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The finished radiograph of Artemis shows six large leaded areas, and numerous smaller lead splatters on the interior surface. Visual inspection and analysis of these areas reveals that the "six large areas are ancient, because they are heavily mineralized and have burial accretions on their surfaces," as Lie later writes in the catalog description that will accompany the show. This is consistent with the known history of the statue, allegedly found in Rome during excavations in the early 1930s. "Furthermore," Lie continues, "the sides of the areas are fractured, as if they once covered larger areas than they do now...these seem not to be related to repairs or reinforcement and it is possible they are the result of ancient spills...." Lie's discovery of ancient lead and bronze corrosion puts an end to the rumor that had once circulated about this statue: that it was a Renaissance copy of a classical type. No other analytical approach, no stylistic debate, could ever resolve a question about a statue's authenticity so definitively.

Lie's visual inspection reveals that the small lead spills spotting the statue's interior are recent. A twentieth-century reattachment of Artemis to her base-during which mounting pins were leaded to the soles of her feet-proves to be the cause. Modern holes to accept the new mounting pins have been drilled into the ancient base, a rectangular bronze box. Cast in flat slabs that were joined at the edges, the base displays in the area of reattachment deep scrape marks predating the corrosion, a lighter patina, and a faint grayish residue within the corrosion layers (probably ancient lead). To Lie, this suggests that the statue has been remounted just as it was in classical antiquity. A small bronze deer, also properly positioned, stands to Artemis's left. To her right, Lie points out two irregular marks on the base just like those where the goddess and the deer are set. He speculates that a third bronze stood here, perhaps a small dog (a figure often associated with the goddess of the hunt) standing or jumping on its rear legs.

The office of the Assistant Curator of Ancient Art, three floors up in the Sackler museum, is not overlarge. Amy Brauer, who has been planning and organizing The Fire of Hephaistos for more than three years now, shares the space with two others. But the location has its advantages. Brauer, who secured the largest federal grant ever awarded to the Harvard art museums ($250,000 from the National Endowment for the Humanities in support of the exhibition), may draw all the inspiration she needs from the storage room next door. There the walls are lined, floor to ceiling, with ancient objects. Taking it in, one recalls the wonder and excitement of a child exploring grandmother's attic, except that this is a real Attic treasure trove-a well-lit, comfortable space where the temperature and humidity never change.

From a shelf in this fabulous storehouse, Brauer retrieves a bronze helmet. Its nosepiece descends from the forehead and widens at the base, bisecting a diamond-shaped aperture for the eyes. On the crown, a dent suggests damage sustained in battle. On a shelf below, an ancient mitra, or groin-guard of hammered bronze, has been pierced through. Made for practical purposes, these objects have little in common with ancient statuary except their critical constituent: bronze. To meet the need for this valuable resource, how many works of art were sacrificed in the furnaces of classical antiquity?

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