHAFFY 

easily be read as A and not A. Indeed in many papyri 
there is no difference in the letters. Reading A he thought 
naturally that it was absurd, and it occurred to him that 
it must be "A, which is the symbol for 1000. But of 
course Thucydides had written A, ' the ringleaders who 
were put to death were little more than 30.* 

In the same Thucydides (iv. 116) Brasidas offers the 
soldier who is the first to scale a fort the reward of tMrty 
minae^ according to our texts. Thirty minae ! for a single 
act of bravery and from Brasidas ! As the soldier's daily pay 
was at the highest a drachma this reward means 30 x 100 
or 3000 days pay. Was there ever anything more absurd ? 
Of course the text must have been either A or A, which 
latter is the alternative adopted by Gunion Rutherford in 
his edition of that book. 

I turn for a moment to Herodotus. He says (i. 72) 
that for the journey across Asia Minor at its narrowest, 
from the Syrian Gulf to the Black Sea, ci/^aVw dvlpl irivre 
fifxepai dvMarifjtovvTaiy which is absurd. And yet Herodotus 
must have known the truth. Now instead of ANAPI- 
EHMEPAI all we have to read is ANAPIIEHMEPAI ic.t.A. 
and we get the truth. It is really about 15 days active 
travelling. How easily can we imagine an ignorant scribe 
leaving out the adscript 1, so that the next writer attached 
the remaining one to the previous, instead of the following 

I turn back to Thucydides and notice a case where an 
important series of facts in Greek history seem to me to 
have been dislocated by a mistake in a figure. The 
historian says (iii. 68) that Plataea was overthrown 93 
years after the Plataeans had entered into alliance with 
Athens. That brings the origin of it to 519 — 20 b.c. at 
the time that the Pisistratids were ruling at Athens. But 
the story of its origin is told with some detail by Hero- 
dotus (vi. 108) and he speaks throughout of the Athenians, 
and ignores their tyrants. The accession to the throne of 
Sparta by Cleomenes is also moved up to be earlier than 520, 


though there are many reasons to think that such a date is 
in this case also too early. I will add that the appearance 
of all the Plataeans on the field of Marathon seems to 
have been a sort of surprise, whereas if the alliance had 
already lasted 30 years, this could hardly be the case. 
Grotc, whose insight was superior to his successors* in such 
matters, suspected a mistake in Thucydides* figures, but as 
he only had the lapidary system he proposed to substitute 
83 for 93 by leaving out one sign for 10 (A). As, how- 
ever, Thucydides certainly wrote the literary symbols, he 
must have written either 9r or something which was mis- 
taken for it. Of course far the nearest number in shape 
would be or (73), and this, I believe, was changed by 
some scribe's mistake into 9r. If we try Grote's sugges- 
tion we should have IIF, which is far more unlikely to 
have been changed to 9r. The reasons why I think 
nr (509 B.C.) a very difEcult moment for the transaction, 
or for the proper fitting of it into the very obscure period 
of Attic history about 500 — ^498, would require a long 
discussion which would hardly be suitable for this place. 
Here I merely propose to read Or (73), and I think it 
will commend itself to those who are not committed to 
the earlier date and who have excogitated arguments to 
support it. Such people are of course very hard to 

J. P* Mahaffy. 


When Huelsen, Richter and Lanciani agree upon a 
point of identification only on very serious grounds could 
that identification be overthrown. All these three believe 
that a certain bronze coin of Caligula (37 — 40 a.d. ; 
Cohen, 9, 10, 11) represents the temple of Divus 
Augustus. It is figured as such in Huelsen's Forum 
Romanum (p. 136) and in Richter's Topographic von 
Rom (p. 152). The design gives an Ionic temple, hexa- 
style, with much sculptural ornament and hung with 
garlands ; before it Caligula as Pontifex Maximus at a 
sacrifice; the inscription is DIVO AVG(usto) S.C. The 
obverse has a throned figure of Pietas holding a patera^ 
and behind her a statuette of a priestess ; the inscription 
fixes the earliest date to 37. The sacrifice is evidently 
to Divus Augustus, the founder of the imperium ; Suetonius 
\CaL 21) says that Caligula completed the templum Augusti 
' half finished under Tiberius.' In default of evidence to 
the contrary it is at least a natural supposition that the 
temple before which the sacrifice takes place is that of 
Divus Augustus and not another deity and that Caligula 
completed it in the first year of his reign. 

The main thesis of my paper is that (i) the Tiberian 
temple of Divus Augustus which Caligula in some sense 
completed is represented on a coin of Tiberius as a building 
totally different, and (2) that the coin of Caligula repre- 
sents, not the temple of Divus Augustus, but that of 
Apollo Palatinus. 

To this I add a brief account of an entirely new 

^ A brief tummary of the main argument of this paper has appeared in Rassegna 
NumismaticOf 191 3 (Gennaio— Marzo), pp. 5, 6 and in the BoUettino Riassuntvvo of the 
Third International Archaeological Congress, p. 86. 


37 A.D. 


theory as to the site of the *Templum Novum Divi 
August! ' and the buildings connected with it. 

In the years 34, 35, and 36 were struck the bronze 
coins (Cohen, Tibere 68 — 70) which I reproduce. 

They represent a hexastyle Corinthian temple, but 
give variant versions of its sculptural ornamentation, 
which the engraver has placed above and not within the 
pediment. Round the back of the temple runs a curved 
wall as high as the top of the architrave ; it is elaborately 
ornamented and has a large rectangular aperture on either 
side. On pedestals beside the steps of the approach stand 
statues of Mercury with caduceus (left) and Hercules with 
club (right). Within the cella is the temple-statue, a 
male figure seated upon a curule chair above a basis, 
turning half to his right, with a sceptre in his left hand 
and in his outstretched right an object^ too small to be 
distinguished. Cohen, inaccurate in many details, recog- 
nises ' Augustus Nicephoros.* That it is Augustus cannot 
be doubted; a similar type is seen on his own coins 
{e.g. with Victory, Cohen ii6, = B.M. Catalogue, 4362 
(Rome)) and on the Bosco Reale cup {Monuments Piot. 
vol. v.; Mrs Strong's Roman Sculpture^ p. 82). 

This is one of the very few original designs on coins 
of Tiberius; it appears only in the last years of his reign 
and twenty years after Augustus' death. What building 
of the period is represented? Suetonius, who is always 
unfair to Tiberius, says (at Caligula^ 21) that Caligula 
opera sub Tiberio semiperfecta^ templum Augusti theatrumque 
Pompei^ absoluit ; he is consistent, for at Tiberius^ 47, he 
writes : princeps neque opera ulla magntfica fecit — nam et 
quae sola susceperat Augusti templum restitutionemque Pom- 
peiani theatric imperfecta post tot annos reliquit. But the 
much better authority of Tacitus implies that Tiberius 
had completed and only not dedicated the temple; An- 
nates VI. 45, modicus priuatis aedificationibus ne pub lice quidem 

^ Probably a korel branch, possibly an orb. 


nisi duo opera struxit^ templum Augusto et scaenam Pompeiani 
theatri ; eaque perf ecta, contemptu ambitionis an per senectutem^ 
hand dedicauit. 

Dio Cassius (57. 10), while clearing Tiberius of any 
imputation of meanness, confirnis the others on the main 
point ; avTO^ yap ovBev to wapaTrai/ iK Kaivfj^ wX^p toD 
AuyovtrTeiou KaTecKevdcaTO. 

We know, then, that Tiberius practically completed 
in his old age the temple of Divus Augustus, but that 
after he was princeps he built no other new and conspicuous 
temple. Here is a temple of Augustus upon coins struck 
only in the last three years of Tiberius' life, with absolutely 
no indication upon the coin that the temple was to be seen 
in a city other than Rome. 

A closer examination will, I trust, establish my view 
that we have here the Tiberian temple of Divus Augustus, 
a view in which I have been anticipated by Furneaux 
(Tacitus Ann. vi. 45) and perhaps by others, but which 
has hitherto received no notice from the archaeologists. 
(Furneaux himself seems to have thought that the same 
temple recurs on the coin of Caligula, which is far froni 
the case.) 

First let us consider the sculptural ornamentation of 
the pediment. The variant designs agree upon an im- 
portant point; they give in the centre of the group a 
triad of divinities, and though these are called by Cohen 
the Capitoline triad, I contend that he is in error. Here 
is no bearded Jupiter, but Apollo between Diana and 
Latona. Latona has a staff m her left hand as in the 
Sorrentine altar relief, which gives the Palatine triad and 
in this grouping. This Palatine triad, inter matrem deus 
ipse interque sororem^ is a reference to the Apollo temple of 
Augustus and suggests that this temple also is in Palatio. 

On the specimens of 35 a.d. a group of a female 
divinity and a soldier bending forward and offering a laurel 
bough to her fills either side of the field. The soldiers 
remind us of the Augustan coins of Gaul upon which 


the Emperor seated on a sella castrensis placed on a sug- 

gestum receives similar homage (Cohen, Aug. 130 — 135: 

B.M. Catalogue, Gaul, 156 — 161). It is held that the 

soldiers on those coins are Tiberius and Drusus, owing to 

whose victories Augustus was Imperator X. 

The divinities seem to be the types of Constantia 
Augustiy with staff and cornucopia (left) and the Augustan 
Ceres, also with a staff (right). 

This motif of the bending soldiers is admirably adapted 
for the lower part of a pedimental group, and the triad 
for its centre. It is therefore an easy conjecture (I think 
that Mr G. F. Hill first suggested it to me) that these 
seven figures upon the summit of the pediment belong 
within it, in the arrangement indicated. There may have 
been some recumbent figure in each angle, but these are 
not represented here. The engraver desired more space 
than the field of the pediment on this small scale ; and 
the empty angle bears witness that no other sculpture was 

On the specimens of 36 a.d. these soldiers are omitted 
and the female divinities, Constantia and Ceres, have 
changed sides. At the angles of the pediment appear 
winged Victories. From which we may infer that the 
actual acroteria were Victories. 

Secondly let us consider the pair of statues before the 
exterior columns of the fa9ade. Hercules, the invincible 
man made god in Rome, according to Roman legend — 
the paladin of civilisation — and Mercury the orator, the 
interpreter of the gods to men, are a fitting pair to mount 
guard before the shrine of Augustus. But these statues 
on pedestals mark out this coin-type from almost all others 
representing Roman temples. It cannot be a mere chance 
that they recur upon the coins of Antoninus Pius (Cohen, 
I — 8, 797 — 810) which record the restoration by him 
ID I CI A.D. of the Temple of Divus Augustus (TEMPL. 

The Antonine temple has eig/it columns; within are 


seated both Augustus and Li via, who was added by 
Claudius. The pediment is adorned with a triad of 
divinities (797), called by Cohen the Capitoline, but 
by me the Palatine triad ; in the angles apparently are 
reclining figures. Over the apex is a quadriga \ *les deux 
colonnes ext^rieures ont une statue plac6e un peu en 
avant sur une base et une statue sur leur sommet ' (797 ; 
cf. 3). That is, the statues of Hercules and Mercury 
maintained their relative position, as did the Victories at 
the angles of the pediment. Cohen, 3, has the two 
soldiers carrying laurel boughs above the angles, as seen 
on Tib. 68. 

The conjecture that the triad were within the pediment 
is confirmed ; and the reclining figures in the angles we 
had presupposed. 

Thirdly, let us consider the curved wall, as of an 
exedray behind the temple, and the two more distant 
Victories which seem to rise above and behind that on 
either of the two Tiberian types. 

We notice in passing that there is ample space on 
either side of the Tiberian temple for an extension of its 
width to the eight columns which Antoninus and perhaps 
Domitian before him gave it. Also that the projection of 
the wall, with its apertures, gives a general effect some- 
what resembling that of the Concordia temple in the 
Forum as restored by Tiberius. 

This great and high wall, finished oflF at each end 
with a Corinthian pilaster, is evidently designed for an 
artistic background and is best comparable in the Rome 
of Tiberius* day to the huge containing wall of the Forum 
Augusti which formed a background for the Temple of 
Mars Ultor. (Our apertures might poSsibly be only 
niches, like the niches there.) 

Now the military diplomas ( = tabulae honestae missionis) 
were posted from about 90 a.d. to 298, not in the Capitol 
as of old, but Romae in muro post templum Diui Augusti ad 
Mineruam {C.I.L. iii. p. 843). There was therefore 


a notable wall behind this temple from Domitian's time 
onwards, and our coins indicate that it was part of the 
original design of Tiberius. Are the more distant pair of 
Victories seen over it to be thought of as placed upon the 
sumaiit of the wall, or as crowning buildings unseen 
behind it, which yet form part of the whole Augusteum ? 
That is a question which the coin itself cannot answer ; 
but we shall return to it in a later section of this paper. 

I claim to have established my first contention, that 
the temple shown upon Tiberian coins of 34, 35 and 
36 A.D. is the completed, but still undedicated, temple of 
Divus Augustus, with its statuary already in situ. 

If my first contention is sound, it must at once be 
admitted that Huelsen, Richter and Lanciani are all in 
error as to the temple represented on Caligula's coin 
(Cohen, 9), with which this paper began. This was first 
struck in 37 — 38, the year of his accession, and again 
in 39 — 40 and 40 — 41 {trii. pot. iiii.) ; it follows immedi- 
ately in time upon the Tiberian temple-type struck in 
34, 35 and 36, and is, as it were, a complement to it. 
There are no more such till the series struck by Domitian 
in 88 for the Ludi Saeculares. 

Clearly the temple figured by Caligula is not the 
Tiberian temple of Divus Augustus seen on the other 
coin. This temple is hexastyle indeed, but of the Ionic 
order, whereas that was Corinthian. There are no statues 
or pedestals before this fa9ade nor curved wall behind. 
The pillars are short for the width of the pediment, the 
angle of which is flat. (Note that a line drawn from the 
top of the S to the top of the C gives the level of the 
pillar-bases; below are the side-walls of the stairway 
leading up from the altar.) 

The pediment of this heavy-headed Ionic temple is 
ornamented with sculptures above and within. Above, 
upon the apex, is a quadriga with the Sun-god as charioteer; 


towards each angle an archaic Victory raising a garland 
over her head (the Victory on the left is double on some 
specimens) ; over the angles (left) a Greek with a torch 
and (right) Aeneas leading Ascanius by the hand; then 
crockets. Within the pediment the central place is held 
by a figure which Cohen calls Mars but which seems 
to be helmeted Pallas with a spear in her left hand and a 
wreath in her right advancing towards Hercules (left) 
with ox-goad and club, A seated figure nearer to the 
angle offers Hercules another wreath. The right side of 
the pediment is occupied by a male figure with a wreath 
in his right hand and apparently a caduceus held upwards 
in his left ; I call him Mercury, and he is conferring his 
wreath upon a seated figure nearer to the angle. As the 
sex of the seated figures is indeterminate I will ofl?er no 
conjecture as to their identity. (They are shown as 
immediately under the Victories and an architectural line 
divides them from the angles themselves, which would 
seem from this fact also to have been specially acute, as 
in a low and heavy pediment.) 

My own studies for my book on the Palatine Hill 
enabled me to recognise this temple at once, in spite of 
the inscription which has misled others, as that of Apollo 
Palatinus. The Palatium of Augustus, as I there show, 
was Ionic within and without. Vitruvius (iii. 3. 4) says 
that the temple was * diastyle,' i.e. that the intercolumnia- 
tion was thrice the diameter of the column, and adds the 
comment that this width is too great and the architrave is 
sometimes broken. The intercolumniation shown on the 
coin is very wide for the height of the columns and the 
general efi!ect is archaistic. 

Propertius speaks of the golden chariot of the Sun 
over the pediment (11. 31. 11, old style, auro Solis erat 
supra fastigia currus)^ and Pliny of the archaic Victories 
by Bupalus and Athenis in fastigio {N. H. xxxvi. 13). 
The coin presents these features. The Greek with his 
torch firing Troy and Aeneas and Ascanius flying thence 


are highly significant of Troia renascens^ as is Pallas of 
Paiianteum and Palladium^ Mercury of Arcadians, Hercules 
with his ox-goad of the return from Erythia, of the 
foundations of old and new Troy, of the battle for 
civilisation against Cacus. All this symbolism is in place 
upon the temple of Apollo Palatinus, founded upon Roma 
Quadrata at the centre of the Empire. 

Before this temple Caligula is represented as sacrificing 
to Divus Augustus by the will of the Senate (DIVO. 
AVG. S. C), from the year 37 to 40. 

Now from the time of Augustus' death the appointed 
sacrifices to his divinity were performed in the temple of 
Mars Ultor which he had built ; Dio 55. 46 : iv tS ^ oZv 
TO €V ^Fwfifi tipwov iyiyv€TOy eiKdva avroO xp^^^^ ^'^l kKlvi^ 
€9 TOP Tov Ap€09 vaov idecTav Kai iKeipti vavTa oara tw dydX- 
fiOTi avTOv fierd tovto ;f|9>y<r€(r^ai ifieWoi^ ivofjua'av. We 
have no longer any evidence that Caligula dedicated the 
completed temple and subsidiary buildings as soon as 
37 — 38 ; we only know from Josephus {Ant Jud. xix. 
75, 87 foil.) that he sacrificed before it at a great festival 
on January 24th, 41, the day of his murder. If then our 
coin was first struck in 37, it need signify no more than 
that Caligula broke, in this matter of ritual as in all else, 
with the tradition of his hated predecessor, and transferred 
a part of the official worship of Augustus from the temple 
of Mars Ultor to the still more intimately Augustan tem- 
ple of Apollo Palatinus, with whose foundation was bound 
up the Imperium. 

But it seems likely that just at this time the worship 
of Augustus entered upon a new phase. 37 a.d. is the 
centenary of his birth in 63 B.C., and Tiberius may have 
designed to dedicate the *Templum Novum Divi Augusti' 
in this year. The partial fusion of Augustus and his own 
Apollo seems indicated upon the coin-type ; the way in 
which such a fusion was prepared by the Founder of the 
Imperium himself is made more clear in my book on the 
Palatine Hill. If the day of Caligula's accession was 


called ^ Partita^ uelut argumentum rursus conditae urbis* 
(Suet. 1 6. 4), the true second Founder, of whose Palatium 
the Apollo temple formed a part, might surely be honoured 
upon Square Rome itself. 

Antoninus Pius, who rebuilt the Augustus temple, as 
we saw, in 151, struck coins in 140 — 143 (Cohen, 58 — 63 
and 704) with the types of * Romulus Augustus* and 
' Apollo Augustus ' upon them ; but how far these legends 
witness to any fusion of the divinity of Divus Augustus 
I should not like to determine. Nor is this the occasion 
for a discussion of the cult of Augustus. (For details of 
the birthday sacrifices by the Arval College on Sept. 23rd 
and 24th in the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula and Claudius 
see Henzen, Acta Fratrum Arvalium^ pp. 51 foil.) 

Caligula's annual sacrifice to Divus Augustus before 
the temple of Apollo Palatinus provides an interesting 
problem, but it seems to myself likely that it recorded 
the perpetuity of the Imperium, founded by Augustus 
within Roma Quadrata before this temple. It was before 
this temple that the ritual of accession always took place. 

I will close with a brief account of my restoration 
and identification of the site of the temple of Divus 
Augustus, upon which the Tiberian coin has considerable 

The Augusteum included besides the temple itself a 
Library over fifty feet high containing the colossal bronze 
Apollo from Syracuse (Suet. Tib. 74 ; Plin. N. H. xxxiv. 
43). Pliny (vii. 58) also speaks of a library of Minerva 
in Palatio in which a certain Delphic tablet with Greek 
inscription was dedicated dono principum. Comparing 
these passages with Martial xii. 3. 7 (loi a.d.) where the 
poet bids his book seek ' the holy threshold of the Templum 
Novum,' that is, the Augusteum, reddita Pierio sunt ubi 
tecta choro (MSS. templa)^ I infer a double library, the 
Greek part under Minerva's tutelage, the Latin under 
Apollo's. The murus post templum Diui Augusti gives the 


clue that this library was behind the temple, for the 
diplomas were fixed in it^ ad Miner uam^ that is, opposite 
that part of the library which was sacred to her, unless 
in Domitian's day the whole was considered sacred to his 
patron goddess. There must have been a space, or 
thoroughfare, between the back of the *wall* and the 
fa9ade of the library, allowing passers-by to examine the 
diplomas ; this space divided the Augusteum into its two 
halves, and here it was traversed, in my view, by Caligula's 
* bridge ' or viaduct, which led from the palace of Tiberius 
to the Capitol, and which Suetonius {fial. 22) says was 
thrown super templum Diui Augusti. 

If there was a large and lofty double library at a 
certain distance behind the temple, there was no building 
before it. Josephus {Ant Jud. 19. 75, 86 foil.) describes 
a very considerable, if enclosed, space stretching before it 
to the palace of Caligula, a little in front of which was 
set up the wooden shed for the actors and performers in 
the annual Beaipiai to the honour of Augustus. Between 
the shed and the temple half Rome was assembled on 
January 24th, 41 a.d., the day of Caligula's murder ; 
the space had been converted into a temporary theatre, 
with exits into the open air and into a portico (/.r. 90). 
Caligula passed through the crowd (87) to the altar of 
Augustus, and, having sacrificed, turned to the show, cVi 
rriv Betopiav rpaweU iKade^ero (89). The stage was at the 
end of the space furthest from the temple, towards which 
of course he had faced for the sacrifice. All the space 
was considered a part of the Palatium (86), just as the 
temple was always described as in Palatio. Caligula 
entered it directly from his palace ; he returned from it 
directly to his palace again. After the murder and the 

> So alto on pp. 2 10, a 1 1 and in the map. It may well be preferable, however, since 

thh phrase dates from 90 a.d. and the great 'Minenra' from before 8S, to take tempi, 

D. Aug, ad Miniruam as < the Divus Augustus temple by the great Minerva/ There 

wcK Other templa diuwum Augg. then, e.g. Gens Flauia^ pwrticus diuorum in Campo 

MarH§, umpium Aimrum (^iudes D, Titi et respasiani) in Foro. Pliny's Minerva library 

might then be rooms (?a Palladium) in Caligula's palace adapted by Vespasian or Nero, 

and that of the Templum Novum sacred only to Apollo and Augustus. 


wild vengeance upon innocent Asprenas and his company 
the German bodyguard set up the heads of the victims 
on the altar in sight of the crowd (142). 

Now, if a viaduct was thrown by Caligula (and why 
not ?) across the Velabrum valley, spanning the Augusteum 
on its way, clearly the library, temple and temple area lay 
on the low ground immediately below the palace of 
Tiberius {domus Tiberiana) on the north-west flank of the 
Palatine. As they lay in Palatio^ they must have been 
on the Palatine side of the Vicus Tuscus ; and we are 
thus forced to the conclusion, even before we examine 
the ground, that, unless the writers misrepresent the 
truth, we shall find them in the angle between the Vicus 
Tuscus and the descending Clivus Victoriae, but on the 
level of the former. The domus Tiberiana did not extend 
upon the summit far beyond San Teodoro on the low 
level. Therefore the viaduct cannot have crossed far to 
the south of that point ; nor did it cross north of it, for 
the level of the Vicus Tuscus has been cleared there and 
reveals no sign of the temple beneath its span. What 
lies revealed is a large open area paved with travertine and 
contained on the north and east, that is, on the sides of 
the Forum and the Clivus Victoriae, by a monumental 
row of two-storied shops of the age between Augustus 
and Claudius. These shops are of solid tufa with reticu- 
late back walls and were ornamented on the fa9ade with 
Corinthian pilasters of travertine of which fragments 
remain. On the west, towards the Vicus Tuscus, are signs 
of a portico containing the area ; these are clearest at the 
north-west corner. The centre of this large open area 
was built over with brick shops and halls at a period 
later than the partition of the Empire ; the original 
travertine pavement remains below them. 

If we take our stand at the north end and look 
southwards we see the area narrowing towards S. Teo- 
doro ; but it has not been cleared of debris so far as that. 
Between us and the Forum is a vast composite building of 


Domitianic brick which has been thought, upon most in- 
sufficient grounds, to be the temple and library of Divus 
Augustus. The enormous hall to the west had three storeys, 
as the traces of the stairways on the eastern wall prove. The 
ground floor was surrounded with niches for statues. The 
western wall has fallen away, perhaps chiefly because of 
the lofty windows which once penetrated it and lit the 
whole interior. The smaller hall to the east, out of which 
S* Maria Antica was made, was also surrounded with 
statues and had upper storeys. This whole Domitianic 
structure, once faced with marble, was a library in two 
parts, presumably Latin and Greek; and there were 
inner chambers for administration or study in the angle 
between the south wall of the large hall and the con- 
taining wall of the travertine shops round the area to the 

But there was not always a library here. Later exca- 
vations beneath the floor levels have revealed the earlier 
foundations of a perhaps scarcely less gigantic edifice 
covering this site. Under the forecourt of S^ Maria 
Antica is the impluvium of a huge atrium^ and under the 
larger hall a series of wall-bases for dwelling-rooms (Plan : 
Huelsen's Forum Romanunij p. 138). AH these are 
orientated in agreement with the lines of shops in the 
area to the south, not, as in Domitian's libraries, with the 
line of the Basilica Julia and Castor and Pollux temple 
in the Forum. In the basin of the impluvium was found 
a tile fallen from the roof, with inscription {G€r)manici f.^ 
i.e. Caligula. When therefore we read (Suet. 22) that 
Caligula partem Palatii ad forum usque promouit atque aede 
Castoris et Pollucis in uestibulum transfigurata consistens saepe 
inter fr aires deos medium adorandum se adeuntibus exhibebaty 
we conclude that the impluvium is that of the regium atrium 
of this emperor and that he connected with it for vestibule 
the adjoining temple of Castor and Pollux. The 'part of 
the Palatium' which he pushed forward as far as the 
Forum is that which Tiberius and Livia had been erecting 

R. 14 


in honour of Divus Augustus on the space between the 
Vicus Tuscus and the Clivus Victoriae; and it would 
seem that he connected not only the Castor temple but 
the Basilica Julia with his residence, by a bridge thrown 
over the Vicus Tuscus, and used the roof for a terrace, 
for he spent days there scattering largesse down to the 
populace (Suet. 37. i). This palace, in which Caligula 
lived and also met his death, was burned down in one of 
the great fires (Suet. 59) ; in ea domo^ in qua occubueritj 
nullam noctem sine aliquo terrore transactam^ donee ipsa domus 
incendio consumpta sit. Over the site of it Domitian erected 
the library of Minerva, which was really her chief temple 
in Rome and is mentioned in the Curiosum next to the 
temple of Castor and Pollux: basilicam Juliam^ templum 
Castorum et Mineruae^ Vestam ... It is also mentioned by 
Martial at least once (iv. 53. i ; 88 a.d.) ; hunc quern saepe 
uides intra penetralia nostrae Pallados et templi limina^ Cosme^ 
noui. Here the new double library of Pallas, nostrae, 
because Domitian's and Rome's, is distinguished from 
the earlier but neighbouring double library of the Augus- 
teum, in which also Pallas claimed a share from Apollo 
and the Pierian choir. It is presumably this Domitianic 
library to which the second-century inscription from 
Privernum (C. 10. 6441) refers: praepositus palladii Pala-- 
tini. The two great libraries together, Pallados et templi 
noviy made up the Bibliotheca domus Tiberianae (Gell. 13. 
19. I ; Hist. Aug. Vrob. 2, etc.), for each vfzspars PalatH. 
In the days of Caligula, then, the ground from the 
Castor temple southwards was covered first by his own 
private palace on the low level, then by the area which 
Tiberius had cleared and paved and surrounded with 
monumental rows of shops on north and east and with 
a portico on the west, then by the temple of Divus 
Augustus facing down this area to the palace and the 
Forum, the temple seen on our coins ; behind the temple 
was a thoroughfare, a short cut from Vicus Tuscus to 
Clivus Victoriae, with the viaduct above crossing directly 


from hill to hilL South of that, and now some way south 
of San Teodoro, was the library of the Tcmplum Novum. 
In Richter's Topographie von Rom the first plate (p. 4) 
shows the fragments of the Forma Urbis (Jordan vii. 37, 
XIV. 86) which preserve the plan of the angle between 
Clivus and Vicus beyond the library southwards. It will 
be seen that the northern extremity preserved gives a 
large building divided into two parallel halls facing north- 
wards and together occupying the whole space from road 
to road. These I take to be the Greek and Latin libraries 
of Apollo (east) and Minerva (west) which together made 
up the Bibliotheca Templi Novi Drui Augusti. 

The two Victories seen on the Tiberian coins above or 
behind the exedra and above the pillars on the Antonine 
coins may perhaps belong to the summits of the pediments 
of the two halls. 

The large area between Caligula's palace and the 
temple continued till 203 a.d. (Dio Cass. 76. 3. 3) to be 
the scene of Oewpiai in honour of the * heroes in the Pala- 
tium,' the Divi. It was really the Forum Tiierii, opening 
out the crowded regions of the city south of the Forum 
as the Fora Julii and Augusti had opened out the northern 
side. But Tiberius did not set his own name to his 
works, and this one Caligula completed. 

In some year between 364 and 367 a.d. Valentinian 
Valens and Gratian presented an area called the Forum 
Palatinum to * their own Roman people' {C.I.L. vi. 1 177). 
The ^Anonymus Einsidlensis ' saw the inscription as he 
came from S* Anastasia, near by. * Their own Roman 
people' used the gift in their own way, by covering the 
travertine pavement with the mean brick shops and halls 
now visible in the middle of it. So that before 364 the 
emperors were unable to continue the shows in honour of 
the Palatine heroes, and, in particular, of Divus Augustus, 
founder of the Imperium, upon the site which he had 
doubtless himself designed for them. 

O. L. Richmond. 





il to ^ is founded upon Forma Urbis (Jordan vii. 37 and xiv. 86 ; Richter, Topograpkie 
*von Romy p. 4, taf. i}| S to C upon the coin of Tiberius (Cohen 68 — 70), C to D upon 
the excavated remains in situ. 

The buildings of Tiberius and Caligula (with the shops and markets to the S.W., 
which are of unknown date) are given in thin lines; the subsequent building of 
Domitian on the site of Caligula's palace is given in thick lines. The brick buildings 
later than the division of the Empire now visible in the temple area about £ are omitted. 
The temple itself was restored by Antoninus Pius with octostyle facade. (The north 
comer of Caligula's palace was probably connected by bridges with the ctlia of the 
Castor temple and the roof of the Basilica Julia.) 


Not a few of Aristophanes' most piquant situations 
depend for their effect on the poet's dexterous juxta- 
position of sacred and profane. Festive words to a 
solemn tune, a commonplace picture in a heroic frame, 
a secular foreground with a religious background — ^these 
were obvious means of appealing simultaneously to the 
lower and to the higher instincts of the Athenian populace. 
Especially frequent are such scenes in the later comedies, 
which exchange crude personal abuse for delicate social 
satire and betray an increasing interest in both ritual and 

It will, therefore, readily be conceded that the brilliant 
finish of the Birds with its marriage of Pisthetairos and 
Basileia was a serio-comic variation on a high religious 
theme, a whimsical application to contemporary life of 
the great hieros gimos which in various Greek communities 
linked Zeus with Hera. The particular version chosen 
and the precise twist given to it were of course determined 
by the circumstances of the day. 

Aristophanes brought out his Birds at the City 
Dionysia of the year 414. But Mr B. B. Rogers has 
shown that in all probability the play had been ' long in 
incubation,' indeed that it had been taken in hand soon 
after the production of the Peace in 42 1 \ Now the events 
of the period immediately succeeding the peace of Nikias 
had turned all eyes towards Argos, which then became 
i}^t centre of more than one new political combination ^ 

' B. B. Rogert Tkt Birds 9/ Aristophatus London 1906 p. v ff. 
> See €,g, J. B. Bury A History rf Grtece London 1900 p. 45S fF. 

214 A. B. COOK 

The Argivcs in a sense held the balance between Athens 
and Sparta, a fact that the poet fully appreciated ^ And 
at Argos there had been a deal of wobbling. The 
successive alliances of the Argives with the Athenians 
(420), with the Spartans (418), and with the Athenians 
again (417) must have been received at Athens with 
alternate outbursts of enthusiasm and disgust. What the 
Athenian * optimist,' the EdielpUes of the moment, really 
wanted was a staunch and loyal ally, a ^ trusty comrade,' 
a Pisthitairos^. 

If the conclusion of the Birds was indeed based on the 
hierh gdmosy and if at the time of its writing popular 
attention was thus directed to Argos, it may fairly be 
surmised that, when Aristophanes called his castle-in-the- 
air Nephelokokkygia^ he had in mind — inter alia^ no doubt — 
the Argive Mount Kokkygion with its myth of Zeus the 
cuckoo ^ Aristotle tells the story ^ Zeus, seeing Hera 
all by herself, was minded to consort with her. To secure 
her by guile, he transformed himself into a cuckoo and 
perched on a mountain, which had previously been called 
Thr6nax^ the * Throne,' but was thenceforward known as 
K6kkyXj the ' Cuckoo.' He then caused a terrible storm 
to break over the district. Hera, faring alone, came to 
the mountain and sat on the spot where there is now a 
sanctuary of Hera Teleta. The cuckoo flew down and 
settled on her knees, cowering and shivering at the storm. 
Hera out of pity covered it with, her mantle. Thereupon 

^ Arittoph. pax 475 fF. 

' That this is the true form of the name appears from the Cffrf. inter. Att. ii. 3 

no. 1723 ri2:TOKAH2: • PISIOETAIPO : AOMONEYX: (Meisteiban. 

Gramtn. att, Inschrfi p. 54}. 

^ A similar allusion to Argive topography occurs in Aristoph. av, 399 AniiBa»ti» 
cV 'Opv9ai£, where again the name is selected partly because it suggests birds (Sppta) 
and partly because the town was uppermost in the thoughts of the people owing to its 
capture by Athenians and Argives in 416. Does the oracle ib, 967 f. dXX* oroy 
olK^amri Xukoi irokuu rt Kop&rai | cV ra^^ t6 fura^ KopivBov koi ^kvS>vos K.r.X. 
refer to the alliance of Argos, whose symbol was the wolf, with Corinth {KopofBos — 
KopAvfj) ? 

* Aristot. frag. 287 {Frag. hist. Gr, iL 190 Molier) op, schol. vet. Theokr. 15. 
64 as Eudok. 'viqI. 414^ 


Zeus changed his shape and accomplished his desire, 
promising to make the goddess his wedded wife. Pausanias 
adds that Mount Kokkygion and Mount Pron over against 
it were topped by sanctuaries of Zeus and Hera respec- 
tively^. Further, he brings the myth, into connexion 
with the famous cult of Hera at Argos. The temple- 
statue was a chryselephantine masterpiece by Polykleitos. 
The goddess sat enthroned. On her head was a band 
decorated with figures of the Charites and the Horai. In 
one hand she held a pomegranate, about which a tale not 
rashly to be repeated was told ; in the other she had a 
sceptre surmounted by a cuckoo, the subject of the fore- 
going mvth^ Strabo says of this statue that, though in 
point of costliness and size it fell short of the colossal 
works of Pheidias, yet for sheer beauty it surpassed all 
others'. Maximus Tyrius in a few well-chosen epithets 
records the eflPect produced by the ivory arms, the exquisite 
face, the gorgeous drapery, the queenly bearing, and the 
golden throne^. Greek and Roman poets vied with each 
other in praising the sculptor's creation. To cite but a 
single epigram. Martial wrote : 

Thy toil and triumph, Polykleitos, stands — 
Hera, beyond the reach of Pheidias' hands. 
Had Paris this sweet face on Ida seen, 
The judge convinced, the rivals scorned had been. 
Loved he not his own Hera's form divine, 
Zeus might have loved the Hera that is thine*. 

I need not labour the point. The myth was well known, 
and the statue immensely famous. But, if I am right in 
my conjecture that the close of the Birds was penned with 
conscious reference to the Argive form of the hieros gdmos^ 
Pisthctairos the human bird who directs affairs in Nephelo- 
kokkygta ought to be a quasi-Zeus and to mate with a 
quasi-Hera. That is precisely what he is, and that is 

* Pans. 2. 36. a. • Id, ib. 17. 4. ' Strab. 372. 

^ Max. Tyr. diss. 14. 6 rijp 'H^y, otav nokvxXtgros ^ApytuM cdfi^, XcvKoXcyoy, 
ffXff^vrcHnj;([W, cv«9riv, tittifWvOf /ScuriXiJci^ir, idpvfjJvfpr twl xpvffov Bpopov. 

* Mart. tp. 10. S9. 

2i6 A. B. COOK 

precisely what he docs. After forcing the gods to capitu- 
late through hunger, he allows the genuine Zeus to retain 
the genuine Hera\ provided that Zeus restores the sceptre 
to the birds* and to their leader hands over Basileia^ the 
* Queen ^' a beautiful girl who has charge of his thunder- 
bolt and other belongings* and is described as enthroned 
at his side^. The play ends with the appearance of the 
new bridal pair in dl their glory, the final chorus being 
so contrived as to eniphasise the analogy, nay more the 
substantial identity, of^ Zeus and Hera with Pisthetairos 
and Basileia. I quote the lively lyrics of Mr Rogers* : 

Chor. Back with you i out with you ! off with you ! up with you ! 

Flying around 
Welcome the Bless&d with blessedness crowned. 

O I O ! for the vouth and the beauty, O ! 
Well hast thou wed for the town of the Birds, 

Great are the blessings, and mighty, and wonderfiil. 
Which through his favour our nation possesses. 

Welcome them back, both himself and Miss Sovereignty^ 
Welcome with nuptial and bridal addresses. 

Mid just such a song hymenaean 
Aforetime the Destines led 
The King of the thrones empyr&m, 
The Ruler of Gods, to the bed 
Of Hera his beautiful bride. 
Hymen, O Hymenaeus ! 
And Love, with his pinions of gold, 
Came driving, all blooming and spruce, 
As groomsman and squire to behold 
The wedding of Hera and Zeus, 
Of Zeus and his beautiful bride. 
Hymen, O Hymenaeus ! 
Hymen, O Hymenaeus i 

Pisth. I delight in your hymns, I delight in your songs; 

Your words I admire. 

• Aristoph. av, 1633. ^ Id. ib. I534f.» i6oof. 
» U. ib. 1536, 1632 ff. * Id, ib. 1537 ff. 

• Id. ib. 1753. 

• Id. ib. 1720 — 1765 tran«. B. B. Rogers. 

7 This renderingy I fear, implies a confusion of /SaoAfw, 'queen/ with iScurcXcio, 
* kingdom/ That the former, not the latter, word was intended by the poet b dcau- 
from the metre of lines 1537, 1753. 


Cb$r^ Now sing of the trophies he brings us from Heaven, 
The earth-crashing thunders, deadly and dire, 
And the lightning's angry flashes of fire, 
And the dread white bolt of the levin. 

Blaze of the lightning, so terribly beautiful. 

Golden and grand 1 
Fire-flashing javelin, glittering ever in 

Zeus*s right hand ! 
Earth-crashing thunder, the hoarsely resounding, the 

Bringer of showers ! 
He is your Master, 'tis he that is shaking the 

Earth with your powers I 

AO that was Zeus's of old 
Now is our hero's alone; 
Sovereignty, fiiir to behold. 
Partner of Zeus on his throne^ 
Now is for ever his own. 
Hymen, O Hymenaeus ! 

Pistb. Now follow on, dear feathered tribes. 
To see us wed, to see us wed; 
Mount up to Zeus's golden floor. 
And nuptial bed, and nuptial bed. 
And O, my darling, reach thine hand, 
And take mv wing and dance with me, 
And I will lightly bear thee up. 
And carry thee, and carry theic 

Cbor. Raise the joyous Paean-cry, 
Raise the song of Victory. 
lo Paean, alalalae. 
Mightiest of the Powers* to thee I 

Throughout this splendid ixodos Pisthstairos is clearly 
conceived as the new Zeus. He is no longer referred to 
by his old name — though that might well have passed as 
a compound of Zeus Fistios^ guardian of oaths ^, and Zeus 
HetaireioSj god of good-comradeship* — ^but always by 
some phrase descriptive of the Olympian king. He 

Wielding the wingid thunderbolt of Zeus'. 

The chorus at his approach sing of * the fiery lightnings 

1 H. W. StoU in Roscher Ux, Myth, iii. 25 is. 

' Id, ih, i. 2653 f. 

' Aristoph. iPU, 1714 na^Xm¥ K9pavv6vf nrtpoff^oftw LAs /SAor. 

2i8 A. B. COOK 

of Zcus\* ' the immortal spear of Zcus^' etc., and salute 
their leader himself as ' having won all that belonged to 
Zeus^' The scholiast is puzzled, and comments on the 

He is your Master, 'tis he that is shaking the 

Earth with your powers! — 

^ He means Zeus of course, or Pisthetairos now that he 
has got Basileia*/ But the meaning of the chorus is quite 
unmistakeable. When Pisthetairos, bride in hand, is 
escorted * to Zeus' floor and marriage-bed*,' they acclaim 
him with all the emphasis of a farewell line as ^ highest 
of the gods*/ 

Pisthetairos is Zeus. And Basileia is — who ? An 
Athenian audience of the year 414 could hardly have 
hesitated ^ The partner of Zeus must needs be Hera. 

^ Arittoph. aw, 1 746 f. ras re mtpmlkis \ ^s daT€pow69, 

* Id. ib, 1749 ^*^ ififipoTo^ ^^or. 

' Id, ib. 1752 Am d^ vdvra icparria-ag. 

^ Schol. Aristoph. av. 1751 6 Ztvs di^Xordn, fj 6 UturBiraipos Xafimr rijy BiunXtuv. 

* Aristoph. av. 1757 f. iir\ irihov Zui^r | xal X^x^s yofiffXwv. 

* Id. ib. 1765 baifiovmp vniproTM, 

^ The Aristophanic Ba<r/Xff«a has been variously identified : (i) as BoirtXcMi, a 
personification of Royalty (schol. Aristoph. ov. 1536) ; (2) as a daughter of Zeus, who 
dispensed immortality and was called by some 'ABaraa-ia (Euphronios the Alexandrine 
grammarian op. schol. Aristoph. av. 1536) ; (3) as Athena (F. Wieseler Adversaria in 
Aetchyli Prometheum Finctum it Aristophamt Aves Gottingae 1843 p. 124 ff., cp. Tzetz. 
in Lyk. AL 1 1 1 *A3rfv^ rtvi iSoiriXidA rj koI BaktvUjj Xiyofuvff, Bvyarpi dc BporWov 
vtrapxovarjj^ K.r.X.) ; (4) as the MryoXij Miirffp (Diod. 3. 57) ; (5) as the goddess 
worshipped at Athens under the name BactXti or BaaiKtia (O. Kern in Pauly-Wissowm 
Real'Enc. iii. 41 ff. s.'w.)^ whom some take to be a 'Queen' of Heaven (H. Usener 
GBttemamen Bonn 1896 p. 227 fF.), others a 'Queen* of the Underworld (G. Loeschcke 
Fermutungen Kurgriech. Kunstgeuhichte undscur To^ographie Athens Dorpat 1 884 p. 14^.)- 
See further O. Gruppe Griechische Mythologie und Reliponsgesckichte MOnchen 1906 
p. 1081 n. 5. 

The latest attempt to solve the problem is that of Mr J. T. Sheppard nV iarw ^ 
Ba<rtX€«a; in the Fasciculus loanni Willis Clark dicatus Cantabrigiae 1909 pp. 529 — 540. 
Mr Sheppard, after rightly insisting that the solemnity of the final scene in the Birtis 
implies a clear reference to the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera, turns aside to the 
sacred marriage of Dionysos and the /Soo-iXio-cra, and concludes that Boo-tXcia is (6) an 
imaginary goddess, whose name suggests the consort of the god of comedy. ' Peithetairos, 
on this hypothesis, recalls to the audience Zeus, with a touch of Dionysos. Basileia 
recalls the Basilissa, not without a touch of Hera* {op. cit. p. 540). The itpoKijpv^ aad 
the ytpapai attendant on the fiaa-ikuraa (Dem. c. Neaer. 78) may be found in the 
messenger of Aristoph. av, 1706 ff. and in the conjectural bridesmaids of ^filfia, 
Mr Sheppard*s article marks a real advance in the interpretation of this difficult scene ; 
but — to quote his own words — 'That Basileia has been caught in her true shape at last 
would be a bold assertion/ 



Hera in that very capacity was often called Basileia^. 
Besides, on the present occasion there is an obvious reason 
for picking out just this title and no other as appropriate 
to the goddess. If Nephelokokkygia recalls Mount 
Kokkygion with its myth of the cuckoo-Zeus, who 
wooed and won the Argive Hera, it must not be forgotten 
that the Argive Hera herself was worshipped expressly as 
Hera BasileiaK Aristophanes, true to a well-established 
tendency of the mythopoeic mind, has split off the cult- 
title Basileia and transformed it into a new and brilliant 
personality — the quasi-Hera of Athens'. This bold stroke 
of genius* was necessitated and justified by the whole plot 
of the bird-comedy. The bird-Zeus was the mate of 
Hera Basileia : Pisthetairos must follow suit. The sceptre, 
of which we hear so much in the course of the play^ was 
perhaps directly suggested by the cuckoo-sceptre of the 
Argive Hera*. 

* Zeus Ba<riXcvf and Hera BacrtXcco in a federal oath of the Boeotians and Phocians 
(Atk, Mitth. 1878 iii. 19 ff.) ; Hera Ba<riX(f {Corp. inscr. Gr. sept, i no. 3097) beside 
Zcna Boo-iXfvf at Lebadeia (O. Gmppe 9p. cif. p. 78 n. 17). So Horn. h. Her. i ff. 
'HpifF... I iBawanip /SairiXfuiy... | Zripos epcydoviroio leao'i'yy^n^v Skoxop re, Ap. Rhod. 
4.. 382 /lij r6 y€ naftPaaikua Aior reXcVcicF ^icotrtf, Orph. A. Her. 16. 2 *Hpifi 
voftfiaatktiOy At6s irvXXcierDc ftAxaipa (q>. ib. 9), Prokl. in Plat. Tim. 297 E (iii. 191 
Diehl) Tf Ad ffv¥4{tvKTai 17 fiao'tkh lipa. Again see O. Gmppe ep. cit. p. 1 1 32 n. 2. 

s Phor^nis frag. 4 Kinkel ap. Clem. Al. strom, 1. 164. 2 X)Xvfiiriadoff fiatrikelris, \ 
*Bptf9 *Apy€affgf Dittenberger Sj^U, inscr, Gr} no. 617, 5 f. » Michel Recueii d* Inscr. gr. 
no. 7179 S^' (Kos) ^Hpf 'Apyrtgi *BX«i^ BiunXci^ 9a[fi]\<ikis Kpirdf Corp. inscr. Att. iii. i 
no. 1729 5 ff. o^TOff KcKpoir(i;p ahx^'^ ircSXiF, o^os eV^Apyri | vaurdtt^ fiiorow fivtrriKhv 
td dufyt*y * I alT66i y^p KXtJhvxf^ ^v fiaaikritdoe ^H/:>i7ff...i9a(riX[i;c]dof Upa otik&p \ 
*Hpas ickiiBpa ^pmv » Kaibel Epigr. Gr. no. 822. 5 ff. » Cougny Anth. Pal. Append, i. 
283. 5 ff. (reading 7 avroBi yap icXcidovxw l^v /SiuriXijti&or 'Hpi^f bat 9 Miovxos /it 
KOfqt BcuriX^f Htds Upis ijKmp cr.X.). 

s There appears to have been no temple of Hera at Athens till the time of Hadrian 
(Pans. I. 18. 9), unless we reckon the ruined temple on the way from Phaleron to 
Athens, said to have been fired by Mardonios (Paus. i. i. 5, 10. 35. 2). 

* Possibly not so original as we might suppose. I incline to think that Kratinos 
had hit upon a very similar idea. He is known to haye dubbed Perikles Zcvr and 
Amsia both *Hpa and Tvpawos : he is suspected of having called Aspasia Tvpawo- 
lialfu^ (Meineke Frag. com. Gr. ii. 61 f, 147 ff.). When, therefore, we read in schol. 
Anatoph. av. 1536 cori de km wapa KpanV^ ^ BiurcXcui, it is tempting to conclude 
that Kratinos spoke of Perikles and Aspasia as the Zeus and the Hera BoaiXcui of 

* Aristoph. av. 480, 635 f., 1534 f., 1600 f., 1626 f., 1631. 

* Cp. Aristoph. aw, 508 ff. ^px^^ d* ovrm ir<f>6dpa r^v ^PX'I^ aS<rr*, c7 ru mak 
/Soo'cXcvoc I iv rais iroXccriv t&v 'EXX^vMy ^Ayafiifiwmv fj MfveXaof, J ^irl t&v CKrinrpm^ 
€KMjr* BpPiS iMer4x»v ^ ti limpolhKoUf with ib, 504 Aiyvirrov d* ov koi ^oivUifS vaarif 

220 A. B. COOK 


I end by anticipating an objection. Aristophanes (it 
may be urged), lover of old-fashioned Athens as he was, 
would not have appealed to an Athenian public by thus 
dwelling on a virtually foreign cult. Still less (I shall be 
told) could he have assumed in his work*a-day audience 
familiarity v^th or appreciation of a cult-statue carved by 
an alien sculptor for a Peloponnesian town. The objection 
may be met, or at least minimised, by the consideration 
of a certain red-figured Ukythos from Ruvo, now in the 
British Museum \ which — if I am not in error — ^makes it 
probable that this very statue was known and admired by 
ordinary folk at Athens in the days of Aristophanes. The 
vase-painting (plate I)*, which is contemporary or nearly 
contemporary with our play, represents a frequent subject 
— the judgment of Paris. To our surprise, however, the 
central gpddess is not Aphrodite but Hera, who sits on a 
throne raised by a lotus-patterned base. As befits a 
' Queen,* she wears a high decorated stephdne and holds in 
her left hand a long sceptre tipped by a cuckoo with 
spread wings. Her feet rest on a footstool, and beside 
the further arm of her throne is an open-mouthed panther 
sitting on its hind legs^ Advancing towards her comes 
Nike with a palm-branch*. In front of her sits Paris ; 

KOKKvi 0a<riX<vf fyf. It it important to note that both Eg^t (Epaphos, Memphit, 
Libye, Belot, Anchinoe, Aigyptot, Danaoi, etc.) and Phoenicia (Agenor, Kadmo9» 
Phoinix, etc.) play a large part in the mythology of the early kings of Argos. 
^ Brit. Mus, Cat. Fuses iv. 61 no. P 109. 

> F. G. Welcker Alte DenkwOUir GOttingen 1864 v. 410 pi. B, 4, J. Overbeck 
Griechischi Kunstmj^thohgie Hera Leipzig 1S73 p. 140 fF. (b) Atlas pi. lo, i and i*. 

The vase, when I first saw it, had been very skilfully repainted so as to appear quite 
complete. My friend Mr H. B. Walters kindly had it cleaned for me with ether 
(September 29, 1910), and thus fixed the exact limits of the restoration. I am therefore 
enabled to publish here for the first time an accurate drawing of the design b^r that 
excellent draughuman, the late Mr P. Anderson. 

> The panther appears to be a variant of the lion, which on other vases representing 
the judgment of Paris precedes (Welcker op. cit. v. 388) or is carried by Hera {id. ih. t. 
398 f. pi. B, 2, A. Furtwftngler Beschreibung der Fasemammlung im Anttquarium Berlin 
1885 ii. 716 ff. no. 2536) and is usually explained as symbolising the sovereignty of 
Asia (Eur. Tro. 927 f., Isokr. Hel. 41, alib.). These adjuncts recall another statue of 
Hera at Argos : Tert. ds cwr. mil. 7 lunoni vitem Callimachus induxit. ita et Argis 
signum eius palmite redimitum, subiecto pedibus etas corio leonino, insultantem ostentat 
novercam de exuviis utriusque privigni. 

* Mr H. B. Walters in the Brit. Mus. Cat, Vases iv. 61 says: * Before Hera hovers 



behind stands Hermes ; - above are Athena and Aphrodite 
—all with their usual attributes. It seems clear that the 
vase-painter, wishing to give an individual turn to a 
common type\ has made Paris award the prize of beauty, 
not — ^as tradition prescribed — to Aphrodite, nor even — as 
patriotism might suggest — to Athena, but to Hera, the 
Hera of Polykleitos. The rival goddesses are relegated 
to the far corners of the scene, and the chef-dCoeuwe of the 
sculptor queens it in the centre. Doubtless the vase- 
painter showed his ingenuity by treating the pomegranate 
in Hera's hand as if it were the apple of discord that Paris 
had just presented to the fairest. In short, the vase as a 
whole forms an amusing parallel to the epigram by 
Martial already quoted. 

But, whether Aristophanes was inspired by the Argive 
cult or not, his play certainly provides us with a problem 
that is at once historical, literary, religious, and artistic. 
As such I would commend it to a scholar who in his 
lectures and books has deserved equally well of Greek 
history, Greek literature, Greek religion, and Greek art. 

Arthur Bernard Cook. 

Ifii or Htkk^ with wings spread,* etc. But, if Nike were hovering in the air, her feet 
would point downwards s see €.g, F. Studniczka Die Siegisgpttin Leipzig 1898 pi. 3i '9 ^• 
' Cp. P. Gardner A Grammar 1/ Greek Art London 1905 pp. 244 — 253. 


L In his opening invocation of the Muse, Pindar 
entreats her to come unto ' the hospitable Dorian island 
of Aegina ; {/San yap | ixivovr iir 'AawTrita fieKiyapvwv 
T€KTOP€£ I KWfAwv veavioUy o'cdep oira fxcuofjiepoi^ (11. 3 — 5). 
These youths form the Chorus who are to sing, in the 
hall or temple of the Aeginetan College of Theori, 
the Epinician that Pindar is sending overseas to his 
friend Aristoclides, a member of that College — o^i irep 
(1. 80). What, and where, is the ^Asopian Water* on 
whose brink they are tarrying ? * It is a problem,* 
remarks the Scholiast, ' why Pindar summons the Muse 
to Aegina for the performance of the Ode, and says in 
the same breath that the Chorus are waiting, not in 
Aegina, but in Nemea. For the Asopus is not in Aegina, 
but in the neighbourhood of Phlius and Nemea/ Among 
the solutions he cites, modern editors have preferred that 
offered by Didymus ; viz. that Pindar means neither the 
Phliasian nor the equally famed Boeotian Asopus, but 
a river of the same name in Aegina. But the island has 
no river ; and though it remains possible that some 
small stream ('rivulet,' Donaldson) was thus called, the 
* Aeginetan Asopus* of Didymus looks very much like 
a mere conjecture of his own. For his authority, if he 
had any, would almost certainly have been known to 
Aristarchus ; but that the latter knew nothing of an 
Asopus in Aegina is clear from his assuming that Pindar 
referred to the Phliasian river. His explanation, pre- 
served by the Scholiast, is that the Chorus sang an 


* impromptu epinician' — ^possibly the famous KaWiviKoif 
of Archilochus — ^immediately after, and on the scene of, 
the Nemean victory ; then returned to Aegina, to await 
the Ode which Pindar had been commissioned to write ; 
ii(rfff o fiovXcTai ciTrexi/ toiovtop bcttiv* oi yap eiri t«S 
'K^rwirw top avroax^^^op vfivov reKTtiG'dfievoi x^P^^ dva^ 
yivowri are iv Trj Aiylvif, d^rofjievoi top vtto TlipBdpov 
TTOiffiipTa iiriPiKiop. (Aristarchus plainly founded this 
interpretation on 11. 17, 18 of our Ode, where Pindar 
says of the pancratiast victor, KufxaTwlewp Si wXayap \ 
aico9 vyiripop ip fiaOvTreBito Ne/utea to KaWipiKOP (pepei; and 
he compared O/. ix. init. — To fxep ApxiXoxou ijl€\o^ 
(juopaep ip *0\vfjnria^ KaWipiKO^ 6 TpvnrXow KexXahw^^ 
apKcare Kpopiop irap ox^op dyefjLOpeikrat | Ktofjid^opTi ^iXoi^ 
'^ipaplJLoarrw avp iTaipoK.) 

Obviously, this will not do. (i) /jlcpopti must go 
with €7r' 'Aa-taTriw uSan ; (2) though 11. 17, 18 may really 
refer to an impromptu epinician sung by the victor's 
comrades, Aristoclides being now middle-aged (1. 76), 
those comrades were not the Chorus whose youth is 
thrice emphasised (peapicuy 1. 5 ; Keipwp ddpoi^, I. 11, a 
word descriptive of Aoys* voices, P.i. 98 ; oTrx pewPy 1. 64), 
Now, Pindar's thoughts dwell much on these young 
choristers — some of them, perhaps, sons of his Aeginetan 
guest-friends — ^whom he so gracefully owns as fellow- 
artists by calling them t€ktop€^ and the Muse ' Our 
Mother' (L i). They are yearning, he feels, for her 
coming — in plain prose, for the arrival of the ship that 
will bring his deputy with the Ode they are to perform. 
He pictures them gathered to wait that arrival — ^and 
where should they be waiting but on the seashore ? 
Again, this Ode is full of sea-faring. We have Heracles 
exploring the Straits of Gibraltar (11. 25, 26) ; the 
Aeacids twice sailing to Troy (11. 37, 59) ; the victor 
touching the ' Pillars of Heracles ' on Life's voyage 
(U. 20, 21) ; the Muse conveyed in the ship of the 
poet*s soul (11. 26, 27). To this gallery of sea-scapes 


we may add another, not the least beautiful, if we take 
the *Asopian Water* to mean the sea round Aegina. 
I offer the following remarks in support of that inter- 

(i) Mythology knows only one Asopus, famous as the 
parent of numerous daughters beloved by Zeus and other 
Olympians. But our authorities differ as to whether he 
should be identified with the Phliasian or the Boeotian 
river (Bacchylides upholds the former, Pindar, naturally, 
the latter) ; and from the names of his twelve daughters 
given by Diodorus\ it is clear that he was a blend of 
several divinities. The names are — Corcyra, Salamis, 
Aegina, Pirene, Cleone, Thebe, Tanagra, Thespia, Asopis, 
Sinope, Oinia, Chalcis. Of these, Thebe, Tanagra, 
Thespia clearly belong to the Boeotian, and Cleone to 
the Phliasian Asopus ; but neither river . has any dis- 
coverable connection with the rest of the Asopides. And 
we can hardly suppose each of the places they represent 
to have had a river which escaped notice by all the 
geographers. Hence we may suspect that the Asopus 
on whom these eponymous heroines were fathered was 
not a river-god at all. 

(2) Etymologists compare * Asopus' with our own 
' Avon * as a generic name signifying * Water.* To the 
inhabitants of small islands and maritime towns, the 
* Water ' par excellence is the sea, just as to riverain folk 
it is their local stream. Thus the simplest explanation 
of the inclusion of Corcyra, Salamis, Aegina, Chalcis, 
Sinope, among the Asopides would seem to be that they 
were originally ' Daughters of the Sea.* 

(3) But we do not find island-eponyms affiliated 
to the Sea, whereas we do find one at least, Rhodos 
namely, affiliated to Poseidon^. Further, the Asopid 
Pirene, who is the Fountain-Nymph of Corinth, has 

^ IV. 72. ApoUodoruSy in. 156, givet him 20 daaghten but names only Aegina. 
' Schol. ad Pind. 01. vii. 24. This is the more striking as the Rhodians believed 
their isle to have risen out of the sea. 


nothing to do with the sea, but a great deal with 
Poseidon, for her fount sprang up under the hoof of 
his son, Pegasus^ And the myth of Aegina suggests 
(what we might expect from the island's early history) 
that her father, Asopus, whom legend calls a son of 
Poseidon, was really Poseidon himself. For we read that 
when Zeus had carried her off, 'Asopus' wandered far 
and wide in search of his daughter and got news at last 
from Sisyphus, who had seen the deed, but would not 
speak until Asopus bribed him by causing a spring to rise 
on Acrocorinthus. (Cf. Poseidon's creation of the spring 
in the Erechtheum.) Zeus punished 'Asopus' for de- 
manding redress. Now Plutarch tells us that Zeus ousted 
Poseidon from Aegina, as Hera did from Argos, and 
Athena from Athens. The stories of the Earth-shaker's 
contests with Hera and Athena are familiar, but we have 
no myth about his loss of Aegina. May we not see 
traces of that lost legend in the quarrel of Zeus and 
' Asopus ' ? May not the rape of the ' heroine ' Aegina 
represent the conquest of the Poseidon-worshipping* 
island Aegina by the Zeus-worshipping Achaeans ? (Cf. 
the myth of Protogeneia carried oflF by Zeus in OL ix., 
which figures the settling of Opuntian Locris by im- 
migrant Arcadians.) 

(4) It may be objected that, even if Asopus once 
meant simply Water ^ and hence was a name of Poseidon, 
it was so exclusively a river-name by Pindar's time that 
he could not have used Aa-f&mop vSwp in the sense of 
TTopTioi^ ijBwp. That I admit ; but on my view he applies 
the term to one particular bay or strait, upon whose shore 
the Chorus stand expectant. And if that piece of water 
lay between Aegina and Salamis, it may very well have 
been locally called Ao-oiTriov. For the old name of 

' Another *Aiopid* who seems connected with Poseidon Hippios, and has Gorgon 
affinities, is Haq>ina, mother by Ares of Oenomaus, Pans. v. 22. 

' See C. O. Mfkller's Aepnetica on Aegina*s membership of the pre-Achacan Calaurian 
Amphictyony, whose patron-god was Poseidon. In historical times the island's patron 

Ztm Heileniof. 

a. 15 


Salamis — a name still current in Solon's time — was 
Asopia (Plutarch, Vit. Solonis 2). 

11. In IL 13 — 16, Pindar speaks of Aegina as p^ftyja... 

ovK iXeyx^^o"^^^ 'ApitrroKXeiid^ . . . | eixiave...iv Trepiadevei 
fxaXax^ei^ j | irayKpaTiov (TToXip • • • 

For dyopav^ which is against the metre, ihpav^ dXKap, 
opfidp, have been proposed, but fail to account for the 
corruption. Schroder would read ia-fjiovj taking dyopdv 
(* assembly*) for a marginal gloss which crept into the 
text. He compares Hesychius ; eaixo^* ox^o^y TrXijdo^j 
arvvadpouTfjLos* Kvpiw^ Se ifrt fxeXio'a'wp; and sees an allusion 
to the legend that the aboriginal Aeginetans were ixvpfxtiKe^ 
changed by Zeus into men, and hence called Myrmidons. 
That is ingenious, but not happy ; wishing to exalt the 
victor's prowess by declaring it worthy of his ancestors, 
Pindar would hardly remind him that those ancestors 
began life as ants. I propose aypavy which is simple, 
and, as I will try to show, plausible. 

(i) Beside the sea*faring motif running through 
the Ode (see last note) we find a hunting motif. It is 
specially brought out that the victor's heroic prototypes 
were mighty hunters. Heracles idfiao'e Bfjpa^ vwepoxow 
(1. 24), Peleus Qirip Karifxap^ep iyKOPtiri (1. 35), wrestling 
with her in lioness form {Nem. iv. 63) ; and the whole 
third strophe is devoted to the hunting exploits of Achilles 
in childhood and youth. We see at once how appro- 
priate all this is in reference to a pancratiast victor ; the 
qualities of strength and endurance needed in the chase 
were just those that alone counted in the pancration. 
Now it was by displaying those same qualities that 
Aristoclides belied not the reputation of his race— or 
country ; it would then be a felicitous touch to call 
that country the 'quarry,* * hunting-spoil * of his race 
(cf. ay pa Sopo^ said of Thebes, Sep tern 322) 5^ the latter 
were conquering immigrants. 

That is just what our Myrmidons were. Since the 


"Early Age of Greece appeared, we have known how 
to interpret the presence in Aegina of these clansmen of 
Achilles ; and Pindar's commemoration of it is but one 
among many evidences of an Achaean occupation there. 
Legend doubtless veiled the conquest, as usual, making 
it the ' return * of rightful heirs to their inheritance ; we 
have the first half of the story in Peleus' banishment from 
Aegina for homicide (iVJf/w. v.) ; the sequel — the Return 
of the Aeacids — ^is missing, but we may be fairly sure 
it was handed down in those Aeginetan families who, 
like that of Aristoclides, boasted an Aeacid pedigree and 
were in all likelihood direct descendants of the Achaean 
settlers^ At least, we know for certain that Myrmidons 
from Phthiotis once held Aegina ; it is improbable that 
local tradition kept no trace of their conquest ; and 
probable that Pindar would allude to it in complimenting 

(2) Too much has been made of * echoes* and 
* responsions * in Pindar ; but my reading is slightly 
confirmed by the occurrence of ay pap in the last Epode... 
eo'Ti 8* aiero^ (OKik ev iroTavoh | 05 eKa^ev aJyl^a, rtiXoOe 
/dera/jLaiofxepoSj Sa<poip6i/ ay pap 7rocrii/...Here Pindar is the 
eagle, as in O/. 11. 87, and the quarry he swoops on from 
afar is the theme of the present Ode, viz. Aegina and her 
glories. If I am right, this image recalls and as it were 
parallels 11. 13 — 16. The Theban Eagle's prey was once 
the prey of the Myrmidons, i.e. the Aeacids, whom 
Pindar so constantly associates with, or figures as, eagles*. 
I have not room for examples, but compare especially 
Nem. V. 21 — Koi irepap ttoptoio TraWopT aicToi — where 
the context shows that Pindar refers at once to Peleus 
and to himself. 

W. M. L. Hutchinson. 

1 Wlien the island was Dorised, the 'old inhabitants* were not driven out. 
Pans. n. 33- 

* The Eagle was perhaps their totem. Zeus appeared in that shape to Aegina, on 
whojn he b^ot Aeacus. Cf. Leda*s Swan. 

15 — 2 





§ I *^vT€v6ev eh rh *A0fjvai(ov Iweia-iv Sarv 0S09 Si tjSetaf yeojpyov' 
fAhnj iraaa, ixowd rv t§ S^p-et ^CKdvOpwtrov. ^ ii irohA^ i^P^ iraa-a, 
ovK eUvBpo^, KaKW ippvfuyrofwffiivff fit^ t^i^ d/o^^aion^ro. ai fiiv ttoXXoI 
r&v oltci&P evreXei9> oKLytu Bi ')(pri<nfuut airiQTtfffelff fi' Ap iPali^vfi^ 
5 tnro r&v (iv(ov Oempov/ievrf et avrtf itrrlp ^ vpoaayopevofiepij r&v 
^AOfivaCmv woKi^. fi€T ov woXif Bi wurrevtre^ev av n^, ^Beiov r&v 
iv T^ oUovfUvfi KdXKiirrop' Oiarpop afiokoyop, /teya teal uavfiaarop. 
^AOffpa^ iepop iroKvrOJk^y ainyirrop, a^iop ffea^^ tcdkovfiepo^ Tlapdepw^ 
virepKeiikevop rov Oedrpov, fteydXrfp tcardir\r)(^p iroiel to?? Oecopova-ip, 
10 ^OXd/iiriop ^fAtreXc^ fjtkp KarairKti^iv S' ix^^ '^^ "^ olxoBofila^ inro- 
ypai>ifPf yepifiepop S* &p fiiXrierop etirep cvpereXiirBf). yufipd(rut rpia, 
^AmaSiifjteia, AvKetop, Kvpocapye^* wdvra tcardSepBpd re col roi^ 
iBatfitai wowBij* x^P'^^^ irapTodaXei^ <l>i\oa'6(f>wp vaproBair&p, ^(fvxfj^ 
dvdrcu ical avaTrava-ei^. axpXal troWal, diay avpexei^. 

§ 2 rk yivofuva itc rrj^ yrj^ wdpra arip/qra Kai wp&ra r§ ytiaei, /utep^ 
Bi am'aviMrrepa. dXX* 1^ r&p (ipmp itcdaroi^ ovpoi/ceiovfiLipTf raif 
hriOvpiai^ evdpfiocro^ Butrpifiif irepicir&aa rifp Sidpoiap hrl to 
apeaKOP X'qffrjp rij^ SovXela^ ipyd^ertu. i<m Bi raU f^hf Oiai^ ^ viiki^ 
5 ical axoXal^ rai^ BrjfioriKdt^ dperraUrOtiro^ \ifi0v9 Xiidrjp ifiTrotovaai^ 
T9y9 r&p airwp wpo<T<f>opa^. e'^Sia Bi exowrip ovBepUa roiaxnti wpo^ 
^Bopi^p, icai Srepa Be ^ 'iroXi^ ijBia ij(ei> ical iroXXa* icaX ykp ai 
avpeyyv^ avrfj^ iroXei^ irpocurrela r&p *A0f)paUitp eltrip, 

§ 3 070^01 Be oi KOToiKovpre^ avrifp waprl reypiTtf irepiTroirjacu Bo^av 
fieydXffp, hrl roh ei rerex^Vf^^^oi^ ixfiaXXopre^ t^9 evfiftepia^* 
OavfjLoarop XtOipmp ^<po>p B^BaaxctXeiop* 

§ I. a. n add. Stephanut. 4. MSS. awoarfiSMbft cor. Stephanua. 

5. MSS. avrrfi corr. pleriqae editt. 6. MSS. ^e fjp t cor. HemsterhuTs. 

7. MSS. fUra'. cor. Stephanus. 8. MSS. dwofitw t cor. Gronoviua. 

10. prop. Casaubonus xarairXi/icrtK^ V, 13. MSS. ioprdk irayrodairai : oor. 

Mdller. $ a. a. MSS. avpoiKoviiipff : cor. Vulcanius. 5. MSS 

Toit dTi/ioTiKOtf,..'Xiftof. MSS. efjuroiowra i cor. Marx. $3. a. MSS 

€vrvyxavofii¥oi£ z cor. Moller. 3. MSS. wXtvBivttp dvS>p. 


T&v 8* ivoiKovvrtop oi fUp ain&v ^AmicoX oi fi' *AOrjvatoi, ol /mv § 4 
^Arrucol irepiefxyoi ral^ XaKiak, vttovXol, 0-VKo<l>avr<!>S€i^f TrapaTrjfnfTal 
T&v ^€viK&v fiifop. oi 8* *A0fjvaioi fieyaXoy^vxoif a'lrkoZ roi^ rpoiroi^, 
^i\i(K yvrjciot <l>v\aK€^, Biarpe'^pvo'L hi rive^ iv r§ iroXei Xoyoypd<l>oi, 
ceiovre^ tov9 irapeirihrip^ovvra^ koX einropov^ t&v ^ivoDV, od? otuv 6 5 
Brjfio^ \d/3ff CKXrfpai^ irtp^fiaSXei ^ijfiiai^' ol S* elXcicptveh *Adi;i/a£M 
BptfieU T&v Texv&v aKpoaToX Kal dearal cvvexeU. 

TO KadoKov 8* iaov ai Xoiiral n-oXcK irpo^ re r^Sovifv tcaX filov § 5 
BiopOmciP T&v ayp&v Sia<t>ipov<riv, ToaovTov t&v Xoiw&v iroXemv ^ 
T&v *\0ffvai<ov irapaXKoTTCi. ^vKaicTeov 8* w evi pAXurTa t^9 iraipa^, 
§iil XaBtf Ti9 rfiem^ diroXop^vo^. ol orixpi Ava-invov 

el pii T€0&ur(u r^9 ^ABrjva^^ cTiXt)(p^ eZ* 5 

e» 8^ Tediao-ai p^if TeOrfpevinu B\ 6vo^* 

el 8* €vap€<rT&v airoTpex^i^, fcav0i]Xio^, 

^atvri iroXi^ iaff 'EXXi^i/l? ^ poSoi^ taifp 

txftailav i^ovaa yiyi dyBiav. 

tA yitp 'AXi€ta Ta fieyaX* €k c\oXr\v pH Xjh 10 

TO o aXuucov €ryo9 p^ ptalvea-dcu Troel. 

cTap Bi TifP XevKTjp ri9 avT&p irpaifo^ 

oKuLicop elvai aT€(f>avov elirg, 'irviryofuu 

oirr6»9 iir aifToh &<rr€ pM>0<jov hv ffiXetP 

u'lrotcapTepetv fj ravr cucoveitv /capTepeip. 15 

ToiovTO T&p (iv»p Ti icaTa'xfiiTOU ckoto^P 

*^vT€v0ep €t9 *Slptoirop BC *A(f>iBv&v xal tov ^Ap^iapdov dih^ Upov § 6 
0809 tkeuOiptp paBi^ovTi a^^Bov ^p^ipa^* irpoaavrri vdvTa* dXX 17 
T&p fcaTaXwreap woXuirX'^Beia Td irpb^ top fiiop iy(pvaa d(f>0ova teal 
dpairavcet^ icaiXvei tcotrop iyyip€4r0ai Toh oBoiiropovo'iP. 

^ tk ^0X49 T&p ^ilponruap oUia 0ijt£p i<rrl, pcTafioXimp ipyaaia, § 7 
TeXMv&p dpvnepfiXfiTO^ wXeove^ta, i/e 'iroXX&v ypovnnv dpejn&iTip t§ 
TTOpfipia trupT€0pap,pipfi* TeXmpovai ydp xaX Td p^eXXopTa irpo^ airrov^ 
€ladrf€c0cLi. ol iroXXol airrtSp Tpaxw hf Toi^ o/uXltu^ tov^ avperoif^ 
ivarfyeXXofiePoi, dppovp^poi Toy9 BoimTov<: *A0rjpaloi eUri, 3oia>ToL $ 
ol aTVXfl^ S€va>i/09* 

7ravTe9 reXcSi^i, irdvTe^ eurtp ipiraye^ 
Ka/cop r€Xo9 yipotTo toI^ ^Slpmiriot^, 

*KpT€v0ep ek Tavdrypap orTdBia pX\ 0809 Bi iXaio^vTov leai § 8 
o'VpBevBpov x/^pa^f vavrb^ Ka0apevovaa tov diro KXo'ir&v if>6fiov. 17 
a iroXi9 T/sa^cMS fiiv teal p^Tiapo^, Xevxtf Bi t§ iinif>av€la teal apyiX" 
X&Bri^f ToU ci T&v oIki&p 7rpo0vpo^^ teal iytcavp^aiP dva0€pLaTiKol^ 

§ 4. 7. M88. aKpoarai 8t^ rhs <rv¥€xtU t cor. Moller. f 5. 4. MSS. 6 arixof s 

€or. Kaibel. 8-16. corr. pluret. $ 6. i. MSS. dtadu^yid^v : cor. 

Woidfworth. 1. MSS. 6d6v. wdmra : add. Moller : MSS. Untum 

wpoaarra $ 7. i. MSS. GviP&pt cor. MoUer: prop. Wordsworth vKiii 

Qi^imp, MSS. /tfTo/iJoXMP t cor. Stephanot. 5. MSS. twavtX6fi€P0ii cor. 


230 W. H. DUKE 

§ 8 KoKXttrra /eareaKeveurfiivff. tcapvot^ Si rot^ ix rrj^ X^P^^ trtrueoT^ 
ov \lap &<f)0ovo^, olv^ Si r^ yivofiivtp Kark rtfv Bo<a>rtai/ wpoorevovca. 
§ 9 oi S* ivoiKovvre^ raU fi^v ovaicu^ Xafiirpol rot? S^ /3lot^ Xtroi* irdvre^ 
yeapyol, ovk ifyydrcu, SiKacoo'vprjv, mtrriv, ^eviav ayaOol Siafl>vXd^ai. 
T0A9 Seopsvoi^ T&if iro7ur£v leal roZ^ oTtxo^XavTjrai^ r&v airoSfffj^' 
TiK&v CL^ &v Sxpvaiv i'rrapxofievol re teal iXevdipta^ furaStSovre^* 
5 aXKorpioi Trdcf)^ dSUov wXeove^ia^, koI ivSiarph^at^ Se ^ipoi^ da^M- 
X€<JTdrf) fj nroXi^ r&v Kark r^v 3ou»rlav. irreari ykp avOeKaaro^ 
re Kal irapavar'qpo^ fuaoirovqpla Si^ rifv r&v Karoucovvrtov ainapKeidv 
re Kal ^CKepyiav. 

§ 10 Tlpoawadeiav ykp irpo^ ri yivo^ dxpaaia^ ffxiara iv ravrp t$ 
TToXei Kareviniaa, SC ijv m^ eirX ro iroXv rk fieyiara yiverai iv rol^ 
dvdp&iroy^ dSiKij/iara, oi yap filo^ iarXv ixavo^, irpoairdBeuk irpo^ 
tcipSo^ ov ^verain ^aXeTroi' apa rovroi^ iyyivea6ai Trovffpiav, 

§ IZ *Evr€v0€V eh HXaraia^ trrdSia a. oSo9 i7^t^9 V^^ ip^puo^ icaX 
XiOdSrj^, dvarelvovca Se irpo^ rbv Ki0atpa>vaf ov Islav Sk iirca<l)aX^^» 
ij Se woXi^ /card rov tcmp^Swv irotffrijv HoaeiSiinrov 

pool Sv euri Kal arod Kal rovvofia 
^ Kal ro 0aXav€iov Kal ri Xctpd/Sov KXio^. 

ro iroXi fikv dKr)f, roU S* ^JS^vOepioi^ 7r6Xi^» 

oi Si woXtrai oifSiv frepov ivovai Xerfeiv ^ ire *A0i]vaLmv etalp AiroiKot 
Kal Sri r£v ^EkKXqvfov koX Viepa&v irap avroi^ tj fid^O eyevero* eUfl 
S* *A0ffvaioi Boiwrot. 

§ la ^KvrevOev eU Si^fia^ ardSui nr', 0S09 Xela irdaa Kal hrhreSo^, 
17 Si iroXt^ iv lUiTf fihf rrj^ "Qoitar&v Kelrai x^P^^y ''^^ vepijuterpov 
exovcra craSu^v o\ rrdaa S* ofiaXrj^ arpoyyvXff /liv r^ o^A^t^ rf/ 
Xpoia Si fieXdyyeio^, dpyala fiiv oitra, Kaiv&^ S* eppvparofitjfievrf Sid 
5 r^ rph ijSri &^ ff^triv at laropiai KareaKa^dai Sid ri fidpo^ koI rifv 
xnrepri^avlav r£v xaroiKovvrav, 

§ 13 Kol imrorpo^o^ Si dyaffif, KaOvSpo^ iraaa, xXupd re Kal y€a>Xo<f>o^, 
Kfjirevfiara iypvaa irXelara r&v iv rp 'EXXdSi woXetav. Kal yap 
irorapm piovai Si avrrj^ Svo, ri ifjroKelfievov r^ '/roXei ireSiov wav 
dpSevovre^, ^iperai Si koX ajro t$9 YLaSpkeia^ vSfop d^vi^ Sid 
5 a^oXrjveiv dffijMevov, viro KdSjMOv ro waXaiov, C09 Xeyovai, Karea-Kev^ 

§ 14 t) piv oiv voXi^ roiavrri* oi S' ivoiKovvre^ p>eydK6^v'voi kw, 
OavfJLaarol rai^ Kard rov /3iov eveXiriarioA^' Opa^el^ Si Kal vppurral 
Kal virepri^avoi' irXriKrai re Kal dSid<l>opoi wpo^ irdvra ^ivov Koi 
Sfffiorffv Kal Karav(ariaral Travro^ SiKaiov, 

§ 15 wpo^ rd d/i<l>i<TfirjTovfji,eva r&v p-vvaXXafyfidroDV ov Xoytp aw^ 
lardfievoi rijv 8* iK rov dpdcoif^ Kal t$9 X€tpo9 irpoadyovre^ fiiav^ rd 
re iv roh yvp^viKoU dytSci yivofxeva vpo^ avrobi rot^ dOXi^rai^ fiiaia 
€69 rriv SiKOMXoyiav pLera^epovre^. 

$ II. 5. MSS. Irjpafifiovt cor. Meineke. 6. MSS. 'EXcv^poir: cor. 

Vo». § 15. 3. re add. Mailer. MSS. roU dt d6X t cor. MoUer. 


oio /ECU lu oncoi wop avToi^ Oi erfltfy rovXa^garov eurayovrcu § ID 
rpuucovTo, o yap fUffftrffei^ ip t£ 7rX^$€i wepi rufo^ roiourov teal /i^ 
ev^€a>9 airdpa^ itc rij^ BoMrrus9> dXXd roy cXa^urrov fiel»a^ ip r^ 
iroX€ft xpovoi', /icr' ov «roXv Traparffprfdcl^ wkto^ inro rmp ov fiovXo- 
pivmv ra^ &ciK axnrreXeurOaif detpdrip fiuiiip ^fffAtovreu. ^pqi $€ 5 
viip* avTok Bid rd^ rti^oi/^a^ ywovrai alria^. 

T0V9 ftev oip avBpa^ avpfiaipei toioutov^ elvai. Siarp^otxrt £€ § 17 

jwa2tc€^ ainAv rok /JLeyiffetri iropeUu^ pvOfuu^ ewryyipoverraTcu re 
Ktu evTrpeviararai r£v iw ry ^EXkdSi ywaucmv, Maprvpel 2o^icX$9* 

Si]l3a^ Xey€i^ pun rd^ mjka^ ewracrropLOV^^ $ 

o5 S^ pLovov rixTovaiv al ffmiraX deov^, 

t6 tSv IparUav hrX rfj^ K€^xiKrj^ KoXvfipM toiovtop iartv Aare § 18 
TrpoaayfTiBi^ Botcelv irav to irpoaenrov KaT€iKfi<f>0ai, oi yap o<l>0a\pM 
hiai^aivovrai povov, rd Se Xoitrd pipri rov irpoawirov irdvra xaTe^^eroi 
TOK iparioi^. ^pova^ S* axnd Tratrat, Xevicd, 

TO Be TpiyfopM ^av06v, dvaBeBefiivov p^XP^ '''^^ Kopv<f>f}^' h Btf^ig 
tcaXetTcu inro t&p iyxdopmp XapLirdBiop, inroBtfpa Xitov, ov fiaOif, 
<f>o*piKovp Bi T$ j(poia icaX TaveiPOPf vaKkcrrop S* wtrTe yvppov^ irxj^p 
€fc^aivea0€U T0V9 "rroSa^. 

elal Be Kal toI^ opiXlai^ ov Xiap Bofcoruit, paXXop Be ^ucvdpiai, § ao 
xai if <t>{&prf c avTtop eaTip eirix^*'^* ^^^ ^ apopav aTepirtf^ rjoe 

epffepiaai pip ^ vqXl^ ota fieXTiarff. to T€ yhp iBt^p iroXif i^ei § 21 
cal y^vypov xal Kriirov^* icTi Bik eif^vepo^ fri teal %Xa>pAi/ ixovtra 
Trfp irpoao'^ip, exofro^po^ re xal Tot^ 0epipol^ o>pIoi^ a^0opo^. a^vXo^ 
Be ical ey^eipMurai oXa xet/)i<rn7 Bid re Toif^ troTapoif^ icaX Tk irvev- 
pLarcL Kal ydp pi4>eTaL ical vrj'X^p Ip^ei woXvp. 5 

oi {ttIxoi Ad(opo^ {ypa^ei Be eiratp&p avToxf^ Kal ov Xeyo»p TtfP § 22 
dXjj0euii/. poixo^ ykp dXov^ d<l>ei0ff pixpov Bia^opov top aZiKfiOivTa 

HoiaTOP apBpa aTepye, r^v 6oea>rA»y 

pif <l>evy* 6 pip yap XPV^^^^ 4 ^ i(f>lpepo^. 5 

*KpTev0ep e*9 *Av0rfB6pa o^a3u» pf* oBb^ irXayia, apa^XaTO^ Bt § 23 
drfp&v iropeia. ij Be iroXi^ oi peydXff r^ pey40ei, eV aifTtj^ Ttj^ 
^ufioi/efj^ Kevuepif 0aXdTTrf^, Ttfp pep arfopkp exovaa icaTdBepBpop 
TrdaaPy aroai^ avpeiXtfppepriP BiTraZ^, axnii S evoipo^, eJ;o^9, <tItwp 
trirapi^ovaa Bid to t^jp ^^cupav elpai Xvwpdp. 5 

01 8' ipoiKovvre^ oxeBop irdpre^ dXiel^^ dir dffxioTpmp koL lx0v^Vt § 24 
eri Be xai vop(f>vpa^ tcaX air&fymp top Plop ^oirre9> ev alrfiaXol^ re 
KoX ^vxei Kal tcaXv^ai^ KaTo/yeytjpaKOTe^' irvppol ra<9 i'<^eai irdvTe^ 

{ 17. 6. prop. Steph. ol Bvffrol Btovt* $ 18. i. MSS. Ainrtpi cor. Stq)h. 

f 20. 2. MSS. rmp d* av6p»trmv, § 21. 3. €v6impo$ prop. Graev. 

^ 22. 5. MSS. i<f>i)fi€fH)g t cor. Stephanos. § 23. 4. MSS. dvtihififu 

232 W. H. DUKE 

§24x6 Xeirrol, rA S* uKpk r&v ovvx^v Karafiefipo^fiivfH* rah tearh 

5 OdKarrop epyaaCai^ Trpocnreirovdore^, nropOfJsi^ ol irXettrroi kclI vau- 

jTffyol, Tffv Bi x^P^^ ^^X ^^^^ €pya^6fi€voi a\\* ovBe ixovre^^ avrov^ 

<l>da'Kovr€^ anoyovov^ elvai TKavKov rod daXaao'lov, t^ a\i€v^ ifv 


§ 25 fi fJiiv oiv BoicDTia roiavrri* ai yi^p Oemrtal ^^iKorifiiav fiovov 
l;i(ot/o'iy avhp&v kcu aviplavra^ ei ireiroififiivov^, aXKo ovSev. iairopovo't 
&* ol Boi<orol rcL icar avToit^ virdpj(pvra Ihui atcKrfpi^fiara, \€yovT€^ 
ravra. rifp fiev aitrxpoxepSMiav KaroiKchf iv 'ilpwir^, r^v Bi ^^Bovov 
5 iv Tavdypf, rifv ^CKoveiKlav iv Setrinat^, rifp ifipiv iv %rifiai^, rifp 
wXeove^iav ip *Av07)B6v^^ r^p irepiepyiav ip Kopcjveia, iv llXaraiak 
T^v aKa^6p€iaPf top Trvperov €P ^Oyxv^^T^, Ttfp avaiaOrfo-iap ip ^AXinpr^. 
rh B* i/e Trdarff: rrj^ *£X\aSo9 axXypiffJuiTa eh rh^ 7^9 Boi<OTia9 iroKei^ 
Kareppvfj, 6 OTi;^o9 ^epsKparov^* 

10 fiPirep 4>popi^ ei, ^ei^ye ri^p HoMrriap* 

§ 26 *Ef *Ay0ffB6vo^ eh HakKtBa oraBia o\ fi^XP^ '^^^ "EaXydpeoi^^ 0809 
irapA TOP alyioKoP, Xela re iraca xal fuiKatcij, Tp uip Kadrixovca eh 
BaKaca'ap r^ Bi 6po^ ov^ v^^yJop fjAp ej(ovaay Xaatop ii icaX HBatri 
vriyaUi^ /caTappirrop. 

§ 27 f^ Bi T&p 'KoKjeiBioop iroki^ iari flip aTaBl<op o\ fieC^wp r^^ iic 
*Av9fjB6ifo^ eh airrrjp ^epovari^ oBov, yediKo^o^ Bi iraaa ical trvaxio^, 
tBara evpvaa Th fikp iroXKh i\v/eit ty £* ^o'l/^^ p^P ivoirkaTv t§ Be 
ypna vyieipop Kal ^vxpop, t6 airo 7^9 fcp7)V7i^ ttj^ KoXovfieptf^ 'A/m- 
5 Oovarjg i^€0P, ixapop wapixetP to diri r$9 Wfjyr}^ papxi Traci Toh ri^P 
iroXiP KaToucovinp, 

§ 28 Kai Toh KOiPoh Bi ij iroXi^ Bia^opm^ KareaKevcurraXy yvfipoaioKt 
aToah, UpoU, Bedrpoi^, ypa^aht dpSplaci, t§ t d/yopf KeifUvjif vp^ 
tA9 t&v ipyatn&v ;^6ia9 dvvTreppKqTC^^* 

§ 29 o yhp dirb tov r^9 Boi«Tui9 ^aX/ydpee^ teal ttj^ t&p "EApoimp 

OaXdatrq^ pov^t eh to avrh cvfifioKKtop tcaTi^ top Jivpnrop, ^iperax 

irap avTk tA tov Tufievo^ TeixVf ^^^* ^ avfijSaipe^ ttjv Kari, to ifiiropiop 

elpai TrvXi)P, TavTtf^ S* execda^ tt^p dyopap, vXaTeldp re ovarap tcaX 

5 cToah Tpitrl cvpeiXfffifiePfiP, 

§ 30 avveyyu^ oip /eei/iipov r$9 dyopct^ rov Xifiipo^ teal Tayeia^ rr}^ ix 
T&p irXolfOp yiypofiivTf^ t&p <f>opTl<ov iKKOfuBij^^ 9roXv9 o tcaTairXie»p 
icTLP eh TO epnropiop, koX yap o "BApviro^, Biaaop iymp Thp el<nrXoop^ 
i^iXtceTcu top SfAwopop eh t^p iroXip, 1^ Be %copa iraaa ain&p iKaia^ 
5 ^iiro9. arfaOii Be teal ^ ddXaa-tra, oi S* ipoiteoupTe^ ''EX\i7i^9 ov tA 
yipei pJtvop aXXa teaX r^ ^tdp^. t&p fJui8fipuT€0P ipTo^, ^iXaTroBufpm, 
ypafifULTueoi* Ta irpoairlirroPTa i* r^f waTpiBo^ Bv<rx^p^ yeppaie^ 
^epoPTe^, BovXeioPTe^ yap woXinf ijBff %poi^oy roh Be Tpoiroi^ SpTe^ 
iXevOepoi^ fuydXriP etXiji^inp l(ip <^pei!P pqOvp^^ rd TrpoatrimropTa. 
10 o otLxp^ 4^iXlaKov' 

%pi;<rTa)y <r^dBp ierrl 'XuXieh ^TSKK'/jveitp 7roXt9* 

f 25. I. MSS. ^ iMM¥ fx- ^oroy. 1. MSS. ov ircfr. 1 oor. Stephanus. 

f 26. 3. MSS. <IX(riori cor. Holstens cf. Frag, a, % 7, aXot>ff. $ 27* 5- MSS« 

pott ItLuvhv dant ut dwa/iivtfs. J 30. 6. pro ttn-Ss prop. Sandys ip&vr^g vel ipatrraL 



'Ota ri KoKavfievov IlifXtov Spo^ f^eya r iarl xal vXSSef , Bivipa § i 
Sj^ov ToaaOra Kap7ro<l>6pa otra seal ra^ r&v yewpyovfiipmp avfifiaivei 
Xmpa^, Tov fi* opov^ 17 fJuyia-Tfj Kal Xaaiv^rdrff pil^a t^9 iroTnew^ 
KtvrcL fi€v irXovv f* airexBi crdBia ne^y Be k\ 

TT&v i* ecTi TO Spo^ fiaXaKOv, y€aXod>6p re koI irdpAopov. tkri^ § 2 
ff iw avT^ irav ^terat yivo^. vXeUrrriv 8 i^vfjp lj^€* teal eKartjp trSip- 
Safipop re Kal l^vyiap* m Be icvTrdpiaaop Kal KeBpop. eari B ep 
air^ Kal apOea, rd re Sripia KaXovfiepa Xeipia koI XvxvtSe^. 

ylpera^ S* ip avr^ Kal ffordpti ip rol^ p^epo-ciSecr^ fu^ara ;^Q>p^oi9 § 3 
Acol pi^a Bi ^ Spov, ^r(9 r&p 6<f>e»p Bi^yfiara BoKel direp^e&v errucivowfa, 
T0V9 §up ix T$9 X'^P^^ ^ i '^^^^'^^ ^ ocp,^ fiaxpap aireXaupei, roi^t 
S* iyyicapra^ aypeuA, Kdpop Karax^ovcra^ rov^ a^apApov^ avT^9 
dva&pei r^ offfif. 5 

roiavrffp ri)p Bvpafiip IFve/, roi? 8* dpOpwwot^ ^Beia icara^/i/erai* § 4 
T§ rov OvpLOv yap iarip avOovpro^ ocpL^ irapairXtjaia* roi^ Be 8v 
y6kvra^ w^ oinrorovp Sif^em^ ip oXptp Bo0elaa vyid^ei, 

^i/eraft 8* ip r^ Spei koI Kapiro^ aKopOi]^, roU XevKot^ irapa^ § 5 
vXi}0'»09 /Avproi^* tp Srap ri^ rpi^a^ i\m^ Karaxpicrv '^^ c&fia, rov 
pteyiarov %6i;M!>i^09 ov Xap^dpeh r^p iiraiaOrffrip, rj irdpv fipaxetap, 
oifBi ip r^ 6epei rov Kavp^ro^, KO^XxfOpr^^ rov ^app^Kov r§ avrov 
WKvmaei rop e^aOep dipa Kara ficiffov^ BuKPeTaOa^ rov awptaro^, 5 

CTrdpio^ B* iffrlp o xapTro^ ovro? koI ip ibdpay^^ Kal ip rowoi^ § 6 
^vaei dvoKpi^fAPOi^, Here p,6\i^ piip evpeip &p 8 evpjj n^ fAt^ evx^pw 
Bvpoada* Xafietp^ &p 8* iirix^ip^ Xap^fidpeiP^ KipBvpeveiP duro r&p 
rrerp&p KaraKvXurOevra Buul>0apypa$, pApei 8' 17 Bvpafii^ em^ ipiavrovp 
XpoPLcOettra 8* dnroXXvo'^ ri^p eavrtj^ ipepyetap* 5 

vorapLol Be But roO Spov^ piovci Bvo, Kpava-ipBetp re KoXo^pspo^ Kal § 7 
Bpi^tfv, o fihf T0V9 vwi ral^ rov IlrfXiov OKpai^ Ketp,€Pov^ dpBevcifp 
aypov^^ 6 Be rrapappie^p psp ro 7^9 Ni/Wa^ 0X0*09 iK^dXXmp Bi ew 

iir oKpa^ Bi rr}^ rov Spov9 Kopv^fj^ ciniXaiop iari ro KaXovfUPop § 8 
^€ip»piop KoX Ai09 dxpaiov iepop, iil> h Kara kvpo^ dparoXifp Kara 
ro aKpLotorarop xavfui dvafiaipovai r&p iroXir&p oi im^piararoi koX 
Tar? rfXiKiai^ dxpLafypreHt iviK€j(j9evres inri rov 4€/)€o>9, ipe^o^a/Jkipo^ 
K^ta rpivoKa xaipci roiovrop avpkfiaipe^ irrl rov Spov^ ro ^S;^09 5 

ToS 8^ Spov^ 1} flip fila irXevpA irapd t« rijp Mayptfalap koI § 9 
0erraXlap irap7}Kei, irpo^ re ^i^vpop Koi rfXiov Bvaiv iirrpap,fiepff ^ 8* iirl 
ro9 *A6e» Kal rop iAaKeBoptKOp iviKeKXrffiepop KoXtrop, rrXa^lop l;^ot;o'a 
iro^rov KoX rpa^Aap r^p eh t^v SerraXiap iarpap.pipifiv x/^pap, 

% 3. a. MSS. pi£a i4vipov : cor. Gudius. MSS. larai doKctr cx^u* : cor. 

MttUer. § 5. 2. MSS. Xctov : cor. Osann. 5. MSS. acara/ia^ovr. 

§ 7. 1. MSS. rovr vw6 raig rev Urfkiov y^QpynviUvovt K€ifUPOvs dpL Syp>t cor. 
Dieb. 3. MSS. ntfXaUut cor. A. J. B. Wace. $ S. 4. MSS. twit 

OMT. Bottmann. 

234 W. H. DUKE 

§ 10 rd ih Spo^ wo\v4>apfJMK6v re iarrt koX ttoXA^? e^ov tcaX iravro' 

iaira^ Bwa/iei^ rd^ re X^jret^ avr&v yivol>a'/eova$ xai 'xprjada^ Suva/ievoi^, 

fiiav a Tiva iyei ral^ SXKcu^ Svvafuaiv dvofiotov. ^verai Bk ro 

SivSpov r^ fieyeuei fihf ov irXiov tj irifx^^^ '^^^ inrep yrj^ ffxuvofiivoVf 

5 T§ Be Xpoo fieKav, 17 Be pi^a erepov roaovrov iari /cara 7^9 iret^v/cvta, 

§11 TovTov Bi f^ fiev pL^a rpif^Oelaa Xeia koX KarairXaa-delaa r&v 
iroBa^pmfTfov roi^ irovov^ d(f>iaTrf<rk xal tcfoXvei rd vevpa ^XerffiaLvevv, 
Bk ^\ov6^ Xeuivdel^ Kal fier* otvov TroOel^ rov^ teotXiaKOv<i vyiaLveu 
rd Bk ^vXXa rpi<\>devra koX irf)(pi,a0evra el^ odoviov, r&v 6(f>0d\' 
5 fiuovnav KoX VTTO rov pevfiaro^ tearareivofievav xal KivBwevovrtov 
pay^vai rifv S-^lv^ rifv eiriifyopdv rov pevfiaro^ dvaareXXei trpaew^ 
Koi maavel 'irapairovfieva firfxirL iirl rov^ o^daXpMif^ ^epeaOcu. 

I 12 ravrf)v Bk rifp Bvvafiiv hf r&v nr<iKvTwv olBe yevo^t & Btf Xiyerai 
^elptovo^ anroyovov elvcu. irapaBiBtoai Bi koX BeUvvai irartfp vl^, xai 
o{!tq>9 V Bvvafu^ ^v\daarer<u &cre ovBei^ aXKo^ oTZe rwv iroXiro^v. 
ovx oaiov Be roi^ eviarafievov^ rd ifydpfiaKa fuaOov roh /edfivovai 
5 fiorjdetv dWd irpoi/eo^. ro fi€V odv lIi]\iov teal rrjv £ii]p,TfrpidBa ot;/a- 
fiefirjKe routvTqv etvaL 

§ 13 Srt ^ fiiv 'EX\a9 dirb lle\oirowii<rov r^v ^PX^P Xafkfidvei &c. 
[vide Fragmentum III]. 


§ Z rrfv fiev oiv *EX\aSa diro UeXoTTOwijaov r^v opjfvjip Xafiiup fiexP^ 
rov Maypi^rav d^opL^o) *Ofio\lov teal r&v SerraXav refiir&v, rd'xa 
Bk (fyrjaovo'i rive^ r)p>d^ arfvoelv rrjv ^erraXlav 7779 *EXXaSo9 Karaphd- 
fiovvra^, Airetpov rr}^ r&v irparffidreitv Svre^ aKfi0eia<;. 

§ 2 v ydp *EXX£i9, ro rrtiKaiov, oZcrd irore 7r6Xt9, d^ *'EXXi;i'09 rov 
AloKov i/cXii$ff re xal iKruadt), 7^9 SerraX&v oiaa x^pa^, dvd/jLeaov 
^apcdXov re Keifiivtj teal rrj^ r&v MeX^raUoifv 7roX€a>9. ''EXXi7i'€9 
aev ydp elav r^ yevev xal rah (fxoval^ 'EWrfvi^ovciv ol (!<f>* '^EXX97i'09. 
5 A0r)valoi Si, oi rrjv *Arrttcrjv KaroiKovvre^ ^ArrcKol fiiv eta r^ yivei 
Tai9 Bk BiaXetcroi^ drriKL^ovariv, &4nrep AmpieU fiev oi diri £i&pov 
rrjv <f>a)vy Bwpi^ovaLv^ aloXi^ovai Be oi dnro At6Xov, Id^ovai Be oi 
diro "Iwvo^ rov Sov0ov ^vvre^. tf oiv 'EXX£^9 iv %€rraXitf ^y, ire 
irore ffv, ovie iv r^ ^Amte^. 6 yovv froirjTif^ iprfci' 

10 MvpfiiBove^ Bk KoXevvro teal '^£XXi7V€9 teal ^Ayaiolt 

M.vpiuB6va^ fiev Xiy{ov roi^ irepl rrjv SerraXia^ ^0iav tearoixovvre^, 
''EXXi7i^a9 Be tov9 fiiKp^ irporepov firi0€vra^/Axa^v^ Be rov<i /eai vvv Iri 
KaroiKovvra^ MeXtraAay re koX Adpttrffav rrjv Kpefuurrrjv tcaXovfAevffv 
teal ^i]fia^ rd^ ^AxatBa^, irporepov ^vXdtef)v teaXovfUvrfv, o0ev fiv teaX 
15 n/9edT€<rtXao9 arparevaa^ el^ "iXiov, ianv oiv 97 '£XXa9 v<l> '^£XXi7i'09 
olieLC0elaa 7r6Xt9 re xal xa>pa. 

§ 10. 3. MSS. dwdfiftff avofto^ovr. 

Frag. 3. § I. I. MSS. /i€;(pi rov MayvTTtfv <l<^optfo9r <rrdfiirov : cor. MdUer ex 
$ 8 fine. § 2. 4- oi a<^' '"EXXj^yo; t tic Mailer. MSS. a<ii*'*lSXhi^o$. 


tHaprvpei Be Koi Bv^irtSiy^' § 3 

'EXX17V yap, m^ Xiyowri, ytyperai Ai09t 

rov S* AioXo^ iraU' Aiokov hi 2uri;^o9 

^AOdfM^ re KpfjOeu^ (t o^ r hr ^KK^iov ^0019 

0€ov fiaveU eppiyfre XaXfAavev^ if>\6ya, 5 

'EXX^9 A*€v ovv ia-riv, iavep fuxpS vporepov elpifxafiep, ^p o A109 § 4 
''EXXi^v exTurev, a4>* ov xai ro 'EXXtfvt^eip Tqv vpoat/yopiop elXi^^ev. 
"EXKffve^ t^ oi &^ "'BXXi^vo^. oSroi hi elaiv AloXo^ xai Xiav^>o^, eri 
Se 'AOdfUK xal iaXpMveu^ xai oi rovrmv t^vvre^ etcyopoi, 

^ ie KoXovfUpfi pvp *EXX^9 Xiyerai phf ov pAvroi iaru rov yiip § 5 
'EXXffvi^etP iyu elvai 4'VM* ^^^ ^^ ''^ StetKiyea'Ocu op0&^ aW* ip r^ 
yevei t^ ^prj^. avTfi iarip a4> ''E>LXi7iro9* *9 he *KKKk^ ip ^erraXia 
Kelrai, exeipov^ oip ipovfiep ttjp ^EXXdha xarouceip kcu nu^ ^^val^ 
^ EXXffpt^eip, 5 

€ft hi ffol icarh to ihiop rou yepov^ rrp^ SerraXia^ tj ^EXkd^ ^rri, § 6 
huccuop KoX Kara ro koivop^ c»9 pvp opopAl^opTai,''EXKtive^^ rtj^ *EXXaSo9 
airrjp elpai, 

OTi hk vaaa ijp fcarrfptdfiijfjLeOa *lBX\d^ itm fAoprvpei Vfi^v o rAp § 7 
KmpMhi&p voiffrii^ TLoaeihnnro^^ uep^ofiepo^ ^AOtfpaioi^ on rtjp avr£p 
^p^p KoX rtjp woXip if>aai rt}^ EXKdho^ elpai, Xeyotp 0VT109* 

*EXXa9 iUp i<m pJLa, rroKei,^ hi irXeiope^. 

ci^ phf Am/ci^ei^ rjvlic &p t^o^pijp Xeyrf^ 5 

aauTov riP*. ol 8' "EiWripe^ ^EXKqpLl^oiJkep* 

rl irpoahiarpiPrnp avWaffai^ fcai ypa^ifLacip 

n/v evrpaireXiap eh drfhiap ayei^; 

wpo^ pikp roi^ ovx inroXafipdpopra^ elpai rrjfp SerraXtap t^k § 8 
'EXXaSo? ovhi rov9 OerraXov? "EXXi/vo? diroyopov^ ^EXKrjpi^eip, iirl 
roaovrop etpr^aOw. rtjp hi 'EXXaSa d^piaapre^ ff»^ rmp OerroXflSi/ 
refiv&p Koi rov Maypjjre^p *Ofio\iov rrjp hirffquiv Trenoitjp^poi tcaro' 
nauofiep rip X070V. 5 

$ 7. 6. MSS. avrov. $ 8. 4. MSS. arofuov : cor. MoUer. 


§ !• The credit for saving these fragments from 
oblivion belongs largely to Henricus Stephanas and 
C. M tiller, the former of whom published the first edition 
with brilliant emendations in 1589, while the latter in- 
cluded them in his Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum^ 
vol. II. (1848)* and his Geographi Graeci Minores^ vol. i. 
(1855)*. There are several editions between Stephanus 

^ Published at Paris by Didot. * Also published by Didot. 

236 W. H. DUKE 

and Miiller, but the first editor and the last are alone in 
separating the fragments from those of a metrical Descrip- 
tion of Greece by Dionysius son of Calliphon, which has 
certainly nothing to do with them, but to which, as will 
be seen later, we owe the preservation of Fragments i 
and 3. The following is I think a fairly complete list of 
the Editions. 

1. Stephanus. Fragments i and 3. 1589. Paris. 

2. Hoeschel (Fragments i and 3), in his Geographi 
Graeci Minores. 1 600. 

3. Gronovius (Fragments i and 3), in his Thesaurus 
Antiquitatum Graecorum^ voL xi. 1699. 

4. Hudson (Fragments i, 2, and 3) in his Geographi 
Graeci Minores^ voL 11. together with Dodwell's very wordy 
dissertation. Oxford, 1703. 

5. Zosimades f ratres, in their Geographi Graeci Minores^ 
vol. I. i8o6. 

6. G. Manzi. 18 19. 

7. D. Cclidonco Errante. 1822. 

8. Gail. In his Geographi Graeci Minores^ vol. 11. 

9. Fuhr. 1 84 1. 

10. MuUer (C.) in the two volumes above mentioned. 

Of the editions other than those of Stephanus and 
Miiller, Hoeschel's and Gronovius' are of comparatively 
small value, since they do little but reproduce Stephanus* 
work. Hudson was the first to include Fragment 2, which 
was sent him by Fabricius. Those of the Zosimades, 
Manzi, and Errante arc merely copies, and often bad ones, 
of Hudson, and Gail and Fuhr cannot be said to have 
rendered much help either in emending and elucidating 
the text or establishing the real identity of the author. 
Since Miiller, the Fragments have, as far as I know, never 
been edited, although a portion of Fragment i is printed 
with emendations by Kaibel in the Strena Helbigiana. 


A considerable number of references, however, both 
direct and indirect, have been made to them in German 
philological reviews, &c. in the last thirty years, and 
linger and E. Fabricius have definitely enquired into 
their date and authorship, not, however, with the same 
results. It is on the inquiry of Fabricius that my own 
investigations and, largely, my opinions are based. 

Finally I have to thank Prof. Diels for introducing 
me to the fragments, and Sir J. E. Sandys, Litt.D., for 
very kindly reading and improving my MS. 

§ 2. The only important manuscripts of the Fragment 
now extant are five in number. Three of them contain, 
amid the fragments of other geographers. Fragments i 
and 3 ; two contain Fragment 2. The five MSS. are 

1. Parisinus 443, Supplement, xii century. 

2. Palatinus 142. xv century. 

3. Monacensis 566. xvi century. 
4* Parisinus 571. xv century. 

5. Gudianus. 

No. I contains Fragments i and 3 ; No. 2 Fragments 
I and 3 ; No. 3 Fragment i down to d/xa^iiXaTo^ Si dypwv^ 
§ 23, 1. 2 ; No. 4 Fragment 2 ; No. 5 is said to have con- 
tained Fragment 2, but more will be said about this later. 
A word about the history of one of these MSS. may be 
interesting, as its vicissitudes are probably those of a large 
number of known — and unknown — manuscripts. The 
most important is Parisinus 443, Supp., which will be 
referred to as P. It is assigned to the twelfth century^ 
and was undoubtedly the source of MSS. 2 and 3, since they 
have the same lacunae and order, and largely the same 
excellences and defects as P. The question of P's relation- 
ship with MSS. 4 and 5 will be considered later. P was 
almost certainly written in the east, its origin being be- 
trayed by various transcriptional peculiarities, largely 

^ Or pottiUy early 1 3th. 

238 W. H, DUKE 

itacistic. It found its way in the course of time to Italy, 
where Matthieu Bude saw it in the middle of the sixteenth 
century. He copied from it the fragment of Heracleides 
(i.e. I and 3) together with the metrical dvaypaipii 7^9 
'EWaSo9 by Dionysius the son of Calliphon, in the midst of 
which they occur, and the fragments of Scylax' Periplus. 
He sent his copy to Henri Estienne (H. Stephanus), the 
centre of the scholastic world at that time. Stephanus did 
not publish the fragment at once because, as he himself 
says, he was given to hope that more fragments might be 
found, and that satisfactory restorations of the text might 
be effected. Finally, however, he did publish them, and 
in a most delightful form, small portions of the text being 
prefixed and followed by his own shrewd comments, criti- 
cisms, and emendations. A sure proof of his acumen is 
the fact, mentioned above, that he printed the fragments 
of the metrical Description of Greece by Dionysius Calli- 
phon tis* after those of Heracleides (or, as he was forced 
reluctantly to believe, Dicaearchus), in which course he 
was, however, not followed by the succeeding editors. 
How much he thought of the fragments may be seen by 
his own enthusiastic appreciation of them, and from the 
fact that they stimulated him to the composition of a 
remarkable dialogue on Greek manners and customs. 

Somewhere between the years 1589 and 1600 P was 
seen in France and copied by Scaliger. This copy is now 
in the Bodleian library. P was at that time in the pos- 
session of the connoisseur, Claude Dupuy. On his death 
early in the seventeenth century it passed into the Pithou 
family and did not reappear until 1837. In this year an 
auction was held of the goods of the Duchesse de Berry, 
and some ' books &c.' belonging to the family Lepelleticr 
— ^kinsmen of the Pithous, were put up for sale at the 
same time. Among these ' books &c.* P was found and 
promptly bought for the Paris Royal Library, where it 
now is. 

^ See below § 3. 


Of the other MSS., Nos. 2 and 3, Palatinus 142 and 
Monacensis 566, are, neither of them, earlier than the fif- 
teenth century. Their importance for the establishment of 
the text is practically nil^ except in so far as they corrobo- 
rate P. They are both, in many instances, inferior to ?• 
Nos. 4 and 5, i.e. Parisinus 571 and Gudianus, are the 
sole sources of Frag, 2. Of these Par, 571 is not earlier 
than thoe fifteenth century and Gud. is only known from 
the letter of Fabricius to Hudson, in which he says 
he copied Frag, 2 * ex codice regio Gudiano.' It may be 
identical with the Codex Altempsianus, in which Holsten 
says (1628) he read the fragments of another Geographer, 
usually found in company with Heracleides, Isidorus 
Characenus. All traces of it, however, have since been 

§ 3. The MSS. having been described, it remains 
to state their relative importance. Of the first group, 
i.e. MSS. Nos. i, 2, and 3, the tradition represented by 
P, if not P itself, is undoubtedly the source of Nos. 2 
and 3. The order, lacunae, and readings are practically 
the same in each, and P is admittedly two centuries older 
than the other two. Of the second group, i.e. Nos. 4 
and 5, Gudianus may perhaps be a copy of Parisinus 571, 
and both probably come from the hypothetical Porphyro- 
genitus original^ which was also the source of P. The 
position of the fragments in the various MSS. is as follows 
In P the Fragments i and 3 are placed, without any 
interval either between themselves or between them and 
their surroundings, amid a metrical dvaypa(^ tti^ 
*EA\a5ov previously attributed to Dicaearchus but proved 
by Lehrs to be by a certain Dionysius, son of Calliphon. 
Lehrs discovered {c. 1840) that the first 23 lines of this 
poem began with letters which, read downwards, gave 
the author's name : i.e. Aiomjcio^ tov KaAAidxwmros. At the 
end of the whole come the words Aucaiap^ov dvaypa(pri 
Tffi *EXXaSos. A few pages before, however, is a title 

^ See below, towards the end of this section. 

240 W. H. DUKE 

standing quite by itself, with no reference to anything 
immediately near it. The title is as follows: *A6fivaiov 
TToKewp CKtaixfAara Kai ohoi Km vepiirXow. Down to 
oBoi this is probably a * scribe's description * of our 
fragments, i.e. i and 3 ; while TrepiirXow may be a 
reference to the metrical dpaypaipii. The description 
of the dvaypa<pn as AiKaidpxov is probably also another 
^ scribe's description.' He was misled by the dedication 
of the poem to Theophrastus, whom he identified with 
the disciple and successor of Aristotle and the friend of 
Dicaearchus. That Dicaearchus cannot, on chronological 
grounds, be the author of either the prose fragments 
or of the metrical dvaypa<prij has been shewn by Letronne 
and Miiller. However, these * scribe's descriptions ' were 
productive of a misunderstanding which existed until the 
early days of the nineteenth century, although men like 
Stephanus had their doubts. It is probable that the 
originator of the tradition represented by P had a gap 
in his metrical dvaypaipri — which he believed to be by 
Dicaearchus — and filled it up by two handy excerpts of 
Heracleides. A parallel to this proceeding may be found 
in the insertion of verses assigned to Scymnus of Chios 
into an anonymous ^ Periplus Ponti £uxini\' 

In Palatinus and Monacensis the ^scribe's title' ' has 
asserted itself and now appears at the beginning of the 
dvaypaipfiy while another scribe has added the words 
^irp6% Qe6<Ppa<rT0V.^ 

Frag. 2 follows immediately upon excerpts from 
Strabo in Parisinus 571, there being again no interval 
separating it therefrom ; while as to its position in 
Gudianus, nothing is known, the MS. being now lost. 

Now it is practically certain that Paris. 571 and 
Gudianus, the two authorities for Frag. 2, are descended 
from the same tradition as that which is responsible 
for P. The evidence is as follows : Frag. 2 has appended 

^ Included in MtlUer's Ge^g, Graeci Min, 
^ i.e. LiKCLiup^ov avaypa^^ rr^s 'EXXcidof. 


to it the beginning of Frag, 3, i.e. on ij fiep 'EWm... to 
TToKaiov ova-ay the first two or three words being slightly 
altered. Now P, the source of Frag. 3, has a remarkable 
instance of * loss by similarity of ending.' It reads fiexpi- 
rod Mayvfirtap <rTdfj7rov\ whereas we see from § 8 of 
the same fragment that the real reading is fj^^xpi tov 
MayiniTwv *OfJU)\iov Kai twv QeTToXHv arTdfiirov^ the 
scribe's eye having wandered from the -wi/ of MaYi/iyraii/ 
to that of QeTToKwv. Parisinus 571, in its version of 
the beginning of Frag. 3, also has this error. We 
may therefore safely conclude that the traditions re- 
sponsible for P and the MSS. of Frag. 2 are identical. 

Whence came this tradition ? Almost undoubtedly 
from the collection of Greek geographers, prosaic and 
poetical, made by order of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, 
911 — 959 A.D. This emperor, besides writing a great 
many large and important works on Government, Tactics, 
Ceremonials, &c., caused large collections of excerpts to 
be made from the works of the lesser known Greek 
authors. One of these collections of excerpts was the 
* Collectanea ct Excerpta Historico-Politica et Moralia,' 
and in one of its many volumes — there were at least 50 — 
our fragments probably had their place. Thus we may 
say that P is the oldest MS. we possess representing the 
tradition of the text of the minor Greek geographers 
as handed down by the excerptors whom Porphyrogenitus 
entrusted with the work. It is not certain that MSS. 2 
and 3 are copies of P, and it is quite possible that Nos. 
4 and 5 are independent of P and of each other. 

§ 4. So much then for the sources of the text, 
and the traditional authorship. The next two questions, 
vrhich must be considered together, are, how do we 
know that all three fragments are by the same author, 
and who is that author ? In ApoUonius*, a writer of 
about the beginning of the second century B.C., we read 
(^Urropiai Oavfidariai, c. 19) of a plant whose virtue is to 

^ Or, oTOfdav, * First quoted by Welcker. 

R. 16 

242 W. H. DUKE 

keep out excessive cold and heat from the human body. 
Now, this description is given in ahnost exactly the same 
words as that in Frag. 2 of the famous Kapiro^ aKavdn^ 
that grew on Mt Pelium. The two accounts arc as 
follows : 

Hcracleides, Frag. 2, § 5 ^jierai 8* ev tw Spei kcu 
KopTTOs aKciiSri^y toU XeuKoh wapaTrXtjo'ios jULvpTOis ov otov 
Tis Tpiyj/'a^ eXaitp (codd. Keiop) KaTaxpi(rn to (rwfjLaj tov 
fieyio'Tov ;^€i/ii5i/o9 ou Xafx^avei Ttiv iwanrdticrip, tj Trdw 
^pa')(eiav^ ovhe iu rw ddpei tov KavfJUXTO^y kw\vovto^ tov 
(papiuLciKOv Tfj avTOv irvKVijiarei tov e^iadev dtpa Kara fiddov^ 
SuKi/eiadai tov artifxaTO^. 

ApoUonius, 'Icrr. Qavfi. §19: *Hpaic\€i8>;9 Se d KpiTuco^ 
iv Tw Trepi twv iv Ttj 'EWaSt TroXetov KUTa to IlifXioi/ opos 
ipveo'dai <l>ria'ip aKavdav Kapiro^popovj ti^ tov Kapnrov idv tk 
Tpiylra^ fA€T iXaiov Kal j/5aTOS XP^^ ^^ avTOV ti aWov 
trtafxa x^ifxcivo^ ovto^, ovk eiraurdriceTai tov yfrv^ov^. 

It seems certain that our fragment is the original 
source from which ApoUonius drew his information. 
Now ApoUonius says his authority is a work of Hcra- 
cleides the Critic, entitled ^wepi twv iv t^ 'EAAaSc 
9rd\€<oi/.' This title is curious as that of a work in 
which such information could be found and is thereby 
the more to be regarded as correct. It may be noticed 
incidentally that in Frag. 2, as we have it, Pelium is 
evidently described because it is near to the city of 
Demetrias (cf. Frag. 2, § i, Ttj^ TrdXews . . . ottcxc* and 
§ 12 end, TO fxev ovv WriKiov Kal Ttiv AfifJitiTpidhaj as 
well as the aUusions to TroXIrai, evidently those of 
Demetrias). The title Trepi twv iv Ttj 'EWdSi TroXetoVy 
although it does not at first sight seem particularly suitable 
for Frag. 2, docs suit most excellcntlv Frags, i and 3, 
since i is certainly a description of cities in Greece 
and 3 is a definition of the term *HeUas,' a necessary 
preface or conclusion to such a work. 

To clinch the proof that the fragments are all part of 
the same work we have the fact that the end of Frag. 2 


is, exactly, even with its faults \ the beginning of 
Frag. 3. 

Thus we may say that these three fragments are 
separate excerpts of a work by Heracleides Criticus, 
entitled Trepl twp ev t^ 'EWaSt ^oAcftii/, and were probably 
excerpted, with others now lost, in the days of Constantine 
Porphyrogenitus, Excerpts i and 3 have been preserved 
because they happened to fill a gap in a worthless ' De- 
scription of Greece ' wrongly attributed to Dicaearchus, 
and 2 has survived because of the appeal made by its 
description of the magic herbs on Mt Pelium. 

§ 5. The enquiry into the authorship of the fragments 
being now concluded, it remains to establish the date of 
the author. The task is difficult. The chief ^ landmarks ' 
are the following. 

1. The date of the ApoUonius* who quotes Hera- 

2. The mention of yvjivaaria rpia (Fragment I, 

§ I, II— h)- 

3. The dates of the poets quoted by Heracleides. 

4. The mention of the difficulties of litigation in 
Thebes: Fragment i, § 16. 

5. The condition of some of the other cities as de- 
scribed by Heracleides. 

6. The mention of Demetrias, Fragment 2, § 12, 
and, in addition to these, 

7. The general character, tone, and style of the 

We must now proceed to discuss each of these indi- 

I. The date of Apollonius rests practically entirely 


1 i.e. with the Ion by haplognphy mentioned below. 

* It may be mentioned that in Pauly-Wis80wa*s En^clvpoidia there b a list of 
12S ApoUonii, none of whom however b mentioned as the author of the larofAai 

16 — 2 

244 W, H. DUKE 

upon the authorities whom he quotes— or does not quote. 
The list of these is as follows : Theopompus, Aristotle, 
Habron, Phylarchus, Scymnus Chius, Theophrastus, 
Ctesias, Heracleides, Eudoxus Rhodius, Aristoxenus Mu- 
sicus, Sotacus, and Eudoxus Cnidius. Of these Ctesias, 
Aristotle, Theopompus, and Theophrastus are fourth cen- 
tury, Habron (Meineke's emendation of the MS. "AvSpwv) 
is unknown, but was probably, to judge from the title of 
his book — cd wpo^ ^ikiTnroif dvariai — fourth or early third 
century. With regard to Phylarchus, we know from 
Suidas that he recorded the death of Cleomenes, which 
took place in 220 b.c. : he may therefore be ascribed to 
the end of the third century. Scymnus of Chios was, we 
know from an inscription \ a proxenus at Delphi in the 
year 185/4. Eudoxus of Rhodes is now placed between 
280 and 250 B.C. Aristoxenus was a pupil of Aristotle 
and schoolfellow of Theophrastus, whom he afterwards 
attacked : while Eudoxus of Cnidus was a contemporary 
of Plato. The only authority about whom definite in- 
formation of any kind is lacking is Sotacus, the author of 
a book ircpl \i6(op. Even here, however, we have a hint 
that he was certainly not late, as Pliny the Elder {N. H. 
36. 146) refers to him as vetustissimus auctor. 

Attention has also been drawn to the fact that Apol- 
lonius does not quote the Bav/mda-ia of Callimachus. As, 
however, he quotes Phylarchus, who certainly wrote after 
Callimachus' death (r. 240 B.C.), this is not important. 

Finally, it is highly probable that Apollonius is a 
product of the same movement which produced Antigonus 
of Carystus, the Paradoxograph, and several other writers 
in the same vein. This movement may be dated roughly 
as between the middle of the third and the middle of the 
second century. 

Hence, on all grounds, we are justified in assuming 
that Apollonius wrote early in the second century b.c 

2. The mention of the yvfxvdtna rpia leads to an 

^ Weicher and Foucart, Imcr. di Delphis^ iv. 26. 


interesting enquiry. Hcracleides says that among the 
sights of Athens are the three Gymnasia, the Academy, 
Lyceum, and Cynosarges, and his description of them is 
charming. E. Fabricius has observed that it is almost certain 
that Ptolemy Philadelphus — ob. 247 b.c. — built a fourth 
gymnasium, which Heracleides, however, does not mention. 
He would therefore conclude that Heracleides wrote before 
the gymnasium had reached any degree of completeness^ 
i.e. r. 250 B.C. at latest. As he points out, Heracleides 
mentions the half-finished 01ympieum> and it is probable 
that he would have mentioned the gymnasium of Ptolemy, 
even though incomplete. It may be observed here that 
Wachsmuth-^ is inclined, by a reference of Philochorus to 
the gymnasium in question, to place its completion before 
the Chremonidean war, i.e. before 265 b.c. 

It does not seem, however, that this * argumentum ex 
silentio ' is really of much weight. It must be borne in 
mind that Heracleides is mentioning only those things 
famous for their remarkable structure and for their as- 
sociations. He is no Pausanias. He may quite well, even 
if he had seen it, have passed it over, particularly as he is 
not inclined to court flattery. 

More conclusive is the other argument founded upon 
the mention of the gymnasia. Heracleides describes 
them as iravra KaToihevhpa re Kai toij €Sa(l>€<ri ttooJSi;, 'xoproi 
7ravTo6a\€K (pi\o(r6(l)wp iravroZaTr&v . . . . We know, how- 
ever, from Livy 31. 24 and 26, that in the year 200 b.c. 
Philip V of Macedon took Athens and burnt part of the 
town, and that the three gymnasia suffered considerable 
damage : * sed et Cynosarges et Lyceum. . .incensum est.* 
Diodorus Siculus, ch. 28, Fragment 7, amplifies this : 
KaTecrrpaTOTreheviTev hrl to Kwoarapye^^ fA€Ta Se tovto Ttjy 
'AKoBtifieiap eveirptiare. Hence we may safely conclude that 
Heracleides wrote before 200 b.c 

3. The poets quoted by Heracleides are as follows : 
Lysippus, Xenon, Poseidippus, Laon, Pherecrates, and 

^ DiV Stadt Athen im AUtrthum^ i. 624, note 4. 

246 W. H. DUKE 

Philiscus, as well as Homer, Sophocles, and Euripides. 
Of these, Lysippus and Pherecrates are fifth century. 
About Xenon and Laon practically nothing is known. 
Philiscus seems to have written c. 370 b.c. 

About Poseidippus, however, our information is ampler 
and particularly useful in determining the limit earlier 
than which Heracleides' date cannot be fixed. We know 
from Suidas that he produced his first play three years 
after Menander's death — ^i.e. in 286/5. Assuming, there- 
fore, as is probably justifiable, that Heracleides would 
hardly quote from an author's works unless that author 
was already established as of the first class, we may safely 
say that Heracleides cannot have written before 270 b.c. 

4. Heracleides draws, in § 16 of Fragment i, a 
very vivid and grim picture of the state of litigation in 
Thebes in his time. To this description there is a very 
remarkable parallel — or rather sequel — in Polybius, bk* xx. 
6, § I fF. and bk. xxiii. 2, § 2 (xxii. 4). Polybius says that 
cases are met with in Thebes 25 years old and still unheard, 
and gives a picture of a state of things very similar indeed 
to that described by Heracleides. However there is no 
ground for concluding, as Unger does\ that both pictures 
are of the same date. Rather may we say with E. Fa- 
bricius that a state of things which Heracleides found 
mainly confined to Thebes had by Polybius' time extended 
over the whole of Boeotia, to which Polybius' account 
certainly applies. 

5. Some light is thrown on the date of the fragments 
by the descriptions Heracleides gives us of other towns 
besides Athens and Thebes, which have already been dealt 
with. With regard to Oropus, it is very difiicult to form 
any fixed conclusion from the fact that when Heracleides 
wrote Oropus belonged to Boeotia (cf. Fragment i, 
§ 25, 1. 4). The possession of this much disputed and im- 
portant territory fluctuated between Athens and Thebes 
for centuries. Pausanias tells us (i. 34) that Philip gave 

^ BhnnUchu Museum 38. 481 ff. 


it to Athens after the destruction of Thebes. His words 
are : ttiu Se yfiv nji/ 'Qpaynriav fiera^v Tfj^ Amicus kui T1J9 
Tai/aypcuKrj^j Boitoriav t€ i^ fipX^^ ovaav exovciv e(p* tifxtav 
oi *A0fiPaToij 'rrdKejJt^aavTe^ fiev top iravra wrep aurij^ Xpoi/oi/, 
KTtio'dfxevoi Zk ov irpoTepov fiefiaiw^ irplv tj 0i\i7nro^ Qf}l3a^ 
iXxov eSwK€ a-ipiariv. Livy, 45. 27, speaks of 'Oropum 
Atticae/ and Pliny says (4. 7, 11) * confinio 
Boeotiae^' Haliartus, mentioned by Heracleides in Frag- 
ment I, § 25, 1. 7, was destroyed in 171 bx. (Livy 42. 
63) and never rebuilt ; but as we have already seen that 
the date of the fragments cannot be later than 200 B.C., 
this does not add to, but rather confirms our previous con- 
clusions. Still more confirmation of the year 200 b.c. as 
a date after which the fragments cannot have been written 
is given us by the description of Chalcis. This description 
is perhaps the most charming of them all. Now we know 
from Livy that, during the disturbances in 200 b.c, when 
rival parties held the town against each other, a fire broke 
out and the beautiful city became a smouldering ruin^. 
Livy speaks of the 'deforme spectaculum semirutae ac 
fumantis urbis.' Moreover the words in Fragment i, § 30, 
L 8, ZovXevovre^ yap ttoXvv fjSfi ')(p6vov must refer to the 
* long subjection ' of Chalcis to Macedon, which began in 
338 B.C. and lasted until 197, when the Romans declared 
the town free. It was one of the three ' fetters of Greece,* 
Demetrias, Chalcis, and Corinth, a firm hold on which 
was one of the first objects of Macedonian policy. 

6. Demetrias, mentioned in Fragment 2, was founded 
c. 297 B.C. by Demetrius Poliorcetes ; and thus the earliest 
limit fixed by the quotation from Poseidippus is verified. 

7. Perhaps the most powerful argument which 
should induce us to date Heracleides as early as possible 

^ Unger, Rh. Mm, 38. 481 ff., suggests that Oropos went over to Athens as soon 
as the Boeotian league was dissolved, i.e. c. 17a B.C., cf. Livy 4a. 44. An article by 
WilamowitZy *Oropus und die Graer' {Hermes^ 21. 103 £F.}, throws a great deal of 
light on the problem of Oropus. 

' Wilamowitz {Hermes^ 21. 103 £F.) rightly says that the fragments must have been 
written at a time when Athens was free and Chalcis in subjection, but when both cities 
were equally undevastated. He then says that the years 328-201 are such a period. 

248 W. H. DUKE 

without directly exceeding any of the limits established 
above, is the general tone and character of his work. 
Surely he wrote at a time not very far removed from 
those of Theophrastus and Menander, whose good- 
humoured but shrewd character-descriptions are so 
characteristic of the Greek life and thought of the late 
fourth and early third centuries^ The age which pro- 
duced Bion the Borysthenite and Menippus of Gadara 
and the Cynic School, and the itinerant lecturers on 
^morality' and developed cosmopolitanism, is surely the 
atmosphere into which these fragments seem to carry us. 
The conclusion then to which an examination of the 
fragments leads us is that they were written, certainly 
between 270 and 200 B.C., and probably nearer the former 
than the latter date. 

§ 6. Two minor questions with regard to the fragments 
still remain to be answered. Firstly, what was Hera- 
cleides' object in writing the ^Trepi rwv ev rij 'EAAoSe 
w6\€wv ' ? To this we may answer that it was simply to 
express what he had seen, thought, and experienced on 
a journey prompted largely by curiosity : and that, as is 
clear from several observations on the excellence or poorness 
of certain towns as pleasure or health resorts, he intended 
his book to be of use to those who came after him. 

Secondly, what is the precise meaning of the term 

* Criticus ' which is obviously a nickname applied to him 
either by his contemporaries or by the next generation ? 
Possibly it refers to his careful style, the word KpiriKo^ 
occurring as early as Plato in its narrower sense of 

* linguistically critical'; but it may be that he received 
the nickname because of the shrewdness and, sometimes, 
slightly malicious character, of his judgments. 

W. H. Duke. 

1 Cf. what Wilamowitz {PbiUlogischi Untersuchungen^ 4. 165) says about Heradeides^ 
^*Die wenigen Blatter ans den hellenischen StAdtebildern tind an onmittelbarer Leben»- 
foUe in der griechischen Literator fiut unerreicht.** 


The antiquity and early history of the Avesta supply 
us with a problem to which scholarship will never perhaps 
be able to give a final answer. In writing my Hibbert 
Lectures on Early Zoroastrianism^ now passing through 
the press, I have become increasingly convinced that the 
ethnographer holds the key to some of the most notorious 
difficulties of the question. If the speculations that 
follow have any appropriateness as a contribution to this 
Miscellany, it will be because the first suggestion of them 
came to my mind from some very stimulating talks with 
Professor Ridgeway. All my fellow contributors would 
agree that I have used a * fixed epithet* in describing those 
talks, now, alas ! to be dated nearly a dozen years back. 
They will understand also that the suggestiveness of them 
reached beyond the range of anything we immediately 
discussed at the time, so that while I cannot make him 
directly responsible for ideas which have developed in 
very different ways since they started, I still feel that they 
would not have reached me apart from him. I am only 
afraid, writing as I am under conditions of exceptional 
haste and pressure, lest readers should think I have paid 
a great scholar a doubtful compliment in crediting him 
even to this moderate extent with the genesis of my 
guesses \ 

* May I take the opportunity of recaUing a small point I made yean ago in an 
aeooanc oif the Early Age of Greece} Professor Ridgeway speaks of the unexplained 
names of the great Achaians of Homer, and connects the fiict with their being 
immigrants. I called attention to Fick*s equation of *Ax<Xrvr (abbreviated for 
**AxiXAvKOf } with the Germanic Agjilulfi, So Achilles was an ancestor of the Kaiser ! 

250 J. H. MOULTON 

My first question is, Who were the Magi ? Here I 
shall only put into a few sentences a summary of results 
from my Early Zoroastrianisnty Lectures VI and VII, 
referring for my proof to the long and detailed discussion 
to be found there. I take them to have been aboriginal 
shamans, racially unconnected with any people to which 
either Semitic or Indo-Germanic speech was native. 
There are many testimonies from classical writers showing 
that they were regarded as distinct from the Persians, 
even in an age when no Persian religious rite could be 
performed without them. Herodotus expressly noted 
their strange manner of disposing of their dead, which 
differed entirely from that practised by the Persians. We 
find it paralleled only among tribes of very low culture, 
which even if they had learned to speak Iranian dialects 
had certainly no affinity with Aryan races. With this 
practice, which of course survives in the * Towers of 
Silence' in Bombay, Greek writers regularly coupled 
another as characteristic of the Magi alone. The extra- 
ordinary religious merit of marriages which the modern 
Parsis abhor as incestuous, no less whole-heartedly than we 
should ourselves, was a tenet of the Magi which in the 
Sassanian age the priests strove ineffectually to impose upon 
Zoroastrian orthodoxy : their descendants to-day as vainly 
strive to repudiate the evidence that such a practice ever 
existed. Less conspicuous but still important peculiarities 
of the Magi were their skill in divination and oneiromancy 
and astrology — ^all of which are conspicuously absent from 
the Avesta. So is magic, which actually borrowed their 
name — a name, by the way, that only occurs once in the 
Avesta, in a passage unmistakably late. These and other 
features of their religion seem to prove the Magi essen- 
tially alien from Aryan habits of thought. Two other 
characteristics of what can be shown to be Magian strata 
in the religion, which have been rather strangely overlooked 
in this connexion, prove, I believe, that the Magi were 
as little Semitic as they were Aryan. Plutarch tells us. 


with support from the Bundahish, that all mountains are 
to be smoothed out in the regenerated world. And the 
Pahlavi books have much to say of the malign influence 
of the planets, which are set as special Ahrimanian 
antagonists to the chief of the fixed stars. But their 
names are still those of the heavenly beings, including 
Ormazd himself; while a suspiciously makeshift arrange- 
ment is brought in to save the sun and moon from being 
of their company. Now the sacredness of mountains is 
obvious enough in the Semitic world, nor is it less marked 
alike in the Avesta and in the religion of Persia as de- 
scribed by Herodotus. The planets were specially venerated 
in Babylon, and the names they bore in the Magian system 
itself are the representatives of those Babylonian names 
which the Greeks and the Romans and we ourselves 
have taken from the same source: thus Marduk is the 
origin of Zeus and Jupiter and Ziu and Ormazd alike ^. 
It seems reasonable to conjecture that the borrowing of 
the Babylonian planet-names was altogether independent 
of the Magian doctrine of planetary malignity. We have 
no hint of this doctrine in the Avesta : Anihita comes 
down from * those stars' (27 5^, but while she is not 
specially linked with one star, neither is she or any other 
divinity set in opposition to planets. Greek thought never 
conceived planets as such to be evil powers — witness 
for example the history of 'sweet Hesper-Phosphor,' as 
gathered up in the concentrated loveliness of Plato's 
* Aster* epitaph. The astrological mischief-making of 
Mars and Saturn would not fall into line with the doctrine, 
even if it were early enough, for Venus and Jupiter are 
in the Magian system tarred with the same brush ^ We 
must assume that both planets and mountains offended 
the Magian mind because they violated symmetry. The 
perfect world for them was like Babylonia before the days 

' See Comont, Astrology and Religion among the Greeks and Romans (American 

Lectures), pp. 24* 4^* 

« U.Bunds^ {SBBy.zi). 

252 J. H. MOULTON 

of Babel, but with a needed reform introduced into the 
skies. The sun must abide in the zenith by day so that 
men might have no shadows — unless indeed his rays were 
to be endowed with something beyond the R5ntgen pene- 
trativeness. And when he vanished somehow for the 
night — I suppose we must assume there would be night, 
as otherwise the beneficent fixed stars would be invisible — 
the heavens must not be disturbed by wandering irregulars 
like Venus and Jupiter. It will be admitted that the 
Magi were original, if Plutarch's picture is true to life : 
as Herodotus observes, Mdyoi Kex^pi^ctrai woWop rmv 
aSXiov dvOpoiirtov. Is there not a presumption that they 
were by birth a peculiar people? 

I pass on to the Iranians proper, and to some questions 
which I have not discussed in the book referred to. We 
start from the obvious consideration that Iranian speech 
does not imply any racial unity. Many wild tribes of 
undoubtedly Iranian language are marked as aboriginal 
by their customs and beliefs. No one questions that the 
Indian form of Aryan speech was imposed upon a variety 
of aboriginal tribes by victorious invaders ; and we must 
recognise the same phenomenon in the northern half of 
the Aryan-speaking territory. The nature of proto- Aryan 
language can be easily and certainly defined. The great 
eastward trek began before East Indo-Germanic and West 
had materially diflFerentiated, except for the important 
cleavage concerning the gutturals, which gives us our 
classification of satpm and centum dialects. In this cleavage 
we may note with Hirt that the Western k and j* were 
original, but the sibilant and delabialising infections very 
old— older, Hirt says, than ablaut {Die Indogermanen^ 96, 
580). We can reconstruct the Indo-Iranian or Aryan 
Ursprache with more confidence than can be felt in any other 
such operations on the prehistoric. The coincidences of 
Vedic and Avestan vocabulary, extending even to phrases 
and compound words, enable us to delineate the Aryan 
culture with great fullness. It may be safely assumed — as 


we shall sec presently — that the family remained undivided 
to a relatively late date. But as we look at the map and 
try to determine the line of migration, we are faced with 
some perplexities. Sanskrit confessedly retains important 
phonetic peculiarities which belonged to the Indo- 
Germanic parent speech ; but those who spoke it must 
on the now universally held theory be assumed to have 
come through an extensive area in which these peculi- 
arities have vanished altogether. North and west of the 
Indo- Aryan settlements there is a solid barrier of Iranian. 
The Scyths, Sauromatae and Ossetes represent Iran west 
of the Caspian : the Sacae, Massagetae and Sogdians seem 
to show how the migration proceeded eastward past the 
north end of the great lakc^ South of this broad band 
of country, which stretches from 25° to jf E., there is 
another region, still more decisively Iranian, reaching up 
to the Persian Gulf and the south end of the Caspian, 
with the whole mass of Semitic territory beyond to the 
south, and a chain of satim peoples who show as little as 
Iranian dialects do the primitive features preserved in 
Sanskrit. The sat^m region in fact covers everything east 
of a line drawn from the east of the Baltic to the head of 
the Adriatic, except for two overflows that will be noted 
later. How did the Indian tribes preserve the primitive 
medial aspirates, when over the whole of the immense 
sat^m area these sounds were fused with the medial ? The 
belated advocate of the old Asiatic Urbeimat might see his 
opportunity. But then we note that three of the centum 
dialects, on the other side of the mighty barrier, maintain 
the distinction still. Our task therefore is to explain 
how Sanskrit and its descendants show such a deep-seated 
unity with the Iranian, and yet keep up a most important 
feature of proethnic Indo-Germanic unimpaired, which 
elsewhere only survives in the languages of the far 

1 Hirt in his map anumes that the Aryan migration came through the Caucasus, 
the Scythf puahlng back later on. The other line seems to me more probable. 

254 J- H. MOULTON 

Before wc go further, let us observe how marked was 
the resisting medium through which the Indo-Aryans 
passed without losing their phonetic inheritance. They 
preserved the difficult medial aspirates unchanged; and 
whether they came from the Baltic by the northern 
route through the territory of Slavonic and the closely 
related Iranian, or by the southern through Albanian, 
Thraco-Phrygian, Armenian and Iranian, in either case 
the peoples they passed made no distinction between M, 
dh^gh and ^, d^g. But among Iranians there was the further 
change of initial and intervocalic s to A, not to mention 
other less conspicuous phonetic differences which make a 
very real cleavage between languages far more closely 
related than any other pair of distinct language groups in 
the Indo-Germanic family. 

We may pursue the complications of our problem 
before we attempt any resolution. Recent evidence of a 
rather startling nature has come to prove how late the 
characteristic Iranian differentiation arose in the only 
Iranian language that we can study from ample materials. 
Hommel has given us a tablet from the library of Assur- 
banipal with the name Assara MazasK The great god 
of Darius and the Avesta had thus been borrowed by 
Semites before the seventh century b.c., and his name 
has a form older than the Gathas show us, which must 
take the date of borrowing well into the second 
millennium. For the two s sounds of the Aryan Asura 
Mazdhas remain, as in Sanskrit; while the survival 
of z and the disappearance of the medial aspirate agree 
with Iranian. The evidence clearly might be interpreted 
as showing that the Aryan dialect was still undivided when 
the name passed into Semitic ^ The same inference has 
been drawn, by E. Meyer and others, from Wincklcr's 
sensational but tantalising discovery of Mitra and Varuna, 

1 See notes and references in Early Z^rcastrianitm (index s.*v,). 
* This would be possible if the loss of dA were set down to the Semitic medium 
through which the name has come. 


united as in the Veda, Indra and the N^saty^u, in a 
Mitanni inscription of the fourteenth century from 
Boghaz-keui in Cappadocia^. Here there are no Iranian 
marks whatever ; and the names seem to be pure Sanskrit, 
unless they are Aryan. The date is surprising enough 
for the latter, but the difficulties of the former seem at 
first sight insuperable. We take another look at the map. 
Between 50'' and jd" E. and north of 30° N. we have 
solidly Iranian territory. East of 70** E. the Iranian and 
the Indian meet at about 35"" N. In the west of this 
area Iran overflows southwards to the sea ; and it reaches 
its limits with Media. Assyria and Armenia formed a 
continuous wall against further progress, though the Kurds 
in ancient and modern times have done their savage best 
to break down the part of the wall that confronts them. 
But there is Boghaz-keui away in Cappadocia, right on 
the other side ! Must we simply rule out that strangely 
isolated phenomenon till Winckler's master-hand can deal 
with the material that is spoiling for an interpreter ? 

There is one further datum, scarcely as reliable as even 
the last, which might lend colour to the supposition that 
there was an ebb tide of migration out of India through 
Iran to the N.W. The astral and meteorological signifi- 
cance of the Tishtrya Yasht raises difiiculties for the mere 
statement of which I must refer to my book. I may 
however repeat here that the data, in the eyes of such 
expert astronomers as Mr and Mrs E. W. Maunder of 
Greenwich, suggest the breaking of the monsoon, and 
therefore north-west India. Moreover it is only south 
of the thirtieth parallel that the four Regent stars (best 
taken as Sirius, Fomalhaut, Vega and the Great Bear) 
were sufliciently high above the horizon to be seen domi- 
nating the four quarters of the sky when Sirius was rising. 
It seems most natural to attach the imagery of the Yasht 
to the heliacal rising of Sirius, when the beneficent yazata 

^ See Barly Zoroastrianitmj p. 5 f., for references : and the discussion on the subjea 
in J.R.A.S. 1909 and 1910. 

256 J. H. MOULTON 

emerges victorious from his conflict with the drought 
demon. But Mr Maunder tells me that in Iran this 
rising of Sirius took place in the driest part of the year. 
He further urges that * the movements of Tishtrya as 
described in the Yasht and the Bundahish find their astro- 
nomical analogy in the movements of the sun and of no 
other celestial body/ so that to this extent he considers 
Tishtrya as representing the sun. I cannot persuade 
myself, in view of the literary evidence, to follow 
Mr Maunder in this daring course. But the climatic 
conditions of Iran at the time of the heliacal rising of 
Sirius tempt me strongly to suppose the myth originating 
in north-west India and surviving a migration into southern 
Iran. However, to Boghaz-keui is a far cry ; and lest 
I lose any reputation for sobriety I may possess, I hasten 
to plead that I only mention such speculations as some 
politicians have used statistics, ' for the sake of illustration ' ! 
I return then to the questions suggested by the geo- 
graphical distribution of Indo-Germanic tribes in the 
earliest times of which we know. I have already sketched 
the satdm country. Over its frontier two centum tribes 
were found in antiquity, the wandering Goths and the 
Greeks. The latter of these were immigrants, according 
to their own legends, at least as far as the Achaians of 
Homer and the later Dorians are concerned. Apart from 
these slight exceptions, an immense extent of fairly homo- 
geneous dialect-area separates Sanskrit from the centum 
languages, with which it shares striking peculiarities 
wholly absent from all the other sat^m tongues. We have 
been accustomed to think Vedic and Avestan very closely 
alike in their treatment of the proethnic ^palatals. But 
Avestan is perfectly symmetrical : k and kh become j, § 
and ^h become 2, the / being reserved like c for velars fol- 
lowed by (original) e or /. Sanskrit makes k into f (i), 
which was probably a simple sh sound: the two Aryan 
dialects here differ much as Lithuanian sz differed from 
Slavonic s. But Sanskrit never shows i for ^, or kh^ sh for 


^h and kh. The j which represents ^ is something other 
than a pure sibilant, and is identical with the sound of 
a velar palatalised by the influence of the following vowel. 
And h^ to which ^h has come, is of course no sibilant at 
all. Of chy which represents both kh and the palatalised 
qh^ we can say the same as of y. For this unsymmetrical 
treatment there seems to be no parallel except in Germanic. 
There, when Grimm's law began to act, k became A, while 
g and ^h remained guttural, as they did in Sanskrit — ^for 
there y and h were regular representatives of velars as well. 
We may fairly assume that the Germanic h was at first 
a strong ch sound, whether as in Nacht or as in nicht. This 
may even have been the original pronunciation of i in 
East Indo-Germanic, for a sk sound comes out of it easily : 
cf. the south German pronunciation of nkht as nisht. 
Now of course Grimm*s law, in its first period (say 800 
to 100 B.C.), left g a guttural stop, while changing k to 
a spirant. We must postulate a 7 stage between gh and g. 
Sanskrit may fairly be said to agree here, for neither/ nor 
^ is a sibilant, and the very fact that they represent velar 
g and gh before narrow vowels shows that their guttural 
character was not lost. As to gh^ the proto-Germanic 7 
comes very near the Sanskrit h. This recognition of 
afifinity does not involve throwing the Lautverschiebung as 
a whole back to the period of the postulated migration, 
though on one reading of the Boghaz-keui evidence 
Aryan unity lasted until the first tendencies towards the 
sound-shifting in Germanic might very well have begun 
to operate. On our theory the Aryan tribes took a very 
few generations to accomplish their march from the 
Urheimat in northern Germany to Bactria. 

In the treatment of voiced aspirates, again, the aflinities 
of Sanskrit are entirely with the West. Greek and Italic 
agreed in making them breathed aspirates, changing further 
in Italic into spirants. Germanic made them into voiced 
spirants and kept them so completely distinct from the 
unaspir^ted medials that the latter became tenues while 

a. 17 

258 J. H. MOULTON 

the former hardened into voiced stops K While then in 
both these important phonetic developments Sanskrit 
differs fundamentally from Iranian and from all the saUm 
dialects, it finds affinities in Greek and the eastern side of 
Italo-Keltic, but still closer affinities in Germanic. Among 
other contacts we might mention the agreement of 
Germanic and Aryan in changing to a: this also appears 
in Balto-Slavonic. Even in the fundamental difference of 
East and West in the treatment of labiovelars, we notice 
that Germanic decidedly stops at the ^ stage, showing no 
sign of the labial infection which marks the Safine in 
Italic, the Brythonic in Keltic and the Aeolic in Greek*, 
This shows Germanic decidedly nearer than the other 
centum dialects to the Eastern Indo-Germanic, in which 
the labialising tendency wholly disappeared. Are we to 
postulate a period when Germans, Kelts, Italians (and 
Greeks?^ occupied the centre of Europe from north to 
south, with the q group fronting the sat^m country and 
the p line, cutting through them all, further west ? 

It seems natural to connect these contacts — as my 
colleague Professor Conway reminds me — with the links 
between Aryan and Italo-Keltic described by Kretschmer 
in his remarkable book (mis!) called Ein/eitung in die 
Gescbickte der griechischen Spracbe (1896), pp. 126 — 144: 
see also Conway in Enc. Brit.j s.v. * Latin Language.' 
Space compels me to forgo the temptation to set them down 

^ There is a possible hint of a frontier between JA (still voiced) and ^ down in the 
south-east of Europe and in Asia Minor, in the prehistoric period of Greek. A series 
of place-names in Greece, with one or two common nouns, show the formative sufBx 
'pBo- or -pB: We naturally compare the series in -nd- found in Asia Minor. 
Remembering that Macedonian retained the voiced aspirates in historical times 
(Kretschmer, EinUitung, 288), we might suggest that JA was still sounded in Greece^ 
and d in Asia Minor. Kretschmer himself (pp. 293 (F.) thinks that the names started 
from ntf which the later Greeks wrote v$f and their eastern neighbours changed to tul; 
and he essays to prove that the language of prehistoric Greece was not Indo- Germanic 
at all. If that is true, of course my suggestion disappears ; but I think the alternative 
possibility may be noted. 

* The very partial change of 7* to/(Streitberg, Urgerm. Gramm. p. 1 11) may be a 
trace of this infection. 

* I should put the Greeks ^cept the Aeolic group) on the q nde of the line, to u 
to account for the dentalising of ^/ etc., and the reversion of the guttural in the com- 
binations uqr, q¥u etc. Both of these processes demand a proto-Greek gntturaL 


or comment on them. They seem to be much closer in 
morphology and vocabulary than those we can gather 
between Germanic and Sanskrit, but less deep-seated in 
phonetic affinity. If this remark is true, we might 
account for the fact by supposing Italo-Keltic to have been 
neighbour to prehistoric Sanskrit at some period, while 
the German-Sanskrit affinity would better suit the relation 
of actual descent ^ Is it possible to explain the facts by 
supposing a very rapid migration of a relatively small 
northern tribe from somewhere near the Baltic i Thence 
we may suppose them striking south-east into southern 
Russia, thus avoiding the Lithuanians, who, as Hirt shows 
{Die InJogermanefiy 97), cannot have had any real association 
with the Germans in early times. Swiftly moving east 
past the Caspian, we conceive them ultimately descending 
on the country known later as Bactria and Arachosia. 
There would be considerable resemblance to the invasion 
of Greece by Professor Ridgeway*s Achaians; but the 
period must be one in which the Indo-Germanic folk 
were but slightly divided in speech, and lived within a 
comparatively restricted area. Probably that period was 
not as early as we have been accustomed to think it : Hirt 
{af>. cit. 22) would put it 1800— 1600 B.c. There they 
conquered a people speaking what may be called an Iranian 
dialect, immigrants of an earlier period, who had developed 
the sat^m peculiarities completely. In this milieu the Aryan 
culture was developed, presumably through the older 
population mainly, but the language was that of the 
invaders. These restless warriors however did not stay 
very long. They left their mark behind abundantly, even 
perhaps in physique. The typically ' Aryan ' Achaemenids 
remind us strongly of the northern stock : we may instance 

I A noteworthy oonnexioa of ideas in the Indian and the Germanic spheres may be 
dted £rom Hillebrandt's section on Ritual etc. in the Indo-Aryan Grundriu (pp. 5 f.). 
'Twelfth Night' answers cariously to Skt dvadofaha — ^the twelve days or KUif^ahr 
which make a lonar year of 354 days np to a roughly estimated solar year. The word 
ccr it a snggcrtiTe contact in yocabulary, shared by no other Idg. dialect-group. 

17 — 2 

26o J. H. MOULTON 

the huge Artachaees in Herodotus (vii. 117)^ When 
the Indo-Aryans had hived off, the Iranian speech regained 
its lost ground among the settled tribes left behind. It 
may well be that some differences between Gathic and 
Later Avestan — such as the fairly frequent revival of su^ 
proved by metre, where our MS. tradition has the Iranian 
j^— could be referred to the period when in Bactria* the 
Iranian dialect had not yet won back its ascendancy, except 
to a partial extent. Some such sequence of events may 
explain at once the extraordinary closeness of Avestan and 
Vedic, the late date of their separation, and the magnitude 
and significance of the differences between them. But I 
need not say I am acutely conscious of the precarious 
character of all such speculations. My main desire is to 
emphasise the remarkable difference in the phonology of 
the two Aryan dialect groups ^ so that if I have travelled 
in the wrong direction for a solution someone else may 
essay the problem more successfully. 

James Hopb Moulton. 


^ See Jnsti in the Iranian GrunJriss^ ii. 396 $ alio Hirt, Die Indogtrmanen^ ii. 58a. 

* See my Lectures for the investigation of the n>here of Zarathushtra's work. 

* I have read somewhere a comment on the unsymmetrical character of the 
Sanskrit representatives of the palafalsi but I cannot trace it now. 


To the Oriental mind the simple statement of a fact 
makes no appeal. It not only lacks the picturesqueness 
dear to his soul, but at the same time it closes the door 
to the verbal embroidery pleasing to his ear, while the 
oblique method may further result in added profit, if 
skilfully handled. 

Thus objects of ancient art that pass through the deft 
hands of the native Indian dealer come more gorgeously 
arrayed as to the conditions of their discovery than is 
common in the western world. Many such stories 
accompanied the large collection of gold ornaments 
secured from dealers in the north-west Provinces by 
the late Sir WoUaston Franks, of which Mr Dalton 
published a catalogue for the British Museum^. In 
addition to the ordinary commendations of the beauty 
of the object, its rarity, and the immense labour inci- 
dental to its acquisition, a favourite feature of such stories 
is to associate it with some royal site, which flourished 
very many centuries before the Christian era. Since the 
death of Sir Wollaston Franks I have maintained relations 
with certain of his eastern purveyors on the north-west 
frontier, and the latest prize in this lottery is the bronze 
lion-like animal shown in the annexed plate. In common 
with objects of any distinction, it has a flamboyant story. 
* Found on the throne-place of an ancient king, who lived 
six thousand years ago; the site on a river bank being 
laid bare by a tremendous flood.' It may well be that 

1 Pfankt Bequest, TAe Tnasurf •fthi Oxms^ by O. M. Dalton, 1905. 

262 C. H. READ 

some part of the story is true, but it is a hopeless task to 
attempt the winnowing of the truth from the falsehood, 
and the only satisfactory method is to turn to the inherent 
evidence of the object itself. 

The animal is of bronze, cast and finished by chiselling. 
It represents what may be called archaeologically a lion, 
standing squarely upon its four legs, and modelled with 
great vigour and spirit. The head has a more pointed 
upper jaw than that of a lion, and the actual muzzle has 
a nose not unlike that of a boar ; the mouth is open, and 
the tongue has projected with a turned up end, now 
broken off. The artist has committed the conmion 
error of representing the upper canine teeth as in advance 
of those in the lower jaw. The ears point forwards and 
are long and narrow like those of a mule ; between them 
rise two horns of an ogival curve, rough in the middle 
and terminating in two blunt knobs. The mane is of the 
most rigid type, modelled in the form of six wedge- 
shaped steps. From the sides of the breast spring two 
rudimentary wings, with curved remiges reaching to 
the height of the mane. The body is little more than a 
cylinder, decreasing gradually towards the loins ; the tail 
is a ring, on the upper side of which is a leaf which 
appears to grow from the rump. Another leaf, more of 
an acanthus type, gradually appears below the throat and 
spreads downwards over the animal's breast, while from 
it proceed two vertical ribs, with curved lines between 
them, simulating wrinkles in the skin. Similar curves 
are seen on the fore legs, and the two front paws are 
pierced vertically, as if for rivets to hold the animal 
on a plinth. As a whole the creature is more remarkable 
for the forceful character of the design than for delicacy 
of finish. As the Indian vendor aptly said, ^ If one looks 
at it, he feels by fear that the visitor may be devoured. 
The complexion is dreadful.' 

The question to be answered, and it is an interesting 
one, is, to what art and to what date does the lion belong ? 

Height 93 inches. 


The materials at my command do not provide a sure 
answer, nor can any of my experienced friends give me 
any useful clue. Its affinities are very clear — we have 
here to deal with one of the varieties of the winged 
monster that appear constantly in ancient art during the 
first millennium, both ij) the east and west. At one 
moment, as a gryphon, he has a bird-like head and feet, 
at another he assumes the feet of a quadruped, and in 
almost all of these there is some quality that recalls the 
beast we are now considering. General resemblance can 
scarcely help to narrow the issue and attention must 
therefore be directed towards details. The mule-like ears 
are characteristic of the gryphon on Corinthian vases, 
but this type of ear has probably no special significance 
beyond conveying the impression of alertness. More 
useful are the truncated horns and the rigid quality of 
the mane. Both are found on Persepolitan lions \ where 
the hogged mane is very marked, and the horns, though 
they point forwards, not backwards, are identical with the 
present example. Here, however, the resemblance ends ; 
the Persepolitan lion is executed in a manner far more 
conventional. In Mr Dalton's plates xvi and xxii, a gold 
armlet and a rhyton respectively, the gryphon heads arc 
all furnished with truncated horns, pointing backwards. 
These again resemble the horned lion on the coins of 
Lycia, but in them the truncation, if it exists, is not 
marked. In the modelling of the face of our lion there 
is an absence of the square-jawed massive character so 
distinctive both of the Greek and Persepolitan animal. 
The triangle formed by the nose and the ears is much 
less massive than in either of these, the snarling expression 
is much less majestic and has a character of its own, 
which is intensified by the peculiar formation of the 
corrugations over the eyes. 

Both the wings and the acanthus leaf ornament on 
the breast are reminiscent of classical art, while, on the 

^ eg. Dalton, op. cit. p. ii. 

264 C. H. READ 

other hand, the emaciated body recalls rather the lion 
of the middle ages in Europe than either Greek or 
Persian art. 

The feature for which I have failed to find any 
analogy is the tail in the form of a ring. Close ex- 
amination seems to show signs of wear on the inside 
of the lower surface, as if a chain or another ring had 
worn the surface. 

A consideration of all these peculiarities points to 
a mixed Persian art with a classical influence. The 
* lion-headed gryphon,' as FurtwSngler points out^ is 
a later development of the bird-headed monster, and 
was borrowed by the Greeks from Persia. True Perse- 
politan our lion can hardly be ; Greek it certainly is not ; 
and I therefore venture to class it as an example of 
Bactrian art, and to date it somewhere half-way between 
the time of Alexander and the beginning of the Christian 
era. It is manifest that this attribution presents difficulties. 
A glance at the coins of Euthydemus or of his predecessor 
Diodotus, covering together the latter half of the third 
century, shows artistic qualities such as might be expected 
in Greece itself at the same time. This applies not only 
to the royal head, for the designs on the reverse are 
equally worthy of admiration. On these the human and 
animal forms are naturalistic and executed with great 
skill, e.g. the seated Herakles on the coin of Euthydemus I 
or the lioness on those of Pantaleon, or of Agathocles^ 
These animals have well-developed bodies, and are, in all 
respects, as advanced in artistic quality as are the designs 
on the obverses. I would submit, notwithstanding, that 
these facts are not entirely condemnatory of my attri- 
bution. In the first place, it may fairly be assumed that 
(whatever may be our modem practice) the medallist of 
the Bactrian King represented the high water-mark of 
talent at the time, while habit and tradition exacted 

^ Roicher, Au^hrL Ltxihn^ s.v. Gryps. 

* P. Gardner, Thi Mm tf...Bactri4i and India^ pb. 11, ill, IT. 


conformity with a type. In relation to a work of art such 
as our lion no such necessities or conditions were existent. 
The artist was as free as his brain and his environment 
allowed. His training may have been acquired anywhere 
between the Himalayas and the Mediterranean, a vast 
extent of territory which, at the period we are thinking 
of, must have been saturated with artistic tradition. 

It may perhaps be useful to give the vendor's account 
of the discovery of this object. It is said to have been 
found near the River Helmund, on the site of some old 
buildings now destroyed, where a certain Raja Man Thata 
reigned 'about twelve thousand years ago.* He concludes 
naively : ' I have been trying since many years [to obtain 
this lion] but by the Almighty's grace I have only been 
able to catch hold of it now.' 

The lion has been acquired by the National Art Col- 
lections Fund and given to the British Museum. 

C. Hercules Read. 



Among the various objects found together with the 
carved slates at Hierakonpolis in 1898 comprising the 
' Main Deposit/ were a number of roughly made alabaster 
bowls and dishes. Some of these were inscribed with 
short formulae consisting of two groups of signs; a group 

[^ accompanied either by a scorpion 3SP or by a hawk 

standing on a crescent-shaped sign, apparently a boat— m. . 

To these instances may now be added the variant of the 
formula which is given on the vase shown on Fig. i, 
where the group [^ is followed by the sign for the god 

Set %]. 

This vase was bought at Kena in Upper Egypt some 
years ago, and is now in the Fitzwilliam Museum. Un- 
fortunately no trustworthy data are to be had as to where 
it was found or with what objects it was associated. The 
statement that it came from Abydos or Gebelen, from 
whence according to the local dealers all archaic objects 
come, is not of much value. The figure of Set, the local 
god of Nubt, suggests however Nagada, in the same 
district, as a probable place of origin. 

The material is alabaster (calcite)« The dimensions 
are: height 9*5 cm., width at the top 10*0 cm., so that 
Fig. I is about half the size of the original. The work- 
manship is moderately good ; the outer surface is roughly 
polished with vertical scratches. The inscription is very 


roughly done, the signs being only rather deeply scratched 
in with some sharp tool, perhaps a flint-flake ; the loaf- 
shaped sign within the is merely hammered. 

Besides the inscription, shown in Fig. 2, are four 
cross-lines resembling the sign for the goddess Neith as it 
appears on the vases from Abydos ; they seem however to 
be in no order and do not appear to be hieroglyphics. 

On Fig. 2 the inscription is shown f the original 
size, and for comparison Figs. 3, 4 and 5 are given on the 
same scale from the examples found at Hierakonpolis, 
now in the Fitzwilliam Museum. 

The inscription. Fig. 3, is hammered on with some 
pointed instrument : the scorpion is well drawn ; the K' 
shows only three fingers on each hand, as is usual in early 
quickly-executed hieroglyphs. The sign between the 
hands is merely a rough oval. On another example. 
Fig. 4, the sign is more carefully drawn, and shows that it 
is not a vase but some sort of loaf. The signs in this case 
were first pricked in with a pointed tool, and the rows of 
dots thus made joined up to form a line. 

In another example, not illustrated here, the loaf-sign 
is joined to the inverted K' by two horizontal and one 
vertical radiating lines. 

Fig. 5 is a very roughly executed inscription, but it 

is given as an example of the formula with ^ . The 

is scratched in, while the hawk on the crescent-shaped 
sign is hammered. It would be diflicult to make out this 
group without the assistance of clearer examples. The 
bowl shows traces of red ochre covering the inscribed 
surface, not merely filling in the inscription. 

The hawk on the crescent-shaped object, probably a 
boat, and the scorpion are well shown on a limestone vase 
also from Hierakonpolis (see Hierakonpolis i. Pis. xix 

and xx). The group [^ appears on a carved ivory 
cylinder, perhaps part of a sceptre, found among the 
ivories of the Main Deposit. The loaf-sign in this case is 

z6S F. W. GREEN 

long and curved upwards at the ends; it is accompanied 
by a bird, not at any rate the usual shape of a hawk 
(Hierakon. i, PL xv, 6). Examples of the KJ arms and 
the loaf-sign, but with the loaf-sign outside the arms, 
occur on pottery jars of the ist Dynasty. They are 
figured in R(ya/ Tombs i, PL xlvii. 187 — 207. 

I am at a loss for an explanation of the meaning of 
these inscriptions. At first sight they might appear to be 
the labels of offerings of food made to Horus, Set or Selkis, 
but their occurrence on what may be part of a sceptre 
seems difficult to reconcile with this explanation. A group 
of signs very similar to those on the vase occurs on the 
monument of Skr. fi. b>w now in the Cairo museum \ 

where among his titles is SsJ^ Q In this case there 

is a round pot between the hands of the ¥^ sign, and 
below it what looks like a thick mat, but may be a loaf. 
Variants of this title which occur on the same monument 
omit this last sign. Among the signs written on the 
I St Dynasty vases already referred to, is one group {R. T. i, 
PL xLvii. 1 9 1 . t) which shows the KJ arms, the loaf, and 
what may be a shrine, and may be, therefore, a cursively 
written example of this title, suggesting a connection 
between the inscription on our vase and the title on the 
tomb of Skr. K. bJw. That we have on these vases the 
names of kings such as ^the Scorpion,' seems to me less 
likely than that they are the names of the deities Horus, 
Selkis and Set, especially as Professor Petrie has recently 
discovered at Tarkhan a vase very similar to the one 
described, but with the image of the god Ptah, unaccom- 
panied however by the title, or whatever the group with 
the K> arms may be, shown on the vases described in 
this note. 

F. W. Green. 

^ See Mtriette, Let Masta^as, pp. 74, 75. Murray, Saqqara Mastahas, Pit. i, 11. 


The friend for whom this book is written knows 
something of these finds, for I mentioned them in the 
discussion that followed his paper on 'The Beginnings 
of Iron * at the Leicester meeting of the British Association 
in 1907. A report in Man for October 1907, p. 156, 
treated two different groups of objects as one : * he 
described recent finds of bronze spear-heads and axes 
with an iron spear-butt by peasants in the north-west 
of the Peloponnese in a tomb with late Mycenaean vases/ 
I did not see this misleading summary at the time, but 
became aware of it recently through a reference in Sir 
Arthur Evans* Scripta Minoa^ i. p. 6 1 : * In a tomb recently 
discovered in the north-west of the Peloponnese were 
LM III vases, bronze axes and spear-heads, but an iron 
spear-butt/ A foot-note refers to the report in Man and 
to a paper by Mr Andrew Lang in the Edinburgh Review^ 
January 1 908, p. 78 ; but there is a slip here, and the 
reference should be to Blackwood* s Magazine of that date. 
I take this opportunity of publishing the facts so far as 
they can be known. 

There were two distinct finds, made by peasants at 
diflferent times, a hoard of bronze axes which had nothing 
to do with any tomb, and a number of tombs, one of 
which contained a bronze spear-head and an object which 
I believe to be an iron spear-butt. They have this much 
in common, that both groups were said to have been 
discovered in the north-western corner of the Peloponnese, 
not far from Patras. The information came from peasants 
through two difiFerent dealers and is subject to the usual 

268 F. W, GREEN 

long and curved upwards at the ends; it is accompanied 
by a bird, not at any rate the usual shape of a hawk 
(Hierakon. i, PL xv. 6). Examples of the K' arms and 
the loaf-sign, but with the loaf-sign outside the arms, 
occur on pottery jars of the ist Dynasty. They are 
figured in Royal Tombs i, PL xlvii. 187 — 207. 

I am at a loss for an explanation ot the meaning of 
these inscriptions. At first sight they might appear to be 
the labels of offerings of food made to Horus, Set or Selkis, 
but their occurrence on what may be part of a sceptre 
seems difficult to reconcile with this explanation. A group 
of signs very similar to those on the vase occurs on the 
monument of Skr. K.b'w now in the Cairo museum \ 

where among his titles is .^s/ J| O In this case there 

is a round pot between the hands of the K' sign, and 
below it what looks like a thick mat, but may be a loaf. 
Variants of this title which occur on the same monument 
omit this last sign. Among the signs written on the 
ist Dynasty vases already referred to, is one group (U. T. i, 
PL XLVII. 1 9 1 . t) which shows the KJ arms, the loaf, and 
what may be a shrine, and may be, therefore, a cursively 
written example of this title, suggesting a connection 
between the inscription on our vase and the title on the 
tomb of Skr. H. b?w. That we have on these vases the 
names of kings such as 'the Scorpion,' seems to me less 
likely than that they are the names of the deities Horus, 
Selkis and Set, especially as Professor Petrie has recently 
discovered at Tarkhan a vase very similar to the one 
described, but with the image of the god Ptah, unaccom- 
panied however by the title, or whatever the group with 
the K> arms may be, shown on the vases described in 
this note. 

F. W. Green. 

^ See Mtriette, tit Mastahm^ pp. 74, 75. Murray, Saqqara Mastahas, Pis. i, it. 


The friend for whom this book is written knows 
something of these finds, for I mentioned them in the 
discussion that followed his paper on 'The Beginnings 
of Iron ' at the Leicester meeting of the British Association 
in 1907. A report in Man for October 1907, p. 156, 
treated two different groups of objects as one : ' he 
described recent finds of bronze spear-heads and axes 
with an iron spear-butt by peasants in the north-west 
of the Peloponnese in a tomb with late Mycenaean vases.' 
I did not see this misleading summary at the time, but 
became aware of it recently through a reference in Sir 
Arthur Evans* Scripta Minoa^ i. p. 61 : *In a tomb recently 
discovered in the north-west of the Peloponnese were 
LM III vases, bronze axes and spear-heads, but an iron 
spear-butt.* A foot-note refers to the report in Man and 
to a paper by Mr Andrew Lang in the Edinburgh Review^ 
January 1908, p. 78; but there is a slip here, and the 
reference should be to Blackwood's Magazine of that date. 
I take this opportunity of publishing the facts so far as 
they can be known. 

There were two distinct finds, made by peasants at 
different times, a hoard of bronze axes which had nothing 
to do with any tomb, and a number of tombs, one of 
which contained a bronze spear-head and an object which 
I believe to be an iron spear-butt. They have this much 
in common, that both groups were said to have been 
discovered in the north-western corner of the Peloponnese, 
not far from Patras. The information came from peasants 
through two different dealers and is subject to the usual 

268 R W. GREEN 

long and curved upwards at the ends; it is accompanied 
by a bird, not at any rate the usual shape of a hawk 
(Hierakon. i, PL xv. 6). Examples of the K' arms and 
the loaf-sign, but with the loaf-sign outside the arms, 
occur on pottery jars of the ist Dynasty. They are 
figured in Royal Tombs i, PL xlvii. 187 — 207. 

I am at a loss for an explanation of the meaning of 
these inscriptions. At first sight they might appear to be 
the labels of offerings of food made to Horus, Set or Selkis, 
but their occurrence on what may be part of a sceptre 
seems difficult to reconcile with this explanation. A group 
of signs very similar to those on the vase occurs on the 
monument of SknK.b'w now in the Cairo museum \ 

where among his titles is SJ^ O ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ there 
is a round pot between the hands of the K' sign, and 
below it what looks like a thick mat, but may be a loaf. 
Variants of this title which occur on the same monument 
omit this last sign. Among the signs written on the 
I St Dynasty vases already referred to, is one group (JR. T. i, 
PL XLVII. 1 9 1 . t) which shows the KJ arms, the loaf, and 
what may be a shrine, and may be, therefore, a cursively 
written example of this title, suggesting a connection 
between the inscription on our vase and the title on the 
tomb of Skr. H. bJw. That we have on these vases the 
names of kings such as ^the Scorpion,* seems to me less 
likely than that they are the names of the deities Horus, 
Selkis and Set, especially as Professor Petrie has recently 
discovered at Tarkhan a vase very similar to the one 
described, but with the image of the god Ptah, unaccom- 
panied however by the title, or whatever the group with 
the K' arms may be, shown on the vases described in 
this note. 

F. W, Green. 

^ Se0 Marlette, Let Mastabas, pp. 74, 75. Momy, Saqqara Mastahas^ Pit. 1, 11. 


The friend for whom this book is written knows 
something of these finds, for I mentioned them in the 
discussion that followed his paper on 'The Beginnings 
of Iron ' at the Leicester meeting of the British Association 
in 1907. A report in Man for October 1907, p. 156, 
treated two different groups of objects as one : * he 
described recent finds of bronze spear-heads and axes 
with an iron spear-butt by peasants in the north-west 
of the Peloponnese in a tomb with late Mycenaean vases.' 
I did not see this misleading summary at the time, but 
became aware of it recently through a reference in Sir 
Arthur Evans* Scripta Minoaj i. p. 61 : *In a tomb recently 
discovered in the north-west of the Peloponnese were 
LM III vases, bronze axes and spear-heads, but an iron 
spear-butt/ A foot-note refers to the report in Man and 
to a paper by Mr Andrew Lang in the Edinburgh Review^ 
January 1 908, p. 78 ; but there is a slip here, and the 
reference should be to Blackwood's Magazine of that date. 
I take this opportunity of publishing the facts so far as 
they can be known. 

There were two distinct finds, made by peasants at 
different times, a hoard of bronze axes which had nothing 
to do with any tomb, and a number of tombs, one of 
which contained a bronze spear-head and an object which 
I believe to be an iron spear-butt. They have this much 
in common, that both groups were said to have been 
discovered in the north-western corner of the Peloponnese, 
not far from Patras. The information came from peasants 
through two different dealers and is subject to the usual 


The interesting point about the axes is that they 
furnish an indication of intercourse between Italy and 
Greece ; they are all of Italian type and the precise 
counterpart of one of them has been found in Campania. 
The other find illustrates the prolonged overlap of bronze 
and iron, and raises a question as to the right inter- 
pretation of certain ^ spear-heads ' found at Olympia and 

I. A Hoard of Bronze Axes. 

About ten years ago one of the smaller antiquity-shops 
in Athens bought a hoard of five bronze single axes, 
found by a peasant in the Patras district. Four were 
plain straight-sided implements with large elliptical haft- 
hole, not unlike a modern woodman's axe, but narrower. 
The fifth had noticeable features, a rough knob on one 
side of the butt above the haft-hole and a character in 
relief on each shoulder, a + on one side, a two-pronged 
fork on the other. This, the best of the bunch, was 
bought by Mrs W, K. Foster, who gave it to the 
Cambridge Archaeological Museum. Of the four, one is 
in a private collection in England ; the others lay for a 
long time in the shop and may now be anywhere. 

The marks on the Cambridge axe suggested possi- 
bilities. Being in relief on the bronze they must have 
been sunk in the surface of the mould. Such moulds 
were in two halves and a sign had been scratched within 
each half on the part forming the shoulder of the axe. 
It occurred to me that one might hope to come across 
a companion with like markings and I began to examine 
all the axes of this type that I could hear of. Before 
long I found one in the Ethnographical Department of 
the British Museum, labelled Pozzuoli 1889, which bore 
the same two marks on the shoulders and had, moreover, 
the same knob on one side of the butt. It was given 
to the national collection by Sir Augustus Franks. Baron 
Anatole von Hiigel, keeper of the Museum at Cambridge, 



allowed me to take the Cambridge axe to London, so 
that I was able to compare the two and discuss them 
with Sir Charles Read and Mr Reginald Smith. I am 
further indebted to the heads of the two collections for 
permission to publish them here and to Mr Reginald 
Smith for his supervision of the drawings, which are the 
work of Mr Waterhouse. 

Let C be the Cambridge, L the London example. 
Put side by side they are seen to differ in length and in 
outline, and the question arises whether they can have 
been cast in the same mould. Some differences can be 
accounted for. Thus the irregularity of one side of C 
is due to a flaw in casting; the metal failed to fill that 
part of the mould. The shorter and more spreading 
blade of C may be explained by supposing that the 
original edge was broken or worn away and a fresh 
one was hanunered out. Neglecting the excrescences 
due to oxidisation, we find that the surface of L has 
received more careful tooling and polishing, while C, 
a partial failure, was less well finished. After making 
these deductions it will be found that the resemblance 
is astonishingly close. The marks on the two axes occupy 
the same relative position to the knob on the butt — this 
knob or ^ jet ' seems to indicate the position of the inlet 
for pouring in the molten metal — and the dimensions are 
almost identical. But close comparison of the signs shows 
certain differences ; it is hard to say how far these can be 
accounted for by the tooling and polishing of the rough 
castings, or by recutting of the mould and the signs en- 
graved in it ; recutting of the mould would account for 
the neat sunk line which divides the blade of L from the 
butt. We must admit the possibility of different moulds, 
but that does not diminish the certainty that the axes or 
the moulds from which they were made had a common 

We have next to consider where they were made. 
C was found in Achaia, L ia Campania; was there 


exportation from Greece to Italy or from Italy to Greece ? 
Here the distribution of the type comes to our aid. The 
single axe is at home in Italy, a rare visitor in Greece ; 
I leave out of account the miniature specimens found in 
EM and MM deposits in Crete. It may to some 
extent have taken the place of the double axe, which 
is so abundant in Greece, Crete and the Aegean, and is 
found as far west as Corfu and Santa Maura, but is 
relatively rare in Italy. There are many examples of 
single axes of this type in Italian museums, but I have 
not material for an adequate list ; it will illustrate my 
point to give the figures for a few northern collections. 
The British Museum has 3 from Sicily, 5 from Italy: 
the Cambridge Ethnological Museum i from Sicily, 2 
from Italy: the Ashmolean, i from Italy: the Berlin 
Antiquarium, i from Italy, besides 3 of unknown 
provenance. In none of these galleries have I noticed 
single axes of this type from Greece. There is one in 
the Athens Museum. I have an axe from Macedonia of 
rather different pattern, with a tubular extension of the 
haft*hole forming a sheath to strengthen the haft at the 
point of greatest strain, as in some Hungarian specimens. 

A search in Italian collections may bring to light 
other instances of such marks. An axe in the St Germain 
Museum, No. 19800, bears a swastika in relief on the 
shoulder^ ; and a palstave from Rimini in the Ashmolean 
Museum has a sign, like an E with the end-strokes curved 
outwards, in relief between the flanges, and other signs 
incised on one side. 

As to date, our type has been found with a type of 
flat axe which has small lateral stops^ and this as Ridgeway 
has shown {Early Age of Greece^ pp. 419 and 443) belongs 
to the transition from bronze to iron age. According to 

1 De Mortillet, Mus/e ^/histvriquef fig. 1153. The axe figured in Moiitelius» 
Ci'vilisation primitive en Italie^ PL xxxiii. 15, after de Mortillet, fig. 1x54, hai an 
engroFued twattika. Note a circle in relief on the Valentano axe, PL adii. 14. 

* Montelius, 9p, at, PL cxxi. ax — zy, hoard from Monte Rovello} cf. BuU. 4B 
PaletM, X909, PL ix and xi. 



Orsl the ascia ad occhio or tcure appears in Sicily before 
the close of the bronze age, in central and northern Italy 
somewhat later*. 

II. Bronze Spear-hbad and Iron Spear-butt. 

Seven years ago there came into the market a number 
of antiquities, said to have been found in tombs near 
Patras. There were small vases with bands of rather 

muddy glaze-paint ; a bronze dagger-blade with rounded 
shoulders and short flat tang (Fig. i a), lof inches long; 
a socketed bronze javelin-head with medial groove between 

' Bail. £ Paltta. zxiii (1(97), pp. 119, lao, with ititiitics of Sicilian t 
and xzvi (1900], p. 167, Compare Quagliati'* remarkt, ib. xta (1903), pp. i 
be &gaia on axe from the gtctx Maoduria hoard which closely n ■ ' ■ 
ttUcd aboTC, even to the knob on one tide of the bntt. The*e icKri ■ 
in Xcm d'Otranto as well as in Sicily ; in SuU. dt FaJtM. sxvi. p. 190, Pigorini 
ddcribc* a board of nineteen. 

s. l8 

t those illus- 



raised ribs extending from the tip of the leaf-shaped blade 
almost to the base of the socket (Fig, i ^), 6^ inches long ; 
a mastos'shzptd strainer-cup, also of bronze (Fig. i ^), 
which had probably had a long handle ; and two bronze 
armlets (Fig. i d and e). The dagger had three rivet- 
holes disposed in a triangle, and below them a change 
in the patina indicated the edge-line of the haft; if it 
had been found in Crete one would have assigned it to 
LM I or earlier. The vases were decidedly late Myce- 
naean, LM III 6. The other objects are not easy to date 

Fig. a. Scale i : 3. 

precisely. I bought some of the vases, which are now 
in the Liverpool Public Museum, and kept sketches of 
the other objects. About the same time I bought two 
objects which were said to have been found together in 
one grave, a bronze spear-head and an iron spear-butt, 
to be described below. About a year later I received 
from the same source a quantity of late Mycenaean 
ornaments in bluish-white glass paste, including a neck- 
lace of lily-shaped pieces and a number of small oblong 
plaques of more or less familiar types. I could not 
ascertain the precise whereabouts of the cemetery. Some 
of my colleagues in Greece may be more fortunate. 

The bronze spear-head is i2f inches long, with a 
greatest breadth of 2 inches. The blade is nearly flat, the 


socket being prolonged only as a very low midrib which 
dies away towards the tip. In the drawing (Fig. 2 above) 
the object is tilted in order to show the faint midrib, and 
the full breadth of the blade does not appear. There are 
signs of a joint along the side of the socket, which seems 
to have been formed by hammering* 

The iron butt*piece is now 1 1^ inches long, and was 
slightly longer when I obtained it. It is much corroded ; 
I have to thank Dr Harold Auden for kindly applying 
preservative treatment in his laboratory. It consists of a 
hoUow cylindrical socket 5f inches long, which contracts 
and expands again into a quadrate bar which tapers slightly 
towards the missing termination. At the point where the 
socket ends and the contraction begins it is strengthened 
by a bronze ring f inch broad. 

The inner diameter of the socket-opening is the same 
in both cases, from to f of an inch. The bronze of the 
ring has the same slightly granulated bright green patina 
as the spear-head. 

At this point I shall be met by the objection that 
objects like this spear-butt have long been known and 
have always been described by archaeologists as spear- 
heads. The locus classtcus is Furtwangler's account of 
the bronzes from Olympia {Die Bronzen^ Textband iv. 
pp. 173 fF., Tafelband iv, Taf. xiv). That great master's 
conclusions are not to be questioned lightly, but I think 
that in this case good reasons can be shown. He divides 
the spear-heads found at Olympia into two classes, leaf- 
shaped and four-sided, the latter being what I regard as 
butts. Of leaf-shaped heads there were a great many 
in iron, few in bronze ; of four-sided * heads ' there were 
a fair number in bronze, very few in iron ; and the latter, 
like the specimen under consideration, had a bronze ring 
about the contracted waist. There were a number of 
bronze butt-pieces of tubular and other types, some 
of them approximating very closely to the four-sided 
• heads/ 




Several of the four-sided bronze specimens from 
Olympia bear votive inscriptions in archaic lettering, 
by which they can be dated to the fifth or close of 
the sixth century; another, which probably came from 
Olympia^ was in Canon Greenwell's collection and has 
now passed with it to the British Museum {y. H. S. 11. 
77, PL xi). I give a fresh drawing and section (Fig. 3). 
Furtwangler concluded that this type of 'spear-head/ 
which is relatively rare and confined to the classical world, 
was invented not long before the period indicated by the 

There arc several objections to this view. First, on 
Furtwangler's own showing, iron was the normal material 
for spear-heads in the classical period, bronze for spear- 

Fig. 3. Scale I t 3. 

butts. He wrote at a time when the limits of the bronze 
age were less well defined than they are to-day. The 
bronze leaf-shaped spear-heads found at Olympia can 
hardly be later than the eighth century and may be 
older. It would be very surprising if in the sixth century 
the Greeks of several different states went back from iron 
to bronze. 

Secondly, the new type of four-sided spear-head, which 
on this hypothesis came into fashion in the sixth century, 
would be a very poor weapon. We are asked to believe 
that after the leaf-shaped head with sharp point and cutting 
edges had been in use for centuries, the Greeks substituted 
this clumsy instrument like an elongated poker. In the 
complete bronze examples from Olympia, the socket pene- 
trates the obelisk-shaped point for three-quarters of its 


length ; it was little more than an ornamental sheathing 
of the wooden shaft. Where the bronze tip is preserved, 
it is blunt and rounded. Imagine such a weapon in action; 
it might succeed in punching a hole in a shield, but the 
useless ring-ornament would stop its further progress. On 
the other hand, as a butt-piece 
it answers its purpose admirably, 
for it had no sharp edges to 
damage men in the rear-ranks of 
your own side, yet the blunt 
point enabled you to drive it into 
the ground or to strike a shrewd 
blow in an emergency. 

Thirdly, we have many re- 
presentations of spears and their 
butt-Spikes on painted vases of 
the period in question, but I 
know of none in which the head 
has this curious obelisk-like four- 
sided form with a waist and ring 
behind it. On the other hand, 
there are plenty of instances of 
obelisk-like butts. A kylix by 
Douris (Vienna Museum, Furt- 
wSngler-Reichhold, Taf. 53) *■'«■ ♦■ 

shows such a a-avpwriip on two spears in the lower scene : 
a longitudinal dividing line is introduced below the ring 
to show the quadrangular form. This is stjlt more 
distinct on several spears wielded by deities on the great 
Gigantomachia Amphora in the Louvre (F.-R. 96) ; notice 
particularly the spear with which Athena (Fig. 4) assails a 
cowering giant, using the butt-end, the editor observes, 
just as a modem soldier clubs his musket. Another 
example is the spear of Achilles on a well-known vase 
in the Vatican'. 

> Gerhard, ^, r. III. i>4,aQd s poor cut inDiMmbei^ and Stglio, j-v. Hiiff«, where 
the aothor of the utide ottdlj dcKribei the *pear m ha>iii{ a ' double pointe.' 


It may be asked why the votive inscription should have 
been engraved on the butt. Probably this was the usual 
custom, for such inscriptions occur on undoubted bronze 
spear-butts. Bronze was more easily engraved than iron, 
and less perishable. Moreover the flat sides of the type 
under discussion offered convenient surfaces. 

We have no evidence of a Mycenaean a-avpmrtip other 
than the one seen on the Warrior Vase. But Homer's 
heroes planted their spears in the ground {Iliad m. 135), 
and even those who reject as late the fine lines of the 
Doloneia (x. 152) 

''Opff €7ri cravpeoTfipo^ iXifXaTOf rtiXe ik ;^aAfco$ 
AdiJL(p^ ois re crrepoTrfj warpo^ Aios, 

and maintain that the spears were planted point down, 
will find it hard to convince soldiers that the Achaeans 
treated their polished spear-blades in this disrespectful 
fashion. I suggest that in that age of ^overlapping 
metals,' when so many common implements were of iron, 
the useful spear-butt was made of the humbler metal. 
On the evidence of the Patras find, such as it is, we may 
connect the bronze spear-heads of Olympia with the few 
iron butts, bronze-ringed like Fig. 2, which Furtwangler 
describes \ The next stage would be the substitution of 
iron, which had now justified itself as a material for 
weapons of offence. But bronze reigned supreme in the 
rest of the warrior's equipment — he was x^^^^^ «*^V> 
and when it was found that the iron butt-spike tended to 
rust in the damp ground, there was nothing incongruous 
in replacing it by one of bronze. The ring which had 
performed a real structural function in strengthening the 
socket was now cast solid. 

On the later vases, the a-avptornp is shown larger and 

^ Op. at p. 175, note i» he mentions ft similar Iron bntt in the Museo Etmsco at 
Florence. There is another in the Copenhagen Museum, noted by Sophus Molier, 
Aarbfgtrfir Nwrduk Oldkyndighidf 1882, p. 326. 


blunter than any of our extant examples. Probably to- 
wards the end of the fifth century armourers designed 
it for use in action rather than for sticking in the ground, 
and therewith reverted to iron, which may account for 
the absence of such heavy specimens in our museums, 
where Greek ironwork is lamentably rare. Aristotle im- 
plies that in his day it was not the Greek practice to 
plant the spear in the ground ; he illustrates the Homeric 
lines, as Mr Lang points out, by mentioning the custom 
of the Illyrians {Poetics xxvi. 14). The aavpmriip was 
still fitted to the spear, however* Poly bins (vi. 25. 6) 
says that the Romans, ever ready to learn, adopted it 
from the Greeks because it gave the spearman a chance 
of striking a second blow; and elsewhere (xi. 18. 4) he 
tells how Philopoemen pierced an opponent with the 
point and delivered a finishing blow with the butt. 

While correcting the proofs I have come upon a state- 
ment in the ArcMoL Anzeiger xv (1900), p. 100, that at 
a meeting of the Berlin Archaeological Society *Herr 
Pernice teilte einige Beobachtungen iiber vierkantige 
Bronzespitzen aus Olympia mit, welche er als Lanzen- 
schuhe deutete.' I am glad that my view has been 
anticipated by so high an authority on Greek bronzework. 



In the lower town of Okhridha^ stands the former 
cathedral of St Sophia which was built by Leon '9 its first 
Greek Patriarch and Archbishop, after the destruction of 
the Bulgarian Empire by Basil II. The earliest possible 
date for Leon's accession to the patriarchal throne of 
Achrida seems to be 1025, ^^^ since he died in 1056 the 
church must have been built between these two dates. 
After the Turkish conquest the cathedral was converted 
into a mosque, but is now (191 2) no longer in use. Re- 
peated earthquakes have shaken and cracked the walls, and 
since no efficient repairs have been undertaken the whole 
of this interesting building is in imminent danger of 
collapse. At the west end a large building was added 
subsequently, probably as a residence for the clergy. This, 
which is now used as a storehouse and is in good condition 
compared with the cathedral itself, shows so far as a hasty 
examination of its interior permitted no signs of ever 
having been used as a church. Its orientation too, for it 
is built at right angles across the west end, speaks against 
this. At the north end over what was probably the main 
entrance to this addition is a small octagon, perhaps once 
a belfry, but which has been used by the Turks as a base 
for the minaret. It is to be hoped that with the advent 

^ The classical Lychnidus, the Byzantine Achris or Achrida; to-day called by 
Greeks and Vlachs Okhridha, by Bulg^ars, Turks and Albanians Okhri. 

* See Gelzer, Der Patriarckat own Achrida [Sacksische Abhandlungen^ X90xX p. S i 
this and his two articles in the Bpumitniscki ZtUsckrift (18929 1893) are the best cxistiaf 
accounts of the Patriarchate of Achrida. 


of better days in Upper Macedonia a detailed architectural 
study of this most interesting church will be possible \ 

As has just been mentioned the date of the cathedral 
and its builder are known. Fortunately also the name and 
date of the builder of the addition are known from an 
inscription on the building itself. This, which is made 
with tiles* set on edge in a common Byzantine manner', 
runs along the west side over the long row of windows 
which light the large hall on the first floor. The large 
size of the letters, which seem to be at least a foot high, 
and the consequent length of the inscription make it 
appear rather ostentatious. It was first published in 1867 
by von Hahn and has since been seen and published 
by others^ Gelzer, the last to publish it, reads it as 
follows : — 



n ^NcOi(i w c-:-QQ5rw ke 

which he transcribes 


rptiyopi^o^ll «a veto 

^Ktiwip iyeipa^ top 6e6ypa<pov vofJLOv : 

^T€i ra>fC6 

^ Other churches in Macedonia which seem to deserve study are the large mosque, 
once a church (St Sophia f), in the main street of Verria (Beroea), the church of the 
monastefy of Sveti Naum, the other churches of Okhridha itself, the church at Bona 
near Kortsha (Gelzer, Ati. Mitt 1902, p. 441 ; Weigand, 2>/# Armnunen i. p. no), the 
churches of Kastoria, and the church at Galishte to the west of Kastoria. 

* Gelzer {AtA, Mitt. 1902, p. 432) describes it as 'eine in ungewOhnlich grossen 
Bochstaben ausgehauene Inschrift/ 

' Cf. Evans, Archatohgia^ Vol. 49, p. 146 $ similar inscriptions are to be seen on the 
walls of Salonica and Constantinople, cf. van Millingen, By7^ ConstantinfU^ pp. 98, 100. 

* von Hahn, Rtise durch d, Gebiete d. Drin und Wardar (1867), p. 1 15 ; 'AXr^ovdi^r, 
*SXX. ^fX. ZvXXoyoff, Constantinople^ 1866 ; Heuzey, Mimwn dt Macidum^ p. 340^ 
no. 140$ Bodlev, Shcmiij Vol. x., p. 570; AtjfuTo-at, MoKtdoviof v. 379, no. 349$ 
Geher, Atk. Mitt. 1902, p. 431 ff. ; cf. also Evans, ArcAae^Ugia, Vol. 49, p. 146. Of 
these publications those of von Hahn, Alexudhis, and Bodlev have been inaccessible 
to me. 

282 A. J. B. WAGE 

Dhimitsas reads : — 




transcribing it :— 

Mo ^crti^ 6 Fpriyopio^ [TavTti\v ©(€)« crKtipriv iyeipa^ toi^ 
Beoypatpov vopiov eOvti to, Mvcrcov iKSiScuTKet iravcro^ta^ 

€T€l g-WK. 

Bodlev and Dhimitsas, both natives of Okhridha, both 
wish to read the first word as Mwifcr^s or the like. Of 
the copies published those of Heuzey and Gelzer are the 
best. To the former is due the restoration ravrnv ©€w 
adopted by Dhimitsas, and his copy of the damaged first 
part reads thus: — 

|t|0 <HCOr(>HrOI>IOC N«WCkHNHN K.rX 

About the latter part of the inscription there can be 
no doubt except for the date which was incompletely 
copied by Dhimitsas and Heuzey. The correct date is 
given by Gelzer, Tiwici, 6825, which is 13 16 — 17 a.d. 
As to the beginning of the inscription the restorations 
adopted by Dhimitsas and Heuzey are unsatisfactory, for 
in spite of the breach of the cretic rule in the last line it 
is clear that the inscription is intended to be in iambics^ 
and therefore any restoration to be really satisfactory should 
be one in which the first line is also an iambic. 

In the summer of 191 2 I paid a short visit to Mos- 
khopolis which lies in the Albanian hills five hours west of 
the Albanian town of Kortsha^ and between it and Berat. 
Moskhopolis was during the seventeenth and eighteenth 
centuries a flourishing town, and was destroyed by the 
Albanians after the suppression of the first Greek revolt 

1 This is the Albanian name: the Turks and Slavs call it Gioija» the Vlacht 
Kortsheaoa, and the Greeks Koritsa. 


in 1770. It was a Vlach town, and the name Moskhopolis^ 
seems to be a hellenized form of some Slav name. It 
fonnerly had a great trade and early in the eighteenth 
century possessed a printing press*. With a view to 
determining the period during which the town was most 
flourishing I copied most of the dedicatory inscriptions 
in the churches. For, although only the kernel of town 
which is inhabited to-day by a mixed population of Vlachs 
and Albanians has survived, all the churches are still kept 
up, in spite of the fact that many of them stand in tne 
midst of meadows which mark the sites of ruined houses. 
In the church of St Athanasius, after the end of a. long 
dedicatory inscription saying that it was built : — 

7raTpiapj(€vovT09 tov fxaKapuoTarou apjfieinarKOTrov 

Kol varpidpjfpv t^? Ylpwrti^ lovcTiviavifi 'A^pi^^v Kupiov 

Kvpiov 'Iwaad^ ip erti ^(r\'l3 

comes the sentence : — 

KTUTTfi^ 6 'ApipopiKos 'larpatiX veta mctivriv iyeipa^ 
TOV deoypaipov vofxop TroifAtiv^ tov XpuTToG 
iKiiBdcKei irava6<pia^. 

This is obviously an imitation of the Okhridha in- 
scription, especially since we have the spelling ve^. My 
own copy of the Okhridha inscription reads as follows : — 

•Tl W ChC OrpHrOpK 1 ANP W* KHNHN K.rX 

which according to the Moskhopolis version we can 
restore thus: — 

[K]Ti((r)Ti|s 6 Tpny6pi{p)\^ 'I(r/cia](jjA) ve{av) 
^Kfivr\v eyeipa^ tov 6edypa(j)ov vofiov 
"Edvfi Ta MvarSv 6fcScSa(rK€i 7ravcr6(pia^ 

erei Twice. 

^ Wdgand, Die Arvmunm i. p. loi s the name it a hellenized form of the Albanian 
Motkopoie and this word Is of Slav origin. The Kortsha district is one of those in which 
the Albanian population has been spreading eastwards and poshing back the Bulgarian. 

* For an account of Moskhopolis and district see Leake» Vwikim Greece i. p. 343 \ 
Weigand, Die Jrommnen 1. pp. 96 if. 

* Mj copy gives a-otfu^, but woifipiip may really be the right reading. 

284 A. J. B. WAGE 

Then the first line by scanning Tptiydpiot with the iota 
long makes an iambic line and excellent sense, stating that 
Gregorios had erected a new tabernacle for Israel. 

The church of St Athanasius bears in tiles the date 
1724 and an inscription saying it was built by masons from 
Krimini^ Another date on the church is 1721, and wc 
also learn from other inscriptions that the wall paintings 
and other interior decorations were completed in 1744 and 
the external decoration in 1745, when loasaph was patri- 
arch of Achrida. loasaph, who was a native of Moskho- 
polis*, and so probably a Vlach, was at first bishop of 
Kortsha and afterwards patriarch of Achrida from 17 19 
to 1745^ These dates which we know of from other 
sources agree perfectly with the dates on the church itself. 
Consequently the building of St Athanasius being fixed 
between 1721 and 1745 we may conclude that at that 
time the inscription of Gregorios on St Sophia at Okhridha 
was complete. The damage to it probably took place 
between 1745 and 1867, the date of von Hahn's journey. 
Perhaps the curious form of the fourth letter is due to an 
attempt at restoration, for the Andronicus version has 
Krarnr? quite clearly, and later on veti^ which is the 
actual reading of the St Sophia inscription. The use of 
W where we should expect A may be due to restoration, 
though perhaps the omega may be a misunderstanding for 
a cursive alpha. 

Gregorios was apparently Patriarch and Archbishop of 
Achrida*, and also according to our inscription one of the 
apostles of the Slavs of Upper Macedonia. Cantacuzenus* 
refers to him as avrip cro<p6^ re eU \6yow Kai davfida-UK 
avvefrei Kai t^s ovtod^ cro^ia^ aKpw^ eireiKtifAfUvo^. Theo- 
dores Metochites, who flourished under Andronicus II 

' This is a Greek vilU^e near Tskotili to the west of Lapdshta (Anaselitsa), and it 
is remarkable that to-day Greek masons from Krimiai are often employed by the Vladis 
of Northern Pindtis» who are ne^er masons themselves. 

s T. Gelzer, 9f. at., p. 104; Weigaad, Die Arommun i. p. 99. 

s ¥. Gelzer, ip. at, pp. 104, 139. 

* T. Gelser, ^. a>.» p. 14. * l* ax6» 11. 


Palaeologos 1282 — 1328, addressed a poem to him after 
he had ceased to be archbishops The Mvcroi are of course 
the Slavs, for Mvcroi is a Byzantine way of spelling 
Moiaoiy and since the Slavs settled in Moesia and Thrace 
Serbs and Bulgars are often referred to by pedantic 
Byzantine writers as Mvcroi koi TpifiaXoi\ 

A. J. B. Wacb. 

^ Krumbacher, Bja. Liiteratur^ p. 553. 

* e.g. Chalcocondylti^ >• PP* ^ ^1 > 7» >9 (^* Bonn). 


In Guillim^s Heraldry (cd, 1679 pt i. p. 137) two 
lines of Latin verse are quoted from " a certain author " 
a propos of the habits of the Lion : 

Parcere prostratis scit nobilis ira leonis^ 

Tu quoque fac simile quisquis dominaris in orbe. 

Who is the author ? The sentiment, at least, occurs 
in Ovid {Tristia m. v. 33) : 

Quo quisquis maior, magis est placabilis irae, 

£t faciles motus mens generosa capic 
Corpora magnanimo satis est prostrasse leoni, 

Pugna suum finem cum iacet hostis habet. 

The expression finds a parallel in Lucan (vi. 487) 

Has auidae tigres et nobilis ira leonum 
Ore fouent blando. 

while Claudian {Laud. Stilic. lu 20) has : 

Obuia prosternas, prostiataque more leonum 

and Dracontius i^B^mulea v. 307) says • 

imitare leones 
Quos feritas generosa iuuat; super arma tenentes 
Ingruere, fremitusque dare procul ore cruento 
Nobilis ira solet; subiectis parcere gaudent. 

Perhaps we are justified in assuming that Ovid and 
Lucan furnish a sufficient basis for the matter of the lines 
which stand as our text. Until further evidence of the 
fact is forthcoming we need not suppose that Dracontius, 
— ^whose poems, and especially those on secular subjects, had 

1 This line is also quoted by Bp Fisher oa the Seven Penitential Psalms^ bot with 
'vuU instead of Kit. 


no very wide circulation, — ^inspired our author. But what 
was Guillim's immediate source ? I conjecture it to have 
been that form of the Bestiary which is printed among the 
works of Hugh of St Victor (ed. 161 7, Tom, 11. Migne 
P. L. 177). In this the source is not named: the lines 
are introduced with the common formula "unde uersus." 
We can, however, go farther back. In a later section, 
on the Hyena, two more lines of the same indifferent 
character are quoted : and all four lines occur in what I 
cannot doubt is the original document, the poem de 
mtrabilibus mundi. 

This composition is, with a refreshing boldness, 
attributed to Ovid in most of the manuscripts I have seen. 
I cannot discover that it has ever been printed, though I 
dare not affirm that it has not. At any rate I offer what 
I believe to be an edttio princeps as my contribution to the 
celebration in which we are so glad to take part. 

The manuscript which I take as the basis of my text 
is Maclean MS. 7 in the Fitzwilliam Museum. It is 
probably of the eleventh century (possibly twelfth), seems 
to have been written in Italy, and stands alone in respect 
of its age, of the correctness of its text, and of the fact 
that it attributes the poem neither to Ovid nor to anyone 
else : it has neither title nor colophon. 

The other copies which I have consulted are : 

Bodleian MS. Digby lOO, of cent. xiv. 

Eton College no. 91, of cent, xiii — xiv, formerly the property of 

Winchester College. 
St John's College, Cambridge, no. 62, of cent. xv. 
Harley 3353 of cent, xiv — ^xv, in which an abortive attempt has 

been made to ^^ moralize ** the poem by adding interpretations of 

the phenomena described. 

There is also a copy at Trinity College, Dublin (no. 270 : D. 4. 9), 
;as5igned to cent, xiii — ^xiv. This I have not seen. 

The above are all the copies which I have succeeded 
in detecting. There are doubtless others ; but if it is fair 
to judge from the evidence of five, not much will be 

288 M. R. JAMES 

gained from an examination of them : unless — and the 
exception is, I admit, important — unless one or other 
prove to contain further portions of the text : as it stands, 
it has neither beginning nor end. 

Of those which I have collated the Digby MS. comes 
next to the M^Clean MS. in correctness. Those at Eton 
and St John's are ludicrously bad. The Harleian copy, 
apart from its interpolations, is decent. 

I may say at once that I do not propose to encumber 
my edition with a statement of the senseless variants of 
the inferior MSS. The M^Clean copy offers a text which 
may be described as practically faultless, and to it I adhere. 

Leaving to other students to determine if they can the 
date and place of origin of these verses, we will consider 
the purpose for which they were written, and the sources 
whence their matter is drawn. Neither are difficult to 

The verses evidently belong to the interesting category 
of inscriptions designed to accompany pictures. They fall 
into 79 sections, of one, two, or three lines, each describing 
a single subject. In the M^Clean MS. a title is written 
in the margin opposite to every one of the sections except 
two. The Digby, St John's, and Harley MSS. have a few 
of these titles, the Eton MS. none. Some of the titles, 
and nearly all of the verses, are couched in a form which 
shows beyond the possibility of doubt that they were 
meant to serve as explanations of pictorial representations. 
Of the titles, these are perhaps the most striking: (20) 
Fur. Fons Sardinius. (27) Hyena. Tugurium. Pastor. 
(29) Tibicen. Fons Alistnus. (35) Fenix. Sol. (38) Apis. 
Homo quilibet. lulius Cesar. Apis. (73) Diomedea 

auis. Sepulchrum eius. These inscriptions are intended to 
be written above the principal persons or objects in a 
picture. The fashion of thus labelling the dramatis personae 
is common to ancient and medieval art. The paintings 
of Polygnotus at Delphi, the chest of Cypselus, and 
multitudinous vases attest it for the one period : the 


Bayeux tapestry, the Bamberg coronation-mantles, and 
many a window at Chartres or Bourges for the other. 
So, too, with the verses. Most of them are as plainly 
descriptive labels as are the titles : Hie serpens — hk fons — 
hie draco y — this form of phrase runs through the whole 

It may be possible in the future to determine what 
the work of art was for which the verses were designed 
to serve as an interpretation. It seems to me likely to 
have been either a frieze of frescoes in a hall or cloister, 
or a set of hangings for a church or palace, like the 
Bayeux tapestry already mentioned. 

Turning to the sources of the poem, I find that by far 
the greater part of the matter is furnished by a single 
authority. Out of the 79 sections no less than 73 can be 
traced with certainty to Solinus^. This point, important 
as it is, need not be dwelt upon here ; the parallels are 
given in full below the text. 

Of the six sections which do not owe their being to 
Solinus something may be said here. They are : 

26. The Rhinoceros which will lay its head in a maiden's lap. 
41. The Lion's whelp born dead and quickened on the third daj bj 

the lion's roar. 
43. The female viper, killing the male, and in turn killed by her 

48. The Enhydros able to detect poison. 
63. The eagle cooling its eggs with the stone clHiUu 
79. The Griffin able to carry off a whole horse as its prey. 

The matter of 26, 40, 43, 48, 79 is to be found in 
the Etymologiae of Isidore of Seville. For 63 the nearest 
equivalent I have yet found is in the Liber de naturis rerum 
used by Vincentius in the Speculum Naturale (viii. 23). 
The ** Lapidaries" of Marbod and others do not give the 
particular property selected for description by our Poet. 

Besides the above-quoted authorities the compiler has 
evidently read Lucan. The descriptions of serpents show 

^ Not Pliny. In several sections (e.g. az, 64) matter peculiar to Solinus^ or at least 
not drawn firom Pliny, is embodied. 

^ 19 

290 M. R. JAMES 

numerous coincidences with those in the Pharsalia (ix. 700 
— 838). From Lucan also, as we have seen, he derives 
the phrase **nobilis ira leonis." That he knew other 
Latin poets we may fairly assume, but no others, I think, 
have left important traces upon his work. 

As to the text, two matters demand some treatment : 
(i) The Digby manuscript furnishes something in 
the way of scholia}. These extend as far as § 38, Mter 
which only the titles, and not all of these, are given. 
The authors cited in the scholia include Isidore, Beda de 
imagine mundi^ Solinus, Marcianus Capella, Pliny, Lucan, 
Promatheus (i.e. Alexander Neckam's corrogaUones Pro- 
mathei or Promethei)^ It has not seemed to me that 
anything would be gained by printing these notes. 

(2) The recension of the poem given by the Harley 
MS. 3353 is peculiar. An attempt is made to give a 
moral or spiritual meaning to the verses, and a prologue, 
also of a religious nature, is prefixed. The moralization, 
however, does not go very far. After § 17 no addition is 
made to the original. The added verses, by the way, 
show themselves to be additions by the fact that the 
assonant or Meonine' character of the original is not 
preserved. The text is corrupt in places, and the copy a 
late one. I give the ^^ moralized '' portion in an Appendix. 


(i) laculus. Hie serpens uentis pernicior atque sagittis 

Transfigit quosque iaculatus ab arbore sese. 

(2) Herba Sardonia. Huic fera tarn seuum tribuit natura uenenum 

Ut quicumque bibat uitam ridendo relinquat. 

(3) Pelorium stagnum. Corpus in hac unda tinctum tabescit ad ossa. 5 

(i) I, a. laculi arbores subeunt e quibus ui maxima turbinati penetrant animal 
quodcunque obuium fortuna fecerit. Sol. 27. 

(2) 3, 4. Herba Sardonia... rictu diducit ora, ut qui mortem oppetunt facie 
ridentium intereant. Sol. 4. 

(3) 5. Pelorias...tres Iacut...Tertium ara sacrum approbat...qui ad eam pergit^ 
aqua cnirura tenus peruenit; quod ultra est (non licet) attingi...qui id ausus tit, malo 
plectitur, quantamque sui partem gurgiti internauerit tantam it perditum. SoL 5. 

^ The St John's MS. has also a few later marginal notes. 


(4) Linx. Lincis in eximium durescit urina lapillum ; 

Hanc tegit in fossis uelut usibus inuida nostris. 

(5) Tragopa. Veruecis specie frons es( cornuta tragopf. 

(6) Albanus. Nascitur hie canus, niger est ^tate grauatus, 

Luce uidet modicum, sed noctis tempore mirum. lo 

(7) Amphisibaena. Parte caput gemina uergens rotat amphisibena. 

(8) Bucephalus. Hoc prouectus equo magnus fiiit ille Macedo. 

(9) Tigris. Saltibus est agilis et morsibus aspera tigris. 
(10) Gymnosophista. Ne coquat extrema uestigia feruor harena, 

Dum querit mathesim suspend it crura uicissim. 15 
(i i) Hymantopoda. Hoc genus ire nequit, sed flexo poplite repit. 

(12) Antropofagus. Hunc habet hie morem, fert hunc in mente fiirorem, 

Carne sui generis pro summis utitur escis. 

(13) Bos tricornis. Hunc opulenta bouem finxit natura tricornem. 

(14) Scita (h)o5tis. Hec gens hostilem gaudet sorbere cruorem. 20 

(15) Emorroys. Corpus ab hoc hydro morsum rubet imbre cruento; 

Egreditur sanguis per mille foramina camis. 

(16) Leucocroata* Hec currens nimium superat genus omne ferinum. 

(17) Bos unicornis. Venerat hie lentus ad cornua danda iuuencus. 

(18) f Elephas. Hie draco frigentem bibit ex elephante cruorem 25 
\ Draco* Ast (el)ephas fortem dum labitur opprimit hostem. 

Hine fit cynnabarum, eonfiiso sanguine mixtum. 

(19) Taurus Indicus. Omnibus his fiiuees gemine scinduntur in aures. 

(4) 6j 7. Lynoet quanun urinat coire in duritiem pretioti calculi ...utod edam 
ip$as lynces pertentiacere...qood egettum liquorem illico arenarum tiimulis...cont^unt, 
inuidae scilicet ne...txaiiseat in noatrum usum. Sol. a. 

(5) 8. Tragopan...anii maior aquili% cornibus arietinis proferens armatum 
caput. Sol. 30. 

(6) 9» 10. Albani...albocrine naKuntur...nocte plus quam die cemunt. SoL 15. 

Also 5a gentem quae in iuuentute cana sit, nigrescat in senectute (India). 
(7} II. Amphisbaena consurgit in caput geminum...serpat tractibus circulatis. 
Sol. a7. See also Lucan iz. 7x9. 

(8) I a. Alexandri magni equus Bucephalus dictus etc. Sol. 45. 

(9) 13. Pedum motum nesdo uelocitas an peruicacia magis adiuuet etc. Sol. 17. 

(10) i4f 15- Gymnosophistas globo igneo rimantes secreta quaedam, 
acenisque feruentibus perpetem diem altemts pedibus insistunt Sol. 5a. 

(11) 16. Himantopodes flexis nisibus crurum repunt potius quam inoedunt. 
SoL 31. 

(la) 179 X 8. Anthr. quibus execrandi cibi sunt humana uiscera etc. Sol. 15 
(>3) 19- (India) Sunt ibi praeteiea boues...tricornes. Sol. 5a. 

(14) ao. Scytharum..*asperior ritus est...interemptorum cruorem e uulneribus 
^Mis bibunt. Sol. 1 5. 

(15) ai, aa. Haem. inorsu sanguinem elicit, et dissolutis uenarum commerdis, 
qoicqnid animae est euocat per cruorem. Sol. a 7. Also Lucan ix. 

(16) a 3. Leucrocota uelocitate praecedit feras uniuersas. SoL 5a. 

(17) a4« (India) Sunt praeterea boues unicomes. SoL 5a. 

(x 8) z$ — a7. £lephantis...frlgidior inest sanguis, et ob id a draconibus auidissime 
torrente captantur aestu...cum ebiberunt sanguinem, dum ruunt belluae, dracones 
obniuntur...utrinque fusus cruor terram imbuit, fitque pigmentum...quod cinnabari 

OOCSLIIt. SoL 2$. 

(19) a8. Indicia tauris... hiatus onme quod caput. Sol. 5a. 

292 M. R. JAMES 

(20) Fur. fons Sardinius. Huic font! tanta uis est ad fiirta probanda 

Ut si latro bibat cecus post pocula fiat. 30 

(21) Manticora* Hec facie nostra, leo corpore, scorpio cauda. 

(22) Ladas. Hie dum currebat tanta leuitate uigebat 

Ut minime lesam pede peruolitaret harenam. 

(23) Cinnamolgos. Hec auis ad nidum conuectat cinnama tantum. 

(24) Nilus. Ignorat physicus que me producat abyssus. 35 

(25) Hyppopoda. Hie sibi dissimilis pedibus fiilcitur equinis. 

(26) Rinoceros. Virgo. Hie rinocerotem demulcet uirgo ferocem. 

(27) Hyena. Tugurium. Hunc uocat a cauea noctu per nomen hyena^ 

Pastor. Accitumque rapit et seuo uulnere carpit. 

(28) Indicus hoc more pomorum uiuit odore. 40 

(29) Tibicen, fons Ali- Hie fons pauper aquis cum perflat tibia flabris 

sinus. Admirans odas transcendit litoris oras* 

(30] Troglodita. Vescitur hie colubris, nee defit uita salubris: 

Non timet inde mori ciun mortem porrigat ori. 

(31) Visontis. Esse boui similem iussit natura uisontem. 45 

(32) rCamelus Bactrianus. Singula de uestris proeedunt tubera tergis; 

1 Camdus Arabicus. Vos Arabum duph's ueetatis corpora strumis. 

(33) Cinocephalus* Hie deformis homo latrat stridore canino. 

(34) Satirus. Aethiopes, uobis hec uiuit bestia solis. 

(20) 29, 30. Pontes.. .coarguendis ualent furibus...nam quitquis sacramento 
raptum negat, lumina aquis attrecut...ubi periurium non esc» cemit darius: si peiiidia 
abnoit detegitur facinus caedtate etc. Sol. 4. 

(21) 31. Man ticho^^•.. fade hominis...corpore leonino, cauda nelnti tcoipionit 
acnleo spiculata. Sol. $2. 

(22) 329 33- Primam palmam oelodtatis Ladas quidam adeptui est qui sopra 
canum puluerem cursitauit ut... nulla indida relinqueret uestigiorum. Sol. i. 

(23) 34. Cinnamolgos... Arabiae auis...texit nidoe e frutidbua dnnamorum. 
Sol. 33. 

(24) 35. Nilus...incerto paene fonte decurrens proditur. ScL 32. 

(25) 36. Hippopodes indigenae hamana usque in uestigium fonna in equinos pedes 
desinnnt. Sol. 19. 

(26) 37. Isid. xii. 12, 13. Rinoceron...iicut assenint qui naturas animalium 
scripserunt, uirgo puella praeponitur quae uenienti sinum aperit, in quo ilk onuii 
ierocitate deposita caput ponit. 

(27) 38, 39. (Hyaena) sequitur stabula pastorum et auditu assiduo addisdt 
uocamen, quod exprimere possit imitatione uods humanae, ut in honunem astu accitum 
nocte saeuiat. Sol. 27. The lines are quoted in the Bestiary (ap. Hugon. de S^ V. 
Cfp, II. p. 275). 

(28) Gangis fontem qui accolunt... odore uiuunt pomorum siluestrium etc 
Sol. 52. 

(29) 40, 41. In Halesina regione (Sidliae) fons alias quietus... cum siletur, ai 
insonent tibiae exulubundus ad cantus eleuatus et...ultra margines intumesdt Sol. 5. 

(30) 42. Troglodytae... Homines isti camibua uiuunt serpentium. Sol. 31. 

(31) 44. Btsontes qui bonis feri similes. Sol. 20. 

(32) 45> 4^* Arabid bina tubera in dorso habent, singula Bactriani. Sol. 49. 

(33) 47- Cynooephali Sol. 27 no exact coinddenoes but 52 1 nationes capitibut 
caninis...latratibus tantum sonantes. 

(34) 48* Satyri de hominibut nihil aliud praeferunt quam iiguram. SoL 31. 


(35) Fenix. soL Hie specifiex athomum sic uite termtnat 

euum. 50 

(36) H9 femin^ uocantur Hec mulier quadrupla uisum prebente pupilla 
Bide apud Scithiam. Mortificat uisu quern respicit aspem uultu. 

(37) Crocodrillus. Tergus huic monstro nulli penetrabile ferro. 

(38) TApis. Homoquilibet. Nil erit huic triste cuius gustantur ariste: 
llulius C. Apis. Hunc auersatur cui sors aduersa minatur. 55 

(39) Salsamum. Arboris ex nodis rorant opobalsama nobis. 

(40) Pons gelonius. Exstat huic liquido diuersa potentia riuo; 

Nam steriles grauidat, fecundas germine priuat. 

(41) Leena. Catulus. Exanimem biduo catulum lea seruat in antro^ 
Leo. Quern leo uiuificat cum uasto murmure 

clamat. 60 

(42) Cerastes. Decepturus aues corpus tegit omne cerastes; 

Cornua denudat, miserumque uolatile captat. 

(43) Vipenu Conceptos morte parit ^ua uipera sorte. 

(44) Scytalis. Cum serpens scitalis toto sit corpore s^nis, 

Splendet tantarum uarius fulgore notarum 65 
Ut stolidos homines capiat sua membra stu- 

(45) Cesar. Quattuor Cesar maiores transcendens atque minores 

scribf . Ntttibus alternis dictat scribenda quatemis. 

(46) Delphinus. Transilit hie piscis pendentia carbasa puppis. 

(35) 49* Rogof fuos strait cinnamit...iii solit orbem ttrue altaribut soperposita. 
SoL 33. Maclean here reads Hoc, all the others Hie. Athomum seems to be an 
adjective meaning ''long.*' 

(36) 50. In Scythia feminas nasci quae Bityae uocantur 1 eas in oculis pupiUas 
geminas habere et perimere uisu si forte quern iratae aspexerint. Sol. i . 

(37) S*' Circumdatur maxima cutis firmitate...ut ictus quouis tormento adactos 
tergo repercutiat. Sol. 3a. 

(3S) 53* 54* (Apis bos) : Dat omina manifestantia de futuris; illud maximum si 
de consulentium nunu cibum capiat. Denique auersatus Germanici Caesaris dexteram, 
jwodidit ingmentia, nee multo post Caesar exstinctus est. Sol. 3a. 

(39) 55* ntiam nobis latissimicollessudentbalsamain...oortioe...plaganulneratur 
ez qna eximiae suauitatis gntta manat. Sol. 35. 

(40) s^f 57' Gelonium stagnum...ibi et fontes duo, alter de quo si sterilis sump> 
aerit, foecunda fiet, alter quem si fbecunda hanserit uertitur in sterilitatem. SoL 5. 

(41) 5Sv 59. Isid. xii. a. 5. Cum genuerint catulum tribus diebus et tribus 
noctibus catulus dormire fertur : tunc deinde patris fremitu...aeluti tremefactus cubitis 
locos soscitare dicitur catulum. 

(4a) 60f 61. Cerastae praeferunt...comicula, quorum intentationc.sollicitatas 
aoea perimunt : nam reliqua corporis de industria arenis tegunt. Sol. 27. 

(43) 6a. Isid. xii. 4. II. Ita fit ut parens uterque pereatt masculus dom coit, 
dom parturit, femina. 

(44) 63. Scytale tanta praefulget tergi uarietate ut notarum gratia 'uidentes 
retardet et quoniam reptando pigrior est, quos asseqoi non quit» miraculo sui capiat 
atopentet. SoL 27. 

(45) 66f 67. Inter omnes homines Caenr dictator enituit...quat8niaa etiam 
cpiatolas perhibetur simul dictasse. SoL i. 

(46) 68. ut plerumque salientes transuolent uela nauium. SoL la. 


(47) Alee. 


Huic tanta mole labrum dependat ab ore 
Ut pasci nequeat nisi retro crura reducat. 
(48) Bufomon (/. Ich-^ 

neumon?^uel£ni-> Hie probat in cena si sint admixta uenena. 
dros uel Suillus, J 


(49) Seps, 

(50) Antipodos. 

(51) Castor. 

(52] Equus lulii C. 

(53) Apis taurus. 

(54) Hypnale. 

(55) Cameleon^ Conius, 


(56) Scenopoda. 

(57) Monoceros. 

(58} Fale (Eale). 

Fert speciem loeti species miranda ueneni ; 
Viscera tabescunt, caro neruus et ossa liquescunt. 
Cum digitis octo surgit pede planta retorto. 75 
Ut redimat sese truncat genitalia dente, 
Hoc quoniam purum medicina requirit ad usum. 
Cesar in hac belua gessit ciuilia bella. 
Queritat euentus a tauro bruta iuuentus. 
Hec stirps serpentis quem ledit acumine 

dentis 80 

Illi dulce mori, quia mors est mixta sopori. 
Extimuere meum uolucresque fer9que uenenum 
Sed conio soli cessit uictoria nostri, 
Cui contra uirus prestat medicamina laurus. 
Hie pedis obiectu sese defendit ab ^tu. 85 
Dum cornu pugnat transuerberat omne quod 

Cornua fronte duo gerit hec, sed pugnat ab uno, 
£t tamen alterutro per prelia prima retuso 
Alterius tandem pugn9 suecedit acumen. 

(47) ^9* alces...adeo propenso labro snperiore ut niti recedens in posteriora pasci 
non queat. Sol. 20. 

(48) 71. Isid. Etym. xii. a. 37, 38. Enhydrw bettiola (kills the crocodile): 
(38) Ichneumon graece vocatus eo quod odore suo et salubria ciborum et uenenosa 
produntur. De quo Dracontius ait (Laud. i. 5x5) Praeddit suillus vim cuiuscumqoe 

(49) 73* Ictus sepium putredo sequitur. Sol. 27. 

(50) 74. Ad montem qui Nulo dicitur habiunt quibus auersae plantae sunt et 
octoni digiti in plantis singulis. Sol. 52. 

(51) 75. Testiculi eius adpetuntur in usum medelarumt captus 
prosit, ipse geminos suos deuorat. Sol. 1 3. 

(52) 77. Equus C. Caesaris nullum praeter Caesarem dorso recepiti cuius 
primores pedes facie uestigiis humani tradunt fuisse, sicut ante Veneris genitrids aedem 
hac efligie locatus est. Sol. 45. 

(53) 7^' PQcri Apim gregatim sequuntur, et repente uelut lymphatid uentuca 
praednunt. Sol. 32 (cf. § 37). 

(54) 79. Hypnale quod somno necat teste etiam Cleopatra emitur ad mortem. 
Sol. 27. 

(55) 81. Impetibilis est coraci...corax quoque habet praesidium ad medelam... 
nam cum afflictum se intelligit, sumpta fronde laurea recuperat sanitatem. Sol. 40. 

(56) 84. Monocolos...qui ubi defendi se uelint a calore, resupinati plantarnm 
suarum magnitudine inumbrentur. Sol. 52. 

(57) ^5' Cornu. ..ita acutum ut quicquid impetat facile dot ictu perforetur. 
Sol. 5 a. 

(58) 86 — 88. Est et £ale...praeferens cornua...neque enim rigentsed mouentur 
ut usus exigit praeliandi...ut ti nisu aliquo fuerit alterius acumen obtusnm adct 
sQCcedat alterius. Sol. 5a. 


(59) Hippopotamus, Dum scgetem pascit retro uestigia ducit ; 90 

Retia tendenti sic deficit ordo sequendi. 

(60) Leo. Leomo- Membra leontophan^ leo solo lancinat ungue; 

phana. Hac solet ex carne quoniam deceptus obire. 

(61) Arimaspus. Omnis in hac gente fert unica lumina fronte. 

(62) Ibis. Ore parit nidis uiuitque uolucribus ydris. 95 

\n^\ ^ I Tc^P^"^^ ^^^ lapide ne decoquat oua calore. 

(64) Polimestor. Hie poterat facile leporcm currendo preire. 

(65) Fons EpirL Mersa sub hoc amne pereunt incendia flamm^i 

At iuxta flumen repetit fax mortua lumen. 

(66) Psitacus. Hi uolucres rostris dant uerba simillima 

nostris. 100 

(67) Pegasus. Huic natura duas' aures adiecit equinas. 

(68) Blemmias. Dum caput abscidit, sensus natura reliquit: 

Fert humeris uisum, discernit pectore gustum. 

(69) Clam pia merentem fbuet ubere nata parentem 

Cum uigil obseruet nequis fomenta ministret. 105 

(70) Parcere prostratis scit nobilis ira leonis ; 

Tu quoque fiic simile quisquis dominaris in orbe. 

(71) Camdeon. Hoc animal miserum cum nil sibi querit ad 

Ore patet semper, quia pascitur a^re uenter. 

(59) ^9- Noctibus segetes depascitar ad quas pergit auenns astn dolote, ut 
fallente uestigio reuertenti nullae insidiae praeparentur. SoL 32. 

(60) 91. Leontophonas uocari acdpimus besdas modicas...(leoncs necant) si 
quantulomcumque ex illis aumpserint. Propterea leone8...diIancinatas exanimant 
pedom ninbns. Sol. 27. 

(61) 93. Arimaspi...unocula gens est. Sol. 15. 

(62) 94. Serpentium populatur oua... ex his escam nidis suis defert...pennatonim 
anguium examina...agmen deuorant uniuer8uni...ore pariunt. Sol. 27. 

(^3) 95- Vine. Spec. Nat. viii. 23. £x libro ae naturis rerum, Aquila in nido 
lapidcm habet hone contra calorem nimium quern babet aquila natunditer 
incubans in nido ne scilicet depereant oua decocta calore nimio. 

(64) 96. Polymnestor Milesius ptter...ludicro leporem consecutus est. Sol. 7. 

(^5) 97- ^^ Epiro fons est ardentem in eum mergas &cem, exstinguit. 
si procnl ac sine igni admoueas, suopte ingenio inflammat. 

(66) 99. at articulata uerba penitus eloquatiir. Sol. 5. 

(67) 100. (Aethiopia) lUius coeli ales est pegasus: et baec ales equinum nihil 
praeter aures babet. 

(68) 10 1. Blemmyas credunt tnincos nasd parte qua caput est, os tamen et 
ocolos habere in pectore. Sol. 31. 

(69) 103. Pietatis documentum nobilius quidam in MeteUomm domo refulsit 
sed eminentissimum in plebeia puerpera reperitur. Haec.cum ad patrem...aegre 
ofatiniiisset ingressus exquisita saepius a ianitoribus ne forte parenti dbum sumministraret 
alere earn uberibus sois deprehensa est. Sol. i. (Plin. 17. 121.) 

(70) 105. Prostratis parcunt. Sol. 27. 

(71) 107. Hiatus eius aetemus...quippe cum neqoe dbum capiat neque potu 
alator, nee alimento alio quam haustu aCris uiuat. SoL 40. 


(72) Hanesius* 

(73) Diomedeaauis: 
Sepulchrum eius« 

(74) Dypses. 

(75) Prestcr. 

(76) TArimpheus. 


(77) [Kartago. Strabo. 

-| Lilibitena specula. 

(78) Erquilinia auis. 

(79) Grippes. Equus. 


Omnis in hoc genere pro uestibus utitur 
aure; no 

Hinc corpus nudum fit contra frigora tutum. 
Pugnaces socii Diomedis in aSra rapti, 
Contra naturam uolucrum sumpsere figuram, 
Imbrificantque ducis tumulum rorantibus alis. 
Ardens poscit aquas quern ledit uulnere 
dypsas: 115 

Continuat potus, sed eo magis uritur intus, 
£t nisi per mortem nescit finire calorem. 
Lesus ab hoc angue distendit membra tumore 
£t caro cuncta suam perdit tiunefkcta figuram. 
Non petit hie magnum donis cerealibus 



Fructifera totum quia ponit in arbore uotum. 
Prouidus hie Strabo de culmine Lilibitano 
Per numerum classem notat ad Carthaginis 

Huius auis plum9 sparsim per compita fuse, 
Luce sua multum dant nocte uiantibus 

usum. 125 

Hanc quasi permodicam grippes uehit ungue 


(72) 109. Esse et Phannesiorum, quorum aures adeo...dilatentur at uiscemm 
reliqua illis conteganty nee amiculum aliud sit quam at membra membranis aurium 
uestianL Sol. 19. (Panotii Isid.) 

(73) no. Insula. ..tumulo ac delubro Diomedis insignis est et Diomedeas aues 
•ola nutrit...aquis imbuunt plumas alisque impendio madefactis confluunt ronilentae: 
ita aedem excusso humore purificant....Ob hoc credunt Diomedes sodot auet &ctos 

(74) 114. Dypsas siti interficit. Sol. 27. 

(75) >i7* Prester quern percusserit distenditur, enormique corpulentia necattis 
extubeiatur. Ibid. 

(76) 119. Et ipsi frondibus arbustorum gaudent t baccas edunt. Sol. 17. 

(77) 121. Straix) nomine quern perspexisse per cxxxv millia passuum Varro 
signiiicat, solitumque exeunte a Carthagine dasse Punica, numerum nauium manifest 
tissime ex Lilybetana specula notare. Sol. i. 

(78) 123. Saltus Hercynus aues gignit» quarum pinnae per obicurum emicant... 
Inde homines plerumque noctumos excursus tic destinant ut ilus utantur ad praestdium 
itineris dirigendi etc. Sol. 20. 

(79) 125. (Sol. 15 mentions Grypes but not horses.) Isid. xii. a. 17. equk 
uehementer infesti. Nam et homines uiuos decerpunt. (Bestiary adds 3 et integros in 
nidum asportant) 



The moralization of the poem from MS. Harley 3353, 
of cent, xiv — xv, follows here. 

f. 54 A. Inc. Ouidixis de mirabilibus mundi. (This title is a slightly 
later addition^) 

Omnipotens opifex species ab origine mundi 
lussit inesse suo generic pacemque tenere; 
Pacem compositam discussit^, monstraque multa 
£t pestes peperit aer, tellus, liquor, ignis. 

Incubus est demon nunc mas nunc femina 
gingnens 5 

Fetus immimdos. Aditus si seruat* apertos 
Sancte forma crucis, fraudes procul emigat* hostis. 

Nobilis est opifex, opus eius nobile; mentem 
Virtus nobilitat, scelus est ignobile monstrum. 
(§ i) Hie serpens uentis etc. lo 

Transfigit etc. 
Est iaculum telum, laculus secat^ aera serpens. 
Iram designat' laculus mentisque fiirorem. 
Eneus est serpens, serpentis winera Christus 
In palo sanans, humanaque crimina mundans. 15 

O vere minim super omnia mira! Creator 
Virginis intacte clausa* processit ab aluo 
Factus homo^ rumpens nodose vincula mortis, 
Nos redimens, hostemque domans, pacemque reformans. 
Est deus in Sanctis mirabilis, hiis quia morbos 20 

Dat sanare graues et mortis soluere nexus. 

(2) Huic herbe... 

Ut quicumque... 

Signans quod mortem dant huius gaudia mundi, 
fDe {or Que) medic/j apium risus re nomine ferturf. 25 
Plinius^ hoc olim scripsit; si scribo quod ipse 
Diuisit, mira dixit, moralia dico. 

(3) Sts^num Corpus in hac unda tinctum tabescit ad ossa. i. 

Pelorum. putrescit. 

Indurata malo multorum corda figurat. 
Pastphe. Candida Pasiphe tauro se iunxit inepte, 30 

Condpiens* monstrum, nisi dicat opinio fiilsum. 
Hoc omnes contra naturam tangit agentes. 

ReaMugs 9/ tie MS. :— ^ por«tam discusdt. * seniit. * effu^. 

* cecat. * dengnant. < clause. ' Plin. N,H. xz. 1 1 3 sqq. on 

AptDin, ^'vitns qttoqiw dariuti inimicom." * Consipiens. 


(4) Ligurium. 


Lincis ab urina tacto fit aere p.... 

Hanc tegit.... 

Qui possessa tegunt miseros designat auaros. 35 
(5) Veruecis specie frons^ est coniuncta traiope. 

Frontem veruecis portat pugnare paratus. 
N08 aper auditu, linx visu, simea gustu, 
Wlpis' odoratu deuincit, aranea tactu. 
Morsibus, ingeniis, specie, racione, "fpreiutusf 40 

Nascitur hie canus... 

Luce videt... 

Ad mala perspicui sunt multi, nee bona cernunt. 

Parte capud... 

Sic pociora videt prudens refiigitque nociua. 45 

Hoc prouectus... 

[a space of one line blaniJ] 

Saltibus est agilis ingentibus aspera tjgris. 

Ostendit tigris homines furibunda* rapaces^ 

Ne quoquat... 

Dum querit... 50 

Ista laborantes in vanum bestia signat. 

Hec gens... 

Signat adulantes amplexu, poplite, verbo* 

(12) Antropophagus. Hie habet hinc morem... 

Prolongando suam feritatis acumine vitam. 55 

Carne sui generis. •• 

(13) Huic opulenta... 

Qui tenet ecclesias multas bos esto tricornis. 
Est janus bifirons homo prouidus, et tria regna 
Qui tenet esto triceps Gerion qui rexit Hiberos. 60 
Hec gens hostilem... 

Designans homines omni pietate carentes. 
Corpus ab hoc... 

Hie est qui serui retinere stipendia gaudet. 65 
Hue currens... 

Cornu grassatus ad wlnera danda iuuencus. i. 


f. 56 a. Virginis in gremio capi(tur) Christumque figurat. 

(18) Hie draco sugendo bibit ex el(e)phante cruorem. 


(7) f- 55 *. 

(8) de bucifale. 


(10) Ginosophista. 

(11) Ymantopoda. 

(14) Gens sitica. 


(16) Lancrocota. 

The remainder of the poem contains no interpolation. 

^ fons 

« Whui. 

' furibunde. 

* IL 48, 49, are tnmtpoted. 

M. R. James. 



The Book of the Gospels of Lindisfarne, of Durham, 
or of St Cuthbert, as MS. Cott. Nero D. 4 in the British 
Museum is variously styled, is universally acknowledged 
to be one of the greatest triumphs of the school of art 
commonly called 'Celtic/ It is the one manuscript of 
its class worthy to stand beside the Gospels of Kells. 
Indeed in some respects it shows the special characters 
of Celtic art in even greater purity than its rival. 

It is therefore very surprising, when we search for the 
artist's name, to find a colophon in the Northumbrian 
dialect, ascribing the work to Eadfri^, bishop of Lin- 
disfarne, the cover to his successor E^ilvald, and the 
decoration with gold and gems to the anchorite Billfri^. 
The colophon is in the hand of one Aldred son of Alfred, 
who calls himself a presbyter indignus et misserrimus [sic] — 
a piece of self-depreciation not without justification, as 
this unworthy and wretched person has scribbled an inter- 
lined gloss in his native dialect over the whole book, 
sparing not even the illuminated initial pages on which 
the] artist lavished such care. The dates of the bishops 
named are a.d. 698 — 721 and 724 — 740 respectively. 
The glosses and colophon are in a hand of about the tenth 
century. Aldred thus ascribes the execution of the MS. 
to a date some two centuries before his time. 

Bruun^ gives an admirable description of the Manu- 
script, which may here be quoted. ' It is a large quarto 

^ An Bnqutfy into the Art oftki IliumnateA Manuscripts ^fthi Middle Agis^ by John 
Adolf Braaiiy Part i, Celtic Illuminated Manuscripts, 1897 (p. 48). 


volume... [and] contains the Four Gospels of St Jerome*s 
Latin Version, with the usual appendices of Prefaces, 
Eusebian Canons, etc., written in a clear regular hand 
of pronounced Celtic character. As a monument of 
mediaeval art, it commands the admiration of anyone 
who has the good fortune to turn over its brilliantly 
illuminated folios : and of examples of this class of work 
now in existence there is only one that can rival it in 
artistic merit — the Book of Kelts. ^ He accepts unreservedly 
the historical testimony of the colophon, while commenting, 
as we shall see below, on the pronounced * Celticity * of the 
art of the MS. 

I suppose bishops had more time on their hands in 
the eighth century than in the twentieth : it is hard in our 
strenuous days to conceive of a church dignitary having 
the time, even if he had the skiU, to execute a work 
of art like the Gospels of Lindisfarne. Setting aside this 
little difficulty, which savours of hypercriticism, let us for 
convenience assume that Eadfri*^ wrote the manuscript 
about the middle of his tenure of office — say about 
710 A.D. — and see whither this will lead us as a fixed 
point in the history of Celtic art. 

What other MSS. of the Celtic school can be dated 
to a time so early ? The Book of Armagh is nearly one 
hundred years later : and as Bruun very justly observes, 
this MS. 'as a literary document is of singular interest... 
but as a specimen of ancient Irish book ornamentation it 
is a very poor one indeed.' The fragments found in the 
Domhnach Airgidy the Stowe St Johriy and perhaps the 
Books of Dimma and of Mulling are the only other MSS. 
of the group that approximate to the date assumed for 
the Lindisfarne gospels. And one and all, these from the 
point of view of art are puerile and, so to speak, tentative 
specimens : it is next to incomprehensible that they 
should be on the same horizon, in point of time, witn 
the Lindisfarne book. 

Next, what are the dates of the MSS. which are worthy 


of comparison with the Gospels of Undisfame ? We have 
lost the great Book of Kildare which Giraldus saw and 
praised in a passage often quoted: there is no reason 
whatever to suppose that this book was the same as the 
Kells volume. For the extant books, the only fixed 
points which we have are these: (i) the cumdach of the 
Book of T)urrow was made in the time of King Flann 
Sinna, therefore about the beginning of the tenth century. 
(2) Tlie cumdach of the Book of Kells was stolen in 1 006 
A.D. (3) Mac Riaghail, the probable scribe of the MS. 
which bears his name, died in 820 a.d. (4) Mad- 
Brighte mac Domain, after whom the Canterbury 
Gospels is named, died in 925 a.d. : in the same year 
Athelstan, who presented this book to Canterbury, came 
to the throne. 

Though these dates are not so full as they might be, 
they point to the conclusion that the great works of 
Celtic illumination fell into about the same period as the 
other chief manifestations of the Celtic artistic instinct. 
The memorial slabs of Clonmacnois, for example, begin 
about the middle of the eighth century, some forty years 
after the alleged date of the Lindisfarne book. They are 
at first poor and rude, but improve in both design and 
execution till the end of the ninth century. After that 
degeneration sets in. The best of the High Crosses are 
all dated to the beginning of the tenth century. Now it 
would be probable that so valuable a work of art as the 
Book of Durrow would be provided with a shrine soon 
after it was finished : so that if its shrine were made in 
(say) 9 1 o or thereabouts, we are probably safe in making 
the MS. itself not more than fifty years older. Mael- 
Brighte mac Domain was not, apparently, the scribe of 
the gospels which bear his name: the colophon says 
istum textum dogmatizat. He would presumably not take 
the trouble of collating or authenticating an old and 
accepted MS.: this implies that the text was recently 
written when he concerned himself with it, and therefore 


it cannot be earlier than the end of the ninth century. 
No direct evidence of the date of the Book of Kells is 
forthcoming, but even Miss Stokes, who had caught 
Petrie's weakness for antedating, came round at last to 
the view that assigns the book to the ninth century. 

Another line of argument suggests itself. Mr Romilly 
Allen has shown \ on apparently good grounds, that inter- 
lacing work developed from plait-work at the end of the 
sixth and beginning of the seventh century. This being 
assumed, we are confronted with the difficulty of ex- 
plaining how one supreme example of ornament founded 
on this style was produced early in the eighth century, 
and followed by a hundred years' eclipse. 

In addition to all these difficulties, we are confronted 
by a historical problem. How are we to account for the 
complete absorption of Celtic motives by this Saxon 
bishop, some fifty years after the Columban monks left 
Lindisfarne, and that at a time when Roman models were 
being eagerly sought in every department of ecclesiastical 
art ? * Turning now,' says Bruun, *from the tenth century 
insertions to the main text with its artistic enrichment, 
that is, the volume in its original aspect, we are a little 
surprised to find that we have, at the same time, taken 
leave of the English element in this manuscript.. .Here is 
nothing Saxon or Anglic ; nothing even that betrays any 
immediate influence tending to modify the purely Celtic 
traditions.' This almost amounts to a reductio adabsurdum. 
Giraldus ascribes the beauty of the Gospels of Kildare to 
the miraculous intervention of an angel : the genesis 
of the Gospels of Lindisfarne under the circumstances 
alleged would be hardly less miraculous. A yet later 
authority. Sir E. Maunde Thompson, in his recently 
published work on Palaeography, says of the specimen 
of the Lindisfarne book which he gives : * How nearly it 
follows the Irish model needs no demonstration. The 
remarks made on the forms of the letters in the specimen 

^ Celtic Art in Pagan and CkrisHan Times, p. 258. 


from the Book of Kells apply generally to this example. 
At the same time, a difference is discernible between the 
two MSS., which seems to indicate the difference of 
country of origin. The letters of the Lindisfame Gospels, 
besides being of a more solid type, are rather broader and 
the curves are even more synmietrically drawn than in the 
Book of Kells.* But such nuances can be accounted for 
by the individuality of the penmen. Manuscripts produced 
by two artists working side by side in the same scriptorium 
would present the same slight differences in detail. 

Briefly, we are forced to the conclusion that the 
testimony of the Colophon must be rejected altogether, 
and that Eadfri^ never saw the Book of Lindisfame — 
much less wrote it. There is precedent for this : no one 
now believes that the Book oflhirrow was written by the 
hand of Columba in the impossibly short space of twelve 
days, notwithstanding the statement of its Colophon. 
Why then should we accept a statement which involves 
the whole history of Celtic art in quagmires? If we 
throw overboard the statement of the presbyter indignus 
Aldred, there will no longer be the necessity of making 
the development of this art unintelligible by assigning an 
extravagantly early date to this one book. It will drop 
naturally into its proper place in the ninth century. 
And its history will be much the same as that of tne 
Mac Riaghail and Mac Domain Gospels. These were 
certainly written in Ireland, or perhaps in the case of the 
second in the Irish colony of lona: they fell by some 
means, no doubt nefarious, into Anglo-Saxon hands : 
glosses and other notes were scribbled in them : and 
in the case of the Lindisfame book, besides stealing 
and scribbling in it the Saxons asserted that they wrote 
it themselves ! 

Only two arguments can be brought forward against 
this summary treatment of the colophon. The first is 
the admittecQy curious Neapolitan influence which the 
Lindisfame book displays, coupled with the fact that one 


Adrian, abbot of Nisita near Naples, is known on Bede*s 
authority to have visited Lindisfame in 668 a.d. While 
I would not minimise this coincidence, it seems to me a 
shaky basis on which to support a statement otherwise 
involved in so many difficulties. Granted that Abbot 
Adrian came to Lindisfame, thirty years before the 
accession of Eadfri^, we have to assume that he left 
his copy of the Gospels behind him when he departed ; 
that it lay about in the monastery for over thirty years : 
and that it was at last chosen as the basis of an elaborately 
illuminated copy in preference to all the other copies 
available. If we have to make all these assumptions, 
we may just as well remember that in the ceaseless move- 
ments of missionaries and students, all eager for knowledge, 
there were plenty of other ways by which a text with 
Neapolitan affinities could find its way to a Celtic 

Secondly, Bruun says of the colophon * that statements 
of this nature, though written down in their present form 
a couple of centuries after the occurrence of the events 
which they record, were gathered from reliable sources, 
may be inferred from the detailed description and matter- 
of-fact tone of the memorandum. A loose tradition 
without real foundation would neither have entered into 
this series of apparently insignificant details, nor have 
contented itself with the comparatively obscure names of 
the bishops Eadfri^ and E^ilvald and the anchorite 
Billfri^. If at the time when the Northumbrian monk 
inserted his interlinear version and his note on the origin 
of the Manuscript, the names of the makers had not been 
known for certain, we may be pretty sure that tradition 
or legend, less unpretending than reality, would not have 
failed to associate the costly relic with a more illustrious 
name, say that of St Aidan.' This however seems to me 
a weak argument. Eadf ri% and the rest are names obscure 
to us, but they may have been of the highest importance 
in the Monastery in Aldred's time. Very likely he looked 


on their tombs every day of his life ; and it is not difficult 
to imagine ways by which he could have come to enter- 
tain the notion that they had produced the manuscript 
which he took it on himself to gloss. He was writing 
about people as far removed from his time as we are from 
the time of Queen Anne: and his testimony to their 
doings is no more valuable than modern hearsay evidence 
of the doings of Addison, or of Handel, or any other of 
the lights of society of that time. 

Finally, the decorations ascribed by Aldred to E^ilvald 
and Billfri^ are suggestive of a cumdach or shrine. If 
anything were wanting to corroborate the theory of an 
origin in Ireland or lona for the Lindisfarne Gospels, this 
essentially Irish detail would supply the need. 

Possibly, like the famous cathach of the O^Donnells, 
the book was carried as an amulet into some battle, and 
captured by the Saxons. The absence of phyllomorphic 
patterns in its decoration suggests that it is rather older 
than the Kells volume: if we say that it was written 
about 830 A.D., glossed about 930, and that it changed 
hands some time between 840 and 890, we shall do 
no violence to historic possibility, and shall have given 
time for the growth of the foolish tradition which the 
presbyter indignus et misserrimus Aldred of Lindisfarne 
recorded, for the perversion and confusion of the history 
of Celtic art* 

R. A. S. Macalister. 

K* 20 



One of the unsolved problems of Scandinavian in- 
fluence in England is the extent and character of the 
Norse or Danish settlements in the old Kingdom of 
Northumbria. Recent study of the place-names of one 
county within that area (viz. Northumberland) has sug- 
gested that some light may be thrown on the problem 
from this source. The lines of investigation have been 
those followed in all recent place-name study, viz. that 
no satisfactory inferences, philological or historical, can 
^ be drawn from the study of place-names unless we trace 
the development of their forms from the earliest times, 
and no attempt therefore has been made to deal with 
place-names on the modern map which may possibly be 
of Scandinavian origin but for which no ME form can 
be found. 

The following arc the place-names in which some 
Scandinavian element may be discovered, arranged in the 
geographical groups into which they seem naturally to 
fall. (v. infra p. 313^) 

1 Owing to limitations of space, only one ME form is as a rule quoted x many 
variant forms have been recorded, but unless they have any bearing on the question o£ 
the ultimate history of the name they are not quoted here. The following abbreviations 
are used : 

Ass. Assize Rolls. Surtees Soc. 

B)5rk. BjOrkman. Zur Altenglischen Namenkunde. 

Brkb. Brinkbum Cartulary. Surtees Soc 

Ch. Calendar of Charter Rolls. 

Cl. Calendar of Close Rolls. 

EDD EngUsh Dialect Dictionary. 

FPD Fcodarium Prioratus Dunelmensis. Surtees Soc. 



The basin of the Till and its tributaries. 

AiCBLD (Kirknewton), 1169 Pipe jfche/da. ON J, Tivtr+Mdaj well, 
spring. The second element is in common local use for a marshy place 
(£DD). Akeld lies on the edge of the well-marked valley of the Glen, 
and Akeld Steads lies low, by the river itself. 

CouPLAND (Kirknewton),cf. Lindkv. pp. 1 45-146. 1255 Ass. Couplaund. 
ON kaupa^landyhni gained by purchase {^ iaupa-jgrtS) opposed in a way to 
{(^Is-m^y an allodial estate, cf. Copeland (Cumb.) and Copeland House 
(co. Durham). 

Crookham (Ford), 1244 Ch. Crucum. Dat. pi. of ON krSiry a crook 
or winding, often used in Norse place-names (Rygh, Indl., p. 62) of 
the bends of a river ; hence the name means ^at the bends of the river,* 
and refers to the tortuous course of the Till at this point. 

Crookhouse (Howtel), 1323 I.p.m. Le Crmkes ^The windings* (cf. 
Crookham), referring probably to the course of the Bowmont Water at this 

Ilderton, cf. Lindkv. pp. lo-ii. 1189 Plac. Abbr. Hsldertony 1228 
FPD Ildertone. Medieval forms vary between initial Uder^ and HildiT'. 
The proper form is probably Hilder^ < ON Hildar gen. sg. of the woman's 
name Hild. ^The homestead of a woman named Hild.' 

Along northern coast ^ down to R. Coquet. 

LudCER, 1167*9 Pipe Lucre. The second element is ME ker^ a 
marshy place. Mod. £ng. carr < ON kiarry ^ ground of a swampy nature 
overgrown with brushwood.' The first may be ON /J, a sandpiper. This 
bird specially frequents ^flat marshy places such as are often found near the 
sea shore' : this description would suit the actual site of Lucker. 

Rennington, 1 104-8 SD Reiningtun. The history of this name is 
settled by the passage in Simeon of Durham, which says that the town took 
its name from a certain Reingualdusy who lived in the tenth century. This 
» the Latinised form of ON Rognvaldr. 

Fritznbr Fritzner. Ordbog over det gamle Nonke Sprog. 

HP Hexham Priory. Surtees Soc. 

I.P.ll. Calendar of Inquisitions post mortem. 

Iter Iter de Work in Hartshomey Feudal Antiquities, 

Lindkv. Lindkvist. ME Place-names of Scandinavian origin. 

Moorman Moorman. Place-names of the West Riding. 

Nbwii. Newminster Cartulary. Surtees Soc 

Pat. Calendar of Patent Rolls. 

Pips Pipe Rolls. 

Plac Abbr. Placitorum Abbreviatio. 

Rtgh gp Gamle Personnavne i Norske Gaardnavne. 

NG Norske Gaardnavne. Indl. Indledning til NO. 

RBE Red Book of the Exchequer. 

SD Simeon of Durham. Rolls Series. 

Testa Testa de Neville. 

Wyld Wyld. Place-names of Lancashire. 

20 — 2 



HowiCK, cf. Lindkv. p. 182. The medieval forms vaiy between forms 
with a and forms with in the first syllable, the latter greatly preponderating 
— e.g. 1230 Pat. Howie J 1288 I.p.m. Howick, It is possible, as Lind- 
Icvist suggests, that the variant forms go back to ON hir and b6r^ ^ high,* but 
vik here can hardly be ON vik^ ^bay or creek,' cf. Hawick (later). It must 
be "wick s a village. 

Dbnwick, 1278 Ass. Denewiek. The ^wick* or dwelling place in the 
valley (0£ denu) or of the Danes (0£ Dena). 

Brother WICK, 1251 I.p.m. Brothirwike. The 'wick* of a Scandi- 
navian settler named Brobir. This is a well established Norse and Danish 
personal name : the same element is found in Brotberton ( Yo.) and Brother'^ 
uft (Lines.). Cf. Bj^^rk. p. 27. 

T^he basin of the Coquet. 

Brinkburn, 1216-27 Newm. Brinkehum. It is commonly assumed 
that the word brink is necessarily of Scandinavian origin (cf. BjOrkman^ 
Scand. Loan-words, p. 232), but Brinkwortb (Wilts.) makes this very 

RoTHBURY, 1 099- 1 128. Cart. Hy. I Routbebiria (cf. Lindkv. pp. 158-9) 
*at the red city.' ON rautirj red. 

Thropton (Rothbury), 1176 Pipe Tropton. *Thc farm by the thorp.* 
For the Scandinavian origin of Tborp- v. infra p. 312. 

Snitter (Rothbury), 11 76 Pipe Snittera. The explanation of this 
name is difficult but the distribution of this element in Snitterby (Lines.), 
Snetterton (Norf.) and Snitterfiild (Warw.) makes Scandinavian origin very 

BiCKERTON, 1245 Brkb. Bykerton, Bickertm (Yo.) is explained by 
Moorman (p. 25) as a derivative of ON bekkjar (g. sg. of bekkr^ 2l stream). 
The element Bicker- in Bickerstaffe (Lanes.) is similarly explained by Wyld 
(p. 67) with support from medieval forms with e. The same element is 
found in Beckering (Lines.) and Beckermet (Cu.) where medieval forms 
have i almost without exception (Lindkv. pp. 5-6). The difficulty in thus 
explaining the Northumberland place-names lies in the almost uniform 
occurrence of f forms, and in the otherwise unexampled use of ON bekkr 
in this county. It would seem also that the explanation of Bickerton must 
go along with that of Byker (v. inf.) whose medieval forms are identical 
with those of the first element in Bickerton, except for the regular shorten- 
ing of the vowel in the first element of the compound. Bickerton it ^the 
farm near the byker j a name suiting its situation. 

Plainfield (Sharperton), 1272 Newm. Flaynefeli. The first element 
would seem to be ON fleinn (s 0£ fl^n\y a pike, an arrow or the fluke of 
an anchor. The field may have been so called because of its long narrow 
shape or because it suggested the fluke of an anchor ; less probably it mav 
be an ON personal name Fleinn^ cf. Rygh, GP, p. 72, FUnstad. Rygn 
(NG xvi) derives Fleina from an adj.yfWn, meaning * naked or bare,* e.g. of 
rocks with no soil on them, a meaning which it quite possible here. The 
modern form it corrupt* 

Tthe basin of the Wansbeck and its tributaries. 

Throp Hill (Mitford), 11 66 RBE Trepbil *Thc hill by the thorp/ 
cf. Thropton. 

Tranwxll, 1280 I.p.m. TranewelL The first element is ON traniy 
*' a crane,' used also as a nickname : hence, the well frequented hy cranes or 
belonging to a man nicknamed ^the crane,' cf. Hawkswell (Nthb.) and 
CranweU (Lines.). 

Angerton (Hartburn), 1 186-7 Pipe Angerton. Anger- in Aneerby 
and Angerton (Lanes.) is taken by Wyld (p. 51) to represent the ON per- 
sonal name Amgeirry while BjGrkman (p. 15) cites one or two examples of 
the Latin form Angerus in medieval dociunents, which he takes to be 
a variant of Ansgarusy representing ON Asgar. This derivation is possible 
but it should be pointed out (1) that the explanation of Anger- may have 
to be taken with that of Ongar (Essex) of which the medieval forms are 
Angre^ Anger^ Aunger\ and (2) that there is a place in Somersetshire called 
Angersleigh, earlier Aungerslye. (i) can hardly be explained from a personal 
name and (i) and (2) are alike against Scandinavian origin. The word 
may possibly be cognate with OHG anger^ ^ a grassy field or plain,' the first 
element in the name of the ancient AngrivariL Ingram on the Breamish 
is for earlier Anger haniy and there is the same doubt about its history. 

FiSELBY (Hartington), 131 9 Pat. Fiselhy. This place is lost on the 
modem map but would seem to be a clear example of the familiar -by suffix. 
The first element is difficult of explanation. 

Hawick (Kirkharle), 1204 Lp.m. Hawik. The first element may 
be ON hary high (cf. Howick)y the second is Eng. -wick, 

Crookdban (Kirkwhelpington), 1324 Lp.m. Crokeden. The * valley 
of a Norseman named Krikr^ or ^ the valley with or by a crook or bend ' 
(cf. Crookham). 

I'he basin of the Blyth and its tributaries. 

CowPEN (Horton), 1153-95 Brkb. Cupum. Possibly dat. pi. of ON 
kUpOj ^a cuplike depression or valley.' Cf. Swed. dial. kupOy a valley form- 
stead. ^At the valley farmsteads.' (Rygh, Indl. p. 29.) 

Brenklsy (Ponteland), 1177 Pipe Brincbelawa. Cf. Brinkburn 

OusTON (Stamfordham), 1255 ^^^^ Ulkil/eston. The tun of z Norse- 
aian named U If kill or V/fketiJL 


Walker (Newcastle), 1267 Lp.m. WaUyr. *The ker or marsh by 
the wall.' Close to Wallsend. 

Byker (ib.), 1249 ^^P^ Byker. The second element is ker (cf. Lucker), 
the first is probably the 0£ prefix bt- ^neighbouring' (cf. Bywood, By- 
grave, Bywell, Bytnorn). 


Pandon (lb.), 1 177 Pipe Pampeden. The first element is probably 
the ON nickname pampi^ which Kahle (Ark. f. Nord. Fil. xl, p. 246) 
connects with Mod.Norw./am^a, ^kleine stumpfende Bewegungen machen/ 
^The valley of a man nicknamed Pampi^ cf. Pampisford (Cambs.). 

Nafferton (Ovingham), 121 6-1 307 Testa Natferton. Lindkv. 
(p. 187) probably explains this rightlv as the farmstead of a Norseman 
nicknamed Nittfari^ ^ night-traveller/ but it should be pointed out that the 
explanation of NafFerton may have to go with that of Na£Ford (Wore), 
earlier Nadfordy cf* Brafferton < Bradfordton (Durh.). 

North Tynedale and Redesdale. 

Haining (Redesdale), 1304 Pat. Haynyng. ^Haining' is in common 
dialectal use in Nthb. and Durh. (v. £DD) of the preserving of grass for 
cattle, protected grass. The first element is ME ha'tHy a park or enclosure^ 
connected with ON hegnay to hedge or fence. 

Toft Housb (Redesdale), 1397 Pat Toft. A well-known word of 
Scandinavian origin. 

BiNGFiELD (ChoUerton), 1180 Pipe Bingefild. The first element is 
probably the Norw. dial, bingey a bin, also a shut-oiF room for sheep and 
goats. The word is found in Norse place-names in the wider sense of 
^any space cut off.' There is also in ME a word bingiy ^a heap,' believed 
by BjOrkman to be of Scandinavian origin, so that the Scandinavian origin 
of the name is very probable. 

GuNNBRTON (Chollerton), 11 64 Pipe Gunwarton. The tun of Gviui- 
varl&r (m.) or Gunnvor (f.). 

South Tynedale and Allendale. 

Stonecroft House (Ncwbrough), 1262 Ch. Staincroft. ME spellings 
in Stain — side by side with Stan — point to Scandinavian influence. 

Henshaw (Haltwhistle), twelfth century HP Hedenesbalch, ^The 
bealb or corner of land of a Norseman named HefSinn or (less probably) 
of a ^heathen' Scandinavian settler. 

OusTON (Whitfield), 1279 Iter Uhestma* The tun of a Norseman 
named Ulfir, 

Fbatherstone, 121 5 HP Fethirstanbakbt. The first element in 
this may be the personal name Feadery of Scandinavian origin : O Sw. 
Fadbity O Dan. Fatbiry cf. Duignan, Worcestershire place-names, p. 60 
and Moorman (p. 71). 

Kellah (Featherstone), 1279 Iter Kellaw. The first element is per- 
haps a shortened form of the Old Norse name KetilL Such a contracted 
form is found in both Danish and Swedish (cf. B]6r1c. p. 52). 

Knar and Knaresoale, 1325 I.p.m. Knarn. 1266 Pipe CnansdaU. 
Probably the same as Knardal and Knamdalen in Norway, which Rygh 
(GP p. 162) is unable to explain. 

Whitwham (Knaresdale), 1344 CL fVytjuam. ^The white valley/ 
ON kvammry a short valley or depression. 


Basin of the Derwent. 

EsPER Shields (Shotley). The first element may be espary an old 
gen. form of ON fsp^ an aspen-tree, cf. Espervik (Rygh, NG xvi 

Wasksrlsy (lb.)) 1262 Lp.m. fVaskerUy. The second element is hr^ 
a marshy place (cp. Lucker); Wasker^ ms^ be the same as Norw. Fatskuer 
< ON vatns'kfarry *the water-marsh' (cf. Rygh, NG vi, p. 2), cf. Carbrooke 
(Norf.) of which the DB form is IViskerebroc. An alternative explanation 
is that the first element is ON vis-j ^wetness, toil, fatigue, bad weather,' 
common in such compounds as vdsJirtSy visfdr (Frituier, ^s.v.), hence 'a 
piece of marshy ground difficult to cross.' 


DoTLAND, 1226 HP Doteland. The first element may be the name 
Dot or Dotus found in DB which Bj(irkman (p. 29) takes to be of Scandi- 
navian origin, cf* O.Sw. Dotabotha as a place-name and the O.Sw. and 
Danish woman's name Data. 

EsHELLs, 1225 HP EskilescaleSy 1226 EskinscbelL The suffix shows 
variation between the Scandinavian scale (ON skili^ a hut or shed, put 
up for temporary purposes) and English shield in common dialectal use with 
similar force (cf. Lindkv. p. 190). The element Eskilg is probably the 
ON personal name Asketill (M£ Askill^ Eskill). Eskin might then be the 
well-established variant Jsketinus (cf. BjOrkman, Nordiube Pirsomnnameny 
p. 17). 


Newbiggin. Five Newbiggins, for which ME forms such as Neubigging 
can be foimd, may be identified: (i) Newbiggin by the Sea, (2) by Blanchland, 
(3) by Norham, (4) in Hexhamshire, (5) in Kenton by Newcastle. ON 
bjggingy a building. Considering the comparative rarity of place-names 
in Northumberland which are of Scandinavian origin it is noteworthy 
that we find so many examples of the name Newbiggin^ which is of 
comparatively infrequent occurrence in counties with a much larger 
proportion of place-names of Scandinavian origin. 

The first point to notice in this list is the absence 
of those suffixes -^jr, -garthy --tlvwaitey -toft^ which we most 
commonly associate with Scandinavian settlement, i.e. we 
have no examples of just that group of words denoting 
* settlement,' 'clearing,* * farmstead,* * portion of land* 
which we should have expected to find (and do find in 

1 The tingle tvft and the now lost -by mentioned above hardly invalidate this 

312 A. MAWER 

other counties) had there been any regular settlement of 
the district by a Viking here^ with an apportionment 
of land among its various members. The Chronicle 
(s. a. 875) speaks of a division of Northumbria among 
the followers of Healfdene, who now began to plough 
and cultivate their lands, but it would seem that either 
this division did not affect Northumbria north of the 
Tyne or that the settlers must have been ousted by the 
English before they had been long in possession. 

Other exceedingly common Scandinavian elements are 
entirely missing {^beck}^ -filh iforce^ -gUl^ -holm^ -lund^ -mirey 
-scough {-^coWy 'SCo)j --tarn^ -^witfi) — elements which we 
should hardly have failed to find had there ever been a 
time when a Scandinavian speech was commonly spoken 
throughout the district. Some Scandinavian elements are 
of fairly frequent occurrence, e.g. crooky keldy ker^ hainingy 
bingy biggky but these elements are in common independent 
use in the present-day dialect of the district, and it is very 
probable that they found their way into the dialect from 
neighbouring districts where the Scandinavian element is 
much stronger, and were first used in place-names in the 
ME period. There are two examples of the element 
thorpy in the form throp : this may of course be Anglian 
rather than Scandinavian, but the numerous thorpes in 
Yorkshire in contrast with two in Northumberland and 
three in Durham, where Scandinavian influence is re- 
latively weak, would seem to point to Scandinavian 
influence as the determining factor in their distribution. 
The element dale is in common use (e.g. Allendale, Glen- 
dale, Coquetdale), and its wide prevalence in a county 
showing little Scandinavian influence points to an Anglian 
origin for this suflix*. 

There is a considerable number of names containing 

^ The Wansbeck it for earlier Wamsfic tnd does oot contain this avflix. EuUitk 
Common it 10 called from the Barony of Bulbeck, of which it formed part. Bulbeck 
is from the Norman Bdehic, 

* Dalton-le-Dale (co. Durham) it mentioned in Bede at Daltun^ thowing that the 
word wat in common ute in pre- Viking dayt. 


as their first element a Scandinavian personal name, but 
as the second element is usually English the name would 
seem to have been given to the place by an English- 
speaking population who called the farm or settlement 
after its Norse or Danish occupier. A few names must 
definitely have been given by Scandinavian settlers and 
taken over by their English neighbours, e.g. Akeld, Coup- 
land, Lucker, Snitter, Knar, Knaresdale, Whitwham, 
as we have no evidence for the naturalisation of these 
words in English. Thus the character of the place- 
names of Northumberland which contain evidence of 
Scandinavian influence is such that we cannot believe 
that there was ever a Scandinavian settlement of the 
whole of the county or a Scandinavian dialect spoken 
throughout its area. 

The actual distribution of the place-names containing 
a Scandinavian element confirms these conclusions. For 
convenience of reference the place-names discussed above 
have been arranged in certain groups lying within the 
basin of certain rivers and their tributaries or along 
the coast, but those groups are to a large extent natural. 
The group of Scandinavian settlements on the Till and 
its tributaries is well niarked, so is that along the northern 
part of the coast ; still more clearly marked is the group 
of settlements on the banks of the Coquet. In the 
heart of the county there is a small group on the upper 
waters of the Wansbeck and its tributaries, and though 
the distribution further south is fairly general, there is 
still a marked tendency to form settlements in the rich 
valleys of the Tyne, South Tyne, Allen and Derwent. 
The settlers would seem to have confined themselves very 
largely to the fertile river-valleys, and the distribution of 
their settlements is very different from that found in such 
counties as Yorkshire or Lincolnshire, where they are 
found in dale and valley, on fell and wold alike. Such 
occupation of the richer and more fertile farms is found 
in other districts which have received a limited number 

314 A, MAWER 

of Scandinavian settlers, e.g. the northernmost counties of 

It would seem, therefore, that the Scandinavian settle- 
ments of Northumbria north of the Tyne were scattered 
and unorganized, and it is probable that it was only for 
a very brief period that the authority of the Norse kings 
ruling at York was acknowledged. 

Allen Mawer. 


For more than forty years a discussion has been in 
progress as to the origin or the names of certain rivers in 
the west of Germany. From MiillenhofF onwards many 
scholars have contended that remains of a Celtic language 
are preserved in these names, while others either wholly 
or in part reject any such explanation. 

The discussion has of course, in general, been limited 
to that part of western Germany which lies to the east of 
the Rhine and north of the Main. It cannot be doubted 
that the districts to the west and south of this area were 
occupied mainly by Celtic peoples down to the first 
century before our era ; and few scholars would be ready 
to reject a Celtic, or at least pre-Teutonic, origin of the 
names of these two rivers, together with many of their 
tributaries. But the evidence for the existence of Celtic 
populations farther to the east — in the basins of the Ems, 
the Weser and the Saale — is of a less trustworthy character. 
It is contended that the evidence of Gaulish tradition^ 
points in this direction ; but the existence of such popula- 
tions is not proved by any historical records. 

In the absence of historical information it is urged ^ 
that at least a portion of the area under discussion can 
from archaeological evidence be shown to have been occu- 
pied at one time by Celtic peoples. This portion is, 

1 Amm. MarcellintUy xv. 9. 4 (from Timagenes) i Draddai {Druidae }) memmrant 
n uirafinsse populi partem indigenamf sed aim quoque ah insults extremis confuxisse et 
tractibus transrhenanisy crebritate bellvrum et alluuione Jeruidi maris sedibus suis expulsos. 
Of. also Caesar, GalL 11. 4 ; vi. 24. 

* Of. eapeciaUy Kossinna, KorrespondenK-Blait f, Authrop^gie^ 1907, p. 57 ff.} 
Kauffmann, Deutscke Jitertumskuude, p. 174 ff. 

3i6 H. M. CHAD WICK 

roughly speaking, the southern half of the area — com- 
prising the upper part of the basin of the Weser and 
nearly the whole of that 6f the Saale. The chief criteria 
observed in distinguishing between Celtic and Teutonic 
deposits are (i) the practice of inhumation or cremation, 
(ii) the use of painted or unpainted earthenware. The 
first of these criteria is not entirely free from objection, 
for it cannot be doubted that in southern Scandinavian 
lands — a more or less purely Teutonic area — the method 
of disposing of the dead changed from time to time, 
apparently without any corresponding change of popula- 
tion. Again, there is a not inconsiderable amount of 
evidence, both literary^ and archaeological, for the practice 
of cremation by the Gauls, even towards the close of the 
La Tene period, while in the Bronze Age it is known to 
have been widely prevalent among the Celtic peoples. Yet 
in so far as cremation and inhumation are accompanied 
by differences in earthenware and other articles it may be 
allowed that the cemeteries probably belong to populations 
of different nationality; and we have no reason for 
doubting that the non-Teutonic population was Celtic. 
So far as the names in the basins of the Ems and the 
Weser are concerned the discussion has turned chiefly 
upon a number of forms which contain the termination 
-^, -^, or, farther south, -y^, -^, representing earlier -^^ 
or -affa^ the latter of which shows the High German 
sound-shifting. Names of this type are frequent also in 
the basin of the Rhine below its confluence with the 
Main^ but to the south of the latter river they are 
extremely rare, while in the basin of the Saale they do 
not seem to occur at all. According to Miillenhoff 
{Deutsche Altertumskunde^ ii. p. 227 f.) this termination is 
derived either from compound names, of which the second 
member was related to Ir. ab^ * river,' W. afon^ or from a 
suffix -^-, which appears in British river-names (e.g. 

^ Cf. Caetar, Gall. vi. 19 ; Diodorui, v. 28 \ Mela, in. a. 19. See alto Kauffmann, 
9p. cit.f p. 265, note a. 


Av(ro0ay ToiavlSt^j Tovepo/Si^) and which may also be seen 
in the Gaulish place-name Gelduba (on the Rhine), 
later known (in Teutonic form) as Geldapa. According 
to either of these explanations the forms in question will 
show the Teutonic sound-change b>p. Other scholars^ 
however have preferred to derive them from compounds 
containing a Celtic form corresponding to Lat. aqua^ 
Goth, ahwdy O. High Germ, -aha^ etc. In this case of 
course no sound-shifting can have taken place after the 
word was borrowed. But there are a considerable number 
of scholars^ who maintain that the termination is not 
Celtic at all, but derived from a native Teutonic word, 
probably cognate with Ir. ab^ etc. In support of this 
contention they point to the fact that the first element in 
these names is frequently of Teutonic origin. Again, 
though names of this type are common even to the west 
of the Rhine, in what was without doubt at one time 
Celtic territory, there is reason for supposing that some 
at least of these are taken from districts east of the river. 
Neither of these arguments is conclusive, and there is no 
evidence elsewhere for a Teutonic word ap-\ but as 
against this it is to be observed that the evidence for a 
Celtic suffix -tf^- or -^ is likewise very limited. 

Apart from the forms ending in -^(^) the number of 
names in this area for which a Celtic origin has been 
claimed is not very considerable ^ In the easternmost 
part of the area, beyond the Weser, MiillenhofF {op. cit.^ 
p. 232 f.) detected only two cases. He pointed out that the 
Wumme (formerly Wimena^ etc.), to the east of Bremen, 
has the same name as the Vimen (now Visme) in Picardy, 

^ Cf. Bremer in Panl't Grundriss d. gtrm, PAiiolo^e^ iii. p. 774 f. ; Much, Deutsche 
Stammeskunde^ p. 55 (where some doubt is expressed as to the Celtic origin of this suiBx) 

* Cf. especially Kossinna, BeitrUge^ xxvi. 283, note ; KaufFmann, Deutsche Alter- 
tmmskundi^ p. 68. 

* But cf. KorrespimdenK-Blatt f. dnthropohgief 1906, p. 167 (in the report of a paper 
read by Prof. Schroder) : * So wird es mOglich sein, die paar Dutzend keltischen Fluss- 
namen, welche MollenhoiF for das yor alien Dingen streitige Weser- und Emsgebiet 
vetzeichnete (denn die Elbe ist fast ganz germanisch, der Rhein fast gans keltisch), auf 
cinige Hundert xu stei2;ern.* So fiu as I can learn, this paper has not been published. 


while the early forms {Lagina, etc.) of the name Leine — 
the river on which Hanover stands — show a resemblance 
to that of the Lahn {Lognay etc), which can hardly be 
Teutonic. But against these stands the far more important 
name Weser {Fisurgis\ etc.), which he explained (p. 2 1 5 f.) 
as Teutonic. This is a serious difficulty, since it is well 
known that the names of large rivers are far less liable to 
change than those of small ones. Most of the great 
rivers both of Germany and England, e.g. the Weser 
itself, the Rhine, Ems, Elbe, etc., the Thames, Severn, 
Trent, etc., bear the same names now that they bore at 
the beginning of our era. It would be a strange thing 
therefore if the Weser obtained a new name at the 
Teutonic conquest, while the Celtic names of compara- 
tively insignificant streams and even becks were preserved^ 
As regards the south-eastern part of our jirea (Thurin- 
gia) it has been mentioned above that names in -p{e)j 
-f\e) do not occur. This region however contains a 
number of other names which many recent writers 
believe to be Celtic, e.g. the place-names Eisenach (Mid. 

H. Germ. Isenache) and Trebra (formerly I'riburi)^ Finney 
a range of hills to the south of the Unstrut, and the 
river-name Wipper^ which is borne by three different 
streams in Thuringia. In all these cases the possibility 
of a Celtic origin had been suggested by MuUenhoff 
himself (p. 233 f.). On the whole however he was 
inclined to reject this view, especially with reference to 
the name Wipper^ which seemed to him to be more 
capable of a Teutonic than of a Celtic derivation (p. 214, 
note). In his opinion the Teutonic and Celtic peoples 
were eflFectively separated from one another in this 
quarter by a belt of primeval forest which extended 

^ The 'g- seems to be due to Roman (or Greek ?) pronunciation. The later forms 
of the name are VuUurOy Fuisara^ Fuesera^ etc. Cf. MoUenhoff, p. 215, notes. 

^ With regard to the name Ems {AmisiOf AmisiSf etc.) MtlUenhoff (pp. 2x7, 221) 
seems to have entertained some doubt, though apparently on the whole inclined to 
treat it as Celtic. In view of names such as Aliso, Alisia {Alesia)^ AlUincum^ AlisonttOf 
AnisuSf there is obviously much to be said in favour of this view. 


from the Harz over Thuringia to the highlands on the 
east. In the last twenty years however archaeological 
investigation has shown that Thuringia contained a con- 
siderable population even in the Stone Age ; and at present 
opinion seems to be more favourable to the hypothesis 
of Celtic linguistic survivals here than in the basin of 
the Weser. 

It is somewhat remarkable that MiillenhofF believed 
the names JVeser and Wipper to be of Teutonic origin ; 
for he had himself observed (pp. 214, note, 216, note) 
that both occur again in districts which were at one time 
certainly, or almost certainly, Celtic. There is a tributary 
of the Rhine between Dusseldorf and Deutz called Wipper, 
while in Belgium a river Weser or Vesdre runs into the 
Ourthe, not far from Li^ge. In both cases it is necessary 
of course to take into account the possibility that the 
name was introduced by Teutonic settlers who were 
familiar with the more eastern rivers. It is, we may 
presume, due to this possibility, together with the absence 
of an obvious etymology, at least for the name Wipper^ in 
Celtic, that subsequent writers have in general been content 
to abide by MiillenhofFs opinion ^ 

In England however there is some evidence which 
seems to have been altogether overlooked and which 
is not open to any such suspicion. The river Wear 
(Durham) bears a name which can be traced back (in 
the form Wiur^ to the beginning of the eighth century 

1 Bremer, 9p, at,, p. 775» is inclined to r^^rd Wifpir u Celtic. On the other hand 
Fisurgis is interpreted as 'Ligurian' by D'Arbois de Jubainville {Lis p-emirs Habitants 
dt VEunf€\ p. 177 ff*)> ^bo connects it with the place-name Vis^innct (Dep. Iste), 
called Fisonntia in the sixth century, and the river-names FisMi (Piedmont), F6cire (a 
tributary of the Dordogne), formerly Fisera^ etc. Cf. Cramer, Rhein, Ortsnamin^ p. 75 f., 
where attention is called also to the German river-names Wiise (Baden), Wieslauf 
(Wortemberg), etc., as well as (p. 74) to W. gwy^ * moisture,' * river.' The assumption 
that gw/ most necessarily represent a stem ^fFiis- is probably erroneous, and I see no 
objection to identifying this word with Fisom and fFiise, as well as with Ouu < Ang.-Sax. 
JFafT, which seems to represent an earlier ^fFssi ; cf. Skeat, Placi-nasnes tf Casiiridgi' 
shin (Camb. Antiq. Soc. Publications % Svo Series, No. xxxvi.), p. 46. 

' Fiuri (gen.), Bede, H. £. iv. 18, v. ai ; ad Fiuraemuda^ v. 24. Later forms are 
Wetr^ Wtwrra^ Wirra^ etc. (Sym. Dunelm.). 


and which can hardly be separated from Weser. Again, 
the Weaver in Cheshire, though not mentioned in early 
records, represents apparently an Ang.-Sax. *lVeofre\ 
which may very well be identical with Wipper ; and the 
same is probably true of the Waver^ in Cumberland. In 
neither of these cases is there any possibility that the 
name was introduced by the English invaders. The form 
Wiur shows the (Welsh) loss of intervocalic -x-, which 
took place probably in the fifth century, while Weaver is 
free from the Teutonic change b >p. 

The occurrence of these two names in England, as 
well as in Belgium, the Rhineland, Thuringia and north- 
west Germany, affords ground for believing that all these 
regions were once occupied by peoples of the same stock. 
It tends therefore to confirm the hypothesis of a Celtic 
population in the last-named region^ as well as in Thu- 
ringia*. In this connection we may, further, observe 
that both these names contain the r-suffix, which figures 
so prominently in Celtic countries ^ This is perhaps the 
more noteworthy because there are other river-names in 
north-west Germany with the same suffix, e.g. Ocker 

* D.B. Wevre^ Wi^ureham ; later Wevcr(e), etc. (cent. xiii). The same name may 
perhaps also be traced in Witeoerthorpt in the £. Riding (D.B. Wtfretorp\ though 
there is apparently no river there now. 

* The name seems to go back to the twelfth cent, in this form (cf. Dugdale, Mm, 
Angl. y. 594 — apparently from the register of Holme Cultram Abbey, which has not 
been published). Wcever probably represents an earlier ^Waefer^ with the Northumbrian 
change e^ a after ov. 

' Unless of course one is prepared to accept the 'Ligurian* theory, which cannot 
be discussed here. It seems to me that the supposed traces of Ligurian in northern 
Europe may be explained with far more probability as due to the existence of common 
elements in Ligurian and Celtic 

* It was pointed out by MtlllenhofF (p. 21 3 f.) that the name of the Saale (2dXar) — 
the chief river of Thuringia — recurs in several districts which were once Celtic, though 
he himself rejected the idea that it was of Celtic origin. But the word iolty ' salt-water,* 
is not conclusive evidence to the contrary. The name Unstrut^ which he likewise 
claimed as Teutonic (p. 214, note), seems to have undergone some change which was 
not purely phonetic. The earliest known form Onestrudem (Greg. Tur. in. 7) suggests 
that the second element may be identical with Struthy Strote, a name borne by more 
than one stream in Westphalia (cf. Jellinghaus, WestfllL OrtsHanun^ p. 125), and which 
bears a suspicious resemblance to W. ffmvd^ ' stream,' Ir. srutA. 

* E.g. Liger^ Arar, Isara^ Samara, etc. in France ; IsarOf DuBra, etc. (cf. EmhscAet\ 
iVetter, Neckar, etc.) in S. Germany and the Rhineland. 


(formerly Obakr-) and Aller (formerly Alara). It may 
be admitted that these names are not easily recognisable 
as Celtic^ ; and the same is true of most of tne river-names 
in this region. But how many of them can with certainty 
be claimed as Teutonic'? 

If the type of names containing the termination 
-p{e)j -/{e) is really of Celtic origin — and though this is 
a very uncertain hypothesis it has perhaps on the whole 
the greater probability on its side — the evidence of the 
name Wipper {ifFeaver) tends to confirm MuUenhoflPs 
view, viz. that -/(e), -^(e) shows the Teutonic sound- 
shifting. Good evidence for the sound-shifting is given 
both by the Thuringian name Finne and by the river- 
name fFaa/ {Vahalis) in the Netherlands. On the other 
hand we find unshifted sounds in Leyden {Lugdunum) 
and Nymegen (Nouiomagus) in the Netherlands, Lahn 
{Lcgna)j Steg {Sigwa^ and Wetter {JVedr- in a docu- 
ment of the eighth century) in the Rhineland, and 
probably also in I'rebra in Thuringia. The problem 
therefore presents considerable difficulties. The true 
explanation may be that in names and types of names 
which were recognised a process of sound-substitution 
took place, after the sound-shifting proper had ceased to 
operate. But it is doubtful whether this explanation will 
hold good for every case^ 

Attempts to ascertain the chronology of the Teutonic 
sound-shifting have so far not met with much success. 
Neither is it possible as yet to determine with certainty 
when the various districts east of the Rhine came into 

* Unless, possibly, Alara may be identified with Arar, 

' It may be observed that many of them contain an n-suffix, e.g. WUmmt (cf. p. 3 1 7), 
Ltintf Eder {Adrana). The last of these is usually regarded as Teutonic (: O.H.G. atoTf 
Ang.-Sax. aidre). But this is also a common suffix in Celtic riTcr-names, e.g. SequanOy 
MatronOf Axona^ Sahrina^ Alauna. 

' I do not understand the identification of this name with Sfiw (Sequana) proposed 
by Mollenhoff (p. 221 f) and Kauffmann (p. 69, note). Are not the Prankish and 
Ang.-Sax. forms of the latter — as also the modern form — due to a late Latin sound- 

^ £.g. for the case of fVaal {J^ahalis^ i^acalm). 

R. 21 


Teutonic possession. For the southern half of this area 
— western Thuringia, Nassau, Hessen — ^prevalent opinion 
is distinctly in favour of the fourth century (b.c.). But 
in regard to the more northern districts, even among those 
who believe that this region was previously Celtic, the 
tendency at present is to set the Teutonic occupation very 
early — earlier perhaps than Gaulish tradition would seem 
to suggest. From the descriptions of the personal appear- 
ance of the Gauls which Greek and Roman writers have 
handed down one is somewhat tempted to suspect that north- 
west Germany may have been their home — i.e. the home 
of the dominant military element among them — in the 
not very remote past. It has often been remarked that 
these descriptions recall those given of the Germans at a 
somewhat later date. The resemblance will be satis- 
factorily explained if both peoples came from the same 
region and were sprung, to a considerable extent, from 
the same race — as is weU pointed out in TChe "Early Age of 
Greece^ p. 370 fF. The type is of course that which pre- 
vails in the north German plain, as well as in Scandinavian 
lands, at the present day. 

H. MuNRo Chad WICK. 


Professor Chadwick's view as to the history of the name of the 
R. Weaver receives striking confirmation from the fact that a stream 
bearing the same name in a Welsh form is found in Monmouthshire. It 
occurs in the Liber Landavensis (ed. J. Gwenogvrjrn Evans, p. 159) as 
guefrduur^ i.e. in later Welsh orthography Gwefrddwfr. 

E. C. Q. 

a poem by gofraidh fionn 

6 dAlaigh 

The following poem was composed in honour of 
Maurice Fitz Maurice (Muiris Og) second earl of 
Desmond. His father Maurice Fitz Thomas, the first 
earl, justiciary of Ireland, died in 1356, The younger 
Maurice died about two years later, for on June 16, 1358, 
guardians were appointed for his widow Beatrice, a minor 
(Cal. of Patent Rolls, Edward III). It is thus possible to 
fix the date of the poem within a couple of years. Little 
is known about the second earl. His father had played a 
long and important part in the history of his time, and 
his youngest brother and successor, Gerald the Poet, has 
a place dso in literature and legend. But Maurice Fitz 
Maurice does not appear to have accomplished anything 
to justify the poet's extravagant laudation. Such compU- 
mentary phrases were part of the ordinary stock-in-trade 
of the Irish court poets of the period, to which, of course, 
parallels can be found in the court poetry of other ages 
and other lands. That such poems should be addressed to 
the head of a great Anglo-Norman house bears out what 
wc know of the conciliatory policy of the Geraldines. 

The author of the poem was Gofraidh Fionn O D41aigh 
(Godfrey Finn 0*Daly) who died in 1 387. He was attached 
for some time to the earls of Desmond, as is shown by two 
other poems, both addressed to Gerald the Poet. Later on 
we find him paying court to the MacCarthys of Desmond 
and the O'Briens of Thomond. 

The poem is a very artistic specimen of the metre 
snedbairdne. The line of twelve syllables is broken by a 

21 — 2 

324 O. BERGIN 

caesura, marked in the MS. by a comma, generally after 
the eighth syllable. The two parts of the first line are 
connected by alliteration ; the first part of the second line 
consonates with the end rimes, or failing this, shows 
plentiful internal rime with the second part. 

Only one copy is known to me. It is found in the 
R. I. A. Stowc Collection, A iv 3, p. 652 foil. For a 
transcript of this I am indebted to Miss Eleanor Knott. 


!• M6r ar bfearg riot a rl Saxan, a s6 a dhamhna, 
do-raduis, gtt mh6r a meanma*, br6n for Bhanba. 

2. Ma a leanndn d'fosdadh na h6gmuiS| d'uaim 16 m6r-iath, 
inis Eirionn an gheal ghrlanach, as bean bhr6nach. 

3. Fdar iompa inntinn mo chnV^e, crfiaidh an cosnamh, 
gtn gur b'eagail do shearg Shaxan mh'fcarg is mh'osnadh. 

4. Trt chfiairt Mhuiris mhic an (aria a n-jgmais Bhanbha, 
nl thtid a bhr6n dl na a dhiomdha, mOr dl a dhamhna. 

5. Br6n ar ficsibh innsi F6dla 's ar a bfionnmhniibh, 
6 do figuibh diin geal Gabhriin fear Ar lomdhiin. 

6. On 16 do ghldais mac mic Tomiis an tdoibh leabhair, 
gan fichain star acht sAil soirin dhdinn 'na dheaghaidh*. 

7. N6 go bfaiciom se61 Sior Muiris do mhuin chnairre, 
mi ag fkhain ar lucht gach luingi d'ucht gach aille. 

8. longnadh dhdinn reacht ri rlgh Saxan na sl6gh meanmnach, 
tr£ bheith aigi go mear muirnioch don gheal ghreadhnach. 

9. Dalta righ Saxan Sior Muiris^ maith a chaomhna^ 
tr€n ina mh&r mac an {aria, slat i!ir aobhdha. 

lO. NI hiongnadh d'feabhas a mhiiinte maith di ndingne, 
n{ hiongnadh le mid a mhuirni id ri z inmhe. 

IX. A6ibhnios Saxan, sdorchdairt Eirionn, 'gi fhult nfamhda 
fear & mbia deinmni gach dforma, eigre* an iarla. 

^ mi&eanma M& * dhead-^ Af^. * id written 9ver the g MS. 


I2« hi a oide, 16 hairdrlgh Saxan, siobhal dioghainn, 

tiid isan bFraingc n-ealaigh n-iloinn bfleadhaigh bflonduinn. 

13. Sgfla na Fraingce, fios Saxan, suairc an comhrfldh, 
do-g6bhthor 'gan ghasda ghealmh6r, bhlasda bonnbhin. 

14. Buidhioch inn di oide mdintCi mOnadh thaisgios, 
'sas diomdhach mi di fod fbsdus an bog baisdeas. 

15. Fiair biaidh gc6ille is gcrotha is gconiigh ceann an &onnshI6igh 
gi ttim acht do-fuair gach iolbh&aidh go mbdaidh mbionnghl6ir 

16. Nocho ttabhar a gheall gaisgidh, ni a gheall g^isi, 
nk geall a dheilbhe ni a dhi!iaisi, d'eigbre a ioisu 

17. Treisi & rath, rath go gconich, croidhe adhniir, 
clall di choimhdd, ciabh na bfoigh6g arna b&ghbhiilK 

18. A aimhiios an uair do-nkhear, do-nl a dhearbhadh 

an f6d tegaimh & a bhonn bairrgheal don donn dhealbhghlan. 

I9« Na hairdrionnaigh agi fiiisneis di fiilt ngeigflar 
d'fior a anbhraith cion ar an ardflaith as 6gciaU. 

20. Lugh LiUnhfada leitb6id Muiris, mh6ras dimha, 
comhn[i6r bfeasa an conchlann cr6dha, comhthrom gdbia. 

21. A n-dois Muiris m/c an {aria do f6ir Banbha, 
di ttug leagadh d'^e Fomhra bile Bladhma. 

22. Tadhbhas do Lugh, leann^ Teamhra, thoir a nEamhain, 
di Wbiaig s6 ar sfir gach domhain, mir Ti Teamhair. 

23. Ddnta an chathair ar donn Logha, lioch ro thoghsom, 
tfid gusan mAr sleamhain slioschorr, beanaidh bascbrann. 

24. Ar an doirse6ir ris an deaghlaoch, A doirbh rdaigfearg, 
dit as a ttig* an fear iith 6gard bliith geal grdaiddearg* 

25. Ris an doirse6ir adubhairt Lugh*, nix loc iomghuin 
file meisi a hEamhain abhlaigh ealaigh iobhraigh. 

26. Nocba dhlighi, ar doirse6ir Teamhra, tocht diar ndaighthigh, 
ati fear rid cheird san chathraigh, a dheirg dhaithghil. 

27. Teach MiodhchiarU ag macuibh Eithlionn um an am-soin 
triidhe an tighe feactha fhinn-sin, teactha tharrsaibh. 

> bfoghbhatl MS. > Read as* tdgf * Log-^ MS. 

326 O. BERGIN 

28. Do thr^idhibh Thighe Miodhchdarta, as min criochbhuird 
nach leigthior dis inn re bioincheird^ a finn flochbhuirb. 

29. D*iomat ceard ag Tdaith D6 Danann, dhdilios bnita, 
ceird ar nach biiiil aithne aca, caithfe chuca. 

30. As dum cheardaibh, na ceil is tigh a tti an bhuidhion, 
liim ar bhailg is gan a bloghadb, tairg ii thuireamh. 

31. Snlmh 6s £ttre6]r^ iomchor dabcha ar dnimuibh uillionn, 
ati dhi cheird ar mo chumhang, eirg dd Aiighioll. 

32. Flafraigh an bfuil fear a nd^mha don dniing neamhlaig, 
riagh ^ineich san b&ithchi bfionnbhuig, graifne gheallmaid. 

33. AdL sonn d'iomurcaidh orra, an uiriod tuirbim, 

's nl full ina gceird mo choimhghrinn, nl d'feirg fiiighlim. 

34* Ar gcluinsi ar chan an maciomh, m6r a thairmsSin, 
d'agallaimh Thiiath D6 don doirse6ir Idath 6 ainns^in. 

35* Fear san doras, ar an doirse6ir, tin doirbh coimeas^ 
zti an uile cheard^ ar a chommus, an dearg doinndeas. 

36. Damadh 6 Lugh, leannin F6dla na bfonn sriobh^n, 
do bheith ann, ar Tdath D6 Danann, dob 6 a ionam. 

37* Geall n-jgaisg 6n fior san doras, damhna leisgi, 
nocha ndearnadh d'dir na d'uisgi, ddil din dleisdi. 

38. A thiobhy a aghaidh, a earla, eochair thogha^ 
triar ar sniiadh ioil agiis umha agus fola. 

39* Binni a tbeanga ini t^da* meannchrot, agi mfndeilbh 
6n sidhail sdan, a Idmhaibh suadh agi slrsheinm. 

40* As6 sin, ar sUiagb na cathrach, ar gceann Uiidhe^ 
aonmhac Eithni, saorshlat ar nach beirthi biire. 

41. Brosdaighthear, ar Tdath D6 Danann, doirse6ir Teamhra, 
d'ionnsoighi na cr&oibhe cubhra, aofdhe Eamhna. 

42. Masa th& an t-Iolddnach oirrdearc an airm ghlaisg^ir, 
as mo chean duid, ar an doirse6ir| a bhuig bhaisr^idh. 

43. Tair san ddnadh^ ol an doirsedir, DIa do bheatba. 
Ac, na hosluig, ar an tslat lit cosnaid creacha. 

^ lUad gach ceard f ^ Read t^d f 


44. Teamhair Airt go heirghi griini, gcis don ddnadh 
oslugadh^ an diiin do dhdnamh, ami dhdnadh. 

45. Nfr mhiD geasa ghrianitn Teamhra an teaghlaigh airmdheirg, 
tug c^im ar gciU, rug Ifim isan' mhtir don mhaighleirg. 

46. N{ bhrisfeadh ar bhailg 6s abhainn, d'aighthibh 6gbhonn, 
Itim iith ^ttrom a dhi ghigbhonn riidh mbliith mbr6gdhonn. 

47. Mar sin dLinic go Teagh Miodhchuart na m&r ngreadhnach, 
ddr fh6ir a fholt gleannach gabhlach teallach Teamhrach. 

48. Aithghin Logha n6 Lugh a-rfs^ go riith Luimnigh, 

a thr^idhi acht gan teacht go Teamhraigh, ceart ro chuimhnigh. 

49. Cosmhail cuairt Logha 6 lios Eamhna d'foghluim ghairggnlomh, 
as ciHairt Muiris go lios Lonnd&n, d'fios an airdrlogh. 

50. Comhachta mheic Lir is Logha ag leann&n Manann, 
dan liatha 6 'sa dhlall r^ Tiliatha Di Danann. 

51. Mac EibiHn, airgnioch Gaoidhi^^ gearr go ttora, 

dir gcabhair tar mearthuinn mhara, leathchuing Logha. 

52. Ag deaghoil Eirionn re hurchra da folt cloidhfionn, 
ar Lugh 's ar Thikth' Di Danann ^ 's a foirionn. 

53. Do Uonadh a los a athar as Ar m^ine, 
an di oiI6n arda i!iaine, Alba is Eire. 

54* Cuimhnigheadh c^imionna a athar as Ar deigbs^n, 
as amhlaidh as c6ir gach coil6n, mar a cheinfl. 

55* Tiomna do figuibh a athair gi folt criLobhnocht, 
a rath 'sa ainm is a {arlacht is a dobhdhacht. 

56* B(aidh, madh aithreamhail a aigneadh, di fios tiidsi, 
tuilleadh buidhe an iarla 6igsi ris an 6igsi. 

57. N& gridoigh^adh mac m^ic Gearailt na nglac saolrdheas^, 
go ttuga ucht na sl6gh siairdheas, 61 na ioibhneas* 

58. Fuilngeadh ag f6irithin Banbha da bharr taistiogh 
siobhal mara aidhbhle as uisgeadh ainnmi is aisd^ar. 

1 Qsgl-^ MS. * tan Af 5. ^ lUad Th6athaibh ^ it ar ThWth. 

^ taoirndeat ikf ^. 

328 O. BERGIN 

59. Mumha { Luighdioch ni I^igeadh, gomadh leis ffine 
an fonn lir i!iaine, Gdaire siU gcorr ara chiifu 

60. farla 6g Deasmhumhan dlighidh dion na ttruinshl6gh 
tugsat do gh6ig Ruidhe roghr^dh uile d'urmh6r. 


1. Great is our anger against thee, O king of England ; the ground 
thereof is that, though her spirit was high, thou hast brought sorrow upon 

2. Because her lover is kept away from her, who had knit great 
fortune to her, the isle of Erin, the bright sunny one, is a sorrowful woman. 

3. Cold towards them is my heart's intent — ^hard is the contest — 
though there is no fear of the blighting of the Saxons by my anger and 
my sighing. 

4. Through the journey of Maurice, the earl's son, away from 
Banbha, the sorrow of it and the indignation pass not from her — great is 
her reason for this. 

5. The poets of the island of F6dla are sorrowful, and their fair ladies, 
since the young hero of lomghin left Gabhrin's bright fortress. 

6. Since the day that the son of Fitz Thomas, of the tall figure, 
departed, we look not westwards, but our eyes are turned to the east 
after him. 

7. Until I see Sir Maurice's sail above a ship, I watch the company 
of every vessel from the bosom of every cli£F. 

8. Strange that I should rage against the king of England, of the 
gallant hosts, because he keeps with him the bright joyous one in mirth 
and revelry. 

9. Sir Maurice is the fosterling of the king of England, good is his 
protection ; secure in his palace is the earl's son, the fresh lovely scion. 

10. 'Tis no marvel if he do good, so excellent is his training; no 
marvel if men envy his fortune, so great is his gaiety. 

11. The delights of England, the free circuit of Ireland, are with his 
shining locks, a man under whom shall be the impetuosity of every troop, 
the earl's heir. 

12. With his fosterer, the king of England — a mightv expedition — 
he goes to France, the beautiful land of swans, of feasts, and of dark wine. 

i^. The tidings of France, the knowledge of England — a merry tale 
— ^wifi be found with the skilful (youth), so tall and bright, elegant and 


14. I am grateful to his teacher — ^he gathers teaching — ^jret I am 
vexed that he has so long detained the gentle fiiir-handed (youth). 

15. The leader of the fair host has excelled in understanding and 
comeliness and* success — in short he has won all the varied excellences, 
with the excellence of sweetness of voice. 

1 6. His prize for valour, or his prize for wisdom, or the prize for his 
beauty or generosity, are not granted to any heir of his age. 

17. Strength in luck, luck with success, a modest heart, understanding 
to keep him, curling tresses he has gotten. 

18. When he is injured, the sod that chances to be under his white 
foot certifies it to the handsome brown-haired (prince). 

19. The planets declare it to his curling hair : whoever betrajrs him, 
crime against the prince is senseless. 

20. The like of Maurice, who exalts bards, was Lugh Longhand : 
equally great in knowledge was the valiant compeer, equal in sway. 

21. At the age of Maurice, the earl's son, he delivered Banbha, when 
he, the mighty tree of Bladhma, defeated the race of the Fomorians. 

22. At Eamhain in the east Lugh, the darling of Tara, beheld Tara, 
Rampart of T6, whereupon he reached it after searching the whole earth. 

23. Lugh, champion of our choice, finds the stronghold closed ; he 
goes to the smooth even-«urfaced wall, he strikes the knocker. 

24. Quoth the doorkeeper to the good warrior, stern in anger of 
onset, ^ Whence cometh the man keen young and tall, smooth bright and 
red-cheeked ?' 

25. To the doorkeeper answered Lugh, who shunned no fight: ^I am 
a poet from Eamhain of the Appletrees, of swans and yewtrees.' 

26. *It is not lawful for thee,' said Tara's doorkeeper, ^to come to 
our good house : there is a man of thy art in the stronghold, thou bright 
and ruddy one. 

27. The House of Miodhchuairt belongs at this time to the sons 
of Ethliu ; we must tell of the qualities of that Mr curved house. 

28. One of the qualities of the House of Miodhchuairt, whose borders 
are smooth, is that two of one craft are not admitted, thou &ir and 
furious one. 


29* So many are the arts of the Tuath D6 Danann, bestowers of 
cloaks, that thou must bring them an art that they know not.' 

30. ^ Among my arts — conceal it not in the house wherein the company 
leaping on a bubble without breaking it : go to recount it. 

31. Snamh is Ittniir^ carrying a vat on the ridges of the elbows, these 
two arts are in my power : go to declare it. 

330 O. BERGIN 

32. Ask whether there is one of the vigorous throng that can do 
them ; the running of any steed on the fair soft green — ^we promise a race. 

33. What I recount is here as an extra beyond them, and in their 
own arts none is so expert as I : I speak not in anger/ 

34. When he had heard what the youth uttered, great was his haste : 
swiftly went the doorkeeper to converse with the Tuath DL 

35. *A man at the door/ said the doorkeeper, ^ whose match were 
hard to find : every art is in his power, the comely brown and ruddy one.' 

36. ^ If Lugh were there, the beloved of F6dla in whose lands the 
rivers rest,' said the Tuath D^ Danann, *it were a fitting time for him.' 

37. ^ To win the prize of beauty from the man at the door — z ground 
for hesitation — ^there has not been made of earth or water a creature 
entitled to that. 

38. His side, his face, his hair — ^key of choice — three in hue like lime 
and bronze and blood. 

39* Sweeter his tongue than strings of lutes, deftly shapen, that make 
slumber soft, ever played in the hands of masters.' 

40. ^That,' said the host in the stronghold, 'is our beloved chief, 
Eithne's only son, noble rod that cannot be defeated. 

41. Let Tara's doorkeeper make speed,' said the Tuath D6 Danann, 
' to meet the fragrant branch, the guest of Eamhain.' 

42. *If thou art the famous loldinach of the sharp blue weapon, 
welcome,' said the doorkeeper, ' thou soft one of smooth palms. 

43. Come into the fortress,' said the doorkeeper, * welcome!' *Nay, 
open not,' said the rod by whom spoils were wrested. 

44. * Until sunrise it is a prohibition to the fortress. Art's Tara, that 
it should be opened, when once it has been dosed.' 

45. He broke not the prohibitions of the sollar of Tara, of the red- 
weaponed household ; he stepped back, he sprang from the sloping plain 
into the fort. 

46. The light brisk leap of his graceful feet, smooth soft and brown- 
shod, would not have broken a bubble upon the river with the tips of 
youthful soles. 

47. Thus he came to Teach Miodhchuart of the joyous walls, whereby 
his hair full of hollows and branching tresses aided the hearth of Tara. 

48. The equal of Lugh, or Lugh himself again, to Limerick's fort ; 
save that he came not to Tara, truly he has recalled his qualities. 


49. Alike are the journey of Lugh from the court of Eamhain, to 
learn fierce deeds, and the journey of Maurice to the court of London, to 
visit the high-king. 

50. The darling of the Isle of Man has the power of Ler*s son and 
of Lugh : though far from them, he is like to the Tuatha D6 Danann. 

51. Avelina's son, slayer of the Gael, soon will he come to our aid 
across the wild surge of the sea^ he the counterpart of Lugh. 

52. When bis hair in fair ridges severs Erin from decay, he and his 
men stand for Lugh and the Tuatha D^ Danann. 

53. By his fether, of quick ardour, have been fiUed-the two lofty 
green islands, Britain and Ireland. 

54* Let him remember the steps of his father, whose good fortune is 
fresh : every whelp should be like his breed. 

55. The bequest that his father left to his bare curly locks was his 
success and his name and his earldom and his comeliness. 

56. If bis temper be like his father's — they go to test it — this young 
earl will honour the poets. 

57. Till he turn the face of the hosts to the south-west, let not the 
son of the Geraldine, of the noble shapely bands, love banqueting or 

58. While with his soft clustering locks he delivers Banbha, let him 
endure the traversing of the mighty deep and the waters, patience and 


59. Let not the soft-eyed Guaire leave Munster, land of Lughaidh*s 
descendant, for any other, until the fresh green land is his own. 

60. The young earl of Desmond is entitled to the defence of the 
mighty hosts : well-nigh all of them love the branch of Ruidhe. 


2 b. I have taken tPuaim as 3 sg. pf. of the denom. uamaim (Dinneen), 
and li as prep, with suffixed pron. But perhaps uaim is the vn. and U the 
simple prep. The phrase would then mean ^ to be united (lit. for uniting) 
to great fortune.' 

4 c. It would be simpler to read a brtn and a diomdba^ ^her sorrow 
and indignation.* 

5 b. One would expect a fionnrnhniibb 'her fair ladies.' 

c. Gabbrin may be Gowran, Co. Kilkenny. 

d. Imgbin is often referred to in bardic poetry as an ancient court. 
Its position is uncertain. 

332 O. BERGIN 

20. Thb story of Lugh's arrival at Tara is told, with difi^rent details, 
in the Second Battle of Moytura, edited by Stokes, RC. xii. 52 S. 

22 b. Eamhain : not the Ultonian Emain Macha, as is shown by § 25, 
but the mythical Eamhain Abhlach. Cf. Meyer, ZCP. viii. 194. 

30 c Uim ar bhailg : here and in § 46 the poet seems to have meant 
^ leaping on a bubble.' For other explanations of this feat see Windisch, 
TBC. p. 360, where Uim dar Mfg is translated ^Springen aber eine Kluft,' 
and Meyer, Contt. 236 n. 

31 a. snimb is itireiir lit* ^swimming over weakness/ Dr Meyer 
suggests that it may mean ^swimming beyond exhaustion.' I do not 
understand the feat alluded to. 

32 c riagh : is this O'Clery's riadh .1. rioth^ or riadb A, smacbt i Or 
is it an idiomatic use of riagb ^ torture,' implying an offer to outrun any 
steed on the green i 

42 a. loldinach ^man of many arts' a common designation of Lugh in 
Oidhe Chloinne Tuireann etc. 

49 c. LonndUn : this rare form of the name, usually Lundain {Londain) 
or Lunnainn {Lonnainn)^ is used to form consonance with gairggnlomb and 

51a. According to a pedigree given in the Journal of the Historical 
and Archaeological Association of Ireland, Third Series, Vol. i, p. 461 
plate, the mother of Maurice was the first earl's first wife, Marearet, 
daughter of Richard de Burgh, the Red Earl of Ulster. The Diet, of Nat. 
Biography gives her name, as Catherine. Avelina, Aveline, or Evelina, 
daughter of Nicholas Fitzmaurice, third Lord Kerry and Lixnaw, the 
earl's third wife, who appears in the Patent Rolls in 1344, was really the 
mother of Gendd the Poet. In one of the poems referred to in the 
introduction Godfraidh Fionn addresses Gerald as a mhic Aibhilln. 

53. Alba may here stand for Britain, as in the older Umguage Allm^ 

59 a. i gen. sg. /, before proper names is unstressed, and counts as an 
tarmbirla in bardic poetry. The caesura is marked in the MS. after the 
seventh syllable, but we might also divide the line after the fourth syllable. 




Several collections of bardic verse preserve two curious 
compositions on a house erected at Cloonfree by Hugh 
son of Owen son of Rory O^Conor. This chieftain was 
inaugurated as O'Conor Connacht in 1293 ^^^ ^^ killed 
after a boisterous reign in 1309 (cp. O'Grady Cat. p. 348). 
The poem printed below is noticed by O'Grady in his 
Catalogue (p. 353). The other composition on the same 
subject is contained in the Book of the Dean of Lismore 
and is, owing to its elaborate structure and the technical 
details it enumerates, the most formidable specimen of 
bardic workmanship with which I am familiar \ 

The present poem is preserved in a number of paper 
MSS of varying critical importance. The text here given 
is that of a Stowe MS in the Royal Irish Academy marked 
A V 2. Variants are printed at the foot of the page from 
the O'Gara Book (F), the O'Conor Don's Book (C), and 
two R.I. A. MSS marked 23 L 17 (L) and A iii 2 {A). 
The copy of the poem in the last named book is frag- 
mentary, as it ends at st. 20. In the other MSS the 
arrangement and number of the stanzas varies considerably ; 
C as usual has the greatest number, viz. 56, whilst L only 
contains 37. The author is variously styled Aongus Riadh 
O Ddluigh (A V 2), Aongus mac Cearbuill Ruaidh (F*, A), 

^ See O'Giady Cat, p. 361. * A.T. 1350 in a later hand. 

334 E. C. QUIGGIN 

Aonghus Ruadh mac Donnchadha mic Aonghais (L), Aongus 
Ruadh 6 Ddlaigh (C). 

The identification of the site of the pailis is attended 
with no little uncertainty. Through the kindness of 
O'Conor Don I was enabled to visit Cloonfree on 
August 24, 191 2. The present Cloonfree House occu- 
pied by Mr O'Byrne, J.P., is situated on the north shore 
of Cloonfree Lake about 8 English miles to the south-east 
of Rathcroghan and near the high-road leading from 
Tulsk to Strokestown. It is built into the ruins of an 
extensive mansion of which I have been unable to glean 
any particulars. As far as I can judge, this is not the 
structure referred to in this poem. A pailis belonging to 
Hugh O'Conor is stated by the annalists to have been 
raided and burnt by MacDermot in 1306. This pailis is 
identified by O'Donovan with the remains of a fort lying 
to the north of Cloonfree House on the north side 01 the 
high-road mentioned above. He quotes from a descrip- 
tion furnished by Rev. John Keogh of Strokestown for 
Sir William Petty's intended Atlas in 1683: * Here is a 
kind of fort (Uke Rathcroghan) four-square, which 
anciently was the King of Connaught's palace, but so 
very long ago that the very ruins of the building, if there 
were any considerable, are defaced, and no remainder of 
it to be seen but the said fort, the wall whereof is only a 
green bank, together with some broad pavements annexed 
to it.* O'Donovan adds : * The fort here described forms 
a square, the side of which measures fifty paces in length; 
but it does not bear any resemblance to Rathcroghan, as 
Keogh asserts.' The fort is not a perfect square and is 
surrounded by a moat. Last year when I visited it, two 
men were cutting hay in the enclosure. The whole place 
is very much overgrown, as may be gathered from the 
photograph here reproduced, so that no trace of masonry 
is anywhere visible. 

The cuilteach (* back-house *) referred to in st. 3 1 has 
long been a puzzle to me. It is also mentioned as a 




prominent feature of 0'Conor*s house in the other poem 

on the structure : 


Luadbam cuiluach na cclir ngorm 
trena smil nl duinter dealbb 
teach Jionn is frioch ar arm 
is baibb gdotb os cionn a cheam. 

* Let US make mention of the back-house with bright 
beams, with its meanness beauty is not shut out ; a fair 
dwelling that is enraged against weapons, the wind is 
hushed around its corners.* The ordnance-survey map 
shows the foundations of a second fort a little way to the 
north of the supposed site of the pailis. It seems possible 
that this is the cikilteach to which reference is made. 
Was it intended as a kind of outpost or guard-house ? 

I desire gratefully to acknowledge the generous 
assistance of Professor Bergin in the present attempt to 
elucidate this poem. He has corrected many mistakes 
and made numerous valuable suggestions. It was he, 
moreover, who drew my attention to the copy of the 
poem in Stowe MS A v 2, which I had overlooked. 

I am further under great obligation to Miss Eleanor 
Knott who has kindly collated the text of the MSS in 
the Royal Irish Academy which have been utilised for 
this edition. To Professor Douglas Hyde I am also 
greatly indebted for verifying the readings of the 0*Conor 
Don's Book. 

336 E. C. QUIGGIN 

1. An t& aris, a riith Teambrach? 
do-chliochUis cnith ildhealbhach $ 
f&arais gnioi 'san riocht roimhe, 
g6 'tioi ar sliocht na seanchuire. 

2. Mo chean aris dod reachtaibh, 

a thaisgealta an tairrngheartaigh I 

nl facus liaim rlamh romhe 

do sgiamh dair huJb aidbbhsighe. 

3* Do-tb6gbhais ceann a gCI<!iain Frioich 
ar leirg daine an fe6ir fionnmhioitb, 
a riitb cheathardbruimneach Cbuinn 
leatban-bbniighneach bbliitb bheandcbruinn. 

4* Do-bainmnigtbe eacht oile 

6 Chond thd, a tbreabh Liogbairel 
fearr liom hainniniugbadh 6 Aodb, 
a sliom bbairrliubhar bhirrchiomh 1 

5. Muna tusa Tcambair Chuind, 
a theaghdhais adL aguinn, 

n{ deirnadb d'lkim riamb roimbe 
dhi tbruaill cbriadb badb cosmbuile. 

6. As uille ini Criacba Cbuinn 
an mdr-sa mhflidh Umbaill, 

r6 mdr Teamhracb do-toimhseadh 
an dilin dealbbach dorusgbeal. 

7. Ar aitbris Tcambracb Dbi^Thl 
do-ordaigb mac mbic Ri!iaidbr{ 
an rdith sfdbgbreadbaigb sailgbidb 
bflnfleadbaigh bbldith bbthbhaillgbiL 

I a. rath F, rith A. b. chUocblais Cy chlaochlaighis L, chliochladhtls F« 
clsLOcWus A. c, san F, sa C, L ; reimhe Q L. d. at4oi F ; filiocht L ; na 
seanchuire] ar sioirsine F, C, L» A. 

2. F, A invert 2 and 3. b, thaitg^alt^f^A C ; an F, mm. C ; tairrngfeartaidh F, 
taimgerthuigh L. c. ^cus] ^ica F, L» A $ Aaim F, thCaim C, oaibh A ; reimhe L> C. 
d. Aibhsighe C, aibhsidhe F, aibhieidhe JL 


I. Is it thou once more, Rath of Tara? thou hast changed thy 
various shape ; thou hast found &vour in thy old guise, though thou art 
descended from the ancient hosts. 

2* Hail again to thy shapes, thou that art proved to be (the dwelling) 
of the prophesied one (?) ! never before have I beheld thy beauty at any 
time when it was more wonderful. 

3. Thou hast appeared in Cloonfiree above the verdant slope of the 
fur-smooth sward, rath of Conn of the fourfold ridge, spaciously palatial, 
smooth, with round pinnacles. 

4* Once thou wast named after Conn, abode of Laoghaire; I 
rejoice that thou takest now thy style from Aodh, thou polished, resplen- 
dent one of the long battlements. 

5* Unless thou be Conn's Tara, mansion that now is ours, never 
have there been framed two shells of clay more alike. 

6. This rampart of Umhall's champion is greater than Conn's 
Croghan ; the shapely fort of burnished doors has been made equal in 
dimension to Tara's stronghold. 

7. In imitation of Dathi's Tara did the son of Rory's son order it, 
the rath of willow-wands with prancing steeds(?), festive, smooth, glistening 
with drinking-horns. 

%b. ar] air C» M Fy ^ L; fionnmhdoi P. c. chuinn] cuins F, chminn L. 
^, bUith F ; beannchruinn F, bhenncruinn C, bharrchruinn L» A. 

4. om. L, a. do tainmnigh/tf/A C ; eacht] talr F. b, td C. c. fearr Ixom] 
maith Hnn 0tAir MSS ; hainmneaghadh F, A. d, a ilim bairrleabhair bhUthchiomh F. 

5. 9m. L. a. cuinn F. b. teghdhait C, theaghais F, theghduite A. c. doaim 
C; <lfiiaim F, dhtiaim A. J. da thruaill criadh C, dha th. cnadh F ; criadh A. 

6. Ff A imffrt 6 and 7. In L afttr 2. a. uille ini] uille {alt, later to 6iUe) 
aa Fy uille no A } cruachuin L, cmachain C, cruacha A | cuinn F. b. an mtx so 
F, L» A; Amhuill F, abhaill C, L. c. le m6r F, A, r« d6n C. d. d6n F, A, L, 
Ttkia C. 

7. Mi. L. In CJUkws 8. a. temhra A. b, mic F. €. tidhgreagaidh F, 
aidbgreadhuidh C, sithgread- A { iailg- A. d. bftnfledhaidh C, bfinfkghoidh A» 
blinnfleasgaidh F ; mbliith mb. C, F ; mbuabhaillghloin A. 

A. 22 

338 E. C. QUIGGIN 

8* N6go nddlrna an t-Aodh Eangach 

an diin-sa ar dheilbh cldoin-Teamhrach, 
n{ bhiodh acht Idadh rdidh reimhe 
ag sMagh Fdil 'mun b&istine. 

8 a. L6r do dhfon F6dla ar foghail 
dioga dhiiin I Chonchobhair 
slios a hiomdhuidhe is { as ferr 
do ni ionguire Eirionn. 

9* Re linn Aodha na n-ann nocht, 
g{ fliair rath rloghvaidhe Condacht^ 
nl rdacht glas roimhe ar a rath 
go snas chloidhe na cathrach. 

10. Nior cruthaigheadh riamh roimhe 
on mbaile a mUodh Lioghaire 

slios mhdir d'fionbhrogbaibh budh fearr 
d'dir n& d'fiodhbhodhaibh ]£ireann. 

11. DIol beandochta bas an tsioir 
1& cumhdaigheadh an chathioir; 
tdoT chum bas ughdair oile 

snas cumhdhaigh budb cruthaighe* 

12. Do-bhl cuid d'Aodh an airm chuirr 
ar chuma an chloidhe dhloghuinn, 
an sior as^ do4noidheadh 

's as £ Aodh do-orduigheadh. 

13. NI heasbhaidh don bhl&ith bhiirrslim 
riaghail ghrinn n6 gabh&ilsreing 
d'£is siiltomhuis an deirg dhuinn 
'm\m leirg ndrdchtsoluis ndfeghainn. 

S. «w. F, A. Jn hftlkwt 14. a. nochi dcma C, n6go ndema L. h. d6fito L ; 
dealb C i chlaoint. L. c. blodh C, rtibh L j luagh L. ^, b&il L j bhftitdeme L. 

S A. Onfy in C. 

9. m, L. Jn FfilUws 11. Order in A, F 10, 1 1, 9. *. aodha F, A, aodh C 
h, ge F, da C» go bfuair A ; riogr- ^no5 A, rioghrtf^ Connocht F (ncN). c. nl 
ruacht] ni riacht C, nlor iaidh F, nior iadh A | a A, an CX ^. go F, gan C^ 

chloidhe A* cloidhe F. 


8. Until Aodh Eanghach constructed this stronghold on the pattern 
of sloping Tara, up to this F&l's host knew naught of the prophecy save 
the report. 

8 A. The dykes of O'Conor's fort suffice to protect Fodla from in- 
vasion; the face of its embankment it is that most effectually affords 
protection to Ireland. 

9. Before the time of Aodh of flashing arms, though the kings of 
Connaught were successful, never did lock close on their treasure up to 
the design of the citadel's moat. 

10. Since the stead in which Laoghaire was wont to dwell never 
hath there been constructed among fiiir mansions of the clay or timber of 
Ireland a stouter rampart face. 

11. Worthy of blessings is the hand of the mason by whom the 
(royal) seat was reared; never did hand of any other mason fashion 
ornamented pile more graceful. 

12. Great is the share of Aodh of the smooth armour in shaping the 
stout dyke ; the mason indeed wrought it but 'tv^as Aodh that planned it. 

13. The gentle man of the soft locks needed no exact rule or plumb- 
line, after the ruddy brown prince had cast a measuring glance roimd the 
ample dew-spangled slope. 

10. Mv. L. In F after 6, in C after 7. a. cruthagho^M P» cruitigh- A. 
6. 00 mbaile F, an baile A, C ; na mbiodh F. c. slios mtiir dfionnbroghaibh F, 
ncht mtir fionbroghaid C, slios mtiir dfionnbrtfighin A ; dobf/rr A. d, n6 C, na F, 
no A. 

11. om. L. a. beannachta F, hemuLcht C, beannoctha A ; bos C. b. lit F, A, 
fir C ; an chath&oir C, in gcathdoir F, an cath&oir A. c. chum] snoigh C. 

la. In h/oiUws 6. In C the erdir u 11, 15, 16, 13, 12, 17. In F fiilonm 9. 
4K, m6r cold Aodha an airm cuirr F (M/i U translated), dobhi cuid Aodha etc. L» C, A. 
^. a ccoma C, ag cuma A, do chuma F, cuma L. r. snoighcadh T, tooighedA L, 
tanoigh- A d, 's P, A, m». C, L. 

1 3 ir. ni haMbnidk F, ni beasb- A, nir besbhaidb C, ni thesda L $ bainilim F. 
^» grian F { no A, na F, ni L ; gabhailiring L, gabhailsring F, ghabhuilaring A. 
r. f6ltomhais F, C, tl6ltomhitf A, sAltomhiif L. d, ndruchtiolitf L ; ndioguinn C, 

adioghaind F» ndioghtiinn Ly A. 

22 — 2 

340 E. C. QUIGGIN 

14. AonmhAr ati ag Aodh Eangach, 
seacht ixiiliir fi mhiir cUoin-Teamhrach, 
na seacht muir Aaine oile 

do sAidhe iHaine an t-^ncloidhe. 

15. Gan mheadhair mur mhuirn a sl6igh, 
gan gh&irdlochus mur ghnioi comh6il| 
gan coimhmbrioghmar a cuma 

do soighnlomhradh saoghuUa. 

16. R&ith Aodha 'na haimsir fein 
cM acht Trdoi oile kiini 
ionann gill gndoi a fleadh6il 

's don Trioi 16 linn L&imheadh6in* 

17* PaiUs lonrach leomhain Chuilt 
as f{adhnach ar feadh radhairc, 
a beith Aaidh eadh a uidhe 
nior sm&ain fer a fiafroighe. 

18. A fiarfoighidh dob iil linn 
tr£ allmhurrdhacht a binnill 

an d'fiodhbhaidh n6 d'dir Bhanbha 
don Aodhraidb dir allnii^ardha? 

19. N6 an i brugh na mbeand corcra 
so ar ndul a ndeilbh sdoghalta 

ar mbdain a draoidheachta dhe 
do sddaidh bhrioinealta Bh6inne i 

20. N6 an budh { Eamhain Abhlach 
an chinnlitir chomhardhach 
do-se61 go gort Chuinn chugainn 
d^ nocht druim a donnphubuill ? 

14. In CfiUaws 35. a, dnmhtkr F, C; ati] urla A t. h mb6r cbUoin- 
teambrach F, L> A. d, do i6idh L, C, do iiiigb A (ncU) ; iiainne A $ an tion- 
cfaloidhe Q L. In placi ofc, d, F has ni raibh acht luadh raidh rdmhe ag tluagh F^ 
mun b6utdine>9Mfi si. 8. 

15. 9m. F, A. In 1, the wdir is la, 13, 14, 8, 15, 17. a. mur] mar l^ 
gan C $ sloigh C, L (Q. h» gairdes C, ghiirdiot L {sic leg.) ; a comh6il C; L {sic Ug.). 
c. coimbrioghaibb a coma C, coimbrioghmhar a cumtha L. d. ioighnlomhcadb I^ 
•oighnlombaibh C $ aaoghalta C, iaoghultha L. 

16. om, L. «. baimser F, aimtir C. b. eile F{ iaiein F. €* ionann] 


14. Aodh Eanghach has but one rampart, round the rampart of 
sloping Tara there are seven ; the one dyke has swallowed up from us 
the other seven green walls. 

15. There is no delight comparable to the mirth of its retinue, no 
pleasure like to the aspect of its banquet, no triumph of skill in this world (?) 
equal to its formation. 

i6. What is the rath of Aodh in its own time but another Troy? a 
marvellous identity is that of its carousing with Troy in the day of 

17. The resplendent palace of the Lion of Colt is conspicuous as far 
as the eye can see ; were it distant the space of a (day's) journey, no man 
has ever thought to inquire concerning it {Li. it can at once be recognised 
by its splendour). 

18. Seeing the strangeness of its design, we would fisiin ask whether 
the novel strange woodwork is made of (materials) from the forests or soil 
of Ireland? 

19. Or is this the bright-turreted mansion which has assumed a 
mundane form and has cast aside its wizardry for the snowy-white chief 
of the Boyne? 

20. Or is it the distinguished capital-letter Emain of apple-trees 
which has come to Conn's domain, whereby it has exhibited the roof 
of its dark pavilion ? 

uignadh F (Mu is tratuiattd), h ionad C $ medh6il C. For tMs line A has breith 
a gin ar ghnioi a fledh6iL d sa tr&oi F» C, A ; re linn F, C, A. 

17 «. paiUs Fy A, pairis C ; leoghain F, leoghuin L, A \ cuilt F. ^. as A, is F, 
M». C s fiadnach C» fiaghnach F}arL,reF,C,Asa radhairc C. c. a bh. F, L, 
a bedh A; edh A, L» feadh F, C; a] mi. C, L; uighe I#. d, fiaifruighe F, 
6MMdhe C. 

18 «. fiarfruidhe F, fiafroidhe L, fiafruighe A. ^. tr6 L, A, C, le F; 

allmhiirdhacht L, allmurdhacht C, hallmuracht F. c. no an d6ir L» n6 d6ir C. 

• • • 

^. fioghraidh P» fiodhruigh L, lohhxmdh C, fiodhr- A. 

19 tf. ccoroa F, L, C, senta A. b, so C, m». F, Ly A $ saogo/u C, laogholu L; 
<lraoidhochta Fy draoitheachta A c. s6 ar mbuain F $ dr^ghechtaQdhraoighechtaL, 
droidheachu F, draoidheachta A ; dhe] dhi A. d, bhrioinealta] brioinechu L, C, 
bbrioineachta A, bhrioinsneachta F {fie Ug,)\ b6ine F, boinne C, bh6ine L» bhoinni A. 

so. C iwuirts so and ai. a. an budh i F, an i L. b, ceainnlitreach F, 
oeinnlitiVCy dnnlidr A ; chomharrthach C, chraobharmach A* comhardhach F, chomh- 
axvibach L. c. do ieol, dar seol C» deitill L» ar ttocht F, A } gort, port F, C; A ; 
coinA Cf Gcuinn L; cugoinn F. A stops hen. 

342 E. C. QUIGGIN 

21. N6 an { Riith Crlachna. adchlu thoir 
ar dtocht go Cliliain FrJoich firzxghi 
ni uil thiar acht a taidhbhse, 
doch{am thoir a tuaraim-se. 

22. Foicse thoir do thigh Chriachna 
cliimh bheithe, birr t&rliliachra; 
ambghoire thiar ind thoir 

sglamh chranngboile do Chrdachain. 

23. Trfigion inhdir C^rtoichna ar Chl&ain l^rioich 
neamhghuth d'Aodh an fuilt fionnmhioith^ 
lugha as amhghar dYior Eanaigh 

adhradh dYiodh is d'inbhioraibL 

24. A n-ucht uisge agut feadha 
doniodh Fionn na foirgneadha, 
mur ta an chaithir ag cionn Breagh 
do-aithin Fionn an foirgneadh* 

25. Gar floruisge dha fleadhaibh, 

gar fiodhbhaidh di foirgneadhaibh^ 
fforghar gach blad da bdadhaibh, 
gar mionmhagh di marciliiiaghaibh* 

26. Ati biaidh iongnadh oile 

ar chathraigh chinn Mionmhuighe^ 
sioraidh iongha i ar olc 
agus I ag caomhna Connacht. 

26 a. Sioraidh an F6dla ar fogail 

digheann dhdin Ui Conchuphair, 
do r^ir fiodhbhuidhe is I is fearr 
doni iongaire Eireand. 

%i a. i Ml. L ; chruachna F, chruachan L ; tloir F. b. ttocht P, L^ ttMht C $ 
ftaraidh P, feroigh L, C. c. b^il F, fuil L; tiiar F, toir wl thiar Cf taibha F. 
J, doclUam C, L> adchiam F $ tftoir F 9 tiiairimti C, ttiaraimti F, L. 

aa a. thoir Q L» thtiar F {sic Ug,) $ thigh L» tigh C, thoigh P $ cruachna F, L. 
b, bheithe F, L, beithe C ; iirlAachra F, bogluachfa L. €, tilar ina tioir F $ iaaj 
na C d, chranngboile L, crannghoila F. 



21. Or do I descry yonder Cfoghan's rath which has come to grassy 
Cloonfinee? to the west there is only its phantom, to the east we see its 

22. Nearer in the west to Croghan's hall is the foliage of the birch, 
the harvest of rushes; more distressing for Croghan is the appearance of 
the trees in the west than in the east. 

23. To abandon Cn^han's rampart for Cloonfree is no reproach to 
Aodh of feir-smooth locks; for the man of Enach 'ds less distressing to 
cleave to forest and streams {or pastures). 

24. Against a stream, against a wood Finn would make his dwellings ; 
as is the city over Brega, so did Finn ordain for his dwelling. 

25. Spring water at hand for its banquets, wood at hand for its 
buildings, close at hand each requirement, pasture at hand for its droves 
of steeds. 

26. The stronghold of the lord of Maenmoy possesses another strange 
property, a single q>ear will free it from harm although it defends 

26 A. The fiistness of O'Conor's fortress delivers Fodla from plunder; 
in respect of (spear-)shafts 'tis it that best guards Ireland. 

23 «. trtigen C, L, treigadh F; m^ir F, mh^r C; chrnachna L, crikachna F; 
fraoich F, L. b. nembghuth L, ni guth C, ga dulc F ; finnmhioith C, fionnmhioi F, 
gh^gmhaoith L. c. eanoigh F, enaigh C, L. d. innbhearaibh F, innbheruibh L» 
inbh/dnubh C. 

24 a, a nucht uisge a nucht fleadha F, C, anucht uisge is Mht L. b, na] mm. 
L, C ; foirgnedha C, foirgneamha F, fuirgnemha L. r. ti C, L, ata F ; chathair F, L $ 
9g cam Lf a cdonn C, oa donn F $ hhreiiA L, C, hrtgk F. d. do aithin C, do 
atbain F» L ; fuiignemh L, foirgmdh Q foirgneamha F. 

25 0. da C. h, ^odhbhadk F, fiodhbhoidb L $ foirgneamhaibh F, fuirgii#<Mmbh 
L. c. gach Uidh F, L> a mbladh C ; da uncertain in ilf 5, dA bhuadhuibh L, da 
buadhaibh F, da mbuannaibh C. 

26 a. iongnaidh F, longnadM C, L. b. chathruigh L, chuthraigk C, chathair F ; 
mhionmhvighe C, mhionmhoigh F, maonmhoighe L. c. an t^ongha F, C, L 
(iir iig.). d, 7 i L ; oondocht F, chonnocht L. 

26 A. Onfy in F and L. JnhfiUonvs z6b, a. saorfiudh L. b. dioghuinn 
d4in L. c. din ionmhaidhe is I as ferr L. d. ionghnire L. 

344 E. C. QUIGGIN 

26 B. N{ comfad amuidh *s amach 

urchar um riith righ Temhrach, 
fir *ga nguin impe d'foghaibh 
nar chuir innte d'orchoraibh. 

26 c. As les do-riidh rIgh Teftha 
fir trmna ar ti a haimsighthe, 
as lor aoinfear da madh iil 
re slogh Gioidheal da gabhail. 

27. Rdith dhfoghainn dhreagan Line 
ni uil innte acht ioinslighe, 

as 16r d'ioinfear di madh dil 
t6 sl6gh G&oidheal d& gabhiil. 

28. Ati ciorchall chUraigh dhuinn 
6s cionn an chloidhe dhfoghuinn, 

n{ bfuil 'sa chearchall chiomh chlar 
leathtrom na cl^n ni cleathrin. 

29. Ati gasraidh mb6r mheanmnach 
innte um da na tToirdhealbhach^ 
atd ar a sleaghaibh se61 digh 

ar nach e61 d'&raibh eadriin* 

30. Atd teach doibhinn innte 
dd las U na firminnte, 

dd n-{adhthar doirrsi ag 61 air 
budh 16r a soillse 6 s^daibh. 

31. Atd ti tdoibh thighe ui Chuinn 
cdilteach corr chlaraigh dioghuinn; 
as ionsamhraidh thikidh an teach 
6 {ioghz,rmaibb fdair fuighleach. 

z6b. Only in C and L. a, comhfad amuich L. h, urchar L; ri 

themhrach L. c, d& ngoin L. d, nach cuir L. 

26 c. Onfy in C. c. d. » zy c» d. 

27. /n F, L> filUws a 6 A. a, dhioghainn P» L, ioibhinn C; dregain Q L» 
dreagain F. h, bfuil F, fuil Q L ; eainllighe F, tintslighe L> ioinalighe C. 
c. diloin/eaTy aoinfear F, aoinfer L ; ill L, iile F. d, re L, le F $ ghaoidheai L $ 
dk gabhiil L, do gabhail F. In place tf c.d.C kaswldx diihYkmnghadk a hiigh 
aldgh da haimtiughaiM dfiigh&il. 


26 B. A cast of a spear in the vicinitf of the rath of the king of Tara 
is not of the same distance from without as from within; around it men 
are wounded with javelins, though none of them hurl their weapons 
into it. 

26 c Tis of it that the lord of Te£Sa said, < Though mighty men 
assail it, one man suffices, if he be willing, to defend it against the host 
of the Gaels.' 

27. Into the q;>acious rath of Line's dragon there is only one path; a 
single man, if he be willing, suffices to defend it against the host of the 

28. There is a belt of dark boarding surmounting the spacious wall ; 
in the smooth boarded belt there is neither unevenness nor slant nor slope. 

29. There is a large, mettlesome band within surrounding the 
descendant of the Toirddbachs ; their spears have a course in battle 
which men are unable to withstand. 

30. There is a pleasant house within from which the glint of the skjr 
flashes; when the doors are closed during a carousal, it is sufficiently 
illuminated by the (flashing of) jewels. 

31. By the side of the house of Conn's descendant is a smooth back- 
house of ample boarding; the house is equal to summer in the north 
against the cold shrill pang of February (?). 

aS 0. dorcaill F, cerchall L, cercaill C ; dar duinn C. c. sni L ; foil C, 
fafiiil Ff foil L s sa] taa L ; chercoU C, chearcholl F, ccerchall L ; chliir L. 
^. lestrom P ; dethramh F, C, dethriimh L. 

29 tf. atiid L ; meanmnach F, mhenmnach L. b. um ua L> im iU F, di!ui C. 
€, sleaghaibh F, tletaibh L ; 8e6l C, L, 8e6il F. J. djearaibh F. 

30 h. firminnti C, iirmamixit P. c. dk niadhthar] da ndtintar F, dk niathar L, 
nach dfiinur C ; air F, BiM C. d. budh] u F, L, C ; soillti L (nctt) ; 6 C, 
L» le F ; th^aibh C. 

31 a. rt C,reL,le F; tiobh F; thighe F, tighe C, L. b, chUruigh L, chlar- C, 
dU>laidh P; dioghuinn F, ndiogainn C, L. c. aa] is F; iontiamhruidh C, 
ioimaamhniigh L, ionlamhlaidh F ; th^gh F, L, ath-^ C i tegh L. d, re fiodhadh- 
haidA F, 6 f iodharghoimh L, rt fiogharghoim C {sic Ug,) $ tuair L, foair C, bfiiar F ; 
jibjghlech Q b&oilleach F {sic leg,), fintUdJk L. fFas a rkymi teagh : faftoilkadh 

346 E. C. QUIGGIN 

32* T6gbhaidh lanna Uoich Codhuil 
taithneamh tighe I Chonchubhuir, 
gur r^lltaniuif^ft mn teach thall 
6 chrichtlznnaihb chleath gCiialann. 

33. Teach comhromhach Chldana Frdoich 
ionfdar a tteas, te a n-iomghdoith, 

I6r a ionnfdaire 'sa toigh the 
6n diombdaine goimh g^ithe. 

34. BUtthe ini blaosg uighe 
bruighion bhaidhbhe Cionnltidhe; 
tiid gan fleochadh gach de6r dhe 
mar dodheochadh d'e6n uisge. 

34 A« Bu iomdha ar fiid na Banba 
teacht[a] earraidh allmarrdha, 
le gialloighribh o Gallaibh 
'san riaghuilgil reltannaidh. 

35. Iomdha a r&ith Aodha an airm cuirr 
ag maicne si!iairc slot ndap-Chuinn 

ti a ngrAaidh ar ngabhiil datha 
6 andil fdair ffenbhracha. 

36. An bAdh € an t-Aodh oirrdheirc 
luidhios ar lucht uabhairneirt? 

ni cis gig Almhan d'aithne, 
cr6d adhbtfr a f iosraighthe ? 

37. D6-haith&itioi an t-Aodh Eangach 
ag colamhnaibh clioin-Teamhrach 
d'tis a ndeirna Flann file 

do bharr Eamhna d'fiustine. 

38. Aithnid dr^ithe ar dhealbhaibh nill 
flaith Crvachna na gcolg slimger; 
aithnid banfiidh Idoch Line 

ar anail ghioth nginntlighe. 

32 a. togbhaid F, togbhoid L; laoch L{ codhuil] eodhtil Q codail P^ 
^. tighe C, L, toighe F; ti concubhair F. c. realtannaidh F, rtultonnaigh C» 
relttnnaigh L. J. chreacbdannaibh F, crruchtonnuibh C $ gctalnann MS^ cuaknn P, 
L (0» cctalann C. 

33 a. comhramha F, comrumhach C, comhramhach L. c. 16r fionnfuaire C } 
astoig Cf astoigh F, L {recte), d, goim ghAoithe C, goimh ghaoithe L, 


32. The blades of Codhal's champion raise a sheen in O'Conor's 
house, so that the house yonder glitters with the wound-dealing spears of 
Cuala's warriors. 

33. The prowessful house of Cloonfree is cool in heat, warm in 
tempest ; sufficient the coolness in the warm house by which the sharpness 
of wind is (made) briefer* 

34. Smoother than the egg's shell is the mansion of Caenraighe's 
Raven ; every drop runs oflF it without wetting, even as it would run off a 

34 A. Throughout Banba there were many envoys in outlandish attire 
accompanying noble hostages from abroad into the uniformly-light star- 
bright (abode). 

35. In the rath of Aodh of smooth arms amid the pleasant youth of 
the race of the new Conn, many is the spot in the cheek flushed with the 
cool breath of bright malt. 

36. Is this the illustrious Aodh who represses the arrogant i 'tis not 
troublesome to recognise the scion of Almu, what is the reason for asking? 

37. Aodh Eanghach would have been recognised by the columns of 
sloping Tara, after the prophecy which Flann the Poet made of the chief 
of Emain. 

38. The druids recognise the king of Croghan of the slender-sharp 
weapons by the shapes of clouds; by the breath of magic winds a prophetess 
recognises the warrior of Line, 

34 a. iona L» na F, C ; na huighe F, L, C {sic leg.), h, baidhbhe F, biidhbhe 
C; cionraidhe F, caonruidhe C, chalruighe L. c, tid F; fleachadh F, fiechadh C, 
lethadh L ; dhi F» L. d, dodheachd F, dorachadh C, dorechadh L. 

34 A. F, C, L. The Uxt e/F is^ntid, a. fud C, fad L (nctt), b, techta 
Q L ; ethach nalliDardha L. c. re gialloibh C j re L { ghalluibh L. d. San] la C, L$ 
rtlannuigh L. 

35 tf. Aodh C; chuirr F, L. b, ac maicraidA i6airc §11 n. P, ag macruidh 
ioairc iiol nnachuinn L j maicne] fine C. cr ti a ngrtiaidh ar ngabhail dhatha F, 
ti a groaidh ag gabhail dhatha C, tighe an grvaidh a gabhiil etc, L. </. 6 L» tre F, 
U h. C $ Ibair f ionnbhracha C, Wuair faf ionnbracha F, fbair flonbhratha L. 

36. $m, F, L. 0. ^ fo C. b. loighes C. 

37 m. do haithe6ntaoi C, L, do haitheaontdoi F. b. ar oolamhoaibh F» ar 
colbhaibh na C» ar cdbha na L. c. Flann] dall wiik flann 'written abo^e C. 
d. dkxtdine F, L. 

38. cm. L. In F tAe 9rder is 37, 39, 40, 389 in L 37, 39, 41. a. aithnidh C, 
aithne F {and in c) ; neill F. b, flaith Q ri F $ $limger] pMsibfy tlinnger MS^ tlimg^ C, 
ilinngrr F. c» banfiidh C, cabhain F. d, tre aniil ngioth ngeintlidhe F. 

348 E. C. QUIGGIN 

39. Do-bh{ Modh Ruidh ri na ndr&adh, 
do-bh{ Cathbhuidh is Ciothruadh, 
do-bhdoi Feircheirt an fisidh 

ag neimhcheilt gnioi an ghille-sin. 

40. TIacht an toraidh, teas na sfon, 
cred sin acht signe dirdriogh? 

a aithne ar bhaidhbh Ldain ni linn 
an t-ainm fdair go n-aithnim. 

41* Ataid cuibhreach chliir Bhanbha 
d'fdiltiughadh an Aodh-anma; 
risan Aodh-ainm do-f6ir inn 
doch6idh gach don-snaidhm d'Eirinn. 

42. Grid acht comhartha flatha 

gle6 Aodha a n-Ard Chdonacha? 
tainig s^ a n-dgh iomldn, 
bddh sl&n i 6n ithiomradh* 

43* Dob iongnadh Ghdoidhil is Goill 
do bhreith ar fiinnidh UmhutU 
gan fear ann acht fear hladb 
*s gan barr Breagh do bhioghlughadh. 

44. N{or mheasa Id an tachair thiar 
foraire flatha GaiUan; 
do-chosuin sdiiadh [brogha] Bhreagh 
an b&ar go dola a nd{dean« 

45. A r6d riiaige chinn Mdaidhe 
a gcrich Br6ifne bdrriiaine 

ar chdch do-chuir a Aamhan^ 
ni fuil fdth a n-athsldaghadh. 

46. Do-airg fa a crodh gach crfoch the, 
do-airg gach lath um Eirne, 

seal ar chreachaibh, seal [ar seil]g, 
ag cleathaibh Dean tr£ dhibheirg. 

39 if. modh ruith C, L, madh ruith F $ riogh L ; ndniagh F, L. h, cathfach L, 
CAthfadk Q F { dothruaidh F, dothr^adh C. c. dobhi C, dobioi F ; B»gh F, 
fitigh L. d, ghnaoi L, mi. C. 

40. Ml. L. a, tiacht] truime F, C. ^. afai C, ttd F. e. gan aithne ar 
baidhbh F (recu) ; nir linn F. d. an tainm f&air gin go naithnim F (recte). In 
pla£g tf€, d.C has ^1 c, d. 


39. Mogniitb, prince of the druids, Cathbad and Cithniad, Ferchert 
the seer, disclosed the description of that warrior. 

40. The load of firuit, warmth of seasons, what are they but the 
tokens of a monarch i well might we recognise the Raven of Luan, even 
had I not known the name he has received. 

41. The fetters of Banba's land burst asunder in welcoming Aodh; 
with this Aodh who has succoured us every bond has disappeared from 

42. What is the prowess of Aodh at Ardchaonacha but the vdmA of 
a prince? he came whole from the encounter, he was free from reproach. 

43. HTwas the marvel that Gael and foreigner should overtake 
the warrior of Umhall, seeing that there was none present save enemies, 
without endangering the prince of Brega. 

44* In the day of battle in the west not worse was the watching 
(guarding) of Gailian's prince, (when) the hero of the palace of Br^a 
protected the kine until they had been taken away into safety. 

45. In the road of defeat of the lord of Moy, in the land of verdant 
Breifne, he inspired all with terror, there is no need for a second hosting. 

46. For kine he plundered each sunny land, he plundered each district 
round the Erne, now on foray, now on the chase,... 

41. Mv. C ImL 4/?/r 39, in F after %t. m, ataid] do sgioil F> L (sic iig,)i 
banbha F, L. h. do faltioghadh F, d&oiltioghadh L. c. risan L» leisin F. 

42 a. acht] as L. ^. an aird aondatha F, anard chaonnacha C, an Ard cin- 
adia L. c. 6n igh h (sic Ug)^ on igh F, 6n Adh C j iomilin F» L» C. i£. tat tlin 
Fy Ly it Un C ; iothomradh F, iothiomridh L, aithiomridh C. 

43. mn. F» L. h. do brnth ar riogh (>% Amhaill C. c. faladh C. 

44. In FjLf tht 9riir is 41, 42, 45, 44. a. mheata F, mhet C, L ; Uchair Q 
t6cluur L» F; tiiar F, iiar L. h, foraire] foimidheacht F, foroighecht L, 
fb rioghacht C} flatba C, L. c. du chosain F, dar chotuin L, dar cotain Cj 
tt^aidh Fy tduagh L, stuagh C ; bhrogha L, brogha F, C } bhr#^ L. d. go dola 
andfden L, ar ndola andiden C, ar ndol anidhidean F. 

45 «. tar tit chreiche chrioch mh6aighe F, dtit c. tfoaighidh cinn m6aidhe C, 
dtit ttluaigh mhilidh muaidhe L. b. bhreifiie F, bhreithni L; bhimiaine F» 
bharmaine L. c, ^arnhain C. d. nach bfiiil F» nich full L; athiluaghadh L, 
athtbM^Aaldb Q athbboaladh F. 

46. L $mts 46-9. a. fa a crodh] im chrodh F, om cmlh C ; an crich the C» 
gach tir the F. c. creachaibh F $ teal ar kilg F» C. d, ag olcathaigh (sic) dean 
ag dibheirg F, ag clethaibh den 6n dibheirg C 

350 E. C. QUIGGIN 

47. As^ tug, fa turus neirt, 

a T{r Chonuill creich oirrdheifc, 
ger bhuing re muir fiiiair anfaidh 
bi&ain a gcruidh do Chonallchaibh. 

48. Comhuirle liaim d'ikislibh Fiil 
gir teaguisgthior tuir Ghabhriin^ 
mi do-geali ri tcacht di thoigh 
mds 16 neart t{ n& tiaghthir. 

49. Tigeadh mis do thabhairt ghiall 
d'Ua Chonchub»/r cHUir Oirghiall | 
dobheir neart d6ibh is dosan 
8l6igh ag teacht di thogha-san. 

50. Aodb O Chonchubhuir chliir Breagh 
samhuil Logha ar leas nGioidheai, 
cich liain di chur ceann a gceann 

agus Lugh ar Aaim Eireann. An tu arls a raith Teamhrach etc 

51. Brugh aoibhinn inghine Ui Bhrlain 

mar an mbnigh do-bh{ a bhfinn-Cbliaigh| 
rioghan osgordha ata jstoigh, 
mnd rosgorma 'mun rioguin. 

52. A inghion reid riogan Dala 
soillse niid na s^d&la, 

na rioghradh gan br6in mbiabhall 
a sfothbbrogh 6il Fionnghi!ialann. 

47 a. lU tug f6s foirionn neiit F, as t6 tug h turus neirt C. B. a crich 
cfaonuxU C, o thir ^mitll F ; cr^ch noirrdWrc C, creach oirdheirc F. c. fa buain i^ 
muir fuair anfadh F, fa buain r^ muir uair smfaM C. 

48 ^. T 0/ g6r erased in MS ; glodh teagosg ar thuxr ngabhrain F, gidh tegutc ar 
thuir gkht'din C (recte), c. ma do gheall ri teacht na theagh F, ma do geall ri tect na 
thegh C. d, mis] ma F» madh C (rede) ; tiaghthir] tigeadA F, C (recte). 


47. *Twas he that brought — a quest of prowess — from Tyrconncl a 
famous prize, though reaving the cattle of the men of Donegal was like 
meddling with a cold, tempestuous sea. 

48. I have a counsel for the nobles of Ireland though it be an 
admonishment with regard to Gowran's prince; if anjrking have promised 
to come into his house, if he come with a force, let him not enter* 

49. Let him come if it be to give hostages to O'Conor of Oriel's 
plain; it would secure power to them and to him for hosts to come to 
elect him. 

50. Aodh O'Conor of Brega's plain is like Lug for the welfiure of the 
Gael, each of us places him and Lugh together {i.e. likens them) for uniting 

51. The fair mansion of O'Brien's daughter is like the mansion that 
fair Cliu bad ; a stout-hearted princess is within, blue-eyed maidens surround 
the queen. 

52. The even palace of the princess of Dela is more lustrous than the 
lights (in it); a rofd race with a multitude of drinking-horns is in the 
golden fiury palace of Finnguala. 

49 a, mis] mas F, madh C ; ghiall C, giall P. h, d6a P, d6 C ; uirgbfall F. 

c, dobeir mrt C, b4 ncart F ; ii] agus F. d. ag t. C, do t. F. 

50 a, iuxlh M»f. L 5 bhrcagh F, bhw^A L. b. ar F, a C ; let L, liot F, C ; 
ghaoidbetl L, gaoidhcal F» gioidbeal C. c. cdch uair da chuir ceand a cceand F, 
each uaidh d& ccur iona chenn L ; gach uaim do chur ceann a cceann C. d, ar uaim 
ntirenn hf do fyaim e. F, um uaim e. C. 

51. am. F, L, a. tu] om. C. h. ag finnchliaigh C c o^gardha C 

d, mni roagmanla C. 

52. Ml. F, L. TAf translation follows C, which reads ^ 

Bruidhen r^idh rioghna Deala 
toillu in&id na soiibedha 
sioi rioghradh fa br6in bh^bkall 
a slodhbhrugh 6ir Fionngualann. 

352 E. C. QUIGGIN 


I b. For the idea cp. 

Cla an chhtrtsi san caisUn mSr 

adchim a chrotha ar ccliochUdh 

nl nir dhUin nach aithnim i 

an mir ccloichUim adchlthL Av 2 f. gk 

6 k Umhall ss the Owls, Co. Mayo (v. Hogan). 

13 i. gabhdiUnsngy ^fork-string/ I take to mean * plumb-line * (Bergin). 

I J a. Celt occurs very frequently in chevilles in these panegyrics. It 
appears to be the name of a district between the Boyne and the Li£Fey. 
See Hogan. 

20 k For the idea of the capital letter see the poem by Geoffrey Finn 
O'Daly published by Miss Knott in £riu v. p. 6i. 

23 c. As there are so many places bearing the name Eanacb (Annagh), 
it may be doubted if the poet had any particular one in mind. 

26 k Maenmoy was the name of a territory in Co. Galway, now the 
barony of Clanrickard. It seems to have had Loughrea as its centre. 

27 a* Line or Magh Line in Co. Antrim extending from L« Neagh to 
near Carrickfergus (Hogan). 

28^. cUathrin or cUathramb appears to be a synonym of eUum. 
O'Reilly has cleathrimhy ^partiality, prejudice.' 

32 a. Cedhalj like Colt, is very frequent in chevilles in these pane- 
gyrics. It does not seem possible to identify it with certainty. See Hogan. 

34^. Caenraigbe, The same remark applies as to Codhal in 32 «• 
See Hogan. 

yj k The * columns of Tara' was the name given to four tribes 
round Tara. See Hogan s.v. Celambna teanna teamra. Miss Knott 
suggests that the reading of C should possibly be adopted, and that there 
may be a vague reference to the story entitled Baile in SciiL 

42 k Ard Cbienacha n. 1. ? 

46 d. Miss Knott compares Druim Den {Eriu iv. p. 170). See Hog^. 

51. 'Hugh O'Conor, according to the Irish Synchronisms, was 
married to Finola, daughter of Turlough O'Brien, who died in 1335' 
(The O'Conors of Connaught, p. 128). For Ciiu see Hogan. 

£• C. QuI66I^r• 



The object of the present paper is to draw attention 
to the frequent occurrence of the mystic and sacred 
number seven in connection with the religious obser- 
vances, birth, puberty, marriage, pregnancy, and death 
ceremonies of the indigenous population of Southern 
India. The area dealt with comprises the Madras 
Presidency, and the Native States of Travancore and 
Cochin. The information, it may be noted, is mainly 
derived from the seven volumes of my Castes and Tribes 
of Southern India (1909), written in collaboration with 
Mr K. Rangachari. 

{a) Religion. 

According to tradition, Rama, on his return from 
Ceylon, appointed seven guardians of the pass (Adam's 
Bridge) connecting Ceylon with the Indian mainland. 

The sacred river Godftvari is believed to proceed by 
an underground passage from the same source as the 
Ganges, and reach the sea by seven branches made by the 
seven Rishis (sages) Kasyapa, Atri, Gautama, Bharadvaja, 
Vasishta, Visvimitra, and Jamadagni. The pilgrimage 
called sapta sftgara yitra, or pilgrimage of the seven 
confluences, is made especially by those desirous of off- 

Brahmans claim descent from one or other of the 
seven Rishis. The Telugu Boyas, who claim to be 

a. 23 


descended from the celebrated Rishi Valmiki, have a 
legendary story of a Brahman who begot children by 
a Boya wonian, and was, on one occasion, met by seven 
Rishis, who were the incarnations of the seven planets. 
For his sins he had to do penance, and became the Rishi 

The cowry {Cypraa moneta) shells, which form an 
essential part of the equipment of a Kaniyan astrologer in 
Malabar, represent the seven planets. Among the Koragas 
of the west coast, and some castes in the Oriya country, the 
custom prevails of naming children after the days of the 
week, which are called after the planets. 

At the sacred town of Conjeeveram are many tanks, 
by bathing in seven of which, corresponding to the days 
of the week, any human desire may be gratified, and sins 
are washed away. 

Among the Nambutiri Brahmans of the west coast, 
the god of love, who is represented by a clay image, 
is propitiated by unmarried girls with ofterings of flowers 
on seven consecutive days. 

At the Sivadiksha ceremony, which is undergone by 
Variyar (temple servant) youths in Travancore, the can- 
didate takes seven steps in a northerly direction, which 
are symbolical of a pilgrimage to the sacred city of 
Benares. The custom recalls to mind the mock night 
of a Brahman bridegroom to Benares (Kilsiyatra), there to 
lead an ascetic life. 

When engaged in the propitiation of bhutas or demons 
at a bhutasthina (shrine) in South Canara, the officiating 
priest arranges seven plantain (banana) leaves in a row on 
the cot of the most important bhuta, and places a heap 
of rice and a coconut thereon. A seven-branched torch 
is kept burning near the cot. For the minor bhutas the 
oflFerings are placed on three or five leaves. 

Sometimes, when a married couple are desirous of 
having female issue, they make a vow that they will ofiFer 
to the deity clay images of the seven virgins (Kanniyamma) 


who are represented all seated in a row. The virgins are 
sometimes symbolised by seven stones or bricks set up 
within an enclosed space, beneath a sacred tree, or in 
a miniature shrine. Among the Boyas they are repre- 
sented by seven small gold pots, and the song of the seven 
virgins is sung at their weddings. At the restival of the 
Grima Devata or village deity among the Tamil Pallis, 
the goddess is sometimes represented by a pile of seven 
pots decorated with garlands and flowers. In some 
villages, the deity Kidiamma is symbolised by seven 
brass pots one above the other, with leaves of the sacred 
margosa tree {Melia Azadhrachtd) stuck in the mouth 
of the topmost pot\ 

On the west coast, certain religious festivals, e.g. the 
cock festival at Cranganore, at which large numbers of 
fowls are sacrificed, and the festival in honour of Bhagavati 
at the Pish^i temple near Calicut, last for seven days. 

At the village of Mangalam in the Tamil country, 
large numbers of buffaloes are dedicated annually to the 
goddess at the Kali shrine. Fourteen of the best animals 
are selected for sacrifice. Seven of these are tied to an 
equal number of stone posts in front of the shrine, and 
beheaded. After the goddess has been taken round the 
shrine in her car, the remaining seven animals are 
dispatched in the same way*. 

By one section of the Dandisis in the Oriya country, 
a pig and seven fowls are offered as a sacrifice on the new- 
moon day, on which the head of a male child is first 

Many Oriya castes are particular with regard to the 
observance of various Vratams or fasts. At one of these, 
the most elderly matron of the house performs worship. 
Seven cubits of thread dyed with turmeric are measured 
on the forearm of a girl seven years old, and cut off. 
The deity is worshipped, and seven knots are made in 

^ Bishop Whitehead, 'BuU, Madras Muumn^ i907» r. 3, isj. 
* GaautUtr rf thi Svuth ArcU district, 1906, i. 39a. 

23— a 


the piece of thread, which is tied on the left upper arm 
of the matron. 

At the harvest festival of the Kanikars of Travancore, 
in order to propitiate the household gods, rice, coconuts, 
betel, etc., are piled up on plantain leaves at seven definite 
spots. On the occasion of the seed-sowing ceremony 
among the agricultural Badagas of the Nllgiri Hills, a 
temple priest sets out before dawn with five or seven 
kinds of grain in a basket, and performs certain rites at 
a selected field. 

The number seven is said by Dr Rivers to be especially 
prominent in the ordination ceremonies of the Todas of 
the Nllgiris. *The purificatory drinking out of leaf-cups 
is always done seven times, or some multiple of seven/ 
At certain dairies ^ there used to be lamps, each of which 
had seven wicks. Another occurrence of the number 
seven is in the old dairies of the N6drs clan, which had 
seven rooms \* 

{b) Birth. 

In various castes, the period of pollution after child- 
birth lasts over seven days, during which the woman 
remains in seclusion. Among the Cherumas or Pulayas 
of the Cochin State, the woman is purified by bathing on 
the seventh day. The midwife draws seven lines on the 
ground, and spreads over them aloe leaves torn to shreds. 
Then, holding a burning stick in her hand, the mother 
of the infant goes seven times backwards and forwards 
over the leaves ^ 

Among some castes in the Tulu country of the west 
coast, a washerwoman ties a thread round the infant's 
waist, and gives it a name on the seventh day after birth. 

In one section of the Tamil Kalians, a first-bom 
female child is named on the seventh day, after the ear- 
boring ceremony has been performed. 

^ Riven, Tki T^daSy 1906, 414. 

* L. K. Anantha Kriihoa Iyer, The Ockim Tribn and Outis^ 1909, t. 108 


At the Chaulam or tonsure ceremony of Brahmans, 
the father of the child, taking a few blades of the sacred 
dharbha grass in his hand, sprinkles water over its head, 
and inserts the blades in the hair of the head seven times, 
repeating the words ^ Oh ! divine grass, protect him/ 

(c) Puberty. 

In many castes it is the custom that, on the occasion 
of the first menstrual period, the girl is kept in seclusion 
under ceremonial pollution for seven days, when she is 
cleansed by a purificatory bath. Sometimes she remains 
within a hut, which is burnt down on the seventh day. 
The hut is, among the Telugu Tsilkalas, constructed by 
the girFs maternal uncle out of seven different kinds 
of sticks, one of which must be from a Strychnos Nux- 
vomica tree. 

By the Telugu Oddes a fowl is killed on the seventh 
day, and waved in front of the girl. 

When a Rona girl in the Oriya country attains 
maturity, she is secluded in a part of the house where she 
cannot be seen by males, and sits within a space enclosed 
by seven arrows connected together by a thread. 

During the first menstrual period of a Pulaya girl in 
the Cochin State, seven coconuts are broken, the *milk' 
is poured over her head, and the fragments are distributed 
among the headmen, and seven girls who have been invited 
to be present at the ceremony^. 

A PuUuva girl is anointed by seven young women, 
who make a propitiatory offering to the demons, if she is 
possessed by any*. 

{d) Marriage. 

At the betrothal ceremony of the Telugu Tottiyans 
in the Tamil country, food is given to seven people 
belonging to seven different septs. Among the Telugu 

' Anantha Krishna Iyer, tp, at, i. 98-9. 
' /^W. 1. 146. 


Razus, seven plates filled with plantains (bananas), betel> 
turmeric, coconuts, and flowers are placed on a platform 
within a pandal (booth). 

In many castes, the marriage festivities last for seven 
days, and, on the seventh day, important ceremonies are 
performed. For example, among the Sondis of the Oriya 
country, food is placed on twelve leaves, and partaken of 
by the same number of Brahmans. At a wedding among 
the Oriya Kalinjis, the bridegroom breaks a pot on the 
seventh day. At the weddings of the Tamil Idaiyans, 
seven pots are filled with water, and nine kinds of seed- 
grain sown in seven trays containing earth. On the 
seventh day, the ends of the cloths of the contracting 
couple are tied together and they bathe in turmeric 
water, the wrist-threads are removed, and other ceremonies 

In one form of the marriage rites among the Mukku- 
vans of Malabar, which are completed in a single day^ 
the newly married couple may not leave the bride's house 
until the seventh day after the wedding. A necklace 
composed of twenty-one gold coins is sometimes tied on 
the neck of a Mukkuva bride. 

The materials for the marriage booth which is erected 
by the Bonthuk Savaras at the home of the bride are 
brought by seven women. In the course of the cere- 
monies nine men and seven women stand near the dais» 
and a thread, which is subsequently used for the wrist- 
threads of the contracting couple, is passed round them 
seven times. 

At a wedding among the Oriya Omanaitos, seven 
pieces of turmeric and seven mango leaves are tied to the 
central post of the pandal, and seven grains of rice 
and seven areca nuts are tied up in the ends of the 
cloths of the bride and bridegroom. The father of 
an Oriya Bhondari bride, after waving seven balls of 
colourea rice in front of the bridegroom, escorts him 
to his house. New cloths are placed on the bridal 


couple, and the ends thereof tied together in a knot con- 
taining, among other articles, twenty-one cowry {Cypraa 
moneta) shells, such as are used by fortune-tellers and 
astrologers, with which, later on, the bride and bride- 
groom play seven times. Seven turns of thread dyed 
with turmeric are wound round the posts of the pandaL 
On the seventh day, the sacred thread and wrist-thread 
are removed. 

A very important and binding portion of the marriage 
rites among Brahmans is the ceremony called Sapthapathi 
or taking seven steps. Raising the left foot of the bride 
seven times, the bridegroom repeats the words : ^ One 
step for sap, may Vishnu go after thee. Two steps for 
juice, may Vishnu go after thee. Three steps for vows, 
may Vishnu go after thee. Four steps for comfort, may 
Vishnu go after thee. Five steps for cattle, may Vishnu 
go after thee. Six steps for the prospering of wealth, 
may Vishnu go after thee. Seven steps for the sevenfold 
hotriship\ may Vishnu go after thee.* At a wedding 
among the Nambutiri Brahmans of the west coast, the 
bridegroom, holding the bride's hand, leads her seven 
steps, one for force, two for strength, three for wealth, 
four for well-being, five for offspring, six for the seasons, 
and seven for a friend ^ 

At the weddings of various Oriya castes, the bride 
and bridegroom go seven times round the pandal, holding 
pieces of turmeric and rice in their hands. Among the 
Oriya Bavuris, turmeric water is poured over the united 
hands of the contracting couple from a sacred chank shell 
{Turbinella rapa). Seven married women throw over 
their heads a mixture of Zizyphus Jujuba leaves, rice 
stained with turmeric, and culms of Cynodon Dactylon. 
The bride and bridegroom are then conducted seven 
times round the dais. 

In the Cochin State, a Pulaya bride and bridegroom, 

1 A botri i$ one who presides at the time of sacrifices. 
* Fawcett, Bull, MaJrat Mmsfum^ 1900, 111. I9 64. 


the former preceded by seven virgins, go seven times 
round the pandal^ 

At a wedding among the Bilimaggas of the west 
coast, the bridegroom goes seven times round a cot 
placed within the pandal, and breaks coconuts varying 
in number according to the nagara to which he belongs — 
seven if he is a member of the seven hundred nagara, and 
so on. 

At a marriage among the Khatris of the Tamil 
country, the deity, who is represented by seven quartz 
pebbles set up in a row on plantain leaves, is worshipped. 
Seven married women are presented with white bodices 
dyed with turmeric. On the fifth day, seven areca nuts 
are placed in a row on a plank within the pandal, round 
which the bride and bridegroom go seven times. At the 
end of the seventh round, the latter lifts the right foot of 
the former and sweeps off one of the nuts. 

On the occasion of a wedding among the Tamil 
Agamudaiyans, seven married women bring water from 
seven streams or different places, and pour it into a pot 
in front of a lamp. In the course of the ceremonies, 
the bride and bridegroom go seven times round the 
pandal, and, at the end of the seventh round, they stand 
close to a grinding-stone, on which the bridegroom 
places the bride^s left foot. In many Oriya castes, the 
custom prevails of fetching water, sometimes in seven 
pots, from seven houses, to be used by the bride and 
bridegroom when they bathe. 

At a wedding among the nomad Lambildis of the 
Bellary district, the bride and bridegroom go, hand in 
hand, seven times round pestles stuck upright in the 
ground, while women chant a song. The bride gives 
the bridegroom seven balls composed of rice, ghl (clarified 
butter) and sugar, of which he partakes ^ 

In the Mysore State, the Lambildi bridal couple go, 

^ Anantha Krishna Iyer, tp, cit. i. 104-5. 
' Gazettar rf'tki Bellary district, 1904, i. 75. 


in like manner, seven times round the pestles. They 
take their seats on a plank, and the bride throws a string 
round the neck of the bridegroom, and ties seven knots 
in it. The bridegroom then does the same to the bride. 

By the Tamil Sembadavans, seven rings are dropped 
into a pot, and the bride and bridegroom go through the 
ceremony of pot-searching which is performed by many 
castes. If the bride picks up three of the rings, the first- 
bom child will be a girl, whereas, if the bridegroom picks 
up five, it will be a boy. 

At a marriage among the Konga Pallans in the Tamil 
country a figure of the elephant-god Ganesa, made of 
cow-dung, seven coconuts, seven sets of betel leaves and 
areca nuts {pan''SUpari)y and other articles, are placed in 
front of the bride and bridegroom. Among the Kadaiya 
Pallans, the bridegroom brings the tilli or marriage badge, 
which is placed on the bride's neck, tied to a coconut, 
seven rolls of betel leaves, seven plantains, and seven pieces 
of turmeric. 

In one form of the marriage rites among the Tamil 
Maravans, the father of the bridegroom goes to the bride's 
house with seventy plantains, twenty-one measures of rice, 
twoity-one pieces of turmeric, seven coconuts, seven 
lumps of jaggery (crude sugar), etc., in a box made of 
plaited palmyra palm leaves. 

By the Telugu Razus seven lamps are placed in front 
of pots representing the minor deities, filled with water. 
Round some of the pots used during the marriage cere- 
monies, a thread stained with turmeric is wound seven 

At a wedding among the Kanikars of Travancore, 
two women take hold of the bride's head, and press it 
seven times towards the bridegroom's shoulder. A young 
boy then puts a small quantity of curry and rice into the 
mouth of the bridegroom seven times. 

A woman of the nomad and thieving Korava tribe, 
who marries seven men consecutively, after the death 


of a husband or divorce, is said to be highly respected^ 
and to take the lead on occasions of marriage or other 

{e) Pregnancy. 

On the west coast, an important ceremony, called 
puli-kudi or drinking tamarind juice, is performed about 
the seventh month of pregnancy. At this ceremony, among 
the Nayars of Travancore, tne husband of the woman 
provides the necessary rice, coconuts, and plantains, and 
seven vessels containing sweetmeats. Among the Izhavas 
of the Cochin State, small branches of the tamarind tree 
are planted in the courtyard of the house, and the woman 
goes seven times round them^. In Malabar, the Izhava 
woman goes round a tamarind tree, and winds a thread 
seven yards in length round it. In the ceremony as 
carried out by the Pulayas of Cochin, the woman pours 
a mixture of cow's milk, water of a coconut, turmeric 
powder, etc., into twenty-one leaf-cups, and walks seven 
times round a kind of tent set up for the occasion. Her 
husband puts into her mouth seven globules of the 
tamarind preparation*. 

During the seventh month of the pregnancy of a 
Kanikar in Travancore, seven pots containing rice are 
placed on seven hearths, and, when the rice has boiled^ 
the woman salutes it, and all present partake of it. 

(/) Death. 

In various castes, when a death occurs in a family, 
the period of pollution lasts for seven days. The un- 
cleanness is sometimes removed by the sprinkling of holy 
water. By the hill Kondhs, a purificatory ceremony 
is performed on the seventh day, and a bufialo is killed 
for a feast. 

* Anmntha Krithna Iyer, tp, cit 1. 296. 
s JM. 1. loS. 


In the event of a death in a Nayar family in Malabar, 
the members thereof remain under pollution for seven 
days, and, on the fourteenth day, the ashes of the deceased 
are deposited in a river or running water \ 

By the Paniyans of Malabar a little rice gruel is, for 
seven days after death, placed near the grave for the 
evil spirits in the shape of a pair of crows to partake of. 

On the day following the cremation of an Oriya 
Gaudo, an image of a human figure is made with the 
ashes, and seven small flags, made of cloth dyed with 
turmeric, are stuck into the head, shoulders, abdomen, 
and legs thereof. 

On the tenth day after a death among the Oriya 
Bivuris, a hut is erected on a tank bund (embankment), 
and food is cooked seven times, and offered on seven 
fragments of broken pots. 

At the final death ceremonies of the Billavas in the 
Tulu country, seven women measure out rice three times 
into a tray held by three women. On a similar occasion 
among the Badagas of the Nllgiris, the eldest son of the 
deceased places seven balls of cooked rice on plantain 
or minige {Argyreia) leaves, and repeats the names of his 
ancestors and various relations. At a memorial ceremony, 
which is celebrated by the Badagas at long intervals, the 
souls of the departed are supposed to recline on a cot 
placed beneath a car built up in seven tiers. 

If a Nambutiri Brahman woman in Malabar is preg- 
nant at the time of her death, the corpse has to be purified 
seven times with holy kusa grass, cow-dung, cow's urine, 
ashes, and gold^ 

{g) Ordeal^ Oatbsy etc. 

When a Koraga woman of the west coast is found 
guilty of adultery, in order to purify her, she is put 
inside a hut which is set on fire, and escapes to another 

^ Fawcett, BulL Madras Museum^ >90i» iii. 3, 250. 
' Gasiitteir ^ Malabar^ 190S, i. i66. 


place where the same performance is gone through, and 
so on till she has been burnt out seven times. A variant 
of the ceremony occurs among several other tribes — 
Holeyas, Upparas, and Koyis. The suggestion has been 
made by Mr K. £. Enthoven that the idea seems to be 
^a rapid representation of seven existences, the outcast 
regaining his (or her) status after seven generations have 
passed without further transgression. The parallel sug- 
gested is the law of Manu that seven generations are 
necessary to efface 9 lapse from the law of endogamous 

On the west coast, if a Cheruman, who is himself 
a member of the depressed classes,' is defiled by the touch 
of a Nayildi, who ranks lowest in the scale of social pre- 
cedence, he has to bathe in seven tanks, and let a few 
drops of blood flow from one of his fingers \ 

If a member of the Marathi-speaking Kuruvikkilran 
tribe has to submit to trial by ordeal in connection with 
some alleged offence against the unwritten tribal law, 
seven arka {Calotropis gigantea) leaves are tied to his palm, 
and a piece of red-hot iron is placed thereon. His 
innocence is established if he is able to carry it while 
he takes seven long strides. 

I am informed by Bishop Whitehead that, when a 
Badaga of the Nilgiris takes a solemn oath at the shrine 
of the goddess Mariamma, the head of a sacrificed sheep 
or fowl is placed on the step of the shrine, and a line 
is made just in front of it. ^ The person who is taking 
the oath then walks from seven feet off in seven steps, 
putting one foot immediately in front of the other, up to 
the line, crosses it, goes inside the shrine, and puts out 
a lamp that is burning in front of the image.' If the 
oath is false, the man's eyes will be blinded, and he will 
not be able to walk straight to the shrine, or see the 

P* Edgar Thurston, CLE. 

^ Anantha Krishna Iyer, op, cii. u lai. 


Primitive peoples, practising agriculture in regions 
subject to drought, have always striven to find some 
means of regulating the rain-supply either by coercive 
magic or by propitiation of the powers supposed to 
preside over the weather. The more or less cultured 
races of America were no exception to this rule, but 
evolved numerous elaborate ceremonies whereby they 
hoped to ensure a successful harvest. However, the 
rain-god in America was not entirely a benefactor ; almost 
all the more civilized peoples of this continent dwelt 
within the tropics, and tropical rain is apt to be excessive 
and is usually accompanied by thunder. The rain-god 
therefore is also the thunder-god, the god who smites, as 
well as the beneficent fertilizer of the fields. Thus 
among the Araucanians, the more settled groups of whom 
seem to have practised agriculture even before their 
northern tribes fell under Inca influence, a god named 
Pillan was adored, who manifested himself in lightning 
and thunder and in the fire and smoke of volcanoes^. 

Among the Diaguite people of north-west Argentina, 
the thunder-god ranked next in importance to the sun^ 

Uiracocha, the old pre-Inca creator-god of southern 
Peru and Bolivia, was in particular lord of the thunder, a 
fact which appears plainly in the lines of the following 
hynm preserved by Molina* : — * Thou who givest life and 
strength to mankind, saying, let this be a man, and, let 
this be a woman ; and as thou sayest so thou givest life 

1 A. II. 26. * Q. Yi. ch. 23. * B. p. aS. 

366 T. A. JOYCE 

and vouchsafest that men shall live in health and peace and 
free from danger ! Thou who dwellest in the heights of 
heaven, in the thunder and in the storm-clouds, hear us 
and grant us eternal life ! ' 

Under the Inca rigime the thunder, lUapa, was regarded 
as sufficiently important to have a special shrine within 
the precincts of the famous sun-temple at Cuzco^ ; and 
in the country districts, offerings were made to it under 
the name of Libiac, in connection with the crops^ 

Among the Chibcha in Colombia, however, the rather 
meagre accounts which we possess of the local religion 
seem to imply that the sun was regarded as the fertilizing 
god ; at any rate the ceremonies in connection with the 
harvest were held in honour of this deity, and sacrifices 
were made to him upon mountain-tops in times of 

Of the beliefs of the tribes inhabiting the region 
between Colombia and the Maya-Quich6 peoples very 
little is known, except that among the Nahua-speaking 
tribes of Nicaragua, emigrants at an early date from 
Mexico, one of the chief gods was Quiateotl, god of 
rain, lightning and thunder, to whom young boys and 
girls were sacrificed in order to obtain rain for the crops ^ 

To pass to Guatemala, it is recorded that the chief 
god of the Quich6 proper was the thunder-god and fire- 
maker, TohiP or Totohil*. And in the Popol-Vuh, the 
sacred book of the Quich6, Hurakan, one of the early 
creator-gods is styled the * Heart of Heaven,' and the 
thunder and lightning are assigned to him as his particular 
attributes^ Moreover among the Maya of Yucatan the 
god (or rather gods, for there were several) of agriculture, 
thunder and lightning, was named Chac^ 

Among the Mexicans, the rain-god was Tlaloc, who, 
like the Maya Chac, with his attendant Chacs, was aided 

* C. I. p. 175. ■ O. p. 16. • D. p. 73. 

* S. p. 40. * R. 215. * ^* 1$ 20 and 90, 
' R. p. 9. • F. I. p. 317. 


in his duties by a number of subsidiary Tlaloque. The 
latter were believed to distribute the rain, which was 
stored in large vases in Tlaloc's palace, by means of smaller 
vessels, and to cause thunder by striking the latter with 
rods which they also carried^. 

But Tlaloc was not the only member of the Mexican 
pantheon who was connected with the thunder. The 
Ciuapipiltin, or Ciuatateo, the souls of women who had 
died in child-birth, who escorted the sun on his westward 
journey from the zenith to the horizon, were lightning- 
demons' ; and the dog-shaped god of twins and deformities, 
Xolotl, the escort of the sun to the underworld, was also 
connected with the lightning ^ 

Again, the early population of the Greater Antilles, 
known usually as Tainan, practised agriculture to some 
extent, and performed various ceremonies to obtain the 
&vour of the rain- and wind-gods who were supposed 
to preside over cultivation ^ 

In coming nearer to the particular point which this 
paper is intended to illustrate, it will be best first to con- 
sider the details of the festival held by the Mexicans in 
the month of Atlacahualco in honour of the rain-god 
Tlaloc ^ A number of children were sacrificed on this 
occasion ; the small victims were richly clad and escorted 
in litters with song and dance to a mountain where their 
hearts were oflFered up in the usual manner. The object 
of the sacrifice was to ensure plenty of rain, and it was 
considered a good omen if the victims wept during their 
journey to the place of sacrifice. The association of tears 
with rain is a fairly obvious piece of symbolism, and it 
appears to have existed throughout practically the whole 
of inter-tropical America, but in most cases it is the tears 
of the god himself which represent the rain. 

The most celebrated of the megalithic ruins at Tia- 
huanaco on the Bolivian plateau is a monolithic doorway 

1 G. p. 61S. ' H. HI. p. 606, ' H. III. p. 607 

« K. pp. 54 — 56. * L. p. 58. 

368 T. A. JOYCE 

with a frieze in relief sculptured along the linteL The 
design consists of a large central figure, flanked on either 
side by three rows of smaller figures carved in profile. 
The central figure is shown in Fig. i, and represents a 
rather conventionalized human form with two ornamental 
bands, enclosing circles, running from his eyes down his 
cheeks I have elsewhere suggested that these represent 
tears \ and since the site of Tiahuanaco was particularly 
associated in Peruvian legend with the creator-god Uira- 
cocha, it is probable that here we have a representation 
of that deity. If that is so, the weeping eyes form a 
fitting attribute of the god who dwells *in the thunder 
and in the storm-clouds,' and represent the rain, just as the 
spear-thrower and darts which he holds in his hands 
symbolize the lightning. It is worthy of note that when 
the peculiar art of Tiahuanaco penetrated to the coast, 
figures of this very god, with the same attributes, appeared 
upon the local pottery (Fig. 2). That the tears were 
considered an essential attribute is evident from the fact 
that they are faithfully reproduced, though, apparently, 
no rain-god was worshipped in this locality. The reason 
for the absence of a rain-god lay in the fact that rain fell 
only about once in six years on the coast, and the coastal 
agriculturists were dependant upon the moisture provided 
by the frequent sea-mists, and, to a greater degree, upon an 
elaborate system of irrigation by which water was brought 
great distances from the mountains. Similar ^tears' 
appear on the cheeks of the smaller subsidiary figures of 
the frieze, who may be identified as votaries dressed in 
the livery of their god^ The scene, viewed in this 
light, is a remarkable parallel to one of the big Chibcha 
festivals, which took place at the harvest, and in which a 
number of men took part wearing masks on which tears 
were painted ^ The chronicler states that these tears were 
meant as an appeal to the pity of the Sun, but he may 
well have misunderstood the true meaning ; one feels 

* M. pp. 187 — 8. * Sec M. p. 172. • D. p. 6S. 







more inclined to regard them in the light of imitative 
magic like the tears of the children sacrificed to Tlaloc. 
An interesting vase from the sacred lake of Guatabita is 
shown in Fig. 3. It represents a masked man, and the 
engraved lines running down the cheeks may well be 
meant for tears. Fig. 4 shows a pottery head from a 
vase found in Ecuador, and here again the weeping eye 
is clearly shown. 

But for a more interesting parallel we must go 
further south, to the area of Diaguite culture in north- 
west Argentina. Here, mainly in the Calchaqui and 
Yocavil valleys, whole cemeteries have been discovered 
devoted to very young children whose remains have been 
deposited in pottery urns decorated with painted orna- 
ment. The painting in very many cases represents a 
highly-conventionalized human figure, from the comers 
of whose eyes tears are shown streaming (Fig. 5). Such 
urns, including those not in human form, generally bear 
representations of the two-headed lightning-snake. Now 
urn-burial is extremely rare among the people of the 
Andes, and this fact combined with the further fact that 
only the bodies of young children are found in such 
cemeteries, gives the latter a character peculiarly their 
own. No suggestion has been made to explain them, 
but I think that it is possible to put forward a reasonable 
solution in the light of the following points, (i) The 
Mexicans sacrificed young children on mountains to Tlaloc 
to ensure a sufficiency of rain for the crops. (2) The 
Chibcha also sacrificed young children on mountains to the 
sun in times of drought^. (3) The only other instances 
of urn-burial recorded in the Andine region (which can- 
not be traced to extraneous influence) are, firstly among 
the Puruha of Ecuador, who are said to have sacrificed 
their first-bom children and preserved the bodies in vases 
of stone or metal ^; and (4) secondly among the Peruvians, 
who, in some localities regarded one individual of twin 

* D. 73. * U. XVIII. io6. 

K. 24 

370 T. A. JOYCE 

children as the child of the lightning, and preserved the 
bodies of twins who died young in vases in their huts^, 
(5) Of particular interest in view of the last point is the 
fact that the god Xolotl, a lightning-god, was regarded by 
the Mexicans as the especial god of twins ^ I think it 
is not too rash to suggest, therefore, that the children 
whose bodies are found interred in urns in the Diaguite 
area were sacrifices to the thunder-god, who we know was 
worshipped in that region, and whose portrait with weeping 
eyes is shown on the exterior of so many of the vessels ; 
and further that they were sacrificed in order to secure the 
rain so necessary for the crops. A good representation of 
the weeping god of this region is seen in the fine copper 
plaque, found at Catamarca, illustrated in Fig. 6. Here 
the tears are particularly noticeable. 

If we turn to the remains of the Tainan (pre-Carib) 
population of the Antilles, we find again the weeping god. 
Actual idols relating to this culture are rare, but two 
wooden figures, obtained in Jamaica in the eighteenth 
century and now in the British Museum, show deeply- 
cut grooves, leading from the eye down the cheek, which 
were formerly emphasized by inlay, probably of shell. 
The head of one of these figures (which are figured in 
the Journal of the R. Anthrop. Inst., vol. xxxvii. Pis. 
xlviii. and xlix.) is shown in Fig. 7. A stone pestle {loc. 
cit. pi. liv.) shows similar face-grooves. These figures 
probably represent the sky-god or the rain-gods or spirits 
who are known to have played an important part in the 
religious beliefs of the Tainan. 

To come now to Central America. I have mentioned 
that the Quiche of Guatemala worshipped a thunder-god, 
Tohil, and it is a significant fact that Las Casas writes of 
a god with weeping eyes, who was adored in many parts 
of that country*. Fig. 8 shows an interesting and well- 
carved stone head, found at Santa Lucia Cozumalhuapa 
(now in the Museum fiir VOlkerkunde at Berlin), and the 

* O. pp. 16 — 17. * p. 20. ' H. 1. p. 47* 


lO. 7. HEAD OF A 


PIQ. 9. (■) CHAC (Coalfj r™ 



weeping eye is very clearly shown in this specimen. The 
combination of a human face with a beast's snout recalls 
the representations of the Maya rain-snake deity, called 
Ah Bolon Tz'acab, who is so frequently figured in the 
Dresden and Troano-Cortesianus MSS, and who possesses 
many parallels in the carvings of Palenque, Copan and 
Quirigua. The Maya rain-gods, or Chac, also exhibit 
certain animal characteristics, such as a snout-like nose 
and long teeth (see Fig. ^a)^ but it is the hieroglyph ex- 
pressing these deities which brings us back again to the 
weeping eye (Fig. 9E). It is difficult to see what an eye 
of this form can be but the conventional representation of 
an eye such as that of the stone head. Fig. 8. Again, 
this form of eye, seen in the Chac glyph, is remarkably 
similar to the glyph of the second day-sign, />, as seen in 
the Maya monuments (Fig. 9B). In the manuscripts this 
sign has a number of variants, the simplest form being 
shown in Fig. 9c, one of the more complicated in Fig. 90, 
but all of them suggest an eyelid with one or more tears 
falling from it. That it may reasonably be so interpreted 
is obvious from a consideration of Fig. 9A, where we have 
a Chac figure bearing a shield on which this device is 
twice repeated (Troano MS, p. 24). Now the word ii 
does not mean rain it is true, but wind, and the sign thus 
corresponds to the Mexican second day-sign, eecat/, which 
is the name of Quetzalcoatl as the wind-god. In the Ixil 
dialect of Guatemala the word is cakfk^ which Seler 
explains as a contraction of Chac-ik'-ak^ 'Chac-wind,' 
ue. rain- wind ^ Now Quetzalcoatl as Eecatl was essenti- 
ally the rain-wind ; Sahagun states of this deity that * He 
was believed to be charged with the duty of sweeping the 
road for the rain-gods, and the reason for the belief was 
that before the rain bursts, much wind and dust is seen. 
It was Quetzalcoatl, the god of the winds, who thus swept 
the roads for the gods of the rain.'* Quetzalcoatl there- 
fore as Eecatl was intimately connected with the rain- 

* H. I. p. 453. • L. p. 15. 


372 T. A. JOYCE 

and thunder-god Tlaloc, the Mexican equivalent of Chac, 
and as such is very frequently shown with what I believe 
to be a weeping eye (see Fig. i o) • My assumption gains 
strength when it is realized that Quetzalcoatl is only so 
depicted when he appears in the form of EecatL It is 
true that Tlaloc himself is not shown with the weeping 
eye, but then he wears a rather elaborate mask the eyes of 
which are surrounded with snakes, and the snake is the 
emblem of rain and lightning throughout almost the 
whole of America. The peculiar snouty mouth-mask 
invariably worn by Eecatl recalls the form of the stone 
head with the weeping eye from Guatemala, illustrated in 
Fig. 8. 

But Quetzalcoatl is not the only deity who is distin- 
guished by this form of eye ; it is seen also in the repre- 
sentations of the Ciuapipiltin, who, as said above, were 
lightning-spirits (see Fig. ii), and of some manifestations 
of Xolotl, another lightning-god {e.g. Nanauatzin, Codex 
Borgia lo). Again, the rain-tear is not confined to the 
sinister weather-deities, but appears also as a distinguishing 
mark of some of the gods of fertility. Xochipilli, whose 
name is explained by Sahagun in the words * que quiere 
decir el principal que d4 flores 6, que tiene cargo de dar 
flores,'^ is said by the same author in his Mexican text 
(translated by Seler^ to be painted red and to bear on his 
cheeks painted tears (Fig. iz). The maize-god, both 
among the Mexicans and Maya is also distinguished by 
an angled line drawn vertically across the eye and down 
the cheek, which may be a variety of this tear face-paint. 
At any rate we get the regular weeping eye in the figure 
of th^ central deity, a moon-goddess, pictured in the 
maize-house of the west in the Codex Borgia, p. 43 (see 
Fig. 13), and the connection of the moon-deities with 
vegetation was very close in Mexico. Curiously enough 
this deity is also furnished with a beast^s snout like that of 
the Guatemalan stone head, Fig. 8. 

^ H. II. p. 499. * II. II. p 49t. 

HOUSE KCedcx Borgia 43) 


The theme is capable of further elaboration, but I 
prefer to limit myself to instances in which I think the 
case is reasonably clear. The result is not of astonishing 
importance, being in the main a substantiation of the 
opening paragraphs of the paper, paragraphs which 
perhaps hardly required substantiation. But I think one 
or two additional points make their appearance, among 
them the fact that the vegetation-spirit which has been 
made to play such an important part in the folk-beliefs 
of the Old World was of comparatively little account 
in ancient America (though the Zaramama^ or * maize- 
mother,* and Cocamama or * coca-mother,* were features 
of Peruvian peasant ceremonies^). The Americans for 
the most part sought a further cause in the sky-gods, the 
deities of rain, wind and thunder ; moreover these deities 
were two-faced, if they could create they could also 
destroy, for the rain which fertilized was inseparable from 
the thunder which smote. But perhaps the most in- 
teresting aspect of the question is the psychological. 
The Mexican and Maya cultures show so many points 
of similarity that one more is of little account. When 
however it is seen that the conception of a weeping god, 
lord of the rain, wind and thunder, whose functions are 
both creative and destructive, prevailed from Mexico to 
Chile and north-west Argentina, and from Guatemala to 
the Greater Antilles, an important link is established 
between the cultures of inter-tropical America. This 
link may be forged of nothing more than a community 
of thought, but even so it affords strong evidence that 
the various manifestations of ancient American culture 
possessed at least a common psychological element. 

T. A. Joyce. 

1 O. p. 16, 



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D. Vincente Restrepo, Los Chibchas. 

£. Xahila, Cakchiquel Annals^ translated by D. G. Brintom 

F. Di^o Lopez Collogudo, Historia de Tucatan^ 1868. 

G. Codex FuenUal or Ramirez^ translated by H. Phillips, Jr., American 

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O. J. de Arriaga, Extirpacion de la Idolatria del Piruy 1621. 
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Q. Nicholas del Techo, Historia Provinciae Paraguariae Societatis JesUy 

R* P9pol Vuhy translated and edited by TAbb^ Brasseur de Bourbourg, 

S. Gonzalo Fernandes de Oviedo y Vald^s, Histoire de Nicaragua in 
Ternaux-Compans* collection, vol. 14. 


To deal at all adequately with the vast subject indi- 
cated in the above title is of course impossible, and the 
following pages are to be regarded simply as a preliminary 
outline of the impressions made upon one whose work 
has been mainly in the field of Old Testament study. 
Modern biblical scholarship has been so deeply influenced 
by the course of anthropological research that some of the 
most difl3icult questions that now confront the student are 
inextricably interwoven with complicated enquiries which 
really lie far outside his special field. The biblical student 
cannot fail to be attracted by the presence in Palestine 
and Syria of various beliefs and customs undoubtedly of 
very great antiquity; there has been some 'evolution,* 
but * primitive * features continue to * survive,* despite the 
many far-reaching changes in the lengthy history of those 
lands. Questions arise which concern both the biblical 
or the oriental student and the anthropologist, and if the 
former is naturally bound to consult and defer to the latter, 
the latter, in turn, cannot, of course, ignore the results 
of enquiry in a particular field where the investigation 
has been more specialised than was necessary, perhaps, 
for his own purpose. 

Consequently, there must be an interconnection of 
divers branches of study or departments of research, and 
a little reflection will convince one that upon such inter- 

376 S. A. COOK 

connection, and upon continuous criticism and counter- 
criticism, the progress of knowledge has always depended. 
A cooperation of this character militates against a casual 
dilettantism and an excessive specialism; it adjusts the 
more specialistic and inevitably one-sided work of the 
single individual to a greater number of interests and 
aims ; it tests the methods, principles and conclusions in 
one field by applying them to another. In fact, the 
* evolution * of knowledge, or of any branch of knowledge, 
is the result of a collecthe process, and advance has been 
due, not so much to single factors, as to a multitude 
of complex and interacting causes, not merely to a series 
of outstanding names, events or discoveries, but also to 
the cooperation and interconnection of a great variety 
of minds. And through intricate collective processes of 
this kind comes also the ^evolution' of any group or 

We may regard a branch of study — e.g. anthro- 
pology — ^as a discrete body of ideas, as a single complex 
slowly moving from one stage to another. It has no real 
existence, it depends entirely upon individuals, and when 
one thinks of any body oi thought, of an institution, 
practice or custom, of a corporate body, or of a nation, it 
is necessary to control one's argumentation, and so keep 
in touch with experience, by remembering that one is 
dealing with human beings and their ideas. And it is 
a good working rule to assume that the ideas persist 
in them for the same reasons that ours do in us. To 
fancy, however subconsciously, that those whom we 
cannot understand or tolerate lie outside rational enquiry is 
to cut the knot ; it is as contrary to the method of research 
as to regard every difficult text as corrupt and every im- 
probable narrative as a fiction. Rather must we suppose 
that people hold ideas, {a) because in some way they 
commend themselves to their individual experience and 
knowledge, and {b) because nothing has occurred to 
modify, reshape or eliminate them. Now, if we consider 


the * evolution * of some body of thought — anthropology, 
law, religion, or the like — ^may wc not regard any anti- 
quated and out-of-date views as * survivals ' i But since 
we are really referring to individuals, who otherwise may 
seem perfectly rational, the question is of immediate 
human interest. Everyone has some ideas which his 
more progressive brother could style * survivals,* and one 
has only to examine the ^ evolution ' of one's own ideas to 
perceive that the title of this paper involves matters of 
everyday occurrence and directly concerns the psychology 
of human nature. Anthropology may seek to confine 
itself to the primitive, rudimentary and backward of far- 
off lands and ages, but the curious enquirer, especially at 
the present day, speedily finds some connection between 
anthropological research and the ordinary inhabitants of 
our towns and villages. 

The biblical student who is interested in the history 
of Palestine and Syria ranges over a period of nearly 
five thousand years. Egyptology has reached a new 
stage in the recent standard publication of the ^ Pyramid 
Texts.* These belong roughly to 2500 b.c.; they are 
thus older than the ^ Book of the Dead,' they are indeed 
the oldest body of literature surviving from the ancient 
world, and they presuppose a lengthy development of 
thought. For the next great landmark we have to turn 
to Babylonia, where, about 2000 b.c., we have a good 
stock of material which includes the now famous code 
of laws revised and promulgated by Hammurapi, the 
king usually identified with Amraphel in Genesis 
(ch. xiv). During some four thousand and more years 
it is possible to trace the rise and inauguration of new 
conditions, their decay and fall; one can follow the 
course of religious cults ; gods and men, beliefs and forms 
of thought undergo unceasing vicissitudes — everywhere 
there is change, but everywhere there is no change. 
It is not inaccurate to speak of the ^Immovable* or 
^ Unchanging * East, and those who read themselves mto 

378 S. A. COOK 

the lengthy history of the Near East can hardly avoid 
the conviction that the ordinary notions of the * evolution ' 
of thought are imperfect ^ It cannot be denied that there 
are some fundamental differences between the conditions 
of to-4ay and those of the far-off past. But the similarities 
are equally fundamental, and difficulties arise because one 
is apt to lay undue emphasis upon one body of selected 
data to the exclusion of another. As when we compare 
the ape with the man, it is exceedingly important to have 
some point of view which shall allow us to take in both 
the resemblances and the differences. 

Evolution in the organic world culminates in man; 
but when we deal with ideas, we are necessarily swayed 
by some standard, and our conception of any evolution in 
the psychical world is bound up with our own ideas and 
ideals. Our notion of ^survivals' implicitly assumes some 
evolution: we are conscious of a gulf between certain 
phenomena and our world of thought, and when the 
features can be associated with a savage land or a bygone 
period, we are very ready to suppose that they are the 
relic of a past beyond which there has been an advance. 
Different people for different reasons have regarded as 
' survivals * : — belief in the evil-eye, in witches, fairies, and 
a personal Deity; a particular religion, or all religion; 
the Monarchy, a Second Chamber, and any institution 
to which they objected or which appeared to be suggestive 
of feudalism or medievalism. The estimate is, of course, 
based everywhere upon some system or body of thought — 
and essentially it is the individual's own thought and at a 
particular stage of his life-history. Herein lies the 
possibility of immature and arbitrary judgment, of opinion 

^ The effect of the more historical study in the oriental field is seen most signifi> 
cantly in the work of William Robertson Smith {Rilipon of the Semites) i but one may 
also note Father Lagrange's admirable hudes sur Us Religions SAnitiques (1905), and the 
newer tendencies in the German * pan -Babylonian' and 'mythical' schools (see e^, 
A. Jeremias, The Old Test, in the Light of the Ancient East^ 1911)- Reference may also 
be made to the recent protest of the Egyptologist G. Foucart {Histoire dts ReUgmts et 
Mithode Con^arative, 191a). 


influenced by imperfect notions of * evolution.' The 
reference to medievalism is a case in point. 

We may hold that the evolution of ideas leads up to 
modern thought, or culminates in the modern form of 
some religious faith, or, may be, is destined to culminate 
in the disappearance of all 'superstition' and in the in- 
auguration of an age of truly ' rational ' thought. Now, 
here we are often swayed by certain notions of the * Dark 
Ages ' and of the * Revival of Learning,' and are apt to con- 
fuse two different things: (a) the history of particular 
areas or peoples, and {6) that of particular bodies of 
thought. If we refer to the general development of 
philosophy, science, religion, or of any branch or aspect 
of human activity, wc are concerned only with certain 
special distinctive features, now in Greece, now in Rome, 
and now, let us say, in France. But it is obvious that 
not until a certain period in the world's history could 
Western Europe benefit by the best thought of Greece 
and Rome. In proof of this we have only to compare 
Britain with Rome and Greece in, say, the centuries 
immediately before and after the rise of Christianity. 
When we speak of the *Dark Ages,' of the 'Revival 
of Learning,' and the like, we speak not as men of 
Western Europe (or some other limited area), but as 
citizens of the whole world ; we are thinking imperially, 
universally, and we do implicitly identify ourselves with 
something vaster than our particular and relatively cir- 
cumscribed area of to-day. The general evolution of 
thought in the Universe is not to be confused with 
the career of particular lands or empires; but that we 
should so instinctively associate ourselves with a unit 
larger and more permanent than ourselves is exceedingly 
interesting and instructive for any discussion of the nature 
of our intuitive ideas. 

The child does not begin where the father leaves off. 
In Greece there was a failure to maintain the high level 
of thought attained by a few gifted minds : in Western 

380 S. A. COOK 

Europe a certain stage had to be reached before it was 
ripe to receive the influence^. It is waste of energy to 
seek to apportion the blame, the average individual is 
usually guided by his stock of experience and knowledge, 
and he regards with some suspicion the strange and novel. 
This is true even of those who complain of the backward- 
ness or the obscurantism of their less progressive brethren ; 
for the * progressive * and * radical ' are only relatively and 
departmentally so, and if they do not usually embrace 
new ideas but rather seek to spread their own, time often 
shows that even their attitude of cautious hesitation was not 
unjustifiable. The fact is, the evolution of an area or of 
a body of thought is a very slow process, and any retro- 
spect will prove that no estimate can safely be based 
on one or more isolated features. The problems under 
discussion concern complexes of ideas, and it is indis- 
pensable to notice the whole of which our phenomena 
are an integral part. 

A Dreadnought and Atlantic liner of to-day are the 
outcome of a lengthy development, not merely of ship- 
building, but also ot engineering, physics, mathematics, 
metal working and a variety of professions and industries. 
The two, as they how are, could not conceivably have 
been constructed a decade or so ago — * evolution * had not 
reached the necessary point — and they will not be con- 
structed, much less improved, a few decades hence, unless 
a people maintain all those arts and crafts that have gone 
directly and indirectly to produce them. They would be 
of little or no use — as regards their present purpose at 
least — ^to any people that had not attained a certain 
standard, which it would be rather difficult to define; 
on the other hand, they might even be improved by a 
people that had not passed through that particular evolu- 

^ 'The great masterpieces of Greek literature were all familiar to the tcholan of 
the tixteeath century, and yet tome of the most serious blots on the Authorised Version 
of the New Testament are due to the translators' ignorance of some quite elementary 
principles of Greek syntax' (S. R. Driver, The Higher Criticism, 1905, p. 19). 


tion of culture that gave birth to them in Western 
Europe. Mutatis mutandis this applies to all objects and 
ideas that are imposed or borrowed. Simple ol^rvation 
shows that the individual cannot profit by any datum 
unless he has reached a certain mental level. Hence it 
may be irrelevant to object — ^from some ethnological point 
of view — that such and such features in a given area have 
been introduced from outside; what is essential is the 
question whether the area could have accepted and 
assimilated them unless they were intelligible and ac- 
ceptable, and unless the soil was ready. As a general 
rule, if A betrays the influence of ByOr li A clearly has 
borrowed B^ it is always possible to make certain infer- 
ences concerning the state previously reached by A. 

What any area now contains and tolerates has escaped 
the ravages of time; it has outlived those vicissitudes 
which make the gulf between modern culture and pre- 
historic primitive man. If there be anything in ^the 
survival of the fittest/ even the * survival* has at least 
so far survived ! Again, although much is always being 
modified or eliminated, not only do the survivals survive, 
but it is perhaps impossible to foretell what can safely be 
eradicated from any context. It is not out of place to 
notice at this juncture that observation shows that move- 
ment of thought is everywhere due to individuals; this 
is a painfully obvious fact, but it militates against the 
notion of any * self-active ' or * self-growing* group. Even 
in the case of very rudimentary groups there is reason to 
believe that the individual can exercise very considerable 
influenced It is true that for the sake of economy we 
work with such concepts as ^collective thought, and the 
like, but an unreal quantity must not find a place in 
the solution. Hence, though we may speak of a group 
or of group-thought as a unit, the only real units are 
either the individual or the whole of which he is part, 

^ See» for example, Spencer and Gillen, Native Tribes of Central dustraUoj 1899, 
pp. i4te«].; Norihem Tribes of CeMtral AuUralia^ 1904, pp. 26seq. 

• I 

382 S. A. COOK 

and this whole is, logically, something vaster than his 
physical or psychical environment (his country or his 
stock of experience and knowledge). 

When we consider Palestine and Syria, we naturally 
recognise that the psychical evolution culminating in 
modern Christianity and Judaism is quite distinct from 
the historical evolution of those lands. To-day these 
lands present conditions which are, in several respects, 
more * primitive* than when these two faiths arose on 
their soil, and when the religious development was part 
of the secular and political history. None the less, at 
every period all the conditions were doubtless in harmony : 
for example, the old laws in the Pentateuch have not that 
complexity which marks the still older code of Hammurapi, 
and indeed the social organisation in Babylonia was more 
complex ; on the other hand, the customary usages among 
the natives of to-day are relatively simpler than those 
reflected in the Bible, and in other respects their whole 
life is less advanced. We may certainly talk — ^meta- 
phorically — of an ebb and flow, or of a rise and fall, 
but we must not suppose that the fluctuation of conditions 
during the lengthy history of the Near East afl^ected the 
whole of any area in the same way. We have to allow 
that in the past, as at the present day, there were the 
usual differences among types and tempers, between the 
priest and the peasant, between the sea-ports or trading 
centres and the more remote townships, between the 
traders, agriculturists and the sons of the desert. 

Where the evidence happens to be fairly compre- 
hensive the divergences and contrasts are instructive. 
The archaeological evidence indicates interesting diflfer- 
ences in culture : the more distinctive features (which 
are important for our conception of the evolution) standing 
out against a slowly-moving background of rather ordi- 
nary stamp. The Old Testament, in turn, emphasizes 
the diflferences {a) between the lofty ideas of the relatively 
few prophets and the general average thought of rulers 


and priests, and (6) between the last-mentioned and the 
more popular thought of the many. Everywhere there 
is an interconnection: the ideals of the prophet are 
conditioned and shaped by the circumstances of the age, 
and each level of thought is in touch with others. The 
observer is more impressed by the distinctive and con- 
spicuous features that lie outside the ordinary accepted 
thought ; hence the markedly * progressive * are as striking 
as the markedly ^backward/ But it is not rarely doubtful 
whether any feature outside the normal is to be styled 
progressive or recessive. On the other hand, it is hardly 
doubtful that there is an invariable tendency for the 
normal or average to persist, though not necessarily in 
precisely the same form. If it were not for this we 
could hardly recognise a genetic sequence in any sequence 
of conditions. In civilised lands many conspicuous 
^survivals' are essentially akin to the average thought, 
but are in a form out of touch with it; and it is 
questionable whether very * radical,* * extreme,* or * pro- 
gressive * ideas ever permeate and persist in an environment 
in the shape in which they primarily issue from in- 
dividuals \ 

Palestine, during the Greek and Roman periods, seems 
to have been saturated with the exotic Hellenistic culture ; 
but even in the time of Herod the Great the Trachonites 
of the desert retained the old crude lex talionisj and subse- 
quent events proved that in the towns the foreign 
civilisation had not leavened all classes alike. As the 
foreign influence weakened, a Scythopolis threw off its 
Greek dress and revived the old name Beth-shean which 

1 A belief in ^ries it one in beings of a supernatural order, not recognised however 
by the existing religion ; and to suppose that a man's soul appears in the night-moth 
(or the like) is to believe that there is something that can be called a soul, and that it 
survives death. An orthodox writer (W. St Chur Tisdall, D.D.) justly remarks that 
a man who 'cherishes a "lucky sixpence" is nevertheless a religious man in a way' 
{Christianity and 9thtr Faiths^ 1912, p. 16). Indeed, it is not difficult to show how 
commonly the 'survival' has a twofold aspect, one associating it with its current and 
modem context, the other with a context out of touch with the present, and often older, 
cruder and unsystematised 

384 S. A. COOK 

still persists in Beisin. The traces of the foreign culture 
become astonishingly scanty. It is easy to imagine the 
serious dislocation of life and thought caused by the de- 
struction of some city or temple, by the captivity of a 
portion of the population, or by the Assyrian policy 
of transplanting whole bodies of settlers. Oriental history 
abundantly illustrates the interconnection of social, political 
and religious events ; yet, one is obliged to recognise that, 
although various changes have ensued, they are not so 
striking as might have been anticipated from those dis- 
turbances wrhich to the ethnologist or to the historian 
appear so radical. Some of the unsuccessful attempts to 
introduce profound modifications can be reckoned among 
the outstanding failures in the vrorld's history, and it 
would be a pity to ignore their significance for the 
psychology of human nature. One is tempted to infer 
that an entire system or body of thought — e.g. law, 
religion, etc. — cannot be successfully imposed upon 
another, and that the happiest results are achieved by 
a somewhat specialistic or departmental form of activity 
whereby the whole is ultimately leavened^. In the latter 
case the whole environment cooperates, and it assimilates 
the new to that which it already possesses so that there is 
an adjustment between the old and the new ; it works out, 
so to speak, its own career. What an environment main- 
tains has been adjusted to the collective average thought ; 
there is an interconnected — an organic — body of thought 
with individual variations ; and progress has lain in the 
application of more individualistic — and therefore more 
specialistic — activities to the more comprehensive in- 
heritance of the whole area. 

Now, if these arguments are just, it is by no means 
certain that we should speak of the ^ decadence ' or ^ decline ' 
of Palestine after the downfall of the Greek and Roman 

^ May one contrast the compiehentive, somewhat grandiose* and rehiti?ely un- 
successful work of Herbert Spencer with the more specialistic but more successful 
influence of Darwin ? The former would have provicfed all with an entire body of 
thought, the latter stimulated thought in every department. 


culture — this would be to judge the sequence by our 
conditions and not in the light of its own. Since the 
conditions of any one age represent the outcome of past 
processes of selection, rejection and adjustment, it is not 
certain that any area can be judged absolutely by another. 
Moreover, the * primitive* features in the Near East of 
to-day can scarcely be regarded as true survivals. In 
a civilized land the ^survival' is a phenomenon out 
of touch with the general level of thought — that is to say, 
with our level (p. 378) • In Palestine and Syria, the various 
alleged ^survivals' may be so regarded from the stand- 
point of the educated, intelligent or orthodox Moham- 
medan, Christian or Jew ; but they are closely bound up 
with the whole life and thought of the native. The test 
is the effectiveness of the features, and there can be no 
doubt that we may regard them as * organic*; they are 
distinctly functional, and often have a greater meaning 
and validity for the native than the characteristic beliefs 
and practices of the more orthodox and systematised 
faiths \ 

Of all the features that * survive* under the veneer 
of Mohammedanism most characteristic is the cult of the 
local weli. (patron) , sheikh or saint. This ^ being ' is one 
with the local group, whereas the Allah of Islam is some- 
what remote ; Allah is certainly recognised, and does 
indeed hold a position, but he has scarcely any organic 
part in the system of ideas. The weli is the effective 
sacred ' being ' ; for example, oaths will be freely taken in 
the name of Allah and as freely broken, but the oath 
by the 'voeli is binding. The relationship between this 
* being* and the group is exceedingly instructive for the 

1 Strictly speaking, every alleged 'survival' should be shown to have no function — 
mo oaefbl fbnctioD, let us say — and since the notion of a survival is suggested by the 
TCttigial remnants in the body, it is proper to point out that the belief that certain 
orgaat of the body are useless or functionless has sometimes proved in the past to rest 
upon imperfect observation ; so £. S. Goodrich, The Evolution ^f Living Organismt 
(j9ta), pp. 489 781 cf. also A. Sedgwick, Ency, Brit., art. 'Embryology,' vol. iz. 
p. 3a J, col. I (on the relation between the retention of an organ £rom a lower develop- 
aMnt and its function). 

386 S. A- COOK 

light it throws upon practical, popular religion^. The 
local cults persist below the surface of orthodoxy, and 
usually they are in a fragmentary and unsystematised 
form. The names of the * beings* are familiar in the 
Old Testament (especially Elijah), in Mohammedan 
literature, in medieval and modern lore; but sometimes 
it is perfectly clear that they take the place of earlier 
names of * heathen* deities— of some Apollo, or even 
an Astarte^ Now and then traditions are associated with 
them, but in some cases they are patent efforts to explain 
a legacy the origin of which was unknown. It is very 
important, also, to notice that here, as elsewhere, no 
indication as to date or origin is necessarily furnished 
by a single element however perspicuous. The cults are 
virtually independent of the names and traditions, and 
their persistence and the attempts to legitimize or renovate 
them are especially instructive ; moreover, they emphasize 
the necessity of distinguishing the several features according 
to their historical, sociological, religious, psychological or 
other value. 

There is an obvious readiness to venerate a local being : 
we distinguish, accordingly, between the religious-psycho- 
logical material and the figure which it clothes ^ He 
corresponds, as has often been observed, to the local Baal 
of the Old Testament ; he also reminds us of the ancient 
city-god, and the later representative, the Ti;;^*. It is 

^ Systematised religion (or theology) seems to be without that childlike iMfv«r/aiid 
frankness which we find in popular religion and, equally, among some tyjpct of mystics. 
See the present writer, Actes du IF* Congt'h IntetTiational d'Histoire da Rthgtom (Leiden, 
1913), p. 100. 

' A general reference may be made to S. I. Curtiss, Primtvve Semitic Religicm T^-day 
(1902); J. P. Peters, Early Hehrtw Story (1904]$ H. Gressmann, PalAstinas Erdgeruck 
in der israel. Rel. (1909); Sir W. M. Ramsay, 'The Permanence of Religion at Holy 
Places in the East,* The Expositor^ Nov. 1906, pp. 454 — 475$ wid the present writer, 
Rel, pf Ancient Palestine (1908), pp. 21 seqq., 50, 59, 61, 67 seq. 

* Similarly, Mr A. J. B. Wace has recorded the actual rise of a cult of £fiMif at 
Koroni in Messenia ; the features are those elsewhere found in old-established cult^ 
although, hbtorically, the cult itself is quite modem {Liverpool Unvuerdtyt Aumals ^ 
Archaeology and Anthropology^ III. 1910, pp. 22 seqq.). 

* The fact that certain characteristic features of the Baal-cult do not prevail— 
e,g. ceremonial licentiousness — is an interesting illustration of the ride attending 
promiscuous comparisons; we could not have * reconstructed' the Baal-colt fion tlw 


very significant that the efforts made by the Israelite 
reformers to put down the Baals evidently met with 
unceasing opposition, and that the more modern attempts 
of the Wahhibites (in the eighteenth century) to do 
away with the * saint- worship * were unsuccessful. The 
fact is, the local being supplies a want ; he is felt to be 
accessible, near at hand, and, like some head-man or 
feudal-lord, he is directly interested in his little circle. 
Allah, on the other hand, is felt to be rather remote; 
he is like the great king or sultan whose influence is not 
immediately seen, and who need not be approached save 
in some crisis. The vicissitudes enable one to understand 
how readily the political and the religious ideas evolved 
together, and how, given convictions of the supernatural, 
it has been the function of systems of thought to co- 
ordinate the life and thought of the whole group. 

Especially noteworthy is the solidarity of the group 
which feels itself to be a unit with the object of its 
profoundest ideas. Of its sacred beings that one is to 
be regarded as most effective which is supposed to stand 
nearest to the group. A group may tolerate or recognise 
a number of deities, but the one that is essentially effective 
is the one that is organically connected with it in the 
working system of beliefs and customs. The local weli — 
and not Allah — is really the deity of the native, and if we 
were considering the evolution of a local cult, it would 
certainly be necessary to avoid confusing the evolution of 
ideas concerning the object with the object upon which the 
various ideas are centred. Allah might seem to be 
immeasurably superior to a local weli^ but when in actual 
life and thought the latter alone is reverenced, and is 
normally more effective than the former, the necessity of 
this differentiation will perhaps be recognised. 

The vicissitudes that can arise find a parallel in 

^v//i-culty or vice *uersa. Further, should any example be found of the old abomi- 
nations agaiast which the prophets of Israel inveighed, these will not be 'survivals,* 
handed down over twenty and more centuries, rather will they be due to the psycho- 
logical and other £ictors that account for their origin in the first instance. 

25 — 2 

388 S. A. COOK 

Roman Catholic areas where the local saints are often 
both the modern representatives of earlier non-Christian 
figures, and, in a sense, the rivals of the Deity. The 
problems of adjustment are no doubt everywhere similar. 
Now, the more we are struck with the sociological and 
psychological aspects of the local cults, the more inter- 
esting is it to observe the different forms in which the 
underlying instincts or needs will manifest themselves. 
Consequently, it is impossible to ignore the significance 
of the presence of mediators and intermediaries in 
Talmudical Judaism. From an orthodox point of view 
these are not of the first importance — and this is also 
the attitude of orthodox Mohammedanism to the welt — 
but although they appear in a dress which links them 
with' the current doctrines of Judaism, the historical 
student will note that they come after the disappearance 
of the Baals and before the rise of the patrons and saints. 
The trend of history and the part they play thus suggest 
that they represent the popular demand of the period for 
more accessible and more immediate supernatural assist- 
ance, and that the form they take in the theology is due 
to a compromise between popular feeling and the attitude 
of strict orthodoxy. One may venture to suggest as a 
general principle that a thoroughly persistent and in- 
veterate type of belief will continue to manifest itself 
in some form after the disappearance of any feature or 
features where it is clearly recognisable^. 

If, at the present day, a local being is named Elijah 
or 8t George — both are common—it is obvious that 
neither details touching the names nor the most ancient 
of relevant traditions are necessarily of any value for the 
modern cult* To understand the present meaning of 
some datum we are not necessarily the wiser when we 
have found its origin. On the other hand, it ia clear 
that these names do point to definite bodies of old 

^ Proceeding on thete lines one might note the recnidescenoe of 'supentitioii* at 
any period when there is a decline in the national or systcmatised religion. 


tradition ; and not infrequently data that are not essential 
for the existing conditions are of considerable interest 
for the glimpses they afford of some earlier culture. 
Thus, they are the disjecta membra of a body of thought 
with which — in the case of Elijah and St George — ^wc 
are of course familiar. Elsewhere one is often tempted to 
infer that our data are in certain respects true survivals, 
and that they point to a context which must be recognised 
though it may be impossible to reconstruct it^ Conse-^ 
quently, the study of periods of political and social 
dislocation is exceedingly useful for the light it can 
throw upon types of changes and typical results. It 
introduces us to the appearance and new prominence 
of the relatively lower features after the downfall or 
decay of some culture, and to the * popular* form of 
material which otherwise comes before us only in some 

* cultured* dress. To understand this, we have only to 
contrast modern 'popular* opinion with that of the more 

* cultured' regarding any important matter, and consider 
what would result, if by some chance only the former 
persisted. To the observer there would seem to be a 
relatively rudimentary stage following upon one relatively 
advanced, and when one is engaged upon problematic 
situations it is easy to see how such a sequence-r— though 
perfectly genetic from the historical point of view — 
might seriously complicate enquiry*. 

To the historian, the appearance of a series of stages, 
genetically connected with one another, but presenting the 
antithesis of an 'upward' movement, is of course no 
novelty. To the philologist, also, primitive and ancient 
are not the same, and the oldest member of any family 
of languages is not necessarily the oldest from the philo* 

) For example, a critical study of the Old Teitanent anf gestt that there was tQ 
earlier culture of a particular stamp, rich in myth and legend, and that of this we have 
fragments oftta rationalised, and often with new context, meaning and Talue. 

' Apropos of the above note it may be added that the seriovs complexity of some of 
the problems of the Old Testament appears — to me at least — to be -due to the downftll 
•f an old coltiin and the inauguration and rise of a new series of oonditiooi. 

390 S. A. COOK 

logical point of view. Classical Arabic, of the Koran, 
is in this way older than its next-of-kin, its historical 
predecessor, the old pre-Christian Arabic of the Minaean 
and other inscriptions, older even than the Babylonian or 
Assyrian of 3000 — 2000 b.c. Further, in some important 
respects classical Arabic stands to the modern vulgar 
dialects in a relationship corresponding to that held to 
the historical Semitic languages by the postulated an- 
cestor (A). In a certain modern Syriac dialect the verb 
is proceeding along a course which, we can infer, must 
have been taken by ji in pre-historic times, and which 
accounts for the forms in the older languages ^ Thus, 
when we study languages, we can understand that some 
a may be the later representative of a postulated primitive 
A J although it is in an environment influenced by pre- 
ceding stages of history, and in a form with many distinct 
features of secondary growth*. Further, we can in some 
measure recognise a development, /, m^ n^ etc., which 
corresponds to an older Z», My N, etc., which A must 
have undergone. From the philological point of view, 
therefore, there may be a profound identity underlying 
profound diflFerences, and primitive phenomena may appear 
in contexts and conditions chronologically late and with 
the plainest indications of an earlier history. So, also, 
from the sociological point of view, it may be possible 
to regard some phenomena as primitive despite their late 
dress, and careful comparison might enable one to deter- 
mine some ordinary types of development. Certainly, 
at the break-up of any older social system one would 
anticipate rudimentary forms, even as, when the system 
is found to be slow or unsatisfactory, we sometimes see, 
as in the case of lynch-law, a state of afiairs which every 
primitive society had in course of advance to check and 
regulate*. If, now, we turn to religion, it is obvious 

^ W. Wright, Cvmparati'Vi Grammar rftki Simitic Languages^ pp. seteq^ 178. 

* Classicml Anbtc, for example, it much too elaborate and artificial to be treated as 
identical with A. 

* How easily one can misinterpret the tigni/icanGe of 'primitive' featuxet in 


that the primitive religion must be in a really primitive 
context — linguistically, sociologically, historically and 
ethnologically — and since it is extremely unlikely that 
such a context can be found, it is surely legitimate to 
apply the term * primitive religion ' — if it is to be retained 
— in a relative sense to any actual or hypothetical con- 
ditions that stand all relevant tests ^ 

In the nature of the case there are some very serious 
preliminary problems even as regards ' relatively primitive * 
religion ; but it is at least clear that the conditions must 
be such as would explain the presence of others, and that 
there must be a genetic sequence of thought. The 
psychical development of a child is an ordinary genetic 
process, a matter of everyday experience; but it is im- 
possible to understand scientifically the mentality of a 
young child, or to introspect and study precisely all the 
points of difference between our consciousness now and 
what it was in our early days. None the less, at every 
stage there has been an interconnection of antecedents 
and consequences, of causes and effects. Hence, a type 
of primitive thought may be as effective and self-consistent 
as the thought of a child, but, like it, may lie somewhat 
outside our comprehension. This being so, continued 
study in these two directions — child-thought and primitive 
or rudimentary thought — should be mutually suggestive 
and helpful. If there be any psychological resemblance 
in the development of the two, our problems will be 
interrelated. On the other hand, if there be no resem- 
blance, our difficulties will be enormously increased. If 
we start with the assumption that there is a difference, 
we should find that ultimately we must assume that 

institutions is interestingly shown by the late F. W. Maitland in 'The Survival of 
Archaic Communities' {JLanu Quart, Ri^.^ i893)» reprinted in the Collected Papers 
(ed. H. A. L. Fisher, Cambridge, 191 1), il. pp. 313 — 365 ; see especially pp. 333 sqq., 
338, 353 «cq., 363. 

^ Some of the ordinary dangers that attend the application of biological concepts and 
methods to the study of the phenomena of social communities are well pointed out by 
Irving King, The Development of Religion .• A Study in Anthropolof^y and Social Psychology 
(19x0), pp. 207 sqq. 

392 S. A. COOK 

every individual belongs to a different psychological 
type ; hence it is a more natural method to assume 
as a working hypothesis that the genetic development 
of thought in the child is not dissimilar from that in 
those groups or individuals who have been responsible 
for the evolution of thought in the worlds 

On various grounds the aboriginal totem-tribes of 
Central Australia may perhaps be regarded as the most 
primitive of all extant communities^ Our estimate must 
not be based upon any isolated phenomena, but upon the 
conditions as a whole; thus, there must be a social 
system, an organisation of life, some coordination of belief 
and custom. It is true that closer inspection may reveal 
signs of fusion of race, complexity of culture, and second- 
ary forms of social divisions ; but the history of Palestine 
and Syria is enough to convince one that an ethnologi- 
cal argument by itself is insufficient. Nor must undue 
emphasis be laid upon social organisation, since the same 
type may recur amid varying grades of religious and 
other thought. That is to say, evidence which may be 
significant for ethnological or sociological or economical 
or linguistic enquiries, taken separately, may be less so 
when we have to deal with a group or area as a whole. 
Another objection to the view that the Central Australian 
conditions are primitive has been based upon the fact 
that there are various traces of gods and supreme beings'. 
For my part I see no reason to question the evidence or 
to minimize its value. The really essential matter is the 
place of these beings in the cults. Now, as far as I can 
perceive, there can be no doubt that the cults are totemic ; 

*■ Prof. J. H. Leuba^ in A Psychological Study of Religion (New York, i9i2)> seems to 
me to correlate too prematurely the characteristics of child and of rudimentary thought. 
On the other hand, the theory of the priority of Magic is hardly in harmony widi the 
derelopment of the child-mind, and for this reason, at all events, has serious initial 
difficulties ; see further below, pp. 399 seq. 

' See Dr J. G. Fraxer, Totemism and Exogamy (t^ 1 o), i. pp. 93 sqq., 342 sqq., IT. p. 1 1 1 ; 
also TAf Belief in Immortality (191 3), I. pp. S8 sqq. In these pages I retain the wofd 
* totem' in the popular sense of the oifect m the cult, and not the group that share it. 

s See, for some of the evidence, Fraxer, 7W. and Exog^ i. pp. 14S — 153. 


the totem is not an appendage, it is one with the group, 
and of the same kin with the members of the group ; the 
cult is bound up with the totem, and it is an organic 
part of the life of the group. The crucial test is the 
impossibility of eliminating totem or cult without de- 
stroying the * structure * of the beliefs and practices. The 
supreme beings, on the other hand, are not sufficiently 
characteristic ; they are not pure survivals, because, 
like the Allah of the oriental native, they are recognised 
in the Ufe and thought ; but, like Allah, they are not 
an integral or organic part of the cult. Hence it is not 
improbable that they may be regarded as the traces of 
another culture, and, in this case, an earlier one^. 

This conclusion is especially important for our attitude 
to the 'magicar ceremonies of the Central Australian 
aborigines. As everybody now knows, each group, it 
is believed, can control its totem in some way. If the 
totem is an edible animal or plant the group performs 
certain ceremonies in order to multiply or increase it for 
the benefit of the tribe. But the most remarkable feature 
is this — that although the group does not usually eat its 
totem, yet on these occasions, it must take of a portion 
if it is to retain its 'magical' power of control^ This is 
strikingly analogous to the offerings of firstlings and first- 
fruits which are generally given to deities or to their 
representatives; and consequently it seems a tempting 
view that, in the course of transition, the gods ceased 
to be worshipped, but the ceremonial offerings continued 
to survive (cf. Jevons, op. ciu p. 86 seq.). To put it other- 
wise, the Central Australian groups partake of a portion 
of the totem-food, when they multiply it, because at an 
earlier period it had been offered to the gods. This 

* See Principal P. B. Jevons, Tht Idea of God in Early Religions (1910), pp. 59, 87. 

* The evidence, fint puUislifd Ky Menn Spencer and Gillen (above, p. 38 1 n. i), it 
conveniently summarised by Dr Frazer {0^, cit i. pp. 109 sqq., 230 sqq.}; who observes: 
*the ctutom seems to be a formal acknowledgment by the rest of the tribe that the 
•otemic aaiinal or plant properly belongs to the men of the totem, though these men 
have almost abnegated in ^vour of their fellows the right to eat the particular animal 
otptaat' (p. aji). 

394 S. A. COOK 

view, however, appears to me to reverse the actual 

The ceremonies are solemn, they entail self-restraint 
and some suffering ; they are in some degree disciplinary ; 
the unselfishness involved is rather noteworthy. In a 
word, they are in no sense formal or external — no mere 
empty ritual. Each group assists the rest: the Emu- 
men do not eat emu (or only rarely), but they arc 
expected to multiply the food for all the others ; at 
the same time they enjoy kangaroo, which the Kangaroo- 
group abnegates. If we call the various foods a^b^c ...Zj 
group a controls tf, denies itself of food tf, but enjoys 
b ... z\ group b controls ^, denies itself of food ^, but 
enjoys a^ c ... z^ and so on. Now elsewhere, on other 
levels, men will appeal to deities for all and sundry 
benefits, or there is a sort of departmentalism where 
certain classes of objects are associated each with a separate 
deity or spirit, or with one or more human representatives. 
Consequently, when, in Central Australia, group a provides 
Uy it stands to the rest of the tribe, so far as food a is 
concerned, as a deity might do on other levels. And the 
same could be said of groups ^, r, dy etc. Thus, the tribe 
contains a number of groups, all united by their inter- 
dependence, and each group resembles in some one respect 
the deity of the more advanced communities. One may 
almost assert that each totem-group acts like a deity and 
partakes of a portion of the totem-food qud deity ! But 
there is no organic deity in the cult. 

The system admirably unites the tribe, and it is 
extremely difficult to understand how the present con- 
ditions could have evolved from an earlier recognition 
of one or more deities. We should be forced to assume 
some clever and artificial differentiation of the powers 
attributed to a deity and of the benefits expected from it. 
We should have to suppose that the tribe and its deity 
broke up into the present remarkably elaborate system of 
interconnected groups in which deities play no organic 


part. But elsewhere the transitions are from coherence 
and system to incoherence and fresh systematisation ; and 
when the worshippers of a deity are divided, they usually 
fall into conflicting and opposing groups, each with 
different conceptions of the deity. The fact that the 
tribal system is so cunningly interrelated is most signifi- 
cant. From an economic point of view the * magical* 
rites are primitive, organic and eflFective. Malinowski 
has noticed that the rites are most fully developed among 
the Arunta tribe, yet we cannot regard the type there as 
a higher stage of the rudimentary forms found elsewhere. 
We can but say that it is more organic. We cannot 
sever the ethical, religious (or * magical'), social and 
economic aspects, and if we eliminate the ceremony 
we destroy the link that binds the group together \ 
It seems impossible to conceive an earlier stage out of 
which the conditions could have evolved ; like the earliest 
recognisable ideas of a child, they come before us effective 
and in working order, but there are antecedents, although 
we cannot pierce through, comprehend and formulate 

If, now, we regard the conditions as primitive it is 
not diflicult, perhaps, to trace some typical developments. 
For example, instead of the ofliciating group we may find 
the head-man or the * magician,' and in the course of 
political and social developments we reach the royal 
priest or the priestly king. To the latter are ascribed 
wonderful powers, by virtue of their relationship with 
divine beings ; but here we are at the stage of conspicuous 
individualities, and these we do not nnd in the more 
democratic rudimentary groups. Moreover, although 
there are some fundamental points of resemblance be- 
tween the features in totem-cults and those on higher 
levels, the totem can hardly be called a deity ; and while 

1 See B. Malinowski in Festskrift to Eduard Westermarck (Helsingfon^ i9i2)» 
pp. 81 sqq., especially pp. 97, 100, 105, 107 seq. He remarks ako: 'speaking more 
generally, it may be asserted that without the study of religious and magic influences 
any evolutionary scheme of economics moat be incomplete.' 

396 6. A. COOK 

the totem links together the members of the group and is 
one with them, directly we pass to higher stages its place 
is taken by a recognisable deity, a spirit, or a local being 
like the welL We should not say that the totem evolves 
into a deity — although there is evidence pointing to this 
as a possible transition ; what really evolves is a complex 
of ideas focussed now upon a totem and now upon a 
supernatural 'being' of a type more familiar, intelligible 
and human \ 

All the world over there is a well-known conviction 
of the efficacy of imitating spirits and deities ; especially 
noteworthy is the purely external imitation : the dress, 
mark or symbol which establishes a relationship deemed 
to be beneficial. In totemism the group will, in one 
way or another, make use of some imitative practice, 
it will 'impersonate' the totem {e.g. in the food-cere- 
monies), wear some symbol of it, and so on. But the 
totem is neither a deity nor a spirit, although the cult 
of the totem can ' evolve ' into the cult of an anthropo* 
morphic deity. It is more than improbable that the 
earlier gods were anthropomorphic, and it is very significant 
that the anthropomorphic beings will often betray features 
of a (presumably earlier) animal or theriomorphic character. 
How could rudimentary men have any notion of the 
manner in which their deities were to be represented, 
unless they could point to the inherited ceremonies where 
the sacred beings had been impersonated by men ? Only 
if we start with totemism, and the ceremonial imitation 
of the non-human centre of the group's cult, does it seem 
possible to understand that stage where the place of the 
totem is taken by a deity ^ But wc must go further, 

* One may compare the relationship between {a) the child and the doll (or nther 
the teddy-bear), and {b) the mother ftod the babe. From the ptychologictl point ^ 
view it is important to distinguish between the nucleus of feelings, thoughtSi etc^ and 
the object of them ; cf. p. 387 above, on the erolotion of local cults. 

* In this transition, instead of the group acting at a whole we may find the noM 
prominent part taken by a representative, a priest, or a king. It is not necessarily 
indicative of totemism when, t^,^ the Arabs of Sinai, according to Heradotui^ adopcnd 



In New Guinea the Elema-maskers * hop about as is 
characteristic of gods ' ; it is proof of their divine nature 
that they do not walk on the soles of their feet as do 
ordinary mortals ^ This may remind us of the limping 
dance of the priests of Baal when endeavouring to arouse 
their sleepy god and silence the taunts of Elijah. But 
how was it known that the gods hopped f May we not 
conjecture that the tradition rests upon the peculiar 
actions of those who in the past had impersonated the 
sacred beings? Illustrations can be found in accounts 
of ritual, ceremonial and other dances ^ Especially note- 
worthy is the non-normal, ecstatic or semi-ecstatic state 
in certain kinds of dancing, ritual and other, a pheno- 
menon that takes us to the psychological study of the 
state of the consciousness in times of enthusiasm, solemni- 
ty, stress, or any markedly non-normal occasion. Certain 
states are characterised by distinctly non-normal feeling 
and behaviour, and they have invariably exercised a pro- 
found influence upon the individual and the observer 
alike. From the purely psychological point of view, 
such states in the totem-group (which has no organic 
deity) difl^er only in degree and not in kind from those 
on higher levels (whether in religious or other enthusiasm, 
in ecstasy or mysticism). If this be so, therefore, the 
totem-group on its deeply solemn occasions may seem to 
us to be externally imitating the totem, but the student 
of the psychology of religion will correlate the conscious- 
ness of the totemist with that of his more advanced 

a peculiar tonsare to copy their god Orotal-Dionytut (lii. 8). The trantition may 
rather be called sociological or political, and we find in Egypt (at an earlUr date, but 
on a more complex todal level) that only the kings, princes or nobles have certain 
adommenta in imitation of a national deity. See £hc/» Brit, vol. vii. pp. 230 seq., 
art. 'Costume/ 

^ Button Webster, Primithvi Secret Societies (1908), pp. loi seq. In Old Calabar 
when a man passes the sacred objects of Egbo he walks as one lame (p. 1 16), and in 
the annual death-dance at Pulu in the Torres Straits masked performers imitate the 
characteristic gait and actions of the deceased tribesmen (p. i6s). 

' 'The Gonds, a hill tribe of Hindustan, dance...with a shuffling step..,the Kokis 
of Assam have... an awkward bop with the knect very much bent...the Andamans hop 
on one foot...' (£ncj^. Brit. voL vii. p. 795). 

398 S. A. COOK 

neighbours in those cults where men enter into com- 
munion with deities and spirits ^ 

The subjective states in question will often awaken 
an individual to a world of new and profound values; 
they compel reflection and speculation, and there has 
regularly been a desire to reproduce them artificially. 
This artificiality — if we so style it — is of course not 
confined to religion ; at political meetings music has been 
employed to arouse a particular emotion that was to be 
shared collectively, and to deaden or inhibit opposing 
and critical individuality. Equally 'artificial' is the use 
of bands, banners and badges to stimulate enthusiasm 
and fellowship, and to arouse appropriate ideas. Now, 
obviously we do not feel these to be artificial, nor do we 
retain them because our ancestors employed them for 
their own purposes. The fundamental reasons are 
psychological — certain results are desired, certain means 
are suggested or suggest themselves, and they prove 
effective. We do justice to our race if we suppose that 
beliefs and customs persist for some conscious or sub- 
conscious feeling of fitness, propriety and the like. That 
is to say, what has persisted has been in some degree 
utilitarian. There is no doubt that there is much among 
rudimentary and other peoples that seems to us inexplica- 
ble or irrational but has really a rational explanation could 
we understand its context ^ If the savage is intelligible 
to us and 'rational' when he throws away the fetish 
which has lost its value for him, is not the retention 
of it a sign that it is felt to be effective, that it is not yet 
thought to be absolutely useless ? 

It is noteworthy that when the ceremonial imitation 
loses its force, the men who impersonate the sacred beings 

* Thb correlation naturally recalls Robertson Smith's brilliant theory of the 
mental communion in totemism. 

* Some of the remarkable peculiarities of native vocabulary are perfectly utilitarian* 
and appear strange merely because our mode and needs of life happen to differ from 
those of the native. See A. M. Hocart, 'The ** Psychological *' InteipretatioA of 
Language/ British Journal of Psychology^ v. (19 12), pp. 272 seq. 


and represent their traditions will evolve into mere players 
and actors \ But although the 'religious' ceremony has 
become * secular/ we do not infer that there had been 
no 'secular' acting at the earlier stage. Acting has 
psychological roots; it is the external form, the content 
or material of the acting, that has been derived from 
a 'religious' source. So also, if some of the games of 
children can be traced back to solemn ritual and grim 
practice, we distinguish the psychological foundation of 
play from the historical development of particular forms. 
By this analysis we sever, as far as possible, all that 
belongs to the psychology of the individual from all 
that depends upon the history of his environment, and 
thus we seek to distinguish the evolution of each and 
every individual from that of the environment which has 
taught him how to express his feelings, perceptions and 

The fact that those who impersonate sacred beings 
can become merely ' secular ' actors is an instructive 
example of external development when a practice has 
lost its earlier and inner meaning. This, of course, bears 
upon any discussion of Magic. There is an obvious 
difference between (a) the active stimulation of effective 
ideas by an 'object' whether material {e.g. a banner) 
or psychical {e.g. Country, Church, School, Religion) — 
and {6) the assumption that the 'object' is effective in 
itself, like some amulet or talisman. The assumption 
is sterile, it is one of the characteristics of the multi- 
tudinous phenomena massed together under that con- 
venient term ' Magic' But can it be primary ? Can 
vire suppose that any x will be effective, unless, in the 
first instance, we have some reason for our belief^ ? On 

^ Webster, tp. at, pp. 164, 172, 177. Elsewhere we may find military reviews taking 
the place of religious gatherings (see H. M. Chadwick, Tht Heroic Agi^ pp. 368 seq.). 

> Strictly speaking the evolution of an environment (i.g. Central Australia, 
Great Britain, Japan) should be distinguished from that of the world of thought; 
«ee above, p. 379. 

' It may be objected that this involves the problem of instinct and inteUigence, 
because sooner or later we arrive at examples {jt,g. the young child or babe) where the 

400 S. A. COOK 

the other hand, if x has once stimulated effective ideas, 
it is an easy step to suppose that the force lies in it itself. 
This is secondary, and is due to imperfect analysis ; and 
this crucial development can occur at any level ^. Now, 
man, like the animal, works by the ' trial-and-error 
method/ He slowly eliminates all that is ineffective and 
sterile. On the other hand, he has preserved some 
remarkable 'magical' practices in the evident belief that 
he could get crops, rain, children and other benefits. 
This Magic, irrational and often absurd, is perhaps the 
most fascinating of features in the study of the development 
of thought. I leave on one side all that could be due to 
'suggestion' and to its effect upon certain temperaments, 
and refer to the obviously impossible ceremonies. No 
one supposes that the ceremonies of the natives to produce 
rain could be successful in themselves; and to talk of 
credulity or self-deception is to cut the knot and confuse 
enquiry. If there was drought in the land and rain was 
sorely needed, the failure of Magic meant disaster and 
death. Of course primitive prehistoric men might learn 
when Magic could be employed with some chance of 
success — but this would take time ; or failure might 
be attributed to the machinations of a rival — but this 
involves reflection and a theory. The grave difficulty 
is the urgency of the occasion ; the first men who 
practised Magic could not afford to wait, and jjT they 
ever commenced to attempt to produce rain or food 
by Magic, why were they not deterred by the initial 
failures ? Did they or did they not attempt by Magic 
to build huts and canoes or to plant seeds, and why did 

state of consciousnets must be very rudimentary and there is no preliminary experience. 
If so, it is well to recognise that upon this problem depends any treatment of magic 
and religion, and that upon the latter depends a problem which cannot be solved simply 
by anention to animals or to the results of ingenious experiment. It is not improbable 
that the comparative study of religious and other intuitive ideas will simplify the problem 
of instinct. See also below, p. 402 n. i. 

^ As for example, when it is popularly supposed that the inculcation of aeieace 
would in itself implant scientific methods. On this analogy, comparative grammar 
would be doubly useful, as likely to inculcate rational principles of comparison. 


they persist in precisely those cases where even modern 
civilisation is impotent ? Either we have to regard 
primitive and rudimentary men as inferior to all animals 
who work the ' trial-and-error method/ or the observ- 
ances were interwoven with such feelings and ideas that 
failure was no deterrent. Either those who practise this 
Magic are absolutely unintelligible for psychological in- 
vestigation, — yet they were adults and were otherwise 
'rational' — or, on the theory of genetic development, we 
may correlate them with those on higher levels whose 
persistence in spite of failure is due to the character of 
their consciousness. Obviously, the only view which 
enables us to study them with the help of psychology 
must not involve a preliminary classification of men into 
different psychical types ; see above, pp. 376, 391 seq. 

The admitted difficulty is that of understanding Mind 
on any level very different from our own. To judge 
from some evidence, one might almost imagine that 
rudimentary men lived in an unreal world and in a semi- 
ecstatic state which, in truth, would have prevented 
them from doing their everyday duties. Much is due 
to our own misinterpretation and inability to understand ^ 
Some modern writers appear to believe that men, say 
of the Emu-group, could see little or no difference 
between the bird and their fellow-men. If so, their 
neighbours, the Kangaroo-men, were similarly placed, 
and, on the same analogy, what must be said of the men 
of the Witchetty-grub totem and of the various plant 
totems? The absurdity of any crudely literalistic inter- 
pretation of the natives* mode of speech may be realised 
by observing among civilised people the feelings and 
thoughts aroused by some dilapidated doll, some rude 
daub of a saint, or some antiquated daguerreotype. The 
photograph that is 'uncle John all over' could never be 

^ This is partly inevitable because the very sympathy that makes for understanding 
tends to inhibit the exercise of criticism. Here, to be sure, everyone has to find his 
own attitude. 

a. 26 

402 S- A. COOK 

confused with that robust gentleman in the flesh, it is 
perhaps nothing like him ; but the ideas aroused by it are 
such that our words are intelligible. If the native really 
thought that the emu was a man and that his fellow- 
men were emus, kangaroos — and to be logical one must 
add grubs, plants and flowers ! — he would be a sub-human 
thing whose life and behaviour we can hardly conceive ! 
True, the problem of comprehending primitive thought 
and custom still remains ; but this belongs ultimately 
to the study of intuitive knowledge and of religion in 
general, and is closely bound up with that of the relation- 
ship between instinct and intelligence \ The really im- 
portant step is to recognise the significance of the existence 
of modes of thought which happen to lie outside our 
present mental horizon, and to realise that primitive 
rudimentary men are, psychologically speaking, human, 
and that if they seem to identify themselves with emu 
or kangaroo, it is not unscientific or irrational to allow 
that there can be types of mind, thoroughly effective, 
yet as diflicult to comprehend as the thought of the 
child or of our own childhood. 

In fact, everywhere there is a fa^on de penser to be 
determined. It is perfectly true that on these lines the 
diflFerence between the rational and the irrational seems 
to disappear, but the difference has never been absolute, 
and the advance of research has been such that the time- 
honoured problems cannot necessarily be attacked by the 
time-honoured methods. In many fields of enquiry the 
problems have entered upon a new stage, and it would 
seem that the only means of approach lies in a deeper and 
wider study of the * morphology* and * physiology* of 
bodies of thought*. The poet, the philosopher, the 

> If it it supposed that primitive magical practices are ' instinctiTe * activxties 
and that ritual is older than belief or dogma, there is still the question of the wuammg 
present in consciousness on the occasion of any instinctive action. See the discussion in 
the British Journal ofPsychologyy iii.pp. 209 — 270 (Dr C. S. Myers and others), and Myers* 
restatement in his review of Prof Lloyd Morgan's Instinct and Experience (in JIf fW, 
i9i3iPP- 269--275). 

* This is certainly the case with the numerous enquiries in the field of Old Testament 


mystic, and all whose fa^on de penser may happen to 
appear incomprehensible, are clearly subjects for psycho- 
logical investigation, and it is absolutely contrary to the 
principles of research to be content with merely estimating 
their value from some subjective standpoint. It is obvious 
that men may be psychically incomprehensible to us, but 
perfectly intelligible to one another, and if it were possible 
to plan a psychical series between primitive prehistoric 
man and a Plato there would be no gaps« Nothing 
is more instructive, perhaps, than the difference between 
anthropomorphic and non-anthropomorphic attitudes, or 
between the recognition of human personality and the 
earlier non-recognition of it. Yet the transition from 
one to the other can occur in the 'evolution' of the 
thought of a single individual. One is tempted to con- 
jecture that anthropomorphism is a fundamental stage 
in the evolution of the thought of the individual and 
of the group. But it may be only one stage: neither 
the individual (in his babyhood) nor' the group can be 
regarded as primarily anthropomorphic, and one may ask 
whether we can conceive of a disembodied spirit or of 
a Universal Mind as thinking in terms of human parts 
and passions. It is noteworthy that while it is not 
difficult to handle the data where there are supernatural 
beings of a more or less personal character ; in totemism, 
on the other hand, where the effective ideas are centred 
upon an animal or plant, the mind of the native tends to 
dude us. May this not be because he has not reached 
notions of human personality, whereas we find it ex- 
ceedingly difficult to think in any other terms? When 
a certain stage is reached the sub-human totem disappears, 
the beliefs attached to it now become more recognisably 
'supernatural,' there are ideas of personality, and the 
supernatural beliefs are anthropomorphic. One is tempted 
to say that primitive thought outgrows the pre-anthropo- 

rcsearch; both here and elsewhere the 'comparative method* needs to be used with 
attention to the dynamic aspects of thought. 

26 — 2 

404 S. A, COOK 

morphic stage as surely as the child passes beyond the 
stage of the inanimate doll or the ' theriomorphic ' teddy- 
bear. This is not the place to pursue such conjectures 
further, but it may be suggested that the significant steps 
in the evolution of thought are due to the increasing 
knowledge of personality, to a deepening of self-conscious- 
ness and to a widening experience of life \ 

Dr Farnell has recently pointed out that theriomorphism 
lends itself to mysticism. When the Babylonian religious 
minds *fclt the human imagery too narrow and straightened 
for their struggling sense of the Infinite... the expres- 
sion becomes mystic, and... avails itself of theriomorphic 
imagery ^' Per. aps this is not altogether novel ; an 
intimate connection between totemism, mystery cults and 
mysticism appears to have suggested itself to others ^ 
May this not be that all that is non-anthropomorphic 
appears similar to those accustomed to think anthropo- 
morphically, or that every jfafon de penser which lies 
somewhat outside our own seems to us, as it does to 
the ' man-in-the-street,' to be more or less alike ? Now, 
although the term mysticism is a singularly flexible one, 
there is a similarity among the diflferent forms of mysticism. 
When the mystics endeavour to describe their unique 
states of consciousness and express their own personal 
experience of the ultimate realities, they have naturally 
been dependent upon the current phraseology, the ordi- 
nary thought of their environment. The mysticism of 
Christians and Jews tends to be similar, and to diflFer 
from that of the Mohammedan, whose body of thought 
of course does not include the Bible. The pantheist 
mystics, in turn, tend to be alike, as distinct from those 

1 On this view, totemism may be regarded at a specifically pre-«nthropomorphic 
system of belief and practice. It is noteworthy that certain areas, howerer uncivilised* 
manifest no clear traces of totemism. May this not be due to the influence of an earlier, 
though now lost, culture ? In like manner, medieval and modem Palestine, though in 
many respects inferior to the earlier conditions, has quite shaken off some oJF the eixlier 
characteristic features $ see above, p. 386 n. 4. 

* Greeci and Babylon (191 x), pp. 13 seq., 54 tqq. 

' So, if I interpret her aright, Miss Jane Harrison in her TAfmis (191a) 


who belong to any of the historical religions. Hence, 
it would seem that we may distinguish between (a) a 
psychical state, common to mystics, with all the pheno- 
mena that can be abstracted and handled psychologically, 
and {6) the more external expression, which, though 
subjectively fundamental and absolute, varies objectively 
according to the environment, the life-history and the 
temperament of the individual. The profoundest and — 
subjectively — the most real of all states would thus appear 
to be — ^from a psychological point of view— essentially 
the same everyivhere, and we are therefore entitled to 
look for it among rudimentary peoples. Since its external 
expression is conditioned by the thought of the environ- 
ment we may consequently look for (a) the psychical 
state and all the features common to it, and {6) those 
relatively external features which are peculiar to the 
individual and his environment. 

It is possible to argue for a fundamental relationship 
between the most primitive of existing totemic cults and 
the most advanced of the historic religions. The com- 
parative study of mysticism simply enhances this. But 
we have to distinguish the fundamental similarities, which 
have their own value, from the fundamental differences 
which are all-important for the evolution of thought or 
for the history of the areas concerned. Now, no one 
can doubt the powerful impression made by the mystical 
state upon those who experience it, witness it, or are in 
any way appreciative. Yet, since mysticism recurs in a 
great variety of external forms from totemism upwards, 
it follows that any given mystical phenomenon, however 
impressive or persuasive, is not necessarily up to the level 
of the highest stage of thought. It is well known 
that in times of excitement or stress there may be out- 
bursts which will be regarded as * survivals' of primitive 
^savagery' or the like, but it is as important to realise 
that there may be behaviour, with all the profound im- 
pressiveness of mysticism, yet unworthy of the intellectual. 

4o6 S. A- COOK 

social or ethical height reached by the environment as 
a whole \ This argument is strengthened by the very 
noteworthy fact that those features which have proved to 
be of the greatest value for the evolution of thought have 
only become so as a result of adjustment of individualistic^ 
specialistic or departmental activity to the environment* 
For example, those essentially individualistic phenomena, 
the prophets of Israel, were outside and apparently 
* superior' to the current thought, and at first glance 
the compromise that resulted seems to be a deterioration* 
Closer inspection, however, shows that the ideals of the 
few were adjusted to the working life of the people as a 
whole^ Hence it is best to regard mystical and related 
phenomena, like all survivals, as logically outside the 
ordinary trend of thought in the environment, as non- 
normal rather than as supernormal or abnormal. This pro- 
cedure is on the important principle of distinguishing the 
evolution of the individual from that of his environment. 
The mystical and allied states are unique individual 
states with certain fundamental similarities, and it agrees 
with this that a fundamental similarity is found among 
some or among all religions by those who, haply, are not 
in favour of any of them. But we can go further. 
Writers have often inveighed against some or all religions, 
but have proceeded to recommend some new system of 
their own, which, as the next impartial observer has 
pointed out, had all the essential characteristics of a 
religion. Nay more, a French writer has recently pro- 
tested that every philosophy, not purely scientific^ is nothing 
but a reinforcement of various orthodox Christianities. 
Again, to the student of natural science certain modem 
philosophies irresistibly recall the old alchemists and their 

^ In oriental lands, for example, it will be disputed whether a man it inspired or 
mad — the exhibition is non-normal, but whether it be extraordinarily good or otherwise 
has been open to question. Modem political life, too, forces ns to realise the diffcreaee 
between all that, as we say, appeals to the heart or to the feelings or to haman nature^ 
and its value when viewed in the critical light of the evolution of ethical thought. 

* Cf. p. 3S4 n. I above on the relation between the one and the many. 


philosophies ^ Scientists themselves will sometimes 
gravely show the door to religious, philosophical or 
metaphysical systems, but as they proceed to deal with 
the more ultimate questions, their argumentation is 
forthwith of a metaphysical character, though perhaps 
not in the ordinary metaphysical phraseology. Mr 
Cornford, in turn, has recently illustrated the intimate 
connection in ancient Greece between religion, philosophy, 
metaphysics and science such as it then was^ All 
thoughtful men endeavour deliberately to systematise 
their experience and knowledge — others do this un- 
consciously — and the interesting fact is that some external 
and impartial observer is usually struck by the invariable 
approximation to essentially similar results. 

If the attempt be made to synthesize or systematise 
upon the basis of scientific knowledge it is not to be 
forgotten that the synthesis of the average man — and 
he rules the world — is a natural growth, and that it 
covers the whole of life. Hence, a scientific synthesis 
must find a place for the ' supernaturalistic ' data, in other 
words, it must appeal to those numerous individuals who 
are responsible for their * survival ^* Not only is it pre- 
mature, therefore, to anticipate a satisfactory synthesis 
based solely upon ^scientific' knowledge, but all the 
results of unbiassed comparison combine to suggest that 
a synthesis fundamentally different from those that have 

1 M. M. Pattisoii Muir, AfiW, Jan. 191 3, pp. 48—61. 

' From Religion to P/dUsopky (1912); cf. e,g, pp. vii seq. 'the outward difference 
[between religion and philosophy] only disguises an inward and substantial affinity 
between these two successive products of the same consciousness ' $ cf. also p. xi, 
foot, on the 'metaphysical' and the 'supernatural.' 

3 It is often forgotten that the mental equipment which controk the interpretation 
of difficult, subtle and crucial phenomena goes back to the time when a man had not 
yet become an ' expert ' in his special field. The scientist who happens to be — ^let us 
say — a ' determinist ' sometimes £uicies that he is so just because he is a scientist — and 
if so what of those scientists who are not ' determinists * } In Uke manner, the very 
conspicuous differences between the ' higher critic ' of the Bible and his ' conservative ' 
opponent depend, not upon knowledge alone, or, as often alleged, upon acquaintance 
with the East or with archaeology, but upon factors more temperamental, constitutional 
and ' structural ' than intellectual. It is a common trait to seek a rational basis for all 
our intuitions and convictions^ and this instinctive tendency is highly significant for the 
true relationship between intuition and intellect. 

4o8 S. A. COOK 

hitherto prevailed, if not inconceivable, at least cannot 
conceivably influence the generality of mankind. 

The effort to systematise experience and knowledge 
begins early, and can be seen even on rudimentary levels 
of thought. The similarities discovered by the ' compara- 
tive method * are not due merely to borrowing or imposition 
or any artificial cause ; we have to explain the differences, 
to balance successful influence against the failures. The 
similarities are such that one is tempted to postulate a 
single psychical type corresponding to the single physical 
type of all mankind. By this I mean that not only can 
we say with the famous ethnologist A. H. Post that 
' thinking goes on within us,' but that it goes along certain 
well-marked lines, it keeps within certain well-defined 
limits. We cannot conceive any discovery or any advance 
in physical evolution that would nullify the * links' which 
allow our minds to unite the profoundly different forms of 
organic life ; so, too, it seems impossible, on both biological 
and psychological grounds, to imagine a further develop- 
ment of thought along paths that shall be entirely new. 

We are prone to think of thought in terms of material 
structures, to 'pull down' and 'build up' upon new 
' foundations,' and so on. But we should rather think of 
it in terms of something that does move and evolve. 
When, by the comparative method, we discover resem- 
blances and differences it is perhaps helpful to think 
of 'bodies' of thought as morphologically similar but 
superficially different, or as superficially similar but morpho- 
logically different. Or we may think of the successive 
stages of organic evolution where each stage is profoundly 
similar to, but as profoundly different from, its pre- 
decessor, much in the same way that man is horribly 
like, but marvellously unlike, i the ape: we see the re- 
semblances or the differences according to our point of 
view\ Consequently, we may have a profound evolution 

* The necessity of finding a better and more fhiitfal method of * thinking of 
thought* — ^if the phrase be allowed — ^is obvious if we consider the frequently oude 


of thought, although there may seem to be a fundamental 
similarity between the old and the new ; and one of the 
objects of this essay is to suggest that the ^comparative 
method' has opened the way to several enquiries of rather 
novel character which will be of distinct value not only 
for certain special studies, but also for the far more vital 
study of human nature. In human nature there is a 
perfect blend of something that is variable and something 
that is more invariable, and the continued collection and 
correlation of differences and resemblances will assuredly be 
of practical utility in an age which feels itself able to give 
effect to its ideals and to lay down the lines of its future. 

The attempt has been made in these pages to introduce 
certain questions as they present themselves to a student 
of Biblical history. One desired a more adequate way of 
regarding the * evolution' or * survival' of thought, * primi- 
tive* or otherwise. On examination, the survival often 
proves to be merely outside some particular body of thought, 
but not only is its survival an instructive fact, analysis will 
often show that it is really an unusual or non-normal form 
of more ordinary thought (cf. p. 383). * Progressive' and 
* extreme' ideas are in their turn essentially non-normal, 
rather than abnormal; and even mysticism is essentially 
only an extraordinary form of what is more ordinary in 
ordinary individuals. Everywhere the thought of an area 
is interconnected ; it is only our way of regarding it that 
leads us to see clearly differentiated groups or varieties. 
We cannot intelligently conceive a species of thought 
different from current examples ; we cannot intelligently 
conceive a Mind that is isolated from all current forms : 
there could be a superior Mind genetically connected with 

■rgvinentation based upon resemblances which are, or which are alleged to be, funda- 
mental ; cp. e,g, Christianity and some related religion ; or the origin of the far-reaching 
theories involved in ophiolatry, Pan-Babylonism, and the like, which are based upon 
sundry points of contact. The usual error is to assume that a feature necessarily belongs 
to the same context in which its analogue or parallel is found. From a human bone 
we can, of course, infer a human skeleton, but when the situation is problematical, to 
style the bone a human one may be a petitio principii^ and our knowledge of what 
corresponds to the human skeleton itself will often be imperfect. 


ours but more or less incomprehensible to us, even as is 
the simpler mind of the child. It is detrimental to divide 
aspects or groups of thought into different water-tight 
compartments; the danger is seen in excessive specialism 
in research and in its counterpart in life\ 

In periods of stress and dislocation, when there are 
many groups of separate and conflicting interests, there 
will necessarily be a greater amount of non-normal 
people. As at the present day, one will not have to look 
far for features that will appear 'primitive' or 'progressive,' 
'recessive' or 'extreme/ The fundamental problems of 
social and political life are admittedly concerned with the 
adjustment and improvement of all the current conditions, 
and consequently they involve systems of ideas that are 
to guide or unite men, to regulate or reorganize society. 
Hence, any 'new' conditions of the future will rest essen- 
tially upon 'new' ideas which will permeate belief and 
practice ; that is to say any equilibrium of conditions will 
be essentially psychical, it will be comprehensive, not de- 
partmental. The effort has been made in this essay to 
illustrate the importance of anthropology, when studied 
psychologically, for its contribution to a better knowledge 
of the possibilities and limitations of human endeavour. 
Unless this knowledge be pursued and applied to the 
practical aims for the improvement of life we are likely 
to commit the error of the savage when he relies upon his 
' magical ' practices and upon them alone. There can be 
no harmony — no synthesis — without a deeper analysis. 

It is at least a coincidence that, in an age of increasingly 
grievous unrest, psychological and anthropological studies 
have been quietly and independently preparing the way 
for the methodical study of the accumulated experiences 
of mankind. The measure of light these studies have 
already brought is surely a guarantee that they have much 
more to offer. A rich harvest awaits the labourer pro- 

1 E,g. class and caste-divitions depend essentially upon ideas ; and the * remote god * 
of any area is so because the ideas entertained of him sever him from ordinary life. 


vided he be skilled. Upon the Biblical student the survey 
of the vicissitudes of four or five millennia leaves a firm 
conviction of a positive advance which, however, is utterly 
independent of the fate of particular areas or peoples. 
Each stage in the advance is seen, on retrospection, to be 
conditioned by its predecessor, but it could not have been 
anticipated in its broad historical outlines ; only as evidence 
accumulates may one hope by a more comprehensive 
survey of all the data to determine, however imperfectly, 
all that is of essential importance and what the next stage 
can be made to be\ 

To the student of the Old Testament the recent 
psychological and anthropological studies have brought 
fresh light — but fresh difficulties. The problems have 
become far more intricate, but, thanks to these studies, 
some highly promising ways of attack have been signalled. 
If at times the problems seem hopeless and the labours of 
past generations appear to have failed, again these studies 
bring new life, new hope and a new spirit. It is this 
psychical, ^ spiritual,^ and almost indefinable development 
which is all-important, and these studies combine with 
biological research to give the assurance that throughout 
the entire gamut of evolution the consciousness of the 
creature can always cope with the environment of its 
day. What is fundamental in all evolution is the evolution 
of the whole complex — the individual, the environment 
and the relationship between them. How essential is this 
relationship is obvious if we consider that the fuller 
apprehension of man's environment and all that depends 
thereon, are the Alpha and Omega of life. Psychology 
and anthropology are only two of the numerous and 
various ' specialistic ' aids to the Art of Living. The 
individual, like the specialist, can contribute his quota to 
the environment, but it takes a many to make a world ; 

1 The age of abundant material it not necessarily the one that profits by it | note 
e^. the great store of material in the libraries of Assyria in the seventh cent. B.c. when the 
Lmd was on the point of downfall. 

412 S. A, COOK 

and while Nature manifests not the slightest inclination to 
adapt herself to the individualist, the individual, like the 
* special study,* invariably gains by attention to the claims 
of others. The evolution of the completest imaginable 
environment, like that of a group or of a field of research, 
is a collective process depending upon all the constituents ; 
even as at any given time in the past the conditions are 
the result, not of some * self-growing* activity (p. 381), but 
of the action and interaction of all the elements concerned : 
all are necessary (cf. p. 375 seq.). 

These rather discursive pages have brought us back to 
the starting-point. The facts of evolution in the inorganic 
and organic world can only be synthesized by the com- 
plementary enquiry into the evolution of a mind which 
has enabled men to discover these facts and impels them 
to synthesize them. Biological research tempts us to look 
for some fundamental psychical similarities among all men, 
and the modem critical study of ideas and beliefs has 
strongly emphasized the close relationship among men 
all the world over as regards their profoundest and most 
deep-seated intuitions and convictions. While the real 
significance of .this has yet to be determined, important 
preliminary questions distract attention. These involve 
general presuppositions touching the * movement' of 
thought, its ' advance ' and * set-back.* The aim has been, 
in these pages, to indicate various arguments which in 
some respects seem to offer a new way of approach to 
these and other vital questions which stand in between 
the data of modern knowledge and the more ultimate 
problems of a philosophical and metaphysical character. 
Needless to say, if considerations of space have compelled 
a certain dogmatical brevity, the present writer is fully 
aware of the dangers of dogmatism in the field of anthro- 
pology, and only trusts that anything that provokes re- 
statement or a criticism, however energetic, is at least 
indirectly contributing to the subject of this paper. 

Stanley A. Cook. 


In the Biblical narrative of the Fall of Man a diffi- 
culty is created by the mention of two forbidden trees, 
namely, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, 
and the tree of life. After discussing the difficulty. 
Principal Skinner in his commentary on Genesis sums up 
as follows: *On the whole, the facts seem to warrant 
these conclusions: of the Paradise story two recensions 
existed ; in one, the only tree mentioned was the tree of 
the knowledge of good and evil, while the other certainly 
contained the tree of life and possibly both trees; the 
former supplied the basis of our present narrative, and is 
practically complete, while the second is so fragmentary 
that all attempts to reconstruct even its main outlines 
must be abandoned as hopeless^/ 

The attempt which my learned and judicious friend 
describes as hopeless I am rash enough to make ; but I do 
so with a full sense of my temerity and not so much in 
order to offer a definite solution of the problem as to 
indicate a new quarter from which a glimmer of light 
appears to fall upon it. 

In studying lately the myths which savages tell to 
account for the origin of death I was struck by the 
frequency with which the serpent figures in them*. The 
following, for example, is the story which the natives of 
the Gazelle Peninsula in New Britain tell to explain why 

1 Rev. J. Skinner, D.D., A Critical and Extgetical Commentary on Genesis (Edinburgh, 

J910), p. 53. 

' The Beiirfin Immortalitj and the Worship of the Deady i. 69 sqq. 

414 J- G. FRAZER 

death came into the world. The Good Spirit, whom 
they call To Kambinana, loved men and wished to make 
them immortal, but he hated serpents and wished to kill 
them. So he sent his brother to men with this cheering 
message : ^ Go to men and take them the secret of immor- 
tality. Tell them to cast their skin every year. So will 
they be protected from death, for their Ufc will be con- 
stantly renewed. But tell the serpents that they must 
henceforth die.* However, the messenger did not give the 
message aright ; he ordered men to die and he betrayed 
to the snakes the means of making themselves immortal 
Since that time men have died, but snakes have cast their 
skin every year and therefore live for ever\ Similarly in 
Annam they say that Ngoc hoang sent a messenger from 
heaven to tell men that when they reached old age they 
should change their skins and live for ever» but that when 
serpents grew old, they must die. The messenger came 
down and gave the message quite correctly. He said: 
^ When man is old, he shall cast his skin ; but when the 
serpent is old, he shall die and be laid in a coffin.' It 
happened very unfortunately that a brood of serpents 
overheard the message, and falling into a passion they 
said to the messenger, ^You must say it over again and 
just the opposite, or we will sting you.' That frightened 
the messenger so much that he repeated his message with 
the fatal change, ^When he is old, the serpent shall cast 
his skin ; but man, when he is old, shall die and be laid in 
a coffin.' That is the reason why all creatures are subject 
to death except the serpent, who, when he is old, changes 
his skin and lives for ever^ Again, the natives of Vuatom, 
an island in the Bismarck Archipelago, say that a certain 
To Konokonomiange bade two lads fetch fire, promising 
that if they did so they should never die. But they would 
not hearken to him, so he cursed them, saying, ^ What ! 

^ p. A. Kleintiuchen, Die KUstenhnmAner der GazelUAaUinsei (Hiltrop bei Mtliister* 
preface dated 1906), p. 334. 

* A. Landes, ' Contes et L^gendes Annamites,' Coc/utu/um Franfaiut Excurmm tt 
Reconnaissances^ No. 25 (Saigon, i886)» pp. 108 17. 


You would all have lived! Now you shall die, though 
your soul shall live. But the iguana and the lizard and 
the snake shall live, they shall cast their skin and live for 
evermore^.' Again, the Arawaks of British Guiana relate 
that once upon a time the Creator came down to earth to 
see how his creature man was getting on. But men were 
so wicked that they tried to kill him; so he deprived 
them of eternal life and bestowed it on the animals which 
renew their skin, such as serpents, lizards, and beetles^ 

In certain parts of East Africa there is a black or dark 
blue bird with a white patch on each wing and a crest on 
its head, which perches on the tops of trees and utters a 
wailing cry. The Gallas call it holawaka or ^ the sheep of 
God,' because its plaintive note resembles the bleating of 
a sheep; and they explain the anguish which the bird 
appears to suffer by the following tale. Once upon a time 
God sent that bird to tell men that they would not die, 
but that when they grew old and weak they should slip 
off their skins and so renew their youth. In order to 
authenticate the message God gave the bird a crest to 
serve as a badge of his high office. Well, off the bird set 
to deliver the glad tidings of immortality to men, but he 
had not gone far before he fell in with a snake devouring 
carrion in the path. The bird looked longingly at the 
carrion and said to the snake, ^ Give me some of the meat 
and blood and I will tell you God's message.' ^I don't 
want to hear it,' said the snake tartly and continued his 
meal. But the bird pressed him so to hear the (Gospel 
tidings, that the snake rather grumpily consented. * The 
message,' then said the bird, * is this. When men grow 
old they will die, but when you grow old you will cast 
your skin and renew your youth.' That is why people 
grow old and die, but snakes crawl out of their old skins 
and renew their youth. But for this gross perversion of 

^ Otto Meyer, 'Mytben und Endlhlangen ron der Intel Vnatom (Bismarck- Archipe!, 
SOdiee),* AitthropeSf v. (1910), p. 724. 

* R. Schomburgk, Rtisen in Britisch-Gusana (Leiptic, 1847 — iS4S)» u. 319. 

41 6 J. G. FRAZER 

the message God punished the wicked bird with a painful 
internal malady, from which he suffers to this day; and 
that is why he sits on the tops of trees and wails, * My 
God! my God!'* 

The same contrast in respect of immortality between 
men and certain of the lower animals is expressed or 
implied in other stories of the origin of death, though in 
some of them serpents are not expressly mentioned. Thus 
the Kai, a Papuan tribe of German New Guinea, account 
for the origin of death as follows. They say that at first 
men did not die but renewed their youth. When their 
old brown skin grew wrinkled and ugly, they stepped 
into water and stripped it off and got a new, youthful, 
white skin instead. In those days there lived an old 
grandmother with her grandchild. One day the old 
woman, weary of her advanced years, bathed in the river, 
cast off her withered old hide, and returned to the village 
spick and span in a fine new skin. Thus transformed she 
climbed up the ladder and entered her house. But when 
her grandchild saw her, he wept and squalled and refused 
to believe that she was his granny. All her efforts to 
reassure and pacify him proving vain, she at last went back 
in a rage to the river, fished her wizened old skin out of the 
water, put it on, and returned to the house a hideous hag 
again. The child was glad to see his granny come back, 
but she said to him, ^ The locusts cast their skins, but ye 
men shall die from this day forward.' And sure enough 
so they have done ever since. That is why men arc now 
mortal^ So in the Banks' Islands and the New Hebrides 
they say that *at first men never died, but when they 
advanced in life they cast their skins like snakes and crabs, 
and came out with youth renewed.' But in these islands, 
just as in New Guinea, the happy days of human immor- 
tality were brought to an end by a foolish old woman, 

^ Min A. Werner, 'Two Galla Legends,' Man^ ziii. (1913), pp. 90 tq. 
' Ch. Keysser, *Ans dem Leben der Kaileutey* in R. Neuhauat't DeutscJk NtB" 
Guinea^ ill. (Berlin^ 1911)9 pp. xSisq, 


who resumed her cast-ofF skin all to please a blubbering 
infant^ Such momentous issues may hang on incidents 
seemingly so trivial. 

Again, the Samoans say that of old the gods held a 
council to decide what should be done with men. One 
god said, ^ Bring men and let them cast their skin, and 
when they die let them be turned to shellfish or become 
a torch light (which when shaken in the wind blazes out 
again). When man dies, let him come to life again* 
What do you think of that ? * But Palsy stood up and 
said, ^ Bring men and let them become a fire of pua wood 
(which when it dies down cannot be blown up again). 
Let the shellfish change their skin, but let men die." 
Just then it began to rain, and as the gods dispersed to 
seek shelter, they cried ^ Let it be according to the counsel 
of Palsy ! Let it be according to the counsel of Palsy ! ' 
So men died, but shellfish cast their skin^ The implica- 
tion that shellfish which cast their skins are immortal 
meets us again in another story of the origin of death. 
The natives of Nias, an island to the west of Sumatra, say 
that when the earth was created a certain being was sent 
down from above to put the finishing touches to the 
work. He ought to have fasted, but unable to withstand 
the pangs of hunger, he ate some bananas. The choice 
of food was very unfortunate, for * had he eaten river-crabs, 
men would have cast their skins like crabs and would 
always have renewed their youth and would never have 
died ; but as it is death has come upon them through the 
eating of the banana^' Another version of this story adds 
that ^the serpents on the contrary ate the crabs, which in 

1 R. H. Codrington, D.D., The Melanenant (Oxford, 1S91), p. 265; W. Gray, 
'Some Notes on the Tannese,* Internationales ArcAvu fUr Ethnographies vii. (1894), 
p. 232. A like tale of the origin of death is told in the Shortlands Islands and again, 
with some variations, in the Admiralty Islands. See C. Ribbe, ZwW Jahre unter den 
Kannibalen der SaUmo-Inseln (Dresden — Blasowitz, 1903), p. 148; Josef Meier, 'Mythen 
und Sagen der Admiralitatsinsulaner,' AnthropoSy iii. (1908), p. 193. 

* George Brown, D.D., Melanesians and Polynesians (London, 1910), p. 365. In 
another version of this Samoan tale no mention it made of shellfish. See George 
Turner, LL.D., Samoa (London, 1884), pp. 8 sq. 

' H. Sondermann, Die Insel Nias und die Mission daselbst (Barmen, 1905), p. 68. 

R. 27 

41 8 J. G. FRAZER 

the opinion of the people of Nias cast their skins but do 
not die ; therefore serpents also do not die but merely cast 
their skin^* 

Thus it appears that animals which periodically cast 
their skins, such as serpents, lizards, and various sorts of 
insects and shellfish, are believed by many savages to 
renew their youth with the change of integument and 
thereby to live for ever. Accordingly the people who 
hold this opinion tell stories to explain why man has 
missed the boon of immortality and animals have obtained 
it« In some of these myths it is said or implied that the 
Creator intended to make men immortal, but that his 
intention was thwarted by the fraud or mistake of a 
messenger, by the disobedience or wickedness of men, or 
by the wiles of serpents, who succeeded in appropriating 
the gift of immortality and depriving man of it. 

May we not surmise that a double myth of this sort, 
intended to explain at once the mortality of man and the 
supposed immortality of certain animals, particularly of 
serpents, underlies the Biblical narrative of the Fall of 
Man? Such a myth might perhaps clear up certain 
obscurities and remove certain discrepancies which adhere 
to the narrative as it stands in the third chapter of Genesis. 
In the first place it is to be observed that the serpent 
which tempted Eve to her fall is a serpent and nothing 
more. There is not a hint in the story from beginning 
to end that the tempter was an evil spirit who temporarily 
assumed the guise of a snake for the purpose of deceiving 
the first woman. It is true that the serpent has the 
power of speech, but there is nothing remarkable in that ; 
in the tales which primitive peoples tell no incident is 
commoner than the introduction of animals who talk in 
their own person without the least implication that they 
are the mere stalking-horses of spirits, whether good or 
evil. The notion that the serpent in the Garden of Eden 
was the devil in disguise is only a gloss placed on the 

* A» Fehfy DfT Niassir im Leben unJ Surbtn (Barmen, 1901), p. t. 


ancient narrative by theologians of a later age, to whom 
the savage simplicity of the story was almost as strange 
and unintelligible as it is to most civilized readers of the 
Bible at the present day. 

In the second place the clue furnished by savage stories 
of death and the serpent may help us to an explanation 
of the two trees in the Garden of Eden. As the narrative 
stands, only one of the trees, the tree of the knowledge 
of good and evil, plays an active part, if I may say so, in 
the story. The man and woman eat of the fruit of the 
tree and incur thereby the doom of death pronounced in 
advance by the Creator on them if they should dare to 
taste of it : ^ In the day that thou eatest thereof thou 
shalt surely die V This suggests that in the original form 
of the story the tree was not a tree of the knowledge of 
good and evil but simply a tree of death, the fruit of 
which was endowed with such fatal properties that who- 
ever tasted of it thereby forfeited the prospect of im- 
mortality. Thus it would contrast exactly with the tree 
of life, the fruit of which on the contrary possessed such 
marvellous virtue that he who tasted of it would live 
for ever^ But in the story of the Fall, as it is recorded 
in Genesis, the wonderful fruit of the tree of life plays 
no part : nobody eats of it : the tree stands in the back- 
ground as a sort of theatrical supernumerary or dummy, 
while the great tragedy is being played by the man, the 
woman, and the serpent roimd the other tree in the fore- 
ground. Only as the curtain falls do we catch a glimpse 
of the tree of life patrolled by angel guards with flaming 
swords, while our first parents look back sadly at the gate 
of Paradise, *with dreadful faces thronged and fiery 
arms,' and think when it is too late of the opportunity 
they have missed. We may conjecture that the tree of 
life once served another purpose than merely to be lit up 
by the lurid flashes of angel swords in that great trans- 
formation scene where the splendours of Eden faded for 

^ Genesis, ii. 17, compare ili. 3 ^ Genesis, iii. a». 

27 — 2 

420 J. G. FRAZER 

ever into the light of common day. If the analogy of 
the savage tales which we have examined does not deceive 
us, we may suspect that in the original Hebrew story the 
subtle serpent not only persuaded the woman to eat of 
the tree of death but himself ate of the tree of life 
and hence was believed perpetually to renew his youth by 
casting his skin and so to live for ever. 

To put it shortly, I surmise that the old tradition 
which the redactors of Genesis had before them may have 
run somewhat to this effect. In the beginning the Creator, 
kindly disposed to mankind, the favourite work of his 
hands, planted two trees in the happy Garden, a tree of 
life and a tree of death, and left it to the first man and 
his wife to choose between them, hoping that they would 
choose the tree of life and shun the tree of death. 
But the cunning serpent, repining at the prospect of im- 
mortality thus held out to men and at the doom of 
mortality portended to all other earthly beings, contrived 
to persuade the woman to eat of the deadly fruit of the 
tree of death, while he himself partook of the life- 
giving fruit of the tree of life. That, the narrator 
may have said in conclusion, is the reason why mankind 
has ever since been mortal and serpents immortal \ 

If that was the original form of the story we can 
readily understand that in after-days an enlightened editor, 
who no longer believed in the immortality of serpents, 
should simply have expunged the old explanation of their 
immortality from the narrative, leaving the tree of life 
to stand side by side with the tree of death in the midst 
of the Garden, although by cutting out the incident of 

^ The notion that animals could renew their youth was not unknown to the 
Hebrews, as we see by the verse of the Psalm (ciii. 5), ' Thy youth is renewed like the 
eagle.' If the commentators are right in suggesting that in application to the eagle 
the idea is derived from observation of the annual renewal of the bird's feathers^ the 
belief would be exactly parallel to the belief in the immortality of serpents^ liiards^ and 
other creatures which annually cast their skins. Strictly speaking the biid r eferred to 
CVl) '* ^^^ *^^ eagle but the great griffon-vulture, which abounds in Palestine. See 
H. B. Tristram, The Natural History rf' th$ BibU^ Ninth Edition (London, 1898}, 
pp. 17a sqq. 


the serpent eating of the fruit of the tree of life he 
had practically rendered the tree itself otiose and super- 
fluous. It is only when we have restored this lost feature 
of the story, as we may do with the help of similar stories 
still current among savages, that the lopsided narrative, so 
to say, rights itself and recovers its balance. We now 
understand why there were two trees big with fate in the 
garden, and why the serpent tempted Eve to eat of the 
wrong one. As the narrative at present stands in Genesis, 
no motive is assigned for the malignant suggestion of the 
serpent ; he gains nothing by the Fall of Man, on the 
contrary he loses, for he is cursed henceforth and must 
ever afterwards crawl on his belly, eat dust, and be crushed 
under the heels of men^ But on the hypothesis which 
I suggest the serpent had everything to gain by inducing 
the man and woman to eat of the tree of death, for 
thereby he by implication secured for himself the fruit of 
the tree of life and with it the exclusive privilege of 
immortality. This bitter reflection gives double point to 
the enmity with which man was henceforth to regard the 
serpent*; in the crawling reptile he saw not merely a 
cunning foe who had betrayed him to his ruin, but a 
successful rival who had won for himself the great prize 
out of which he had contrived to wheedle his superior but 
unwary competitor. In this, or some such form as this, 
the story may have been known to the Babylonians ; and it 
seems not impossible that in a more or less fragmentary 
condition it may still survive on some of the many unread 
and unpublished tablets of Babylonian literature. 

In conclusion I will add a few miscellaneous com- 
parisons which appear to support this new reading of the 
old story of the Fall of Man. The Wemba of Northern 
Rhodesia say that in the beginning the Creator, whom 
they call Leza, gave the first man and woman two small 
bundles, in one of which was life {bumi) and in the other 
death {mfwd)^ whereupon the man unfortunately chose 

^ Genesit, iii. 1447. ' Gcnetis, iii. 15. 

422 J. G. FRAZER 

* the little bundle of death ^' Here nothing is said about 
serpents or other animals obtaining the gift of immortality, 
but the contrast between the bundle of life and the 
bundle of death, which were submitted to the choice 
of man^ resembles the contrast between the tree of life 
and the tree of death which, if I am right, figured in 
the original version of the Biblical story. Another version 
of the tale of the two bundles, while it differs from the 
foregoing in not explicitly calling one of the bundles the 
bundle of death, has another feature in common with 
the story of Genesis, inasmuch as it represents the Fall 
of Man as due to the weakness of woman. The Balolo 
of the Upper Congo say that one day, while a man was 
working in the forest, a stranger with two bundles, one 
large and one small, went up to him and said, ^ Which 
of these bundles will you have ? The large one contains 
knives, looking-glasses, cloth and so forth ; and the small 
one contains immortal life/ ^ I cannot choose by myself,* 
answered the man ; ^ I must go and ask the other people 
in the town/ While he was gone to ask the others, some 
women arrived and the choice was left to them. They 
tried the edges of the knives, decked themselves in the 
cloth, admired themselves in the looking-glasses, and, 
without more ado, chose the big bundle. The stranger, 
picking up the small bundle, vanished. So when the 
man came back from the town, the stranger and the 
little bundle were gone. The women showed off the 
trinkets and gewgaws which they had got from the big 
bundle, but death continued in the world. So the people 
often say, 'Oh, if those women had only chosen the 
small bundle, we should not be dying like this!'* 

Again, we may compare the enmity between man and 
the serpent, as it is represented in Genesis, to the enmity 
with which some Bantu tribes regard the chameleon or 

1 CaOen Govldsbuiy and Hubert Sheane, Tki Great Platiam tfNmikim RA$detim 
(LondoDy 1911)^ pp. 8017. 

* Rev. John H. Weekly 'Stories and other Notes from the Upper Congo^ fWMirVy 
XII. (1901), p. 461 I fV.y Among Congo Cannibals (London, 1913), p. »i8. 


the lizard because they believe the creature to have been the 
agent of bringing death into the worid. Thus the Zulus 
say that long ago Unkulunkulu or the Old, Old One sent 
a chameleon to men : * he said to it, " Go, chameleon, go 
and say. Let not men die/* The chameleon set out ; it 
went slowly ; it loitered in the way ; and as it went, it 
ate of the fruit of a tree, which is called ubukwebezane. 
At length Unkulunkulu sent a lizard after the chameleon, 
when it had already set out for some time. The lizard 
went ; it ran and made great haste, for Unkulunkulu had 
said, " Lizard, when you have arrived, say. Let men die." 
So the lizard went, and said, '* I tell you. It is said, Let 
men die.*' The lizard came back to Unkulunkulu, before 
the chameleon had reached his destination, the chameleon 
which was sent first ; which was sent, and told to go and 
say, ^* Let not men die." At length it arrived and shouted, 
saying, " It is said. Let not men die ! " But men answered, 
" O ! we have heard the word of the lizard ; it has told 
us the word. It is said. Let men die. We cannot hear 
your word. Through the word of the lizard, men will 
die."* This tradition Mives among the natives to the 
present time, and is manifested by the dislike they enter- 
tain for the chameleon. It is frequently killed. But it is 
used as a medicine ; among other uses it is mixed with 
other things to doctor their gardens, that the birds may 
not destroy the corn ; it is employed because it went 
slowly, and therefore will prevent the birds from hastily 
entering the gardens ! But the lizard is an object of much 
greater hatred, and is invariably killed if the person who 
sees it is able to kill it ; but it is very cunning, and, as 
they say, " escapes only by its cunning." As they kill it 
they say, " Let be ! This is the very piece of deformity 
which ran in the beginning to say that men should die."'^ 
According to another version of this Zulu story the fruit 

^ Re¥. H. Callawty, The Reliff9us System •f tht Amaaulu^ Part I, Unkulunkulu 
(Springrale, Capetown, and London, 1868), pp. i» 3 17. 1 compare id,^ Part II, Amat^ng^ 
(Springralc^ &c., 1S69), p. 13S. 

424 J. G. FRAZER 

which brought death into the world and all our woe was 
the mulberry, for it was mulberries which the chameleon, 
charged with a message of immortality to men, loitered 
by the way to eat so that he was outrun by the lizard, 
who posted after him with a message of death. ' They 
say, people would not have died, if the chameleon had 
arrived first, and shouted, " Let not the people die " ; 
whereas the lizard came first, and said, " Let the people 
die." But, even now, a portion of the people hate the 
lizard, saying, " Why is it that he ran first, and said. Let 
the people die ? " Some see it and love to beat it, and 
kill it, saying, " Why did it speak ? " And again, a portion 
of the people, those who hear by the ears, being told by 
a few old people, having heard this, they hate the cha- 
meleon, and love to push it aside, saying, "That is the 
little thing which delayed to tell the people that they 
should not die ; had he told them, we too should not have 
died ; our ancestors also would have been still living ; 
there would have been no diseases here on the earth. It 
all comes from the delay of the chameleon/* *^ The 
same story of the origin of death is told by many other 
Bantu tribes of Southern Africa ^ Among the Thonga, 
about Delagoa Bay, * this myth is so strongly believed that 
shepherds, when they see a chameleon slowly climbing on 
a tree, begin to tease it, and, when it opens its mouth, 
throw a pinch of tobacco into it, and are greatly amused 
at seeing the poor thing change colour, passing from green 
to orange, and from orange to black, in agony, to the 
great delight of the little boys : they thus avenge them- 
selves on the chameleon ! ** The Angoni of British 

1 Rev. Lewis Grout, Zulu-land (Philadelphia, N.D.), pp. 14S sq. Both C«Uawty*t 
and Grout's versions of the story are translated verbally from the words of the Zulus ; 
Callaway gives the Zulu text beside the translation. Compare Dudley Kidd, TJ^ 
Essftttsal Kafir (London, 1904), pp. 76 sq. 

• See TAe Belief in Immortality and the Worship qfthe Dead^ 1. 60 sq. 

* Henri A. Junod, The Life of a South Afiican Tribe (Neuchfttel, 191a— >i 9 13), 11. 
Z%% sq. Compare id.^ Les Ba-Ronga (Neuchfttel, 1S98), pp. 401 sq. The particular 
species of lizard which according to the Thonga outran the chameleon and brought the 
message of death is a large animal with a blue head. 


Central Africa tell the same tale of the origin of death ; 
therefore they hate the chameleon and put snufF in its 
mouth to kill it, because by its delay in bearing the glad 
tidings of immortality the sluggish creature allowed the 
grey lizard to outrun it with the gloomy message of death \ 

It can hardly be accidental that the animal which 
many African tribes regard as the cause of death among 
men is a lizard, whether a chameleon or a lizard of another 
species ; for lizards belong to the class of animals which 
periodically cast their skin, and which therefore in the 
opinion of many savages live for ever. We may suspect 
that in some African versions of the myth the lizard 
perverted the message with which he was charged, so 
that instead of running, * Men shall cast their skins and 
live for ever, but lizards and serpents shall die,' it ran, 
^ Men shall die, but lizards and serpents shall cast their 
skins and live for ever/ But of such a version I do not 
remember to have met with any trace in African folk-lore. 
As we are therefore launched on a sea of pure conjectures, 
I will venture to add one more to the swelling flood. 
Can it be that in the original form of the Hebrew narra- 
tive the serpent was the messenger of immortality sent by 
God to warn men against eating of the tree of death 
lest they should die, and to persuade them to eat of the 
tree of life that they might live for ever ? and that 
the wily messenger turned his knowledge of the secret to 
his own advantage by inducing men to eat of the tree of 
death and so to become mortal, while he himself partook 
of the tree of life and so became immortal, he and the 
whole race of serpents after him ? If that was so, God 
had indeed good reason for cursing the false messenger 
who had betrayed his trust so grossly. 

Be that as it may, the savage notion of immortality 
obtained by casting an old skin and putting on a new one 
probably gives the clue to the part played by the serpent 
in the Biblical narrative. The same idea may explain 

^ W. A. Elmalie, Among thi Wild Ngtni (Edinburgh and LondoOy 1S99), p. 70. 

426 J. G. FRAZER 

why serpents are often supposed to be possessed of medical 
knowledge and in particular to be acquainted with magical 
plants, or magical waters, which have the power of re- 
storing the dead to life\ If serpents can renew their 
own life by casting their skins, they must clearly have 
discovered the secret of immortality and be able to impart 
it to others. No wonder then that in Greece and else- 
where a serpent has been the symbol of the god of healing. 
It seems just possible that the use of the brazen serpent to 
heal those who were bitten by real serpents in the wilder- 
ness' was based on the general notion of the curative 
powers of the reptiles ; but more probably the case was 
one of simple homoeopathic magic, the bite of the live 
serpent being healed by the sight of the brazen serpent, 
just as everybody knows that the best cure for the bite of 
a dog is a hair of the dog that bit you. 

Lastly, the observation of the cast skin may partly 
explain why serpents are so often thought to embody 
the spirits of the dead'. Primitive man may imagine 
that at death his soul will shuffle off its old body just as a 
serpent sloughs off its old skin ; and from the comparison 
he may naturally, though illogically, proceed to identify 
the departed soul with the serpent which in a sense it is 
supposed to resemble. The same naive train of thought 
would account for the Greek and Burmese conception of 
the disembodied soul in the shape of a butterfly^ ; for as 
the butterfly creeps forth from the grub, so, it might be 
imagined, does the human soul at death escape from this 
vile body to spread its gay wings and flutter in the sunshine 
of some higher and brighter world unknown. From such 
simple observations of nature may primitive man draw 
far-reaching hopes of a life beyond the grave. 

J. G. Frazer. 

> For evidence tee ray note on Pknianiasy it. lo. 3 (vol. in. pp. 65 17.). 

* Numben, xxi. 6 — 9. 

* For lome eximples lee Adonisy AtHs^ Osiris^ Second Edition, pp. yisqq. 

* Taboo and thi Perils tfH^ Soul^ pp. 29 noteS 51 J^. 



For my contribution to the work presented to 
Professor Ridgeway by his colleagues and admirers, 
to mark our appreciation of his researches in the border- 
land of history and prehistory, I have chosen as my 
subject the prehistoric settlement of Britain, because it 
relates to events in the remote island of Britain during 
the period in the Mediterranean region dealt with in 
The Early Age of Greece (Ridgeway, Camb. University 
Press, 8vo, 1901). We must first consider the physical 
geography of the British Isles, which ruled the lines of 
migration, and the distribution of the various incoming 

Britain first became an island in the interval that 
divides the Pleistocene or continental from the prehistoric 
period. The land gradually sank until the North Sea 
joined the British Channel in the Straits of Dover, flowing 
up the valley between Britain and the continent. A like 
depression took place in the land formerly uniting Ireland 
with the British Islands, until the Atlantic and the Irish 
Sea rolled over the low-lying region to the west, ultimately 
separating Ireland and the Isle of Man from our shores. 
This submergence was not completed when the first 
neolithic hunters and herdsmen arrived in Britain. The 
occurrence of neolithic implements and domestic animals 
in the submarine forests on the shores of the east coast in 
Holderness and in Suffolk, and on the west on both sides 


of the Bristol Channel, and in North Wales, leaves no 
doubt as to their having penetrated into the forest at 
a time when there was land off the whole line of the 
eastern coast and when on the west Morecambe Bay and 
the estuaries of most of our rivers such as the Mersey, 
Dee and Severn, were the feeding grounds of the stag, 
roe deer and elk, and the haunt of foxes, wolves and 
bears. The same holds good with regard to the estuary 
of the Thames and the other rivers on the east side. 
Sheppey and Thanet, the Isle of Wight and Anglesey 
overlooked this forest-clad plain, and were not yet islands. 
From the slowly incroaching sea line a dense forest ex- 
tended inland, even over the summit of the Pennine 
Chain and far up the flanks of the Welsh hills, the Lake 
country and the Scotch Highlands, growing as high as 
the climate and the soil would allow. In the low country 
the monotony of the forest was only broken by the marshes 
and the lakes, and in the uplands by the crags and wind- 
swept moors ; and in south-eastern England by the low 
scrub of the chalk downs intermingled with tracts of grass. 
There were morasses at the bottom of nearly every valley, 
caused by the blocked drainage, and in some cases probably 
caused by the dams made by the beavers. 

The forest varied according to the conditions of 
growth. Oak and ash, yew and birch, and dense masses 
of Scotch fir occupied the drier soils ; the willow, the 
alder and the birch the swamps. Dense thickets of 
hazel in the glades attracted the squirrels, just as on the 
moors and hills the heather, the bilberry and the cranberry 
attracted the grouse and capercailzie. On the chalk 
downs there were but few trees, and those mostly in the 
valleys. There were, however, stunted yews and dwarf 
junipers in the hollows, leaving the upper grass-covered 
tops to be varied by clumps of gorse. In the lower lands 
generally there was but little grass, and that only where 
the trees were few, or where the forest had been destroyed 
by fire — as is the .case in the American prairies. 


It was under these conditions that the first* neolithic 
settlers arrived in their canoes from the continent, bringing 
with them their domestic animals, — the short-horned ox, 
sheep and goats, pigs, horses and dogs, good for herding 
and hunting, and introducing the arts of pottery-making 
and of a rude husbandry. 

The migration into Britain was probably by way of 
the Straits of Dover, where the Kentish Downs, clearly 
visible from the shores of Gaul, would naturally excite 
the curiosity of the tribes pasturing their herds and flocks 
on the downs extending from Calais, past Cape Grisnez, 
in the direction of Boulogne. The first adventurers 
bringing back the news that there were pastures in 
Britain like their own would begin a migration into 
the unknown land, that was probably accelerated by the 
pressure of other tribes on their south and west. Here, 
like Commios the great leader of the Belgic Gauls fleeing 
from the Roman arms, they were protected from their 
enemies by * the silver streak.' After establishing them- 
selves on the grassy tracts of the North Downs they 
could easily find their way along the coast to the clifl^ 
of the South Downs in the district of Eastbourne, Beachy 
Head and Brighton. From these two centres they would 
naturally follow the uplands westwards and northwards, 
.avoiding the dense forests and morasses of the ^Silva 
Anderida* (the Weald), the valley of the Thames, and 
of all the other river valleys in Britain. In this way 
they penetrated into nearly aU the dry uplands throughout 
the British Isles. That this was the case is proved by 
the distribution of the neolithic implements, camping 
grounds and burial places, chiefly met with in the dry 
uplands. They, however, penetrated the forests in the 
lower grounds in the hunt, and, being possessed of canoes, 
followed the courses of the streams from their mouths 

^ They probably found the descendants of palaeolithic man living on tfie chase, 
and these they so completely exterminated that they have left no mark on the ethnology 
of Britain. The evidence is not yet so clear as to allow a definite decision. 


upwards. We might, therefore, expect from all these 
considerations that the neolithic tribes in Britain were 
mainly confined to the uplands and dry grounds generally, 
that offered facilities for camping. Some of the clusters 
of round huts were fixed settlements, protected by 
palisades, ramp and fosse, while in other cases, especially 
in Ireland, protection was afforded by the settlement being 
placed on artificial platforms of clay, stones and timber, 
a short distance away from the margin of the lakes. 

The paths worn by use between one settlement and 
another in the uplands became the ridgeways of our 
modern topography, clinging to the ridges and only 
descending into the valleys where there was no alternative. 
They follow the lines of least resistance, and are in use 
to-day, as for example those leading from the flint-mining 
settlement of Cissbury, southwards on the crest of the 
Chalk-hills, to OfHngton and Broadwater near Worthing. 

We may infer from the small number of neolithic 
finds, as compared with those of the ages of Bronze and 
Prehistoric Iron, that the population of the uplands was 
small as compared with that during the later ages ; while 
the fact that they penetrated into the most remote parts 
of the British Isles indicates that they were dwellers in the 
land for a very long period. And this comparison has a 
deeper significance from the fact that stone implements are 
not readily destroyed by the elements, while the metak, 
characteristic of the later ages, can be readily transformed 
by forging or fusion into new implements, and are liable 
to be utterly destroyed by oxidization. 

These early settlers belong to a race that occupied 
the continent as far south as the Mediterranean, in the 
neolithic age. Among the living peoples, as has been 
shown elsewhere, they are physically identical with the 
small dark inhabitants of the Basque provinces of France 
and Spain, who speak a non-Aryan tongue, and represent, 
to say the least, a section of the people who have left 
their name to the Iberian Peninsula. We may» therefore. 


infer that they were of dark complexion and black hair, 
and of small stature as compared with the larger, fair- 
haired races. They had long or oval heads and delicate 
features. They are represented in the present population 
by the small dark Welsh, Scotch and Irish, French and 
Spaniards. In the south they form the Mediterranean 
race of Sergi. In Italy they may be recognised in the 
small swarthy section 01 the Etruscans. In Crete, in the 
Peloponnese and in Asia Minor, the discoveries in tombs 
leave no doubt that they were the oldest element in the 
ethnology of the possessors of the Minoan culture. These 
are also widely distributed through Northern Africa, 
being represented in the west by the Berbers, and in 
the east, as Elliott Smith has shown, by the primitive 
Egyptians and their descendants among the fellaheen. 

AH these facts point to the conclusion that this 
primitive non-Aryan race ranged northwards from Africa 
and the Mediterranean region generally over Europe to 
the extreme north of the British Isles, making its appear- 
ance everywhere in the neolithic stage of culture, and in 
Egypt, Greece and Crete, gradually achieving the high 
civilisation of the Bronze Age. These primitive tribes 
were, so far as I can read the evidence, in undisturbed 
possession of Britain throughout the neolithic age*. On 
the continent, however, they were invaded by the taller, 
broad-headed and more or less blonde Celtic tribes, who 
gradually forced their way to the' shores of the North Sea 
and the Atlantic ; and after establishing themselves on 
the adjacent coast crossed the Straits of Dover, armed 
with bronze weapons, and conquered the British Isles, 

^ Rice Holmes (Ancient Britain and the In-vasion •/ JuUus Caesar^ pp. i lo, 408) 
takes the view that the Broad-heads were in Britain as on the continent in the neolithic 
age on insaificient proof. The neolithic age of the round barrows in which they are 
huried, withoat metal in Orkney and Scotland, but with, in some cases^ flint knives aad 
drinking cups or beakers found elsewhere with bronxe daggers and razors, is based on 
dangerous negative evidence. And the statement that the Broad-heads who intro- 
duced beakers 'brought no bronze with them' is refuted by the recent great work of 
Abercrombie, who rdfers them to the Early Bronze Age. Abercrombie, A Study tfthi 
Bronxi Age Pottety ^ Great Britain and Ireland^ 4to^ 191 s> vol. I. c ip a, 4. 


as they had before conquered Gaul and Spain. These 
Broad-heads belonged to the older section of the Celtic 
tribes, clearly defined by Rhys as the Goidels or P-Celts. 
They contrasted with the invaded tribes in their more 
powerful build, and their fair complexions, grey eyes 
and light or brown hair. To them we owe the intro- 
duction of the Goidelic tongue, Gaelic, Irish and Manx, 
and probably also the bronze civilisation, and the religious 
cult that led to the practice of cremation, and the building 
of Abury and Stonehenge. They form the second well- 
defined element in British ethnology. There may have 
been other and older tribes concerned in this invasion. 
If there were their names have perished as well as their 

The population in the Bronze Age in the British Isles 
differs from the neolithic mainly in the fact that it was 
more dense ; as might be expected from the influx of 
new tribes from the continent. The advance was mainly 
along the old lines of migration over the uplands north- 
wards and westwards from the Straits of Dover, and the 
invaders, like their predecessors, were for the most part 
confined to the uplands and prevented by forests and 
morasses from occupying the lower grounds. This is 
proved by the innumerable barrows and cairns, and settle- 
ments on the uplands, and the numerous roads for pack- 
horses, if not for carts, linking the settlements together\ 

All these are for the most part conspicuous by their 
absence in the wet lower grounds, although there are 
many cases of their occurrence on dry banks of sand 
and gravel, not far from the river banks, to which canoes 
would give easy access. It may be noted, from the 
abundance of the remains of the Bronze Age in Anglesey, 
that at that time the island was as densely populated 
as at any later period down to the days of coaches and 

^ Archaeol. Joum. LXi. pp. 309 — 3x9. Victorian History^ Somenety Early Man, 
ch. II. par. 3, 4, 5. Wales, Cambrian ArchaeoL Assoc. 1912, p. 92 


In Britain » as on the continent, the use of iron 
gradually replaced that of bronze, as may be seen, for 
example, by the iron-socketed celt, of the usual Bronze 
Age type, found in Merioneth. The civilisation of 
the Prehistoric Iron Age that came along with it is 
characterised by the beautiful ^Liate Celtic Art,* and 
by the traces of a gradually increasing intercourse with 
tne Mediterranean peoples, Greek, Etruscan and Roman. 
In this connection we may note the presence of Greek 
wine-jars in the graves in the Eastern Counties, the pink 
Mediterranean coral, used for the decoration of shields 
and brooches, the Itdo-Greek vessels of bronze and silver, 
and afterwards the use of coins — the earlier being copies 
of those of Greece, and the later of those of Rome. It 
was, on the whole, uniform in character, throughout 
Britain, although it was in closer touch with the con* 
tinent in the southern and eastern counties as far north as 
Yorkshire. It is without any trace of the woad-painted 
barbarians fondly imagined in the older histories to have 
lived in the remoter parts of our island at the time of the 
Roman invasion. 

The tribes who possessed this civilisation have left 
their mark in the barrows and the hill-forts in the 
uplands, but more especially we must note the fact 
that they took possession also of the low country and 
founded those oppida that were in existence at the Roman 
conquest, Bath, Manchester, St Albans, etc. They also 
formed industrial communities in the Lake Villages of 
Somerset, at Glastonbury and Meare. They also extended 
the roads from the uplands into the lower grounds, so as 
to link the oppida and give free communication between 
the settlements. These roads were used for wheeled 
vehicles such as those found in the burial-mounds of 
Yorkshire and the Lake Village of Glastonbury. They 
followed the older tracks of the Neolithic and Bronze 
Ages, winding along the ridges, and forming a network 
throughout the country, and being clearly defined by 

ft. 28 


their irregular course from the Roman point-to-point 
roads. The latter frequently follow the main lines of the 
older system modified here and there by short cuts. 
It is obvious from all these considerations that at this 
time Britain was not far below Gaul in culture. 

The tribes possessed of this civilisation at the time 
when Pytheas visited Britain in B.C. 325 belonged to the 
later or Brythonic section of the Celts, the P-Celts of 
Rhys, the Galatae of Gaul. They probably brought 
it along with them. They imposed their tongue more 
or less upon the conquered people, and were sufficiently 
numerous to leave their place-names throughout the whole 
of Britain, as in Gaul and Spain and Northern Italy. 
In Britain tribe followed tribe from the continent, the 
last wave of invasion consisting of the mixed Brythons 
and Germans who formed the Belgic confederacy 
in the time of Caesar, and had penetrated as far to the 
west as Somerset before their advance was stopped by 
the Roman conquest. 

I know of no characters by which the Brythonic 
tribes can be distinguished from the Goidelic tribes, 
except by their speech. 

The settlement of the British Isles in the Prehistoric 
Iron Age was, like that in the Bronze Age, a mastery 
over, rather than a general displacement of, the older 
possessors of the land. Throughout Britain the ethnical 
elements were mixed, the Iberic aborigines being largely 
incorporated into the Goidelic Celts and both being so 
profoundly influenced by the Brythons, that the speech 
of the latter is proved by the place and river-names 
to have extended over nearly the whole of Britain. This 
mixed population was pushed westward and northwards 
by the English conquest until the Brythonic speech only 
survived as the Welsh tongue in the west, and the 
Goidelic became the Gaelic of the Highlands of Scotland 
and of the Isle of Man. 

W. Boyd Dawkins. 


Most of those who have worked in craniology must 
have felt deeply disappointed at the small value of the 
results which have been obtained at the cost of so great 
labour. The persistency with which the skull has been 
turned over, measured in all its diameters, drawn and photo- 
graphed from every point of view is however eloquent 
of our belief in the value of the skull and of our 
faith that, by dint of effort and in process of time, its 
secrets will be at last laid bare. 

Clearly however some other method of investigation 
must be substituted for those at present in vogue which 
partake almost entirely of a mensurative or graphic 
character. The method which appears to me to promise 
the most certain and valuable results is the comparative 
anatomical method combined as it always should be with 
the study of the correlation of structure, form and 

The simplest side from which to attack the very 
complicated problem of the skull is in my opinion vtd 
the masticatory apparatus and vid the mandible in 
particular. If we can once appreciate the reasons for 
variations here wc shall be some way on to the under- 
standing of the variations of the skull as a whole. It 
gives me great pleasure at this stage to acknowledge 
the debt which I feel to Professor Arthur Thomson 

436 W. WRIGHT 

of the University of Oxford for the very suggestive paper 
which he contributed on these lines. 

Experience has shewn us that of all the bones of 
the skeleton the mandible possesses the greatest anthropo- 
logical value — a value which is naturally dependent 
on its morphological features. For this reason alone 
a special interest must always attach to the mandible 
quite apart from the additional fact that at the present 
moment the earliest remains of man with which we are 
acquainted are the Heidelberg mandible and the Piltdown 
skull, of which last the mandible is undoubtedly the most 
interesting part. 

The earliest appearance of the mandible is like the 
beginning of all things shrouded in mystery, but we shall 
probably not be far wrong if we consider it as beginning 
in the form of a fibrous tissue thickening giving definition, 
strength and mobility to the posterior margin of the oral 
aperture. This assumption is strengthened by the arrange- 
ment which obtains in the low vertebrate form — the 
Amphioxus — in which the margin of the oral aperture 
is thickened by the presence of segmented rods. The 
primitive teeth which soon made their appearance would 
act probably first as a grating, later as a mechanism for 
seizing food and finally in addition as a masticatory 
apparatus. The early specialisation and differentiation 
of this part of the body is possibly the explanation of the 
interesting fact that the mandible is the first bone of the 
skull to ossify* 

Before long with the adoption of more definite func- 
tions the mandible took on more or less the shape which 
characterises it in higher vertebrata, viz. a long bilateral 
bar of cartilage or bone, each half meeting its fellow in the 
mid-ventral line at a symphysis and articulating dorso- 
laterally directly or indirectly through a condyle with the 
skull. Further, on the anterior or cephalic border of the 
bone a little median to the condyle a rough area indicating 
the attachment of the muscle which closes the mouth 


begins to appear. A similar impression can be found 
near or at the symphysis for the muscle which opens the 
mouth. The reason why the muscle which closes the 
mouth is not also attached to the symphysis where it 
would act with greater mechanical advantage is that if it 
were it would necessarily entail a small mouth ; further 
the teeth which are inserted along the anterior border set 
a limit to the forward advance of the muscle. 

The muscles attached to the mandible. 

{a) The muscles which close the mouth. The muscles 
which effect the closure of the mouth first make their 
appearance as a single muscle which arises from the skull 
and which passes down in front of the tympanic mem- 
brane to be inserted into the mandible. It is obviously 
derived from the mandibular myotome and is supplied 
by the fifth cranial nerve. This muscle is still single 
in the dogfish, although traversed by a wavy fibrous 
intersection. It is from this single muscle that later 
become difiFerentiated the temporal, masseter, internal 
pterygoid, and last of all the external pterygoid muscles, 
the cause of the increasing ' diflFerentiation being the 
growing complexity of the movements of the jaw in 
consequence of the addition of a masticatory function. 
The close relationship of these muscles is shewn by their 
union still in many animals, by the difiiculty and un- 
certainty with which their borders are at times identified 
in man, and by their being supplied not merely by the 
same nerve but in certain cases by the same branch^ of 
the same nerve. 

It would appear further that all the above-mentioned 
muscles were originally attached to the outer aspect 
of the mandible, and that only as difiFerentiation has 

1 In man the anterior fibres of the tempond muscle are supplied by the same branch 
which supplies the external p^rygoid musde, and the posterior fibres by the same branch 
which supplies the masseter muscle. 

438 W. WRIGHT 

progressed have some of them, e.g. the internal pterygoid, 
obtained an attachment to the inner surface. 

{b) Muscles which open the mouth. In man the 
Aveight of the jaw alone suffices to open the mouth in 
the absence of muscular action. In lower forms, in, for 
instance, the dogfish, the mouth is opened by a muscle 
which passes directly backward from the neighbourhood 
of the symphysis to the hyoid bone — the genio-hyoid 
muscle. In the dogfish this muscle seems to be the only 
one which can effectively act in this way. The muscle 
is clearly derivable from the ventral longitudinal muscular 
fibres of the neck and trunk and is in series with the 
infra-hyoid muscles of higher types, a view which is 
confirmed by its decussation with these muscles in the 
frog and by its innervation from the first cervical nerve. 

This muscle in the dogfish is overlaid by a muscular 
complex consisting of transversely coursing fibres derived 
from the mandibular and hyoid myotomes, which fibres 
form the muscular floor of the mouth. In higher forms 
this complex becomes differentiated into a ventral portion, 
the mylo-hyoid, supplied by the fifth cranial nerve, and 
a dorsal portion supplied by the seventh cranial nerve 
and known in the frog as the depressor mandibulae. In 
still higher forms a delamination of the superficial fibres 
of the mylo-hyoid occurs, which delaminated portion 
joins with the depressor mandibulae — which meanwhile 
loses its direct attachment to the mandible — to form a 
two-bellied muscle — ^the digastric. 

With the formation of the mylo-hyoid, depressor 
mandibulae and later of the digastric muscles the duty of 
opening the mouth ceases to fall entirely or even chiefly 
upon the genio-hyoid muscle. 

{c) Muscles of the lips. In man and to a less extent 
in lower animals a number of muscular bundles derived 
from the portion of the panniculus which reaches on to 
the face gain a slight attachment to the outer surface 
of the mandible. One bundle on either side better 


marked than the rest sinks deeply and comes to lie, to 
a large extent, under the muscles of group (tf), being 
attached along the alveolar border of the jaw as far 
median as the first molar tooth — the buccinator muscle. 

(if) Muscles of the tongue. If we except the genio- 
hyoid muscle which through its attachment to the hyoid 
bone might be regarded as part of the lingual muscula- 
ture, the only muscle of the tongue attached to the 
mandible is the genio-hyo-glossus muscle. This muscle, 
which is not present in the dogfish, is well represented in 
the frog, the lizard and in the mammalia. Its position 
and nerve of supply^ clearly declare its origin from the 
same muscular sheet from which the genio-hyoid and 
hyo-glossus muscles have been derived. It is attached 
to the symphysis on its dorsal surface, just anterior to 
the attachment of the genio-hyoid. 

The Mandible. 

If we now turn to the mandible itself we find the 
simplest form it takes is that of a pair of segmented 
rods surrounding the oral aperture and bearing cirri 
(Amphioxus) . 

In the dogfish the mandible is represented by a pair 
of cartilaginous bars meeting in the mid-ventral line in 
a symphysis and articulating with the superior maxilla 
and only indirectly gaining an attachment to the cranium 
through the hyomandibular cartilage, [The consideration 
of the three varieties of attachment to the cranium, viz. 
the hyostylic, autostylic and amphistylic, is not germane to 
my argument and I therefore don't propose to enter into 
it.] In the dogfish the mandible is cut away on its 
median side along its posterior border ostensibly to permit 
of the hyoid being pulled forward to the symphysis. 
The shape of the mandible is thus to some extent 

^ The hypogloftal nerve it of coune in teriei with the cervical spinal nerves 

440 W. WRIGHT 

controlled by the shape of the hyoid, and we have 
here an early piece of evidence of the way in which 
these bones have to adapt themselves in their shape to 
each other. 

In Amphibia and Reptilia the jaw consists of a number 
of bony plates lying over a cartilaginous bar which repre- 
sents the mandible of the dogfish : the mandible articulates 
through a condyle with the quadrate bone and through 
it with the cranium. The point to which the muscle, 
which has already been differentiated from the mandi- 
bular myotome as the temporal muscle, is attached begins 
to be marked by a slight rough elevation — the beginning 
of the coronoid process of higher types. Another process 
makes its appearance at the posterior end of the jaw 
behind the articular condyle — the post-angular process 
for the attachment of the depressor mandibulae muscle. 
This process disappears as the depressor mandibulae 
moves towards the symphysis. There is still no sign 
of an ascending ramus, the mandible therefore forming 
a simple lever moving round an axis of rotation which 
is situated just below the condyle, a lever which is 
diagrammatically represented in the accompanying figure: 

taimoN 0^ Aenon 
y^OrCbOMM Mmcu 

COKOHOIO PnoccM ^^^-spMo^LC 



Axis or RoT«no« 
Fig. I. Lower Jaw of an Amphibian. 

The movements, and therefore the shape, of the 
mandible in these low forms are so simple and yet 
fundamental that a consideration of certain questions 
arising out of them is necessary if we are to understand 
the more complicated movements and shape of higher 

The movement of the mandible in Amphibia and 
Reptilia is practically a pure up and down movement 


around a transverse axis. The teeth with rare exceptions^ 
such as the poison fangs in the upper jaw of certain 
snakes, are all of one form and pattern since they are 
merely used for the seizure and retention of the animal's 
food. There is no complicated masticatory process, no 
special crushing or grinding movement, and therefore no 
ascending ramus to the mandible for the attachment of 
the crushing or grinding muscles. 

A study of the diagram will shew that ceteris paribus 
the longer the coronoid process and the further it is from 
the joint the greater the mechanical advantage with 
which the temporal muscle will act, but a limit is placed 
to excess in either direction by the peculiar flatness of the 
skull in these animals making a long coronoid process 
impossible and by the row of teeth which, being in line 
with the process, keep it relatively far back. It is inter- 
esting to note that there is no such barrier along the 
posterior border and so the depressor mandibulae in the 
form of the digastric muscle can finally gain an attach- 
ment to the symphysis itself. The reason why the 
muscle which is chiefly responsible for opening the mouth 
is attached in higher animals to the symphysis, whereas 
in lower forms it is attached to the post-angular process, 
seems to be simply in order that it may act with greater 
mechanical advantage. Transitional stages in its advance 
to the symphysis can be observed in the dog, sheep and 

Other matters which must aflFect the shape of the jaw 
are the size of the mouth, the capacity of the gape and 
the strength of the bite. In these connections a study 
of the mandible of the crocodile has considerable interest. 
Here the coronoid process, or rather the rough elevation 
which represents it, is some distance behind the last 
tooth. In this animal the teeth have passed forward 
with the snout. If the temporal muscle had followed 
them it would have necessarily led to a diminution in the 
width of the mouth, for there is an obvious correlation 



between the angle of the mouth and the anterior border 
of the temporal muscle. A narrow mouth would in turn 
have precluded the animal from opening its mouth to 
anything like the extent of which it is capable. Further, 
the more distant the insertion of the temporal muscle 
from its origin, the longer the muscle and, the mass 
remaining the same, the smaller the cross-section and the 
less powerful the muscle. We thus see that a number of 
important considerations, among which are width of 
mouth and strength of bite, enter into the moulding of 
so relatively simple a jaw as that of a crocodile. 

The jaw of the Carnivora is not very different from 
that of the Reptiles so far as outline is concerned except 





^Axis or 


Fig. 2. Jaw of Dog when mouth 
almost closed. 

Fig. 3. Jaw of Dog when mouth 
widely open. 

that the coronoid process is very marked and strong. 
The movements of the jaw are still mainly up and down, 
there is very little side to side movement and in con- 
sequence there is no distinct ascending ramus in the strict 
sense of the term, since the masseter and internal pterygoid 
muscles are not so separate or well-developed as they 
become in the Rodents and Herbivora. It seems to 
be quite clear that the appearance of an ascending ramus 
is to be associated with well-developed crushing and 
grinding muscles which require it for their attachment. 
The purpose of the coronoid process in the Carnivora 


seems to be to serve as what is known in mechanics as 
a bell-crank \ the principle on which the old-fashioned 
bedroom pull-bell was formed. A diagram may make 
my meaning clearer. Figure 2 shews the mandible and 
temporal muscle when the mouth is closed. Figure 3 
when the mouth is widely open. 

In the former position the temporal muscle would do 
little more than lift the jaw, whereas in the latter it would 
be placed in a position of great mechanical advantage for 
closing the mouth. The direction of the coronoid process 
seems to be in a line with the pull of the temporal muscle. 

In contrast with the jaw of the Camivora, the jaw of the 
Herbivora has a very distinct ascending ramus in keeping 
with its powerful masseter and internal pterygoid muscles. 
In certain of the Herbivora the ramus not only grows up 
but also downwards to give a larger area for the insertion 
of these muscles. The ramus bears the coronoid process 
and condyle upwards and the jaw loses its appearance 
of a simple lever. The coronoid process is relatively 
small in association with the feebler temporal muscle. 

The nearer the molar teeth are to the attachment 
of the masseter and internal pterygoid muscles which pull 
almost vertically upwards the better able are these teeth to 
crush; on the other hand the front teeth are still required 
for seizing the animal's food, it is the necessity of com- 
plying with both conditions which produces the wide 
separation of the front and back teeth. 

In the light obtained from a comparative study of the 
mandible we may now consider briefly certain features of 
the bone in man. 

In the first place it will be well to decide where 
the axis of rotation is exactly situated. This axis is 
usually stated to be in the region of the inferior dental 
foramen. I believe that the axis can be more precisely 
placed at a higher level near or at the attachment of the 

1 I owe this •uggestion to my friend Mr H. S. Souttar, C.M^ F.R.C.S.» of the 
London HotpitaL 

444 W. WRIGHT 

strong external lateral ligament. The reason for this 
belief is that if we measure the range of movement at 
the condyle and at the symphysis respectively and measure 
the length of the lever of which these parts are the 
two extremities, it is a simple mathematical calculation 
to determine the situation of the axis of rotation. By 
the use of this method the position of the axis can be 
shewn to be near or at the attachment of the external 
lateral ligament. This view is confirmed by the fact 
that the masseter and internal pterygoid muscles pass 
down just in front of the axis as thus determined, whereas 
if the site of the inferior dental foramen gave the position 
of the axis, the axis would pass right through the centre 
of the masseter, in which case the anterior fibres would 
close the mouth, the posterior fibres would open the 
mouth, and the intermediate fibres would have no rotatory 
action at all. It explains the further fact that there is 
a small portion of the ascending ramus a little below the 
condyle where no fibres of the masseter gain an attach- 
ment, for it is obviously of no advantage to pull on or 
behind the axis of rotation. 

The condyles of the mandible in man have their long 
axes directed backwards and inwards, and if we look at 
the two condyles we find their long axes arc in the 
circumference of a circle md it is along the circum- 
ference of this circle that the condyles move forward 
and backward in grinding, the jaw moving like the 
steering wheel of a motor car. This movement is 
almost entirely brought about by the external pterygoid 
muscle, a muscle which only begins to be clearly 
difierentiated in the Rodents. 

The length, position and direction of the coronoid 
process depend upon the factors already mentioned, viz. 
respectively, the length of the fibres of the temporal 
muscle; leverage, size of the mouth and the distance 
back to which the teeth reach; direction of the main 
pull of the temporal muscle. 


The size of the ascending ramus depends upon the size 
of the masseter and internal pterygoid muscles. 

As to the symphysis, the characteristic distinguishing 
feature of the human mandible is the presence of a chin. 
This is undoubtedly to be attributed to the fact that 
because of the use to which we put our hands in ob- 
taining our food and in attack, a snout has ceased to 
confer any advantage. The presence of a snout implies 
that the front teeth will be put to rough usage, to 
mitigate the effects of this the front teeth are implanted 
obliquely so that undue pressure shall not fall directly 
on their roots; the oblique implantation of the teeth 
necessitates a sloping symphysis. 

In man, in whom the teeth are not subjected to 
excessive strain, the teeth can afford to be implanted 
vertically, a condition which makes a chin a possibility. 
The heaping up of bone in the region of the symphysis 
in man appears to be for the purpose of increasing the 
force of the impact when the teeth are violently brought 
together, to be comparable in other words to the weighting 
of a club. That teeth can affect the lower border of the 
mandible in this way is well seen in certain specimens in 
which this border has a distinctly sinuous course corre*- 
sponding to the dental and interdental spaces. 

The presence of a more or less pointed snout and 
an oblique symphysis entail the incisor and canine teeth 
being set along a narrow arch, whereas in man they are 
set dong a relatively wide arch. The narrowness 01 the 
arch again has as its corollary a relatively long and narrow 
tongue. In many animals it would appear that the tongue 
has to accommodate itself between the canine teeth of 
either side. 

Because of the obliquity of the symphysis again, 
if we look at this part of the mandible from the buccal 
aspect we find, from the alveolar margin backward, a 
smooth slightly sloping platform on which the tongue 
moves forwards and backwards, then a large sunken area 

446 W, WRIGHT 

marked by nutrient foramina for the attachment of the 
genio-hyo-glossus, and last of all another somewhat similar 
platform for the attachment of the genio-hyoid. This 
surface of the symphysis has in consequence a curious 
stepped appearance as, e.g., in the gorilla. The upper 
and lower platforms becoming relatively vertical in man, 
the separation of the three parts is not so apparent. The 
foramina mentioned above as marking the site of attach- 
ment of the genio-hyo-glossus persist however in many 

The flange of the Piltdown mandible is to be asso- 
ciated with the existence of a snout and an oblique 
symphysis, with obliquely implanted teeth and a rela- 
tively narrow alveolar arch in the incisor region, and 
with a correspondingly narrow tongue. 

The primitive position of the teeth was undoubtedly 
along the anterior or cephalic border of the mandible, 
but in many animals, notably in man, the molar teeth 
lie on a shelf which lies median to the actual cephalic 
border, in other words the molar teeth tend to pass under 
cover of the ascending ramus. The explanation appears 
to be that the crushing with the molar teeth is brought 
about by the masseter and internal pterygoid muscles, and 
the further back the molar teeth can get the better. 
They cannot however reach far back save by inclining 
somewhat inwards, and this they do« 

An examination of the mandible as it is usually 
carried out consists in taking a large number of linear 
and angular measurements without any attempt to corre- 
late them with other parts of the skull. It has been my 
attempt in this paper to suggest certain lines along which 
such correlation may be reasonably made. I have en- 
deavoured to shew how the shape of the chin region may 
be correlated with the plane of insertion of the teeth and 
with the contour of the alveolar margin, particularly in 
its anterior part, how the width of the ramus may be 
correlated with the size of the crushing muscles and 


with the inward displacement of the molar teeth, how 
the direction and length of the coronoid process may be 
correlated with the direction of the main pull of the 
temporal muscle and with the extent and cross-section 
of the same muscle, how the position of the coronoid 
process may be correlated with matters of leverage and 
with the point to which the teeth reach posteriorly. 
The mandible is of course subjected to the play of many 
forces of which its shape is the result. Probably each 
single opinion or statement expressed could be readily dis- 
proved by reference to comparative anatomy; it is however 
the aim of this contribution to emphasise the view that 
sometimes one force is dominant, sometimes another, and 
that with so many forces at work generalisations may 
often be seemingly contradicted by individual instances. 
I feel strongly that in comparative anatomy lies the key 
which will eventually unlock for us the ancient problem 
of the skull,' and that it is only by the study of the 
mandible and the other bones of the skull in the way 
which I have indicated that we shall win to its final 

William Wright. 



There exist among modern Egyptians a number of 
customs and beliefs that so nearly reproduce those of 
Ancient Egypt that it seems legitimate to regard them 
rather as direct survivals than as instances of similar 
customs arising among cognate peoples. If this be 
granted special interest attaches to these customs^ not 
because the period over which they have persisted is 
necessarily longer than that bridged by the host of beliefs 
and practices that constitute the folk-lore of other peoples, 
but because it is possible to adduce perfectly definite 
evidence of their direct continuity over a very much 
longer period of time. 

The customs connected with death and burial probably 
afford the widest scope for the discovery of such survivak. 
I have, however, avoided this field since the evidence is so 
tangled and complicated as to make its discussion in a 
short paper impossible. 

The facts I shall record below seem to indicate : — 

(i) The persistence of the belief in the ka or 'double/ 

(ii) The survival of the Ancient Egyptian belief in the 
importance of the placenta. 

(iii) The persistence of a ceremony in which a sacred 
boat takes a prominent part. 

(iv) The existence of a number of superstitions con- 
nected with the Calendar which can be traced back to 
Ancient Egypt. 


(i) The persistence of the Belief in the Ka or 
* Double/ The belief in the * double' as part of man's 
spiritual organisation is found in both Upper and Liower 
Egypt. The name applied to the * double* is qarina (Ai^J), 
the ordinary Arabic word for a partner or companion \ 
The belief, though widely spread in the Nile Valley, is by 
no means universal, nor does it everywhere present exactly 
the same form ; indeed, even my limited experience indi- 
cates that there are many variations in detail. 

The following account mainly derived from a personal 
friend, an educated native of Luxor, may be taken, I 
think, as fairly representative of the common form of 
the belief. Everyone has a spiritual counterpart (this has 
nothing to do with a man's immortal soul) spoken of as 
qarina or sometimes shaitany which accompanies him 
through life. It is generally impossible to discover what 
becomes of the qarina at death, the majority believe that 
it perishes with the individual, while some few say that it 
enters the grave with the body, in any case its ultimate 
fate seems uncertain. Often the * double' is credited with 
playing the part of a bad angel, or of a man's good and 
bad angels alternately. I believe that it is specially in 
these circumstances that it is spoken of as a shaitan (not 
qarina) J but probably this has arisen from confusion with 
the common Mohammedan belief that every child of 
Adam goes through life with a good and a bad angel on 
his right and left side respectively ^ 

A variant of the belief in the * double' said to be 
common among the fellahin of both Lower and Upper 

^ This tense of the word must not be confused with the same word commonly nsed 
to denote Adam's first wife Lilith, to called because she was created to become hi» 
* companion.' For this warning I am indebted to my friend Mr G. D. Homblower, 
whom I take this opportunity of thanking for much assistance in working out the 
subject-matter of this paper. 

* There is an amusing if entirely unorthodox addition to, or variant of, this belief. 
Some say that when a man is born forty ginn are bom with him. These are tempters, 
but each year one dies so that by the time he is forty he should be reconciled to divine 
things, and leave the wickedness of this world. A woman on the other hand is born 
with only one tempter, but a new one is added every year until the age of forty, when 
ahe reaches her maximum of wickedness. 

lu 29 


Egypt is that everyone has an invisible companion of 
the opposite sex who is regarded and spoken of as a 
'sister' or 'brother/ This conGipanion lives in quiet shady 
places, in dark rooms, and especially under the threshold. 
Some believe that the companion follows every action of 
its human 'brother' or 'sister,' and this belief is the reason 
for the common exclamation Ism Allah ^alek wala ukhtaky 
' the name of Allah upon you and your sister,' and for the 
offering of a few drops of water made when a small boy 
falls while walking or playing. The death of one or more 
children in a family is often attributed to the influence of 
their mother's 'brother' (companion) and the mother and 
surviving children may wear iron anklets to avert this 
danger. A variant of this belief asserts that if the child 
dies while still an infant in arms it is the qarina of the 
mother that is responsible, but that the qarina of the father 
causes the death of bigger children. According to several 
accounts it is the qarina that are seen in divination by 
the ink pool. 

The belief in the 'double* also exists in Syria, and I 
have heard of it from more than one Syrian in the Sudan, 
and received the following details from a Mohammedan 
Syrian upon whom I can rely. Every human being has 
a qarina which follows him (or her) through life and 
appears in dreams as a 'double' or (I think more com- 
monly) in the form of an animal. One of my informant's 
countrymen has a qarina that appears to him in his sleep 
in the form of a snake, another sees a cow with unusually 
long horns. I could not ascertain what was supposed to 
happen to the qarina at death, there seemed to be a vague 
belief that it might in some way pass to one of the 
children of the deceased. 

Besides these more or less clearly defined and consistent 
beliefs which appear to be derived from the ancient or 
modern Egyptian * double,' Syrian accounts of the qarina 
are mixed up with a number of experiences which seem 
to reproduce the sensations of nightmare, and which it 




may be assumed are only secondarily related to the qarina 
on account of the animal forms taken by the latter. 

(ii) The Belief in the Importance of the Placenta. 
In a recent number of Man (191 1, 97) evidence was 
adduced to show that an object, occurring in Egyptian 
carvings and paintings of every period from pre-dynastic 
to Ptolemaic times, represented the royal placenta, and it 
was suggested that possibly the second * burial' places of 
certain of the Egyptian Pharaohs were in the nature of 
shrines built over their placentae. 

Last winter at Bara in Kordofan I visited a shrine 
raised not over the body of a holy man, but over his 
placenta, />. at the spot at which tradition declares his after- 
birth to have been buried. Bara, situated about 40 miles 
north of El Obeid, is the capital of the district of Kordofan 
called by its name ; water is found near the surface and it 
is highly irrigated. Its population consists for the most 
part of immigrant Danagla and natives of the Nile Valley 
north of Dongola\ I wish to lay some stress on the 
nature of the population of Bara, for in religious as in 
social matters generally its inhabitants follow the beliefs 
and customs of natives of the Nile Valley north of the 
fourth cataract, and not those of the negroes to the south, 
or even of the sedentary Arabs, among whom the town 
has sprung up. 

The shrine in question stands as a memorial in honour 
of the holy man Sayed Hassen el Merghani, the son of 
Mohammed Osman el Merghani wad AbduUahi. The 
latter lived at Mecca where he was a well-known teacher 
of the Koran. Among his pupils was one Sheykh Ismail 
of El Obeid whom Mohammed Osman visited in his own 
country. While in Kordofan, Mohammed Osman stayed 
at Bara and there married Hogra bint Mahgoub, who bore 

^ Bara was founded by Danagla. Cf. H. A. MacMichael, Trihtt •/ N9rthim and 
Central Kordofan^ p. 15, where writing of the end of the 18th century he says 'It was 
MX this time too that Bira, built originally by Danagla, was beautified with trees and 


him a son Sayed Hassen. Mohammed Osman did not 
remain long in Kordofan and returned to Mecca even before 
the birth of his son, but when the latter was about fourteen 
his father sent for him and so trained him that in time he 
became even holier than himself and attracted many 
followers, the majority of whom were from Kassala and 
the country round it. Because of this Sayed Hassen 
made his home at Kassala and there he died nearly forty 
years ago. Feeling ran high, so it is stated, as to where 
the body should be buried, and though, as might be 
expected, Kassala kept her saint's body, Bara too deter- 
mined to have a shrine, and one was built over the spot 
where, according to tradition, Sayed Hassen's placenta had 
been buried, the saint, according to one account, having 
appeared in a dream and indicated the site. The original 
shrine was destroyed during the Mahdia, the present 
building is represented in the photograph printed with 
this note. 

There is no doubt as to the holiness of the shrine ; 
indeed, I was only allowed to peep through its half-open 
door for a few seconds, yet long enough to see that there 
was nothing resembling a tomb in the interior which con* 
tained a number of flags of the usual type. Oaths are 
sworn upon this shrine and it is customary to read the 
Koran publicly on the saint's birthday. 

(iii) Boat Ceremonies. These are widely distributed 
in Europe outside the Mohammedan area and are known 
to date back to the comparatively early period of the sixth 
century b.c.^ This is not the place to seek to decide 
whether all or any of the European ceremonies are related 
to the earlier Egyptian festivals, though, as I shall suggest, 
this probably is the origin of the boat ceremonies associated 
with Islam in the East even beyond Egypt. 

^ * An Attic vase now in Bologna represents the god Dionjrsns on the way to hit 
•hip. This vessel is furnished with wheels ; and, as a matter of fact, we learn from the 
Greek writers that a ship of this kind, dedicated to Dionysus, was driven throngh die 
streets of Athens....' C. Rademacher, Art. *Camiva]»' in Hastinga* Ewijdtpatdut 
c/Religion and Ethics^ Vol. in. p. 226. 


The photograph reproduced in Fig. 2 was taken just 
outside Luxor in January 1909 ; the boat is an ordinary 
river boat, which it was said had once been used for 
traffic, but was now kept suspended in the tree except at 
certain times when it was placed on a cart, filled with 
children, and dragged round the fields. I am indebted to 
Mr G. Brunton for the following more precise information, 
obtained during the past winter. There arc three boat 
processions in Luxor every year, viz. on the fourteenth 
and last day of the festival commemorating the birthday 
of Abul Heggag the patron saint of Luxor, on the last 
day of the mu/^ el Nebi (the birthday of the Prophet) 
and at the beginning of Ramadan. It is said that the 
processional use of the boat at the mulid el Nebi and 
Ramadan celebrations is in imitation of the ceremonial 
observed at the festival of Abul Heggag. The boat is 
decorated with greenery and followed by representatives 
of the different trades, carpenters, boatmen, butchers, etc., 
all carrying their characteristic tools. There was formerly 
much revelry and debauchery in connection with the 
festival, but this was put down by the Government and 
the ceremony is now mainly religious with a certain 
amount of merry-making in the cafes. The mulid begins 
with evening prayers in the mosque and on the second 
night a bufialo or sheep is killed of which as many as 
possible partake. Nominally like all important mulid the 
festival lasts a fortnight, in this instance from the first to 
the fifteenth of Shaaban, but only the last few days are 
important from the popular standpoint, the festivity 
reaching its climax on the last night, which is the night 
after full moon^ The orthodox account of El Say id 
Yusuf Abu'l Heggag states that he was born at Baghdad 
A.H. 557, went to the Hejaz in 619 and there attained so 
much honour that he became an Ulema, settling at Luxor 

> The slight importance attaching to the eai-ly days of the nmHd is shown by the 
fact that one of Mr Bninton's inibrmantSy a Luxor man, said that the festival of 
Abu'l Heggag bsted only nine days. 


in 621 and dying there in 643. According to the popular 
version Abul Heggag is said to have lived nearly 700 years 
ago. The * king of Egypt, the conqueror Nslsir-el-din/ 
having heard of his sanctity, sent for him and the pro- 
cession of the boat commemorates the stone vessel in 
which he and three other sheykhs from Upper Egypt 
journeyed from Keneh to Cairo in less than two days, or 
according to one account 'in the twinkling of an cye\* 

The models of boats commonly suspended in mosques 
{e.g. in the two chief mosques of Luxor in 1909) and in 
the tombs of sheykhs appear to be ex votos in every case, 
and though these have nothing to do with Abul Heggag, 
and broadly speaking are not connected with any particular 
saint, the form that the votive offering assumes is none the 
less significant. Considering the importance of the boat 
in ancient Egyptian ceremonial, and the number of repre* 
sentations of sacred boats on sledges that have come down 
to us^ there seems little reason to doubt that we are dealing 
with survivals from the times of these wall paintings. 

Assuming that the Egyptian customs described have 
in fact sprung from ancient Egyptian boat festivals, the 
question arises how far can boat ceremonies among 
Mohammedans in the far East be traced to this source? 
My knowledge of these is slight, but the * Moormen' of 
Ceylon certainly have one ceremony in which figures a 
boat on wheels. The following account is taken from 
Mrs Seligmann's journal under the date May i6th, 1908 
corresponding to Rabia el-Thani 15th, 1326. * There 

^ There is a boat festival at Keneh where Sidi Abdul Rahim, one of the three 
companion sheykhs, is buried, and outside his tomb is a piece of stone said to be a 
portion of the boat. 

> I may refer to the representations of boat shrines on sledges on the walls of the 
temple of Seti I at Abydos, and especially to the description engraved on a sandstone 
tablet, found by Champollion, of the voyage of the god Khonsu to Bekhten: *Then 
King Ramses gave command, and Khonsu... was placed in the Great Boat; and around 
the Great Boat were five small boats, with chariou and horses, numerous and splendid, 
on the right hand and on the left' (M. A..Murray, Ancieni Egyptian Legends^ p. i6). 
A boat shrine on wheels which may well resemble that described in the legend is figured 
by Rawlinson {HerodctuSy ii. p. io8, f. n.)» while in Ghiaeh Museum there is a golden 
model of a boat on wheels bearing the name of Kames» the son of Queen Aahotep of 
the seventeenth Dynasty. 


was a Mohammedan festival on this, a splendid moonlight 
evening. The mosque stands a little way up the hill 
behind Kandy and has a flight of white steps leading up 
to it. C. our guide, the son of the Moorman headman, 
took us to a quiet street and brought out chairs for us. 
There we waited and waited till at last after midnight the 
procession left the mosque. First came the torch-bearers, 
then a cart representing a house with a man dressed as a 
girl dancing in the verandah, then a boat containing a 
number of men and boys who loaded and fired off guns 
and pistols as fast as they could. Then came a huge 
pagoda-like erection all lit up, the top revolving one way 
and the base in the opposite direction. This was carried 
by about 40 men.* 

This ceremony was held on a date on which there was 
no orthodox Mohammedan festival. In other words, like 
the feast of Abul Heggag, it was a local afiair and was 
held in honour of a local saint. Taking this into con- 
sideration and the absence of any similar ceremony among 
the Sinhalese, as well as the considerable trade which 
existed throughout mediaeval times between the Red Sea 
ports and Ceylon, it seems legitimate to infer that the 
boat carried in procession is a survival from an old 
Egyptian ceremony which, after being absorbed into 
Mohammedanism, was introduced by 'Arab* traders into 
Ceylon \ 

(iv) The Calendar. The Egyptians counted time 
by months which were divided into three periods of ten 
days each, yet, notwithstanding the confusion caused by 
the introduction of a seven day week into the calendar, 
certain of the beliefs proper to Ancient Egypt still persist 
among the Fellahin and are even chronicled in the modern 
calendars sold in Cairo. 

^ For a summary of early Mohammedan influence in Ceylon, see Tennent's Ceylon^ 
1859, Vol. I. pp. 579 — 591. Another example of an 'Arab* custom adopted in the 
hr East is the * circumcision ' of girls^ practised by Malays, often reduced to the 
drawing of a few drops of blood from the ditoris. In certain instances the rite may be 
repeated for its purifying virtue. 


Valuable information about the old Egyptian calendar 
is given by Chabas in his publication concerning the 
Sallier Papyrus^ which dates from the time of Rameses II 
or possibly of his successor. Chabas also gives a translation 
of a papyrus preserved at Ley den (i. 346) entitled l^he 
Book of the Five Extra Days of the Tear. This not only 
states that the epagomenal days are unlucky, they were in 
fact dies nefasti^ but gives the magical formulae and pro- 
cesses by which their maleficent quality may be averted ; 
yet, in spite of these instructions, the papyrus ends with the 
warning that nothing should be undertaken on those days. 

' Do not do any work on these unlucky things (?) 
[namely] wheat, spelt, flax, clothing. Do not devise any- 
thing at all. The man who does what is written here, 
shall not fare ill I* 

Turning now to the beliefs of modern Egypt I am 
indebted to Mr R. Engelbach for the information that 
the epagomenal days are known as Guma^a Kelil Khusumat 
and that any child begotten during these days will infallibly 
be misshapen or abnormally tall or short. This also 
applies to animals so that cattle and mares are not covered 
during these days; moreover, some say (though others 
deny) that neither sowing nor planting should be under- 
taken ^ 

The following is an even more striking example of the 
persistence of old beliefs attached to certain days. The 
Papyrus Sallier marks Athyr 19th as one of the days 'to 
beware' and says: * Storms are engendered in the skies; 
do not travel on the river neither up nor down; do 
not. all on this day.' In the modern calendar for 

1 p. Chabas, Le Calendrier des Jours Pastes et Ntfastes de V Annie 6gjptienne. 

^ I owe this translation to the courtesy of Dr A. H. Gardiner. 

* Mr Homblower points out that the leila el khusumat, as the nights of this anlucky 
period are called, extend from the ist to the 6th of the Coptic month of Ajnshir 
(February-March). These are not, however, the true intercalary dajrs of the Coptic 
year called eyyam el nesu which occur in the second week in September at the end of 
the Coptic year. Nevertheless the Egyptians still observe the days of the guma*a keBl 
khusumat, and know them as kharig el sena, * the days outside the year,' although they 
have no idea why they are so called. 


1878* the instruction for Zu'1-Heggeh 4th corresponding 
to the Coptic Hatour 19th, i.e. Athyr igth, is 'Avoid 
travelling on the Mediterranean/ 

Another interesting example is afforded by a day near 
the end of Choiack. The Papyrus Sallier marks Choiack 
26th as extremely unlucky, and of this day it is said ' Do 
not eat fish. Those residing in the midst of Tattou turn 
themselves into the fish An/ In the modem calendar 
{op. cit. p. 25) the note for Moharrem nth corresponding 
to the Coptic Kyhak 26th is 'The eating of pigeons is 
liked, that of fish disliked/ 

These examples, striking as they are, are in accord 
with the fact that the names of the months in general use 
by the Copts at the present time scarcely differ from those 
preserved in the Egyptian papyri. 

C. G. Seligmann 

* Egyptian Calendar for the year 1295 a.h. (1878 a.d.) corresfonJing *witA the jean 
1594-1595 •fthe KafAc Era^ Alexandria, 1877. Thii^ with its terminal notes» it a mine 
of folk-lore. The author, Roland Mitchell, has concealed hit identity on the title-psge 
by trantllterating hit name into hieroglyphs. It thould be noted that thit calendar 
does not correspond accurately with one by £. Tissot entitled AUnanach pour rannie 



Of late years, the impressive discoveries of prehistoric 
human skeletons in Germany (Mauer), France (La 
Chapelle-aux-Saints, La Quina, La Ferrassie, and Le 
Moustier), and England (Piltdown, Sussex), have diverted 
attention from the remarkable skeleton found at Galley 
HilP in Kent. 

But, in fact, the interest of the latter is really 
intensified by the more recent finds. 

In view of the possibility that this contribution may 
be honoured by the attention of readers who have not 
made a special study of fossil remains of human beings, I 
venture to review briefly the situation created by the 
inclusion of the Galley Hill skeleton among the most 
ancient representatives of our kind. 

That the actual fossil remains of Man would (as the 
net result of examination) support a belief in evolution, is 
an expectation that has long been cherished. Moreover, 
it has been regarded as probable, that the evolution in 
question would prove to have been a gradual process, 
that it would be shewn to have been continuous, regular, 
and undisturbed by sudden or abrupt advances. 

For a time, these expectations seemed to be Justified, 
even though the evidence might not be absolutely 
conclusive. An evolution of the kind anticipated seemed 
to be clearly indicated* 

Thus tne Cave-men of the Mousterian period were, 
on the whole, more lowly than those of the later Stone- 


But if, looking beyond these Cave«-men, we find in 
a much earlier period remains of a human being differing 
in no essentials from ourselves, we feel that the anticipated 
sequence is rudely interrupted, and it becomes evident 
that our ideas as to the mode of evolution, if not as to its 
very occurrence, need a thorough revision. 

Such is the situation actually created by the Galley 
Hill skeleton, if its claims to high antiquity be made good. 
For it is a skeleton which, though found in surroundings 
indicative of vast antiquity, presents no essential differences 
from those of many modern men. That such a type 
should be more ancient than the apparently lowly man of 
the Neanderthal, is so paradoxical that the closest scrutiny 
must be directed to the crucial evidence in the case. 

In this instance, the whole case rests on the answer to 
the question. How did the skeleton of the Galley Hill 
man come into the position in which it was found ? Was 
it interred, or, on the other hand, was it deposited 
contemporaneously with the material of the alluvial bed 
in which it lay ? 

A point of importance is that the Galley Hill ' type * 
is now definitely enrolled by some authors among the 
earliest representatives of humanity, and its characters 
have been accorded so high a value that mention of the 
Galley Hill Race is of frequent occurrence in recent 

In the following paragraphs, I hope to make a small 
contribution to this subject, and it will be of a nature 
antagonistic to the view of the * higher ' antiquity of the 
Galley HiU man. In so doing, I may remark that, in 
a former publication, I gave assent, hesitating though it 
might be, to the view here controverted. It is unnecessary 
to relate the considerations which weighed with me in 
forming that conclusion, and the fact is mentioned chiefly 
to indicate that in the preparation of the present paper, I 
have had good reason to maintain an attitude free from 


Such problems can rarely, perhaps never, be solved in 
demonstrative fashion. Our approximations strike a 
balance between the scales of favourable and adverse 
evidence. And in these circumstances, details of an 
apparently trivial kind may sometimes prove valuable. 

The history of the discovery of the Galley Hill 
skeleton is accessible to all^ and I shall not attempt to 
summarize the discussions already on record. It will 
sufHce to say that the, bones were found in a gravel deposit 
corresponding to what is termed the * i oo-foot terrace * 
of the Thames Valley. The gravel rests on the chalk, 
and on this it has accumulated locally to a thickness of 
some ten feet. The bones were eight feet from the 
surface ; they lay in close contact, and many parts of the 
skeleton were collected. In fact, it is not impossible that 
the whole skeleton might have been recovered, had the 
necessary pains been taken at the time. 

The gravel at that place yielded no other fossil bones*, 
so that no direct evidence of the contemporary animals 
is forthcoming. But the altitude of the deposit above the 
modern Thames suggests no small antiquity for the 
surroundings of the bones. Moreover, the researches of 
Mr Hinton^ on fossil bones of animals found in a 
neighbouring gravel-pit, confirm that view. For the 
evidence leads Mr Hinton to conclude that a very early 

* Through the kindness of J. Basley White, £sq., jun., I have been enabled to 
examine a human calvaria from Swanscombe near Galley Hill. The calnuia it 
accompanied by the lower jaw, part of the upper jaw and by the atlat and axis 
vertebrae. The interest of these specimens is extraordinarily great, for Mr Bailey White 
describes them as having been round 'about nine or ten feet down, in the alluvial 
gravel, on top of the challc,' and as regards the surroundings, Mr Bazley White adds 
that * as far as I can remember, the ground had not been excavated, or touched in ftct.* 

The skull is of a modem type, but though slightly distorted, it is not comparable 
in this latter respect to the Galley Hill skull. The chief point of importance;, to my 
mind, is that beudes the Galley Hill skeleton, the Swanscombe skull and vertebcae 
should have been found so deep in the gravel. Like the Galley Hill bones, those from 
Swanscombe are much marked or scored by rootlets. They are very finable and almoat 
completely devoid of gelatine, to judge by their extreme fragility. 

In addition to this record, I may add that Mr Sutdiffe writes (in the Memdn •ftkt 
Manchistir PMUsophic Sociitj^y June 14, 19139 p. 16 of reprint) to the efiect that bones 
of modem oxen (including a complete skeleton) have been found near Galley Hill at 
a depth of eight feet in a gravel-pit. 


stage of the Pleistocene period is here represented; a 
stage in which the British fauna still included animals 
distinctive of the (preceding) Pliocene period. If then, as 
the supporters of the contemporaneity of the human skeleton 
with those extinct animals ask us to believe, the association 
is proved, we have to assign a vast antiquity to both alike. 

The most obvious alternative is that the human bones 
were interred at an epoch much less remote from the 
present than that of the formation of the gravel bed. This 
possibility has been present to the minds of all who have 
investigated the case. 

Mr Newton, in his announcement of the discovery 
and in his description of the bones, states, however, that 
^ there is no evidence whatever of this being an interment.* 

In re-opening this part of the discussion, I propose to 
make the following assumptions : 

(a) That the evidence as to the undisturbed condition 
of the gravel above the skeleton is inadmissible. 

This assumption is of great importance, for it strikes 
at the first, and almost the sole, argument employed by 
Mr Newton. I am therefore bound to add that I am 
guided by two considerations. First, that the witnesses 
to this effect are not shewn to have had the experience 
necessary for warranting the acceptance of their evidence 
in so momentous a matter. Secondly, that it is by no 
means proved that the nature of the deposit was such that 
traces of such disturbance as is involved in an interment 
would be preserved for very long. It is fair to claim that 
better evidence than that now on record should be provided 
in support of this point. 

{i) That the evidence so far adduced from the 
chemical analysis of the bones is likewise inadmissible, 
in view of the extraordinary and admitted variability of 
local conditions, and the influence of these on the materials 
(in this case, the bones) actually examined. 

(r) That the skeleton shews no essential differences 
from those of many modem individuals. 


Of these assumptions, the first two cover practically 
the whole case for the greater antiquity of the Galley 
Hill skeleton. The third assumption is important, but is 
not generally contested. 

The object of the present communication is to discuss 
a point that has received little more than a mere mention 
hitherto. It consists in the peculiar distortion of the 
Galley Hill skull. 

The distortion has been ascribed to * warping/ said to 
have occurred while the skull was exposed to the air 
immediately after its discovery. 

I have to suggest alternatively that the distortion may 
be characteristic of skulls from undoubted interments. 
Were this shewn to be even probable, its bearing on the 
antiquity of the Galley Hill skeleton is self-evident. 

In support of this view, I think that three principal 
propositions ought to be established : 

(i) The distortion of the Galley Hill skull must be 
shewn to be closely similar to, if not identical with, 
distortion produced posthumously in a skuU (or skulls) 
known to have been interred. 

(2) The distortion must be shewn to be a frequent 
variant of the deformations to which interred skulls 
(or rather, heads) are subject. 

(3) The distortion must be shewn to be very un- 
common in skulls recovered from alluvial deposits, in 
which they had been embedded by a natural process. 

(i) A human skull recently sent to the Anatomy 
School is distorted in a manner so nearly resembling that 
of the Galley Hill skull, that the resemblance amounts 
almost to identity. 

Three drawings of this skull have been made, and are 
reproduced in the accompanying illustrations, together 
with the corresponding views of the Galley Hill skull 


(Figs. I to 6). Each cranium has been elongated, 
laterally compressed or narrowed, twisted spirally on its 
longer axis, while the left side has suffered more damage 
than the right. That the measurements of length are 
211 mm. and 205 mm., the transverse diameter of the less 
damaged half being 65 mm. in each case, may be regarded 
as only coincidences. 

The skull-wall of the Cambridge specimen is the 
less thick^ but it presents localized areas of thickening 
in the same positions as those of the Galley Hill skull. 
In the Cambridge specimen these * osteophytes ' are less 
marked, and as the skull is probably of the female sex, 
they might be identified with the so-called * puerperal 
osteophytes,' were it not now established that they may 
be produced in a skull of either sex, so that this factor 
need not be taken into account. 

The Cambridge specimen was removed from one of a 
series of graves lately discovered in the garden of Croft 
Lodge, Newnham (near Cambridge). The presence of 
Saxon fibulae in an adjacent grave provides good evidence 
of the date of interment. The graves were not deep, but 
within a few yards of the locality Saxon remains (but not 
human bones) were found at a depth of eight feet below 
the present surface. The ground consists of an alluvial 
gravel, so that in this respect the circumstances are 
sufficiently comparable to those at Galley Hill. 

(The University owes the specimens to the kindness 
of Mrs Watson, the owner of Croft Lodge.) 

(2) Modes of distortion in undoubted cases of inter- 

Posthumous deformation of the human skull received 
much attention about fifty years ago (cf. Crania Bri- 
iannicay p. 38, 1865), but interest in it has lapsed of late 
years. It has long been known to be most frequent in 
interments of certain or particular periods, that of the 
Saxon predominance being especially noteworthy on this 


account. For the production of the particular kind of 
distortion here considered, the head must have been 
turned well over to one side. This may happen even 
when the corpse has been laid on its back in the grave. 
An examination of the extensive collection of ancient 
crania (from this country) resulted in the discovery of 
six specimens comparable to the Galley Hill skull and 
the Saxon skull, in point of distortion. In five out of 
the six, the left side has suffered more damage than the 
right. This is the case in the two skulls first described 
(Figs. 1-6). 

All six specimens are from interments, three are 
certainly Saxon, and of these one is the specimen em- 
ployed by Thurnam to illustrate the results of posthumous 
deformation, and figured in Crania Britannica (lignograph 
No. 2). 

No other variety of posthumous distortion occurs in 
the Cambridge Collection with sufficient frequency to con- 
stitute a * class' or *type.' Yet this result may be illusory, 
since it is possible that crania distorted after the fashion of 
that from Galley Hill may be more easily preserved, and 
may on this account find their way more readily into 

However this may be, the observations here recorded 
will suffice to shew that the distortion of the Galley Hill 
skull is faithfully reproduced in interments, and that it is 
at least one of the more frequent of such posthumous 

(3) The distortion must be shewn to be rare or perhaps 
unrecorded in crania embedded naturally in an alluvial 

Clearly this is the most difficult part of the case here 
presented. First of all, we must consider the following 
remarkable statement made by Barnard Davis, ^ the 
appearance (/>. posthumous deformation, W. L. H. D.) 
had long been known to palaeontologists/ 


The preceding arguments would lose most of their 
force should it be shewn that the foregoing sentence refers 
correctly to human crania, and to instances in which 
interment is excluded as the determining factor. 

I have searched the more accessible works on Palae- 
ontology in vain for evidence that the remark is thus 
applicable. I find no discussion at all of the case 
of human crania. Professor Abel alone {Palaeobiologiey 
1 9 1 2) discusses in detail the various circumstances under 
which fossil remains have been deposited. But even 
Professor Abel does not deal with the problems of human 
remains in Pleistocene gravels. I am therefore of opinion 
that examples drawn from sites like that of Pikermi, 
where numerous carcasses of large mammals were heaped 
on each other, and where crushed or splintered bones are 
found, do not provide relevant evidence, even though the 
bones are distorted as well as fractured. 

We have to imagine the corpse of the Galley Hill 
man swept on to a bed of gravel. The High Terrace 
of the Thames was in process of formation, and that river 
was carrying at the time * only the finest gravel, together 
with a large quantity of sand and brickearth ' (H in ton 
and Kennard, Essex Naturalist^ Vol. xv. 1907, p. 68). 
The current was not strong enough to separate the bones 
from each other as they fell apart. The accumulation 
of the deposit was therefore proceeding slowly. 

Does such a matrix provide the conditions for active 
pressure-effects, comparable to those produced in an 
interment ? I do not think that an affirmative answer 
can be given with confidence. 

Considering that the Galley Hill skull, if contemporary 
with the formation of the High Terrace, is a * River-bed 
skull of that period, I have enquired into the occurrence of 
distortion or deformation among other skulls thus designated. 

But I do not find that distortion is recorded among 
these, as a feature remarkable either by reason of its 
frequency or its degree. 

R. 30 


Even the * Tilbury * skull is not thus characterised, 
notwithstanding the great depth at which it lay (34 feet). 
There is no mention of distortion in a critical account (by 
the late Dr Beddoe) of two skulls found at great depths 
(40 feet * and 46 feet respectively) in alluvial deposits near 
Bristol. A human cranium found near Bedford in the 
autumn of 191 2 was covered by some twelve feet of 
gravel and mud, and was yet free from distortion. The 
perfect preservation of even the most delicate shells in 
deep deposits has frequently been noticed, and the 
phenomenon is easily explicable. I have found one 
reference to distortion in a human skull, which may be 
of the ' River-bed ' type. This is the so-called 'Sudbury' 
skull. But the distortion is incomparably less than in the 
Galley Hill skull, the specimen is not clearly of the 
'River-bed' type, and it may be of quite recent date. 

By way of summary, I may repeat that, in suggesting 
that the Galley Hill skeleton is to be brought into the 
category of interments, I have adduced evidence to shew : 

(i) That the skull has been distorted posthumously 
in a manner practically identical with that found in skulls 
derived from interments. 

(2) That in skulls from interments, this particular 
form of distortion is at least one of the most frequent. 

(3) That the arguments drawn from the distorted 
bones of Tertiary mammals are not relevant, owing to the 
difference in the local conditions. 

(4) That in the ' River-bed ' skulls, distortion is 
neither frequent, nor sufficiently marked to have attracted 

I find it difficult to believe that warping could mimic 
with such accuracy the distortion produced by pressure in 
a grave t. 

* 24^ feet below O.D. 

f A human skull from a cist-grave in Scotland has been sent to the Cambrid^pe 
Museum and gives valuable evidence on this point. For the cist-grave skull, when first 


On the contrary, I think it more reasonable to conclude 
that in fact the Galley Hill skull has been distorted 
through the same agency as those crania it so closely 

Consequently I am unable to agree with Mr Newton, 
that there is no evidence whatever of interment *. 

The suggestion here presented may not possess much 
weight, but I think it ought to be completely rebutted 
before a confident claim can be sustained on behalf of 
the greater antiquity of the Galley Hill skeleton. If it 
is not thus rebutted, I think that the Galley Hill skeleton 
should at least be placed to a suspense account, as proposed 
long ago by Professor Boyd Dawkins. 

W. L. H. Duckworth. 

exhumed, was so softened thtt before removal it had to be left exposed in situ for a 
fortnight during July 19x3. The weather was sunny, yet no warping at all has 
been produced in the skull. 

* The 'scoring' of the bones of the Galley Hill skeleton by the rootlets of plants 
raises a point which may be the means of throwing further light on the problem in 
hand. At the moment I am only able to mention this line of enquiry. 


(i) {a) Newton, Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society^ VoL u. 
Aug. 1895. 

{b) Klaatsch, Zeitschrifi fUr Ethnologie^ Heft 6, IQOS* 

(2) Keith, Ancient Types of Man. 1911. 

(3) Duckworth, Prehistoric Man. Cambridge Manuals, 1912. 

(4) Hinton. {a) Proceedings of the Geologists* Association^ Vol. xxi. 1910, 

Part 10, p. 499. 

(i) Proceedings of the Geologists* Association^ Vol. xx. 1907, 
Part 2, p. 52. 

(Hinton) and Kennard. (c) Proceedings of the Geologists* Association^ 

VoL XIX. 1905, Part 2, p. 8i. 



s s 





fig. a. Front view of the diitorted Saxon tkull (from Croft LoH^ Newnham, 
Cambridge). The ikull ii orientated (u nearly u ponible} on the lub-cerebral 
plane adopted bj Keith ; the Bregma (not marked) and the Lambda (£} are in the 
Mme vertical plane. The Opitihioo fflp) i« teen to be to the left of the median 
plane, and the luft lialf of the ipecimen i* much flattened. 


Fig. 3. The cut of th« GtUey Hill ikuU orientated timllulj to the Saxon skuU m 
ibewn in Fif;. 1- The Opinhion (Op) it seen to be 10 the left of the median plane, 
and the left half of the ipcdmen it dittinclly tlalteiied. 


Fig. 4.. View of the Suon tknU (detcribed under Fig. 1) f