Greece - Corinth - Tiryns - Argos

( Originally Published 1913 )

THE Gulf of Corinth is a very beautiful and narrow fiord, with chains of mountains on either side, through the gaps of which you can see far into the Morea on one side, and into northern Greece on the other. But the bays or harbours on either coast are few, and so there was no city able to wrest the commerce of these waters from old Corinth, which held the keys by land of the whole Peloponnesus, and commanded the passage from sea to sea. It is, indeed, wonderful how Corinth did not acquire and maintain the first position in Greece. It may, perhaps, have done so in the days of Periander, and we hear at various times of inventions and discoveries in Corinth, which show that, commercially and artistically, it was among the leading cities of Greece. But, whenever the relations of the various powers become clear, as in the Persian or Peloponnesian Wars, we find Corinth always at the head of the second-rate states, and never among the first. This is possibly to be accounted for by the predominance of trade interests, which are the source of such material prosperity that men are completely engrossed with it, and will not devote time and labour to politics, or stake their fortunes for the defence of principle. Thus it seems as if the Corinthians had been the shopkeepers of Greece.

But as soon as the greater powers of Greece decayed and fell away, we find Corinth immediately taking the highest position in wealth, and even in importance. The capture of Corinth, in 146 B.C., marks the Roman conquest of all Greece, and the art-treasures carried to Rome seem to have been as great and various as those which even Athens could have produced. Its commercial position was at once assumed by Delos. No sooner had Julius Caesar restored and rebuilt the ruined city, than it sprang at once again into importance, while Delos decayed; and among the societies addressed in the Epistles of S. Paul, none seems to have lived in greater wealth or luxury. It was, in fact, well-nigh impossible that Corinth should die. Nature had marked out her site as one of the great thoroughfares of the old world; and it was not till after centuries of blighting misrule by the wretched Turks that she sank into the hopeless decay from which not even another Julius Caesar could rescue her.

These were our reflections as we passed up the gulf on a splendid summer evening, the mountains of Arcadia showing their snowy tops of a deep rose colour in the setting sun. And passing by Aegion and Sikyon, we came to anchor at the harbour of Lechaeum. There was a public conveyance which took the traveller across the isthmus to Kenchreae, where a steamboat was in readiness to bring him to Athens. But with the usual absurdity of such services, no time was allowed for visiting Corinth and its Acropolis). We, however, stayed for the night in the boat, and started in the morning for our ride into the Peloponnesus. This arrangement was then necessary, as the port of Lechaeum did not afford the traveller even the luxury of a decent meal. The Greek steamers are, besides, of considerable interest to any observant person. They seem always full of passengers with their dogs, and as the' various classes mix indiscriminately on deck, all sorts of manners, costume, and culture can be easily compared.

The fondness of the Greeks for driving a bargain is often to be noticed. Thus, a Greek gentleman on this boat, perceiving that we were strangers in pursuit of art and antiquities, produced two very fine gold coins of Philip and Alexander, which he offered for £5. That of Philip was particularly beautiful—a very perfect Greek head in profile, crowned with laurel, and on the reverse a chariot and four, with the legend. Not being a very expert judge of coins, and supposing that he had asked more than the value, I offered him 2 pounds for this one, which was considerably the larger ; but he would not take any abatement. He evidently was not anxious to sell them, but merely took his chance of getting a good price, and investing it again at better interest. Seeing that the coin seemed but little heavier than our sovereign, and is not uncommon in collections, I fancy the price he asked was excessive. The Athenian shops, which are notorious for their prices to strangers, had similar coins, for which about L4 was asked. On this, and a thousand other points, the traveller should be instructed by some competent person before he sets out. Genuine antiquities seem to me so common in Greece, that imitations are hardly worth manufacturing. Even with a much greater market, the country can supply for generations an endless store of real remains of ancient Greece. But, nevertheless, the prices of these things are already very high. The ordinary tourist does not infest these shores, so that the only seekers after them are enthusiasts, who will not hesitate to give even fancy prices for what they like.

The form of the country, as you ascend from Lechaeum to Corinth, is very marked and peculiar. At some distance from the flat shore the road leads up through a steep pass of little height, which is cut through a long ridge of rock, almost like a wall, and over which lies a higher plateau of land. The same feature is again repeated a mile inland, as the traveller approaches the site of ancient Corinth. These plateaus, though not lofty, are well marked, and perfectly distinct, the pass from one up to the next being quite sufficient to form a strong place of defence against an attacking force. Behind the highest plateau rises the great cliff on which the citadel was built. But even from the site of the old city it is easy to obtain a commanding view of the isthmus, of the two seas, and of the Achaean coast up to Sikyon.

The traveller who expects to find any sufficient traces of the city of Periander and of Timoleon, and, I may say, of S. Paul, will be grievously disappointed. In the middle of the wretched straggling modern village there stand up seven enormous rough stone pillars of the Doric Order, evidently of the oldest and heaviest type ; and these are the only visible relic of the ancient city, looking altogether out of place, and almost as if they had come there by mistake. These pillars, though insufficient to admit of our reconstructing the temple, are in themselves profoundly interesting. Their shaft up to the capital is of one block, about twenty-one feet high and six feet in diameter. It is to be observed that over these gigantic monoliths the architrave, in which other Greek temples show the largest blocks, is not in one piece, but two, and made of beams laid together longitudinally .l The length of the shafts (up to the neck of the capital) measures about four times their diameter on the photograph which I possess ; I do not suppose that any other Doric pillar known to us is so stout and short. The material is said almost universally to be limestone, but if my eyes served me aright, it was a very porous and now rough sandstone, not the least like the bluish limestone in which the lions of the gate of Mycenae are carved. The pillars are said to have been covered with stucco, and were of course painted. Perhaps even the figures of the pediment were modelled in clay, as we are told was the case in the oldest Corinthian temples, when first the fashion came in of thus ornamenting an otherwise flat and unsightly surface. The great temple of Paestum—which is, probably, the next oldest, and certainly the finest extant specimen of the early Doric style—has no figures in the pediment, and seems never to have had them, unless, indeed, they were painted in fresco on the stucco, with which it was probably covered. Those who have seen the temple at Paestum are, perhaps, the only visitors who will be able to frame to themselves an image of the very similar structure at Corinth, which Turks and earthquakes have reduced to seven columns. There must have been in it the same simplicity, the same almost Egyptian massiveness, and yet the same unity of plan and purpose which excludes all idea of clumsiness or disproportion.

The longer we study the Greek orders of architecture, the more the conviction grows that the Doric is of all the noblest and the most natural. When lightened and perfected by the Athenians of Pericles's time, it becomes simply unapproachable ; but even in older and ruder forms, it is vastly superior to either of the more florid orders. All the massive temples of Roman times were built in the very ornate Corinthian, which may almost be called the Graeco-Roman, style ; but, notwithstanding their majesty and beauty, they are not to be compared in tone with the severer and more religious of the Doric remains. I may add that the titles by which the orders are distinguished seem ill-chosen and without meaning, except, perhaps, that the Ionic was most commonly used, and probably invented, in Asia Minor. The earliest specimens of the Corinthian Order are at Epidaurus, Olympia, and Phigalia ; the most perfect of the Doric is at Athens, while Ionic temples are found everywhere. But it is idle to attempt to change such definite and well-sanctioned names.

Straight over the site of the town is the great rock known as the Acro-Corinthus. A winding path leads up on the south-west side to the Turkish draw-bridge and gate, which are now deserted and open ; nor is there a single guard or soldier to watch a spot once the coveted prize of contending empires. In the days of the Achaean League it was called one of the fetters of Greece, and indeed it requires no military experience to see the extraordinary importance of the place. Strabo speaks of the Peloponnesus as the Acropolis of Greece — Corinth may fairly be called the Acropolis of the Peloponnesus. It runs out boldly from the surging mountain-chains of the peninsula, like an outpost or sentry, guarding all approach from the north. In days when news was transmitted by fire signals, we can imagine how all the southern country must have depended on the watch upon the rock of Corinth. It is separated by a wide plain of land, ending in the isthmus, from the Geranean Mountains, which belong to a different system.

Next to the view from the heights of Parnassus, I suppose the view from this citadel is held the finest in Greece. I speak here of the large and diverse views to be obtained from mountain heights. To me, personally, such a view as that from the promontory of Sunium, or, above all, from the harbour of Nauplia, exceeds in beauty and interest any bird's-eye prospect. Any one who looks at the map of Greece will see how the Acro-Corinthus commands coasts, islands, and bays. The day was too hazy when we stood there to let us measure the real limits of the view, and I cannot say how far the eye may reach in a clear atmosphere. But a host of islands, the southern coasts of Attica and Beeotia, the Acropolis of Athens, Salamis and Aegina, Helicon and Parnassus, and endless Aetolian peaks were visible in one direction ; while, as we turned round, all the waving reaches of Arcadia and Argolis, down to the approaches towards Mantinea and Karytena, lay stretched out before us. The plain of Argos, and the sea at that side, are hidden by the mountains.' But without going into detail, this much may be said, that if a man wants to realise the features of these coasts, which he has long studied on maps, half an hour's walk about the top of this rock will give him a geographical insight which months of reading could not attain.

The surface is very large, at least half a mile each way, and is covered inside the bounding wall with the remains of a considerable Turkish town, now in ruins and totally deserted, but evidently of no small importance in the days of the War of Liberation. The building of this town was a great misfortune to antiquaries, for every available remnant of old Greek work was used as material for the modern houses. At all parts of the walls may be seen white marble fragments of pillars and architraves, and I have no doubt that a careful dilapidation of the modern abandoned houses would amply repay the outlay. There are several pits for saving rain-water, and some shallow underground passages of which we could not make out the purpose. The pits or tanks must have been merely intended to save trouble, for about the middle of the plateau, which sinks considerably towards the south, we were brought to a passage into the ground which led by a rapid descent to the famous well of Pirene, the water of which was so perfectly clear that we walked into it on going down the steps, as there was actually no water-line visible. It was twelve or fourteen feet deep, and perhaps twenty-five feet long, so far as we could make it out in the twilight underground. The structure of marble over the fountain is the only piece of old Greek work we could find on the rock. It consists of three supports, like pillars, made of several blocks, and over them a sort of architrave. Then there is a gap in the building, and from the large number of fragments of marble lying at the bottom of the well we concluded that the frieze and cornice had fallen out. The pediment, or rather its upper outline, is still in its place, clear of the architrave, and built into the rock so as to remain without its supporting cornice.

There are numerous inscriptions as you descend, which I did not copy, because I was informed they had already been published, though I have not since been able to find them ; but they are, of course, to be found in some of the Greek archaeological newspapers. They appeared to me at the time to be either hopelessly illegible, or suspiciously clear. This great well, springing up near the top of a barren rock, is very curious, especially as we could see no outlet .l The water was deep under the surface, and there was no sign of welling up, or of outflow anywhere ; but to make sure of this would have required a long and careful ride round the whole ridge. Our guide-book spoke of rushing streams and waterfalls tumbling down the rock, which we searched for in vain, and which may have been caused by a winter rainfall without any connection with the fountain.

The Isthmus, which is really some three or four miles north of Corinth, was of old famous for the Isthmian games, as well as for the noted diolkos, or road for dragging ships across. The games were founded about 586 B.C., when a strong suspicion had arisen throughout Greece concerning the fairness of the Elean awards at Olympia, and for a long time Eleans were excluded. In later days the games became very famous, the Argives or Cleonaeans laying claim to celebrate them. It was at these games that Philip V. heard of the great defeat of the Romans by Hannibal, and resolved to enter into that colossal quarrel which brought the Romans into Macedonia. The site of the stadium, and of the temple of Isthmian Poseidon, and of the fortified sanctuary, were excavated and mapped out by M. Monceaux in 1883. A plan and details are to be found in the French Guide Joanne. Close by I saw in 1889 the interrupted work of the canal which was at last to connect the eastern and western gulfs, and which when well-nigh completed found its funds dissipated by the terrible crash of the Credit Mobilier in Paris. It has since been completed, but seems of little use. The idea is old and often discussed, like that of cutting the Isthmus of Suez. The Emperor Nero actually began the work, and the engineers of today resumed the cutting at the very spot where his workmen left off.

But if this very expensive work might have been of great service when sailing ships feared to round the notorious Cape of Malea, and when there was great trade from the Adriatic to the ports of Thessaly and Macedonia, surely all these advantages are now superseded. Steamers coming from the Straits of Messina would pay nothing to take the route of the Isthmus in preference to rounding the Morea, and the main line of traffic is no longer to the Northern Levant, but to Alexandria. Even goods despatched from Trieste of Venice may now be landed at Patras, and sent on by rail to Athens ; so that the canal will now only serve the smallest fraction of the Levantine trade ; and even then, if the charges be at all adequate to the labour, will be avoided by circumnavigation. Amid the pro-. motions of many schemes of traffic, this undertaking seems to me to stand out by its want of common sense. Indeed, had it been really important at any time we may be sure that the Hellenistic Sovrans or Roman capitalists would have carried it out. But in classical days their smaller ships seem to have been dragged across upon movable rollers by slaves without much difficulty.

But we had already delayed too long upon this citadel, where we would have willingly spent a day or two at greater leisure. Our guide urged us to start on our long ride, which was not to terminate till we reached the town of Argos, some thirty miles over the mountains.

The country into which we passed was very different from any we had yet seen, and still it was intensely Greek. All the hills and valleys showed a very white, chalky soil, which actually glittered like snow where it was not covered with verdure or trees. Road, as usual, there was none ; but all these hills and ravines, chequered with snowy white, were clothed with shining arbutus trees, and shrubs resembling dwarf holly. The purple and the white cistus, which is so readily mistaken for a wild rose, were already out of blow, and showed but a rare blossom. Here and there was a plain or valley with great fields of thyme about the arbutus, and there were herds of goats wandering through the shrubs, and innumerable bees gathering honey from the thyme. The scene was precisely such as Theocritus describes in the uplands of Sicily ; but in all our rides through that delightful island' we had never found the thyme and arbutus, the goats and bees, in such truly Theocritean perfection. We listened in vain for the shepherd's pipe, and looked for some Thyrsis beguiling his time with the oaten reed. It was almost noontide—noon, the hour of awe and mystery to the olden shepherd, when the irascible Pan, who would not brook disturbance, slept his mid-day sleep, and the wanton satyr was abroad, prowling for adventure through the silent woods ; so that, in pagan days, we might have been afraid of the companionship of melody. But now the silence was not from dread of Pan's displeasure, but that the sun's fiercer heat had warned the shepherds to depart to the snowy heights of Cyllene, where they dwell all the summer in alpine huts, and feed their flocks on the upland pastures, which are covered with snow till late in the spring.

They had left behind them a single comrade, with his wife and little children, to protect the weak and the lame till their return. We found this family settled in their winter quarters, which consisted of a square enclosure of thorns, built up with stones, round a very old spreading olive-tree. At the foot of the tree were pots and pans, and other household goods, with some skins and rude rugs lying on the ground. There was no attempt at a roof or hut of any kind, though, of course, it might be set up in a moment, as we had seen in the defiles of Parnassus, with skins hung over three sticks—two uprights, and the third joining their tops, so as to form a ridge.

To make the scene Homeric, as well as Theocritean, two large and very savage dogs rushed out upon us at our approach, but the shepherd hurried out after them, and drove them off by pelting them vigorously with stones. `Surely,' he said, turning to us breathlessly from his exertions, `you had met, O strangers ! with some mischief, if I had not been here.' The dogs disappeared, in deep anger, into the thicket, and, though we stayed at the place for some time, never reappeared to threaten or to pursue us on our departure. We talked as best we could to the gentle shepherdess, one of whose children had a fearfully scalded hand, for which we suggested remedies, to her occult and wonderful, though at home so trite as to be despised by the wise. She gave us in return great bowls of heated milk, which was being made into cheese, and into various kinds of curds, which are the very best produce of the country. They would take no money for their hospitality, but did not object to our giving the children coins to play with—to them, I am sure, a great curiosity.

Most of our journey was not, however, through pastures and plains, but up and down steep ravines, where riding was so difficult and dangerous that we were often content to dismount and lead our horses. Every hour or two brought us to a fountain springing from a rock, and over it generally a great spreading fig-tree, while the water was framed with a perfect turf of maiden-hair fern. The only considerable valley which we saw was that of Cleonæ, which we passed some miles on our left, and about which there was a great deal of golden corn, and many shady plane-trees. Indeed, the corn was so plentiful that we saw asses grazing in it quite contentedly, without any interference from thrifty farmers. We had seen a very similar sight in Sicily, where the enormous deep-brown Sicilian oxen, with their forward - pointing horns, were stretching their huge forms in fields of half-ripe wheat, which covered all the plain without fence or division. There, too, it seemed as if this was the cheapest grazing, and as if it were unprofitable labour to drive the cattle to some untilled pasture. As for the treading-out of corn, I saw it done at Argos by a string of seven horses abreast, with two young foals at the outside, galloping round a small circular threshing-floor in the open field, upon which the ripe sheaves had been laid in radiating order. I have no doubt that a special observer of farming operations would find many interesting survivals both in Greece and the Two Sicilies.

Towards evening, after many hours of travel, we turned aside on our way down the plain of Argos, to see the famous ruins of Mycenae. But we will now pass them by, as the discoveries of Dr. Schliemann, here and at Tiryns, and visits to the ruins after his excavations, have opened up so many questions that a separate chapter must be devoted to them.

The fortress of Tiryns, which I have already mentioned, and which we visited next day, may fitly be commented on before approaching the younger, or at least more artistically finished, Mycenæ. It stands several miles nearer to the sea, in the centre of the great plain of Argos, and upon the only hillock which there affords any natural scope for fortification. In-stead of the square, or at least hewn, well-fitted blocks of Mycenæ, we have here the older style of almost rude masses piled together as best they would fit, the interstices being filled up with smaller fragments, and as we now know, faced with mortar. This is essentially Cyclopean building. There was a palace, of rectangular shape, on the southern and highest part of the oblong hillock, the whole of which is surrounded by a lower wall, which takes in both this and the northern longer part of the ridge. It looked, in fact, like a hill-fort, with a large enclosure for cattle around it.

Just below the north-east angle of the inner fort, and where the lower circuit is about to leave it, there is an entrance, with a massive projection of huge stones, looking like a square tower, on its right side, so as to defend it from attack. The most remarkable feature in the walls are the covered galleries, constructed within them at the south-east angle. The whole thickness of the wall is often over twenty feet, and in the centre a rude arched way is made—or rather, I believe, two parallel ways ; but the inner gallery has fallen in, and is almost untraceable—and this merely by piling together the great stones so as to leave an opening, which narrows at the top in the form of a Gothic arch. Within the passage there are five niches in the outer side, made of rude arches, in the same way as the main passage. The length of the gallery I measured, and found it twenty-five yards, at the end of which it is regularly walled up, so that it evidently did not run all the way round. The niches are now no longer open, but seem to have been once windows, or at least to have had some look-out points into the hill country.

It is remarkable that, although the walls are made of perfectly rude stones, the builders have managed to use so many smooth surfaces looking outward, that the face of the wall seems quite clean and well-built.' At the south-east corner of the higher and inner level we found a large block of red granite, quite different from the rough grey stone of the building, with its surface square and smooth, and all the four sides neatly bevelled, like the portal stones at the treasury of Atreus. I found two other similar blocks close by, which were likewise cut smooth on the surface, and afterwards, in company with Dr. Schliemann, a large Doric capital. The intention of these stones we could not guess, but they show that some ornament, and some more finished work, must have once existed in the inner building. Though both the main entrances have massive towers of stone raised on their right, there is a small postern at the opposite or west side, not more than four feet wide, which has no defences whatever, and is a mere hole in the wall.

The whole ruin was covered, when we saw it in summer, with thistles, such as English people can hardly imagine. The needles at the points of the leaves are fully an inch long, extremely fine and strong, and as sharp as possible. No clothes except a leather dress can resist them. They pierce every-where with the most stinging pain, and make antiquarian research in this famous spot a veritable martyrdom, which can only be supported by a very burning love for knowledge, or the sure hope of future fame. The rough masses of stone are so loose that one's footing is insecure, and when the traveller loses his balance, and falls among the thistles, he will wish that he had gone to Jericho instead, or even fallen among thieves on the way.

Such was the aspect of Tiryns when I visited it in the years 1875 and 1877. In 1884 I went there again with Dr. Schliemann, who was uncovering the palace on the height.

We rode down from Mycenæ to Argos late in the evening, along the broad and limpid stream of the river Inachus, which made us wonder at the old epic epithet, very thirsty, given to this celebrated plain. Though the night was getting dark, we could see and smell great fields of wild rose-red oleander, blooming along the river banks, very like the rhodendrons of our demesnes. And, though not a bird was to be heard, the tettix, so dear to the old Greeks, and so often the theme of their poets, was making the land echo with its myriad chirping. Aristophanes speaks of it as crying out with mad love of the noonday sun.

We found it no less eager and busy in late twilight, and far into the night. I can quite understand how the old Greek, who hated silence, and hated solitude still more, loved this little creature, which kept him company even in the time of sleep, and gave him all the feelings of cheerfulness and homeliness which we, northerns, in our wretched climate, must seek from the cricket at the hearth.

At ten o'clock we rode into the curious dark streets of Argos, and, after some difficulty, were shown to the residence of M. Papalexopoulos, who volunteered to be our host—a medical man of education and ability, who, in spite of a very recent family bereavement, opened his house to the stranger, and entertained us with what may well be called in that country real splendour. I may notice that he alone, of all the country residents whom we met, gave us wine not drenched with resin—a very choice and remarkable red wine, for which the plain of Argos is justly celebrated. In this comfortable house we slept, I may say, in solitary grandeur, and awoke in high spirits, without loss or damage, to visit the wonders of this old centre of legend and of history.

It is very easy to see why all the Greek myths have placed the earliest empires, the earliest arts, and the earliest conquests, in the plains of Argolis. They speak, too, of this particular plain having the benefit of foreign settlers and of foreign skill. If we imagine, as we must do, the older knowledge of the East coming up by way of Cyprus and Crete into Greek waters, there can be no doubt that the first exploring mariners, reaching the barren island of Cerigo, and the rocky shore of Laconia, would feel their way up this rugged and inhospitable coast, till they suddenly came in sight of the deep bay of Argolis, stretching far into the land, with a broad plain and alluvial soil beyond its deepest recess. Here, first, they would find a suitable landing-place, and a country fit for tillage ; and here, accordingly, we should expect to find, as we actually do, the oldest relics of habitation, beyond the huts of wandering shepherds or-of savages. So the legend tells us that Cyclopes came from Lycia to King Proetus of Argos, or rather of the Argive plain, and built him the giant fort of Tiryns? The Dorians also came by sea, and the fort of Temenus, their leader, was known upon the shore.

Tiryns was evidently the oldest great settlement. Then, by some change of fortune, it seems that Mycenae grew in importance, not impossibly because of the unhealthy site of Tiryns, where the surroundings are now low and marshy, and were, probably, even more so in those days. But the epoch of Mycenae's greatness also passed away in historical times ; and the third city in this plain came forward as its ruler—Argos, built under the huge Larissa, or hill-fort, which springs out from the surrounding mountains, and stands like an outpost over the city.

Even now it is still an important town, and main-tains, in the midst of its smiling and well-cultivated plain, a certain air of brightness and prosperity which is seldom to be seen elsewhere through the country.

We went first to visit the old theatre, certainly the most beautifully situated,' and one of the largest I had ever seen. It is even finer than that of Syracuse, and whoever has seen this latter will know what such a statement implies. If the Greek theatre at Syracuse has a view of the great harbour and the coast around, this can only have been made interesting by crowded shipping and flitting sails, for the whole incline of the country, is very gradual, and not even the fort of Ortygia presents any bold or striking outline.

The Argive theatre was built to hold an enormous audience. We counted sixty-six tiers of seats, in four divisions—thus differing from the description of Colonel Leake, which we had before us at the time. As he observes, there may be more seats still covered with rubbish at the bottom—indeed this, like all the rest of Argos, ought to yield a rich harvest to the antiquary, being still almost virgin soil, and never yet ransacked with any care. From the higher seats of the theatre of Argos, which rise much steeper than those of Syracuse, there is a most enchanting prospect to the right, over a rich plain, covered, when we first saw it, with the brilliant green of young vines and tobacco plants, varied with the darker hue of plane-trees and cypresses. After the wilderness through which we had passed this prospect was intensely delightful. Straight before us, and to the left, was the deep blue bay of Argolis, with the white fortifications of Nauplia crowning its picturesque Acropolis. All around us, in every other direction, was a perfect amphitheatre of lofty mountains. This bay is, for its size, the most beautiful I ever saw, and the opinion which we then formed was strengthened by a sunset view of it from the other side—from Nauplia—which was, if possible, even finer, and combined all the elements which are conceivable in a perfect landscape. Near the theatre there is a remnant of Cyclopean building, apparently the angle of a wall, made of huge uncut blocks, like those at Tiryns. There are said to be some similar sub-structures on the Larissa, which is, however, itself a mediæval ruin, and therefore, to us, of slight interest.

All the children about brought us coins, of every possible date and description, but were themselves more interesting than their coins. For here, in southern Greece, in a very hot climate, in a level plain, every second child is fair, with blue eyes, and looks like a transplanted northern, and not like the offspring of a southern race. After the deep-brown Italian children, which strike the traveller by their southernness all the way from Venice to Reggio, nothing is more curious than these fairer children, under a sunnier and hotter sky ; and it reminds the student at once how, even in Homer, yellow hair and a fair complexion are noted as belonging to the King of Sparta. This type seems to me common wherever there has not arisen a mixed population, such as that of Athens or Syra, and where the inhabitants live as they have done for centuries. Fallmerayer's cleverness and undoubted learning persuaded many people, and led many more to suspect, that the old Greek race was completely gone, and that the present people were a mixture of Turks, Albanians, and Slays. To this many answers suggest themselves,—to me, above all things, the strange and accurate resemblances in character between ancient and modern Greeks,—resemblances which permeate all their life and habits.

But this is a kind of evidence not easily stated in a brief form, and consists after all of a large number of minute details. The real refutation of Fallmerayer's theory consists in exposing the alleged evidence upon which it rests. He put forth with great confidence citations from MS. authorities at Athens, which have not been verified ; nay, he is even proved to have been the dupe of some clever forgeries. A careful examination of the scanty allusions to the state of Greece during the time of its supposed Slavisation, and the evidences obtained from the lives of the Greek saints who belong to this epoch, have proved to demonstration that the country was never wholly occupied by foreigners or deserted by its old population. The researches of Ross, Ellissen, and lastly of Hopf, have really set the matter at rest ; but unfortunately English students will for some time to come be misled by the evident leaning of Finlay towards the Slav hypothesis. As has been fairly remarked by later critics, Finlay did not test the documents cited by Fallmerayer ; and until this was done, the case seemed conclusive enough for the total devastation of Greece during four hundred years, and its occupation, by a new population. But all this is now relegated to the sphere of fable. There is, of course, a large admixture of Slays and Albanians in the country ; the constant invasions and partial conquests for several centuries could not but introduce it. Still, Greece has remained Greek in the main, and the foreigners have not been able to hold their own against the stronger nationality of the true Hellenes.

Another weighty argument seems to me to be from language. There is really no great difference between the language of Plato and that of the present Greeks. There are, of course, development and decay, there are changes of idiom and corruptions of form, there are a good many Slav names, but the language is essentially the same. The present Greek will read the old classics with the same trouble with which our peasants could read Chaucer. It is, in fact, most remarkable, assuming that they are the same people, how their language has not changed more. Had the invaders during the Middle Ages really become the main body of the population, how is it that they abandoned their own tongue, and adopted that of the Greeks ? Surely there must be at least a fusion of different tongues if the population were considerably leavened. There are still Albanian districts in Greece. They are to be found even in Attica, and close to Athens. But these populations are still tolerably distinct from the Greeks ; their language is quite different, and unintelligible to Greeks who have not learned it.

Again, the Greek language is not one which spread itself easily among foreigners, nor did it give rise to a number of daughter languages, like the Latin. In many Hellenic colonies barbarians learned to speak Greek with the Greeks, and to adopt their language at the time ; but in all these cases, when the Greek, influence vanished, the Greek language decayed, and finally made way for the old tongue which it had temporarily displaced. Thus the evidence of history seems to suggest that no foreigners were ever really able to make that subtle tongue their own ; and even now we can feel the force of what Aristotle says—that however well a stranger might speak, you could recognise him at once by his use of the particles.

These considerations seem to me conclusive that, whatever admixtures may have taken place, the main body of the people are what their language declares them to be, essentially Greeks. Any careful observer will not fail to see through the wilder parts of the Morea types and forms equal to those which inspired the old artists. There are still among the shepherd boys splendid lads who would adorn a Greek gymnasium, or excite the praise of all Greece at the Olympic games. There are still maidens fit to carry the sacred basket of Athene. Above all, there are still many old men, fit to be chosen for their stalwart beauty to act as thallophori in the Panathenaic procession.

These thoughts often struck us as we went through the narrow and crowded streets of Argos, in search of the peculiar produce of the place—raw silks, rich-coloured carpets and rugs, and ornamental shoes in dull red leather.

We were taken to see the little museum of the town—then a very small one, with a single inscription, and eight or ten pieces of sculpture. But the inscription, which is published, is exceedingly clear and legible, and the fragments of sculpture are all both peculiar and excellent. There is a female head of great beauty, about half life-size, and from the best, or certainly a very good, period of Greek art, which has the curious peculiarity of one eye being larger than the other. It is not merely the eyeball, but the whole setting of the eye, which is slightly enlarged, nor does it injure the general effect. The gentlemen who showed this head to me, and who were all very enthusiastic about it, had indeed not noticed this feature, but recognised it at once when pointed out to them. Beside this trunkless head is a headless trunk of equal beauty—a female figure without arms, and draped with exquisite grace, in a manner closely resembling the famous Venus of Melos. The figure has one foot slightly raised, and set upon a duck, as is quite plain from the general form of the bird, though the webbed feet are much worn away, and the head gone. M. Emile Burnouf told me that this attribute of a duck would determine it to be either Athene or Artemis. If so, the general style of the figure, which is very young and slight, speaks in favour of its being an Artemis. I trust photographs of this excellent statue may soon be made, and that it may become known to art students in Europe.

We also noticed a relief larger than life, on a square block of white marble, of the head of Medusa. The face is calm and expressionless, exactly the reverse of Lionardo da Vinci's matchless painting, but archaic in character, and of good and clear Workmanship. The head-dress, which has been finished only on the right side, is very peculiar, and consists of large scales starting from the forehead, and separating into two plaits, which become serpents' bodies, and descend in curves as low as the chin, then turning upward and outward again, till they end in well-formed serpents' heads. The left serpent is carved out perfectly in relief, but not covered with scales.

I was unable to obtain any trustworthy account of the finding of these marbles, but they were all fresh discoveries, especially the Medusa head, which had been only lately brought to the museum, when we were first at Argos. Future visitors will find this valuable collection much increased ; and here, in this important town, it is advisable that there should be a local museum.

The site of the famous Horaeon, lying off the road from Tiryns to Mycenae to the right on a high terrace, has been ransacked by the American school under the able direction of Sir Charles Waldstein. Pausanias describes a splendid temple there in his day; it was one of the greatest and holiest centres of religion in Greece, and the undertaking promised great things. Nevertheless the result has been disappointing. There have been a few fragments of sculpture of the first quality found, and illustrated by Dr. Waldstein in his handsome monograph with that delicate insight for which he is remarkable ; but the vast mass of splendid marble work seems to have been carried away, or used up in some neighbouring lime-kiln. The second volume on the pottery is not yet published, and may give us new matter on the development of this artistic industry for which the Greeks were so remarkable.

If we look at Dorian art, as contrasted with Ionian, there can be no doubt that the earliest centre was Corinth in the Peloponnesus, to which various discoveries in art are specially ascribed. In architecture there were many leading ideas, such as the setting up of clay figures in the tympanum of the temples, and the use of panels or soffits, as they were called, in ceilings, which came first from Corinth. But when we descend to better-known times, there are three other Dorian states which quite eclipse Corinth, I suppose because the trading instinct, as is sometimes the case, crushed out or weakened her enthusiasm for art. These states are Aegina, Sikyon, and Argos. Sikyon rose to greatness under the gentle and en-lightened despotism of Orthagoras and his family, of whom it was noticed that they retained their sovereignty longer than any other dynasty of despots in Greece. Aegina seems to have disputed the lead with Corinth as a commercial mart, from the days of Pheidon, whose coinage of money was always said to have been first practised at Aegina. The prominence of Aegina in Pindar's Epinikian Odes shows not only how eagerly men practised athletics, and loved renown there, but how well able they were to pay for expensive monuments of their fame. Their position in the Persian war, among the bravest of the Greeks, corroborates the former part of my statement ; the request of an Ionian Greek lady, captured in the train of Mardonius, to be transported to Aegina, adds evidence for the second, as it shows that, to a person of this description, Aegina was the field for a rich harvest, and we wonder ho* its reputation can have been greater in this respect than that of Corinth.' But, a short time after, the rise of the Athenian naval power crushed the greatness of Aegina, it sank to insignificance, and was absorbed into the Attic power.

Thus Sikyon and Argos remained, and it was precisely these two towns which produced a special school of art, of which Polycleitus was the most distinguished representative. Dorian sculpture had originally started with figures of athletes, which were dedicated at the temples, and were a sort of collateral monument to the odes or poets—more durable, no doubt, in the minds of the offerers, but, as time has shown, perishable and gone, while the winged words of the poet have not lost even the first bloom of their freshness. However, in contrast to the flowing robes and delicately chiselled features of the Ionic school, the Dorians reproduced the naked human figure with great accuracy ; while in the face they adhered to a stiff simplicity, regardless of individual features, and still more regardless of any expression save that of a vacant smile. This type, found in its most perfect development in the Aeginetan marbles, was what lay before Polycleitus when he rose to greatness. He was the contemporary and rival of Pheidias, and is said to have defeated him in a competition for the temple of Hera at Samos, where two or three of the greatest sculptors modelled a wounded Amazon, and Polycleitus was adjudged the first place. There is some probability that one of the Amazons now in the Vatican is a copy of this famous work ; and, in spite of a clumsily restored head and arms, we can see in this figure the great simplicity and truth of the artist in treating a rather ungrateful subject—that of a very powerful and muscular woman.

The Argive school, owing to its traditions, affected single figures much more than groups ; and this, no doubt, was the main contrast between Polycleitus and Pheidias—that, however superior the Argive might be in a single figure, the genius of the Athenian was beyond all comparison in using sculpture for groups and processions as an adjunct to architecture. But there was also in the sitting statue of Zeus, at Olympia, a certain majesty which seems not to have been equalled by any other known sculptor. The Attic artist who appears, however, to have been much nearer to Polycleitus in style, was Myron, whose Discobolus has reached us in some splendid copies, and who seems to have had all the Dorian taste for representing single athletic figures with more life and more daring action about them than was attempted by Polycleitus.

Herodotus notices that, at a certain period, the Argives were the most renowned in Greece for music. It is most unfortunate that our knowledge of this branch of Greek art is so fragmentary that we are wholly unable to tell in what the Argive proficiency consisted. We are never told that the Doric scale was there invented ; but, very possibly, they may have taken the lead among their brethren in this direction also, for it is well known that the Spartans, though excellent judges, depended altogether upon foreigners to make music for them, and thought it not gentle-manly to do more than appreciate or criticise.

The drive from Argos to Nauplia leads by Tiryns, then by a great marsh, which is most luxuriantly covered with green and with various flowers, and then along a good road all the way into the important and stirring town of Nauplia. This place, which was one of the oldest settlements, as is proved by Pelasgic walls and tombs high up on the overhanging cliffs, was always through history known as the port of Argos, and is so still, though it rose under the Turks to the dignity of capital (Napoli di Romania) of the whole province of Greece. The citadel has at all times been considered almost impregnable. The situation of the town is exceptionally beautiful, even for a Greek town ; and the sunset behind the Arcadian mountains, seen from Nauplia, with the gulf in the foreground, is a view which no man can ever forget.

A coasting steamer, which goes right round the Peloponnesus, took us up with a great company, which was hurrying to Athens for the elections, and carried us round the coast of Argolis, stopping at the several ports on the way. This method of seeing either Greece or Italy is highly to be commended, and it is a great pity that so many people adhere to the quickest and most obvious route, thus missing many of the really characteristic features in the country which they desire to study. Thus the Italian coasting steamers, which go up from Messina by Naples to Genoa, touch at many not insignificant places (such as Gaeta), which no ordinary tourist ever sees, and which are nevertheless among the most beautiful in all the country. The same may be said of the sail from Nauplia to Athens, which leads you to Spezza, Hydra, or Idra, as they now call it, to Poros and to . gina, all very curious and interesting places to visit.

The island of Hydra was, in old days, a mere barren rock, scarcely inhabited, and would probably never have changed its reputation but for a pirate settlement in the very curious little harbour, with its narrow entrance, which faces the main shore of Argolis. As you sail along the straight coast line, there seems no break or indentation, when suddenly, as if by magic, the rocky shore opens for about fifty yards, at a spot marked by several caves in the face of the cliff, and lets you see into a circular harbour of very small dimensions, with an amphitheatre of rich and well-built houses rising up all round the bay. Though the water is very deep, there is actually no room for a large fleet, and there seems not a yard of level ground, except where terraces have been artificially made. High rocks on both sides of the narrow entrance hide all prospect of the town, except from the point directly opposite the entrance.

The Hydriotes, who were rich merchants, and, I suppose, successful pirates in Turkish days, were never enslaved, but kept their liberty and their wealth by paying a tribute to the Porte. They developed a trading power which reminds one strongly of the old Greek cities ; and so faithful were they to one another, that it was an ordinary habit for citizens to entrust all their savings to a captain starting for a distant port, to be laid out by him to the best advantage. It is said that they were never defrauded of their profits. The Turks may, perhaps, have thought that by gentle treatment they would secure the fidelity of the Hydriotes, whose wealth and power depended wholly on Turkish protection ; but they were greatly mistaken. There was, indeed, some hesitation among the islanders, when the War of Liberation broke out, what part they should take for during the great Napoleonic wars the Hydriotes, sailing under the neutral flag of Turkey, had made enormous profits by their carrying trade among the belligerents. They lived in great luxury. With the peace of 1815, and the reopening of the French and other ports to English ships, these profits disappeared, and the extravagant hopes of the Hydriotes ended in bankruptcy. This was probably a main cause of their patriotism and of their absolute ingratitude to Turkey. However, by far the most brilliant feats in the war were those performed by the Hydriote sailors, who remind one very much of the Zealanders in the wars of Holland against the Spanish power. Whether their bravery has been exaggerated is hard to say : this, at all events, is clear, that they earned the respect and the admiration of the whole nation, nor is there any nobility so recognised in Greek society as descent from the Hydriote chiefs who fought for the Liberation.

With the rise of the nation the wealth and importance of Hydra has strangely decayed. Probably the Peiraeus, with its vast advantages, has naturally regained its former predominance, now that every part of the coast and every port are equally free. Still, the general style and way of living at Hydra reminds one of old times ; and if the island itself be sterile, the rich slopes of the opposite coast, covered with great groves of lemon-trees, are owned by the wealthy descendants of the old merchants.

The neighbouring island of Spezza, where the steamer waits, and a crowd of picturesque people come out in quaint boats to give and take cargo, has a history very parallel to that of Hydra, but it has woody slopes which are now becoming a favourite summer resort, and show many civilised villas. The population of both islands is rather Albanian than Greek. A few hours brings the steamer past Poros and through narrow passages among islands to Aegina, as they now call it. We have here an island whose history is precisely the reverse of that of Hydra. The great days of Aegina (as I mentioned above) were in very old times, from the age of Pheidon of Argos, in the seventh century B.C., up to the rise of Athens's democracy and navy, when this splendid centre of literature, art, and commerce was absorbed in the greater Athenian empire.

There is at present a considerable town on the coast, and some cultivation on the hills; but the whole aspect of the island is very rocky and barren, and as it can hardly ever have been otherwise, we feel at once that the early greatness of AEgina was, like that of Hydra in the last century, a purely commercial greatness. The people are very hospitable and interesting. Nowhere in Greece did I see more apparent remains of the purest Greek type. Our hostess, in particular, was worthy to take her place in the Parthenon frieze, and among the children playing on the quay there were faces of marvellous beauty.

A new interest has been created in Aegina since 1904. by the excavations of Professor Furtwangler, whom we found living with his accomplished and hospitable wife in the town. The plan and details of the temple of Aphrodite Epilimene (of the Harbour) were being recovered, and we saw a remarkable figure of a sphynx, apparently archaic in style, which was in a very complete state, and was set apart in the place of honour in the little museum of the town. The most characteristic modern product is the sponge. The divers come in with their boats full, and a large number of people are employed in sorting, cleaning, etc. We bought half-a-dozen of the best quality for the cost of a single one at home.

With enterprise and diligence, a trading nation or city may readily become great in a small island or barren coast, and no phenomenon in history proves this more strongly than the vast empire of the Phoenicians, who seem never to have owned more than a bare tract of a few miles about Tyre and Sidon. They were, in fact, a great people without a country. The Venetians similarly raised an empire on a salt marsh, and at one time owned many important possessions on Greek coasts and islands, ' without any visible means of subsistence,' as they say in the police courts. In the same way Pericles thought nothing of the possession of Attica, provided the Athenians could hold their city walls and their harbours. He knew that with a maritime supremacy they must necessarily be lords of so vast a stretch of coasts and islands that the barren hills of Attica might be completely left out of account.

There are two ways of visiting the famous temple, whose frontal ornaments are now in the Glyptothek at Munich. The account of their discovery may best be read in the fine volume published by Cockerell for the Dilettanti Society on Bassæ and Aegina. A special steamer starts frequently from Piræus, lands its passengers on the coast just under the temple, and takes them home again in the evening. To ride across the island from the town to the temple is a beautiful journey of about three hours, and is still an unchanged experience of the riding through Greece which fascinated us thirty years ago. There is ample time to view the temple, and return again by a different road in the evening. There are the usual glades, enormous stems of olive-trees, ruins of mediæval castles, little chapels serving as parish churches, handsome peasants waiting at the roadside inns. The vegetation is lovely — banks of scarlet anemones, orchids, irises, flowering trees in abundance, and at the ascent to the temple a large wood of umbrella pines, standing at wide intervals, but offering pleasant islands of shade from the morning sun.

Our knowledge of the temple has undergone many revisions and corrections since the excavations and studies of Professor Furtwangler (1901-4). In the first place the name of the goddess was not Athena, but Athaia, to judge from a recovered inscription which gives us the name in large capitals. This is some local tutelary goddess not otherwise known, but anyone who has read in Pausanias's guide-book the innumerable and obscure local cults and gods that he found everywhere through Greece, cannot marvel at the novelty. Then the recovery of more fragments of the pediment sculptures, and of the stones behind them to which the marble was fixed, has suggested to Professor Furtwangler a reconstruction of the composition of these figures on which he read a most interesting paper before the Archæological Congress at Athens in 1905. Whether the figures at Munich will be, or have been, rearranged according to his suggestion, I do not know. His arguments were very well received by the Congress.

There is yet another and a very interesting way from Nauplia to Aegina, which may be strongly recommended to the traveller who does not arrive in due time to catch the weekly steamer. Horses can be hired at Nauplia, which can perform, in about seven hours, the journey to the little village of New Epidauros (now pronounced Epidavros). Here a boat can be obtained, which, with a fair wind, can reach Aegina in three, and the Peiræus in about six hours. But, like all boating expeditions, this trip is uncertain, and may be thwarted by either calm or storm.

We left Nauplia on a very fine morning, while the shepherds from the country were going through the streets, shouting and serving out their milk from skins, of which they held the neck in one hand, and loosened their hold slightly to pour it into the vessel brought to them by the customer. These picturesque people—men, women, and children—seem to drive an active trade, and yet are not, I believe, to be found in the streets of any other Greek town.

The way through the Argolic country is rough and stony, not unlike in character to the ride from Corinth to Mycenae, but more barren, and for the most part less picturesque. On some of the hilltops are old ruins, with fine remains of masonry, apparently old Greek work. The last two or three hours of the journey are, however, particularly beautiful, as the path goes along the course of a rich glen, in which a tumbling river hurries towards the sea. This glen is full of verdure and of trees. We saw it in the richest moment of a southern spring, when all the trees were bursting into leaf, or decked with varied bloom. It was the home, too, of thrushes, and many other singing birds, which filled the air with music—as it were a rich variation upon the monotonous sound of the murmuring river. There is no sweeter concert than this in nature, no union of sight and sound which fills the heart of the stranger in such a solitude with deeper gladness. I know no fitter exodus from the beautiful Morea—a farewell journey which will dwell upon the memory, and banish from the mind all thoughts of discomfort and fatigue.

In the picturesque little land-locked bay of Epidavros there was a good-sized fishing-boat riding at anchor, which we immediately chartered to convey us to Athens. The skipper took some time to gather a crew, and to obtain the necessary papers from the local authorities, but after some pressure on our part we got under weigh with a fair wind, and ran out of the harbour into the broad rock-studded sheet of water which separates Argolis from Aegina, and from the more distant coast of Attica. There is no more delightful or truly Greek mode of travelling than to run through islands and under rocky coasts in these boats, which are roomy and comfortable, and, being decked, afford fair shelter from shower or spray. But presently the wind began to increase from the north-west, and our skipper to hesitate whether it were safe to continue the journey. He proposed to run into the harbour of AEgina for the night. We acquiesced without demur, and went at a great pace to our new destination. But no sooner had we come into the harbour, and cast anchor, so that the boat lay steady with her head to the wind, than another somewhat larger boat which came sailing in after us ran right into her amidships. The shock started up all my companions, who were lying asleep in the bottom of the boat, and the situation looked rather desperate, for we were in the middle of a wide roadstead, a long way from land. It was night, and blowing hard, and all our crew betook themselves to weeping and praying, while the other boat did her best to sheer off and leave us to our fate. However, some of us climbed into her by the bowsprit, which lay across-our deck, while others got up the baggage, and proceeded to examine at what pace the water was coming in. A boat from the shore came out in time to take us off safely, but when we had landed, our skipper gravely proposed that we should pay for the boat, as she was injured in our service ! Of course we laughed him to scorn, and having found at Aegina a steam-launch belonging to Captain Miaoulis, then Minister of Marine, we went in search of him, and besought him to take us next day to the Peiræus. The excellent man not only granted our request, but entertained us on the way with the most interesting anecdotes of his stay in England as a boy, when he came with his father to seek assistance from our country during the War of Liberation. Thus we came into the Peiræus, not as shipwrecked outcasts, but under the protection of one of the most gallant and distinguished officers of the Greek navy.

A great point of interest among newly discovered sites is the great temple and theatre of Epidaurus, which I did not then visit, on account of an epidemic of small-pox— they call it, euphemistically.

The very journey to this place is worth making, on account of its intensely characteristic features. You start from Athens in a coasting steamer full of natives, who carry with them their food and beds, and camp on deck where it pleases them, regardless of class. You see all the homeliness of ordinary life, obtruded upon you without seeking it, instead of intruding upon others to find it; and you can study not only the country, but the people, at great leisure. But the ever-varying beauty of the scene leaves little time for other studies. The boat passes along Aegina, and rounds the promontory of Kalauria—the death-scene of Demosthenes—into the land-locked bay of Poros, where lay the old Troezen and Hermione along the fruitful shore, surrounded by an amphitheatre of lofty mountains. The sea is like a fair inland lake, studded with white sails, and framed with the rich green of vines and figs and growing corn. Even the rows of tall solemn cypresses can suggest no gloom in such a landscape. From here it is but a short ride to the famous temple of Aesculapius, though most people go from Nauplia, a long but easy drive on a good road. We pass between picturesque but bare hills, and long flats of country which was once forest, then brake, but now threatens to become a mere barren waste. For the goats and sheep browse upon the shrubs, and still worse, the natives dig up the roots for fuel, and we met dozens of donkeys on the way bringing loads of such roots home for burning. There is, in fact, owing to the utter want of economy in the management of the country, an increasing scarcity of fuel, which will become a very serious danger. I heard the Crown Princess of Greece speak with good knowledge and great feeling of this difficulty. The disappearance of wood affects also the climate, and permits sudden thunder-showers to wash away the remaining soil from the steep slopes. Would that Greek politicians would turn their attention to these matters, in preference to foreign politics !

The excavations of the Greek Archæological Society have laid bare at least three principal buildings in connection with the famous spot ; the old temple of the god, the theatre, and the curious tholos, a circular building in which those who had been healed of diseases set up votive tablets. The extraordinary size and splendour of the theatre—Pausanias says it was far the finest in Greece—rather contrasts with the dimensions of the temple, and suggests that most of the patients who came were able to enjoy themselves, or else that many people came for pleasure, and not on serious business. So also the circular building, which was erected under the supervision of a younger Polycleitus (not the great Argive sculptor and rival of Pheidias), has many peculiar features, and shows in one more instance that what earlier art-critics assumed as modern was based on older classical models. Circular buildings supported on pillars were thought rather Græco-Roman than Greek, but here we see that, like the builders of the Odeon of Pericles, of the later Philippeion at OIympia, so the Epidaurians had this form before them from early days. Inside the outer row of Doric pillars was a second circle of pillars, apparently Ionic as to proportions and fluting, but the capitals were Corinthian, so that this feature also in architecture has a respectable antiquity, and was not Græco-Roman as was once supposed. For a long time the so-called Lantern of Demosthenes, built for was leading his army into Asia, was considered the oldest, and perhaps the only pure Greek example of the Corinthian capital. People began to hesitate when a solitary specimen was found in the famous temple of Bassæ, where it could hardly have been imported in later days. Now the evidence is completed, and in this respect the historians of art are correcting the generalisation of their predecessors.