some

yellow as corn, clustered around his white, strong, stately neck to his shoulders; bright, with a dreamy lustre, shone his eyes beneath black brows, whose shadowy lines, meeting and delicately blending over the brow, gave his countenance the look which realized the Greek idea of beauty, the peculiar open aspect of all embracing visionary power, which the sculptors loved to express in their images of the Light God: while the delicately arched mobile mouth was at once significant of the impulsive movements of imagination and the controlling sense of beauty. His careless attire consisted of a linen tunic, drawn to the waist by a fringed scarf, over which hung a light cloak of scarlet, fastened toward the left shoulder by a golden clasp: buskins, worked with silver thread, completed his costume. His companion, who was years his elder, though less in stature, was of a figure more powerfu ly buit, broad-shouldered, broad-chested,large in bone and muscle, dark-skinned, with high forehead, around which the short hair curled, black, and nearly as crisp as that of an African; his features were regular and handsome, though somewhat heavy, his eyes small but vivid as the viper's. While, however, his frame denoted great strength and activity, in his lincaments there was something licentious, fierce, and cruel, which formed their permanent expression, despite the careless gaiety of his manner. His dress, in other respects resembling ins comparion's, consisted of a rich, dark, purple robe, edged with fur, while numerous trinkets of gold glittered with gandy profusion on his person. The first was the sculptor Arion, the latter the painter Susarion.

They had already commenced to work, the one with his chisel, the other with his brush, when the stence of their studio was interrupted by the sound of voices approaching; and after a few moments several figures entered the chamber a Roman Knight, Canus Rajax, a neu terant of the late proconsul, and his two companions, namely, a Greek sophist, Anaste planes, and a parasde, Shermus, each of whom, boisterous and talk stove, bore evidence of having Just risen from a noon, lay revel "H、', most minty and ouulert Rapax al, so a' tg his

most important visiter. "Above a'l men you are he whom I most desire to behold. Formerly painters implored heaven for a visit from Apoio; but much more grateful to me is it to receive the patronage of a human Putus, like the eminent gentieman I address, whose coffers have grown so heavy since his arrival in the Pentapolis. What say you to my picture when finished think you will it tempt you to disburse a little ?”

"What is the subject " inquired Rapax, throwing himself on a couch. "The story of Apollo and Cyre, which, as you know, refers to the origin of this good city. What think you of it "

"Hush, gentlemen!" said Sithernus, placing a finger on his lip; "Rapax is about to speak."

"It seems admirably painted so far," returned Rapax; "but the subject is not to my taste. You must execute for me an arena seche a fight of gladiators, or a crucifixion something of whose truth I can form a judgment from experience, for though I can understand reality, I cannot appreciate painted fables."

"How sold, how Roman that remark, gentlemen "Sit ermus said, taking his hand from his ear, and placing his forefingers' points together, as, bending fawningly beside Rapax, he continued, "How ful of character! And indeed I may say, though I but echo in a manner a reflection so profound that in the tribunal of true taste an accurate representation of things absolutely known represents a higher order of art than that which seeks to image the vague erratics of mere fancy. Yonder painting is quite wonderful; but how nauch more effective would such art be if the theme were one such as our friend has suggested {"

"I would truly ambition to pant either of the subjects you In Ttion," returned Susation, "the latter especially, but the laws here, as y u know, prevent us studying effective y from movie is unlike those underwin h Parrb-asius lived. '

"Have the Greeks degenerated so far as not to thank a fine work of art worth the death of a slave said Rapax. "You must come with no to Rome, my Susarion, and I wd suppy you with any number of i.tag

models to complete such a work. I, at least, love art too much to hesitate in crucifying a slave to obtain an expression."

"Let but my lord promise to patronise me in Rome, and I will weigh anchor with him to-morrow," returned Susarion, his face kindling with fierce animation.

"Agreed," said Rapax; "you know the saying of the Emperor, who loves art like myself 'To technion pasa gaia trephei'-' An artist may live in any country.' Rome, however, the centre of the world, is the real arena for all true talent.

Meanwhile the sophist, Anastophanes, who had been offering some suggestions to young Arion respecting the statue on which he was engaged, presently crossed the chamber to the wall, where, in their brackets, were ranged the papyrus and parchment scrolls of philosophy and poetry, which the young men perused and discussed daily, after their artistic labours and exercise in the gymnasium were over, as was customary with the Greeks, whose education referred equally to the body and mind, and the equal culture of the reason and imagination. After turning over for some time the pages of Anaxagorus and Eudoxius, and alluding to the desuetude into which the physical sciences had fallen in Greece since the age of Socrates, whose "Memorial by Xenophon" he held in his hand, "After all," he said, "to the human mind, limited as it is, the investigation of the secrets of nature is perhaps a vain pursuit, and lies without the circle which should limit the true knowledge of mankind, whose proper business is to discover the nature of the soul, cultivate its different powers, moral and intellectual, and establish individually their inner government, ministered by the will, which, while rendering the mind perfect, renders it consequently independent of external phenomena and circumstance. Thus it was with Socrates, the messiah of reason, who remains the model man and philosopher of our race. He, indeed, did not seek to unfold the mystery of the physical universe, still less the divine being of the gods. He confined solely himself to humanity, which he sought to render more perfect. He was our first and greatest Moral Artist, and hence far greater

VOL. LXV. NO, CCCLXXXV.

than those who create perfections in marble and paint. For if to produce a beautiful picture or statue is worthy of praise, how much more admirable he who exhibits the art of producing a perfect character or being; himself the while presenting the highest exemplar of his precepts ?"

66

Doubtless," said Arion, whose mind, but partially occupied with the remarks of Anastophanes, was directed to the disposition of a vinebranch drooping from the open casement by which he stood, whose graceful arrangement of lines he thought of embodying in the conception of some nymph group; "but even to inferior artists, who deal with marble and colour, a similar effort to attain mental perfection is requisite, if they would produce perfect works. The life of a poet should be a poem, while the soul of a statuary should culture the capacity of experiencing the range of human emotions, and governing their materials by his art and sense of beauty, if he would express them."

"Certainly, Arion; and as philosophy is the art of making the soul perfect, so the arts may be called philosophies teaching by example. What purity and perfection of judgment must the mind of Praxitiles have attained when he embodied his statue of Niobe! How deep and ample must have been the sensibilities; how strong and dispassionate the creative logos of Homer, to have drawn so many characters, and so many scenes, sublime and beautiful, as we find in his epics!"

"I am surprised at hearing Homer still spoken of as an individual," said Arion, "or his works those of an individual mind. To me it has always appeared that the variety of dialects, the number of anacronisms, the distinction of styles in his poems point to the opposite conclusion. The historic contest of the Greek and Ionian cities for the honour of being his birthplace, sufficiently illustrates our ignorance respecting him. Nothing seems more probable than that either the name is that of an order of Ionian aioidoi, to whom a personality has been given, or that an Ionian with a large shaping imagination collected their songs and fused them consecutively into epic unity. Of Homer we know no more than of Hercules; and it

6

seems extremely likely, considering the tendency of the human mind, that a single authorship was assigned to the Homeric ballads just as the numerous adventures of the many Herculeses of history were assigned to a single nominal representative. In a word, ti is the same with the first poets as the first gods-under the name of one we have the works and labours of many."

There seems some truth in that supposition," said Rapax, who was more intent on enjoying the cool flavour of a cup of Eyptian wine, which a slave had brought, than in listening to the conversation.

Unquestionably," cried the para site Sithermus, "Arion is right."

"And tell me, Arion," inquired the sophist, if the existence of Homer and Hercules are equally dubious, to which do you pay the higher reverence To the former, I doubt not."

"By no means," returned the superstitious Greek, "as that would involve impiety. In Hercules I worship a god consecrated by the veneration of ages; in Homer I admire the works of many, or, if you will, of one human mind."

Ideally, indeed, Hercules is venerable," said the sophist, "as he represents supernatural power applied to beneficent purposes, but not historically. Which strikes you as most worthy of reverence, the cleanser of the Augean stables, the slave of Omphale, or the great poet who has immortalized the history of our race! Nay, are not the gods themselves the creations of the poets P

"If you cease to recognize the difference between gods and men, I cease to converse with you," said Arion.

"In such case the loss will be mine," said the sophist, smilingly stroking his beard.

"You Grecks are always arguing," said Rapax aside to the parasite, "your life is a war of words. Let us to the circus; the new boxer, Croton, is about to fight Pretheles without the cestus, and I've backed him for three thousand sexterces, Come to me to supper, Susarion, and we will talk over our arragements for going to the capitol.”

Susation bowed, and, thanking him in a style at once bold and »nime: vient,

attended his patron to the vestibule, where the parasite obsequiously arranged the folds of the Roman's role, and accompanied him down the steep street whispering in his ear, followed a while by Anastophanes, who expected an invitation to an enterta ment, but who purposed, in the ever t of failure, to lose no time in looking up some other rich epicure, and arguing for a supper elsewhere.

When Susarion returned to the chamber where Arion had resume d his work, the latter, retreating a step to see the effect of the last strokes of his chisel, said—

"So you are off to Rome, comrade ? a sudden resolve."

"When fortune smiles on a new path we cannot pursue it too rapidly." the other returned gaily, looking with some disdain on his picture. "Yes, like Hannibal, my friend, I purp st to invade Italy-Hannibal, whom I admire more than Appeles himself.”

A GLIMPSE OF ROME

SUSARION in due time arrived at Ostia, in one of the vessels which composed the honorary fleet of the late Proconsul, who, not having gained a military triumph during his govern ment, as was customary, entered the capitol, not in state, but as a prive individual. Some hours were passed in inspecting, in company with one of the attachées of the returning furetionary, the streets and public burgings of the great harbour city of the Tiber, its temple of Neptune and many others, its immense granaries, storehouses, and other structures, n city which, with its vast bustlin z population, native and foreign, but chiefly the latter, surprised the yom : Cyrenean, hitherto accustomed to ti » more tranquil and voluptuous life of the Pentapolis, and afforded him panorama in little, of the vast world whither he was going.

It was a hot, blue summer noon as the chariot in which he journeyed with his comrades, following the ca valcade of the Proconsul, after a slow progress through the densely thronged passages, emerged from the street f tombs, and the driver, lashing the steeds, began somewhat to quicken their pace along the great highway, which for sixteen miles extordid thence to R me. For a cons.de ruile

distance the way, which continued to be densely thronged with vehicles, private and public, afforded a scene of much novelty and amusement. Now, they passed immense trains of many-horsed waggons, miles in length, bearing the corn of Africa and Sicily, others loaden with huge oxskins of new wine or amphoras of the rarer vintages of Siene, Asia, and the Greek islands. Now a train of iron-railed vehicles, or cages on wheels, full of lions, tigers, leopards, bears, for the sports of the city. Now the superblectica of some flute-player from Athens or Egypt, or those of some troop of Greek actors and pantomimists, followed by numerous covered carts carrying their theatrical accessories and train of attendants. Waggons of fruit, roses, and other flowers, of statuary, and other foreign imports, extended for miles along the way, crowded with horses, mules, camels, and wayfarers in every costume of the east, west, and south-Egyptians, Africans, Persians, Scythians, Gauls, and Ibe

rians.

Presently the prospect opened with its glimpses to the south of the vast semicircular pier of Ostia, built by Claudius, to the west of the yellow river, dotted with ship and barge; at the opposite side the walls of Portius, shining whitely and distantly through the intervaling forest of bay trees; and on the right the town of Ficana, with its temples, towers, and walls leagues of surrounding arable and corn land, upon which numerous bands of slaves, chained in couples, were seen working naked under the hot sun, each attended by the overseer, whip in hand. Thence on the road passes through a level plain, sandy and willow-grown, toward the river, green and rich in meadow, toward the line of isolated hills which serrate the horizon to the south-east; the gray and wooded crests of the Alban Mount; the hills of Tusculum, dotted with white towns, villages, and villas; far off the snow-edged Apennines-a superb amphitheatre of mountains semicircling the distance. At times they pass some roadside inn, its vine-curtained portico crowded by some motley throng of figures, Italian and foreign, porters, carriers, slaves, watering the horses, or drinking and conversing boisterously together on their businesses, lust, and

adventures; ever and anon importuned by some straggling, ragged soothsayer to hear their fortunes-with hand outstretched for the fee named, which ranges from an ass to a few sesterces. The highroad resounds with the tumult of wheels, the cries of animals, the shouting, cursing, and badinage of the drivers. Then the number of villas, with their trees, towers, gardens, ponds, green exercise grounds, begin to increase. At length, to the north, the sun flames dazzlingly on the golden roofs of a structure on a supreme hill-it is the temple of Jupiter, on the Capitoline, which indicates the site of the mighty city-Deorum domicilium, portus omnium gentium. The long, arched aqueducts reaching from the hills to the city became distinct against the blue remote mountains; and then the slopes and summits of the Aventine, with here and there a temple, but mostly covered with a close congeries of narrow streets

the quarter of the Roman plebs, the mountain suburb of the poor, appear; and the multitudes moving hither and thither upon the stony roads increase.

Again the crowd grew denser as the cavalcade approached the southern walls, from which the pyramid of Cestius sloped its marble sides, and approaching the Ostian gate, entered the city, passing by the guards and crowds of wayfarers resting on the semicircular seats along the highway which intersected the valley of the Aventine; then turning to the left, they passed up one of the many steep streets which ran along the sides of the mountain. In this old and poor quarter of the city, Susarion was surprised at the immense height of the houses, many of which, built in flats, rose a hundred and fifty feet, their upper stories projecting so much that the windows looked into each other, and the ledges of the roofs almost meeting, totally excluded the sun. Nor when they descended the other side toward the river, was he less astonished at the enormous height of the detached buildings, named insulæ, at once inns and lodging-houses, in which lived thousands of the slave and working artisan population, and which constituted as well the residence of the foreign population of all nations when visiting Rome in pursuit of their numerous businesses.