The use of masks in regular ritual was probably a rare survival, and would persist only in remote regions, but the common people were slow to lose their faith in the apotropaic virtue of an ‘ugly face.’ Fire was a natural terror to primitive man and all operations of baking beset by possible Keres. Therefore on his ovens he thought it well to set a Gorgon mask. In fig. 28, a portable oven now in the museum at Athens[488], the mask is outside guarding the entrance. In fig. 29 the upper part of a similar oven is shown, and inside, where the fire flames up, are set three masks. These ovens are not very early, but they are essentially primitive. The face need not be of the type we call a Gorgon. In fig. 30 we have a Satyr type, bearded, with stark upstanding ears and hair, the image of fright set to frighten the frightful. It might be the picture of Phobos himself. In fig. 31 we have neither Gorgon nor Satyr but that typical bogey of the workshop, the Cyclops. He wears the typical workman’s cap, and to either side are set the thunderbolts it is his business to forge. The craftsman is regarded as an uncanny bogey himself, cunning over-much, often deformed, and so he is good to frighten other bogeys. The Cyclops was a terror even in high Olympus. Callimachus[489] in his charming way tells how ‘Even the little goddesses are in a dreadful fright; If one of them will not be good, up in Olympos’ height, Her mother calls a Cyclops, and there is sore disgrace, And Hermes goes and gets a coal, and blacks his dreadful face, And down the chimney comes. She runs straight to her mother’s lap, And shuts her eyes tight in her hands for fear of dire mishap.’ This fear of the bogey that beset the potter, and indeed beset every action, even the simplest, of human life, is very well shown in the Hymn[490] ‘The Oven, or the Potters,’ which shows clearly the order of beings against which the ‘ugly face’ was efficacious: ‘If you but pay me my hire, potters, I sing to command. Hither, come hither, Athene, bless with a fostering hand Furnace and potters and pots, let the making and baking go well; Fair shall they stand in the streets and the market, and quick shall they sell, Great be the gain. But if at your peril you cheat me my price, Tricksters by birth, then straight to the furnace I call in a trice Mischievous imps one and all, Crusher and Crasher by name, Smasher and Half-bake and Him-who-burns-with-Unquenchable-Flame, They shall scorch up the house and the furnace, ruin it, bring it to nought. Wail shall the potters and snort shall the furnace, as horses do snort.’