This is the reason why we do not take a great interest in the various restorations of the Venus of Milo, and therefore are not inclined to undertake a close study of them or to enter into an elaborate recapitulation of these otherwise quite laudable attempts. We can only say that none of the restorations here discussed seems to solve the problem. Nevertheless we do not believe the problem to be beyond the possibility of solution, and we will state briefly what in our opinion the facts suggest. We believe that among all the propositions made by restorers the simplest one, that of Veit Valentin, alone deserves our interest. If we consider the dominating motive of the statue we must grant that it neither belongs to the very earliest times in which Venus was fully dressed, nor to the latest in which nudity, intensified in its suggestiveness by prudery, had nearly become the most characteristic feature of the deity of love. It takes its place in the midst of Greek art development when the first attempt was made to show the human form, and this is done in such a way as not to go to the extreme of a complete denudation but only suggests it and, as it were, with a protest on the part of the goddess. For the attitude of the statue plainly indicates that the goddess endeavors to retard the falling garment so as to give the right arm a moment’s time to grasp it and to hold it up. It is more than merely probable that the left arm was raised toward an unexpected intruder in warning not to approach. There is no fear in the expression of the face, no fright, no anticipation of danger. The whole attitude makes us suspect that the missing left hand was raised with a forbidding gesture, expressing the command, _Ne prorsum! Ne plus ultra! Noli me tangere!_ RECENT THEORIES. The statue discovered on the island of Milo acquired a fame beyond the greatest expectations, and the intense interest taken in it frequently gave rise to bitter discussions about its history and the causes of its mutilation. Thus it happened that the authorities of the Louvre, or even the French government itself, were held responsible for the sad state of desolation in which it now appears.