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Title: Works, V3

Author: Lucian of Samosata

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and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.




THE WORKS OF LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA

Complete with exceptions specified in the preface

TRANSLATED BY

H. W. FOWLER AND F. G. FOWLER

VOLUME III

OF FOUR VOLUMES

What work nobler than transplanting foreign thought into the barren
domestic soil? except indeed planting thought of your own, which
the fewest are privileged to do. --_Sartor Resartus_.

At each flaw, be this your first thought: the author doubtless said
something quite different, and much more to the point. And then you
may hiss _me_ off, if you will. --LUCIAN, _Nigrinus_, 9.

(LUCIAN) The last great master of Attic eloquence and Attic wit. --
_Lord Macaulay_.




CONTENTS OF VOL. III


LIFE OF DEMONAX

A PORTRAIT-STUDY

DEFENCE OF THE 'PORTRAIT-STUDY'

TOXARIS: A DIALOGUE OF FRIENDSHIP

ZEUS CROSS-EXAMINED

ZEUS TRAGOEDUS

THE COCK

ICAROMENIPPUS, AN AERIAL EXPEDITION

THE DOUBLE INDICTMENT

THE PARASITE, A DEMONSTRATION THAT SPONGING IS A PROFESSION

ANACHARSIS, A DISCUSSION OF PHYSICAL TRAINING

OF MOURNING

THE RHETORICIAN'S VADE MECUM

THE LIAR

DIONYSUS, AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE

HERACLES, AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE

SWANS AND AMBER

THE FLY, AN APPRECIATION

REMARKS ADDRESSED TO AN ILLITERATE BOOK-FANCIER

ALPHABETICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS




LIFE OF DEMONAX


It was in the book of Fate that even this age of ours should not be
destitute entirely of noteworthy and memorable men, but produce a
body of extraordinary power, and a mind of surpassing wisdom. My
allusions are to Sostratus the Boeotian, whom the Greeks called,
and believed to be, Heracles; and more particularly to the
philosopher Demonax. I saw and marvelled at both of them, and with
the latter I long consorted. I have written of Sostratus elsewhere
[Footnote: The life of Sostratus is not extant. ], and described his
stature and enormous strength, his open-air life on Parnassus,
sleeping on the grass and eating what the mountain afforded, the
exploits that bore out his surname--robbers exterminated, rough
places made smooth, and deep waters bridged.

This time I am to write of Demonax, with two sufficient ends in
view: first, to keep his memory green among good men, as far as in
me lies; and secondly, to provide the most earnest of our rising
generation, who aspire to philosophy, with a contemporary pattern,
that they may not be forced back upon the ancients for worthy
models, but imitate this best--if I am any judge--of all
philosophers.

He came of a Cyprian family which enjoyed considerable property and
political influence. But his views soared above such things as
these; he claimed nothing less than the highest, and devoted
himself to philosophy. This was not due to any exhortations of
Agathobulus, his predecessor Demetrius, or Epictetus. He did indeed
enjoy the converse of all these, as well as of Timocrates of
Heraclea, that wise man whose gifts of expression and of
understanding were equal. It was not, however, to the exhortations
of any of these, but to a natural impulse towards the good, an
innate yearning for philosophy which manifested itself in childish
years, that he owed his superiority to all the things that ordinary
men pursue. He took independence and candour for his guiding
principles, lived himself an upright, wholesome, irreproachable
life, and exhibited to all who saw or heard him the model of his
own disposition and philosophic sincerity.

He was no half-baked enthusiast either; he had lived with the
poets, and knew most of them by heart; he was a practised speaker;
he had a knowledge of philosophic principles not of the superficial
skin-deep order; he had developed and hardened his body by exercise
and toil, and, in short, had been at the pains to make himself
every man's equal at every point. He was consistent enough, when he
found that he could no longer suffice to himself, to depart
voluntarily from life, leaving a great reputation behind him among
the true nobility of Greece.

Instead of confining himself to a single philosophic school, he
laid them all under contribution, without showing clearly which of
them he preferred; but perhaps he was nearest akin to Socrates;
for, though he had leanings as regards externals and plain living
to Diogenes, he never studied effect or lived for the applause and
admiration of the multitude; his ways were like other people's; he
mounted no high horse; he was just a man and a citizen. He indulged
in no Socratic irony; but his discourse was full of Attic grace;
those who heard it went away neither disgusted by servility nor
repelled by ill-tempered censure, but on the contrary lifted out of
themselves by charity, and encouraged to more orderly, contented,
hopeful lives.

He was never known to shout or be over vehement or angry, even when
he had to correct; he touched offences, but pardoned offenders,
saying that the doctors' was the right model, who treat sickness
but are not angry with the sick. It is human, he thought, to err,
but divine (whether in God or man) to put the error right.

A life of this sort left him without wants of his own; but he was
always ready to render any proper service to his friends--including
reminders to those among them who passed for fortunate, how brief
was their tenure of what they so prided themselves upon. To all, on
the other hand, who repined at poverty, resented exile, or
complained of old age or bad health, he administered laughing
consolation, and bade them not forget how soon their troubles would
be over, the distinction between good and bad be obsolete, and long
freedom succeed to short-lived distress.

He was fond of playing peace-maker between brothers at variance, or
presiding over the restoration of marital harmony. He could say a
word in season, too, before an agitated political assembly, which
would turn the scale in favour of patriotic duty. Such was the
temper that philosophy produced in him, kindly, mild, and cheerful.

Nothing ever grieved him except the illness or death of a friend,
friendship being the one among blessings that he put highest; and
indeed he was every man's friend, counting among his kindred
whatever had human shape. Not that there were no degrees in the
pleasure different people's society gave him; but he avoided none,
except those who seemed so far astray that they could get no good
from him. And every word or act in which these principles took
shape might have been dictated by the Graces and Aphrodite; for 'on
his lips Persuasion sat,' as the play has it.

Accordingly he was regarded with reverence at Athens, both by the
collective assembly and by the officials; he always continued to be
a person of great consequence in their eyes. And this though most
of them had been at first offended with him, and hated him as
heartily as their ancestors had Socrates. Besides his candour and
independence, there had been found Anytuses and Meletuses to repeat
the historic charges: _he had never been known to sacrifice, and
he made himself singular by avoiding initiation at Eleusis_. On
this occasion he showed his courage by appearing in a garland and
festal attire, and then pleading his cause before the people with a
dash of unwonted asperity infused into his ordinary moderate tone.
On the count of never having sacrificed to Athene, 'Men of Athens,'
he said, 'there is nothing wonderful in this; it was only that I
gave the Goddess credit for being able to do very well without
sacrifices from me. ' And in the matter of the Mysteries, his reason
for not following the usual practice was this: if the Mysteries
turned out to be bad, he would never be able to keep quiet about it
to the uninitiated, but must dissuade them from the ceremony;
while, if they were good, humanity would tempt him to divulge them.
The Athenians, stone in hand already, were at once disarmed, and
from that time onwards paid him honour and respect, which
ultimately rose to reverence. Yet he had opened his case with a
bitter enough reproof: 'Men of Athens, you see me ready garlanded;
proceed to sacrifice me, then; your former offering [Footnote:
i. e. , Socrates. ] was deficient in this formality. '

I will now give some specimens of his pointed and witty sayings,
which may begin with his answers to Favorinus. The latter had heard
that he made fun of his lectures, and in particular of the
sentimental verses with which they were garnished, and which
Demonax thought contemptible, womanish, and quite unsuited to
philosophy. So he came and asked him: 'Who, pray, are you, that you
should pour scorn upon me? ' 'I am the possessor of a critical pair
of ears,' was the answer. The sophist had not had enough;
'_You_ are no infant,' he went on, 'but a philosopher, it
seems; may one ask what marks the transformation? ' 'The marks of
manhood,' said Demonax.

Another time the same person came up and asked him what school of
philosophy he belonged to. 'Who told you I was a philosopher? ' was
all he said. But as he left him, he had a good laugh to himself,
which Favorinus observing, demanded what he was laughing at; 'I was
only amused by your taking a man for a philosopher because he wears
a beard, when you have none yourself. '

When Sidonius, who had a great reputation at Athens as a teacher,
was boasting that he was conversant with all the philosophic
systems--but I had better quote his words. 'Let Aristotle call, and
I follow to the Lyceum; Plato, and I hurry to the Academy; Zeno,
and I make my home in the Porch; Pythagoras, and I keep the rule of
silence. ' Then rose Demonax from among the audience: 'Sidonius,
Pythagoras calls. '

A pretty girlish young man called Python, son of some Macedonian
grandee, once by way of quizzing him asked a riddling question and
invited him to show his acumen over it. 'I only see one thing, dear
child,' he said, 'and that is, that you are a _fair_ logician. '
The other lost his temper at this equivoque, and threatened him:
'You shall see in a minute what a man can do. ' 'Oh, you keep a man,
do you? ' was Demonax's smiling retort.

He once, for daring to laugh at an athlete who displayed himself in
gay clothes because he had won an Olympic victory, received a blow
on the head with a stone, which drew blood. The bystanders were all
as angry as if they had themselves been the victims, and set up a
shout--'The Proconsul! the Proconsul! ' 'Thank you, gentlemen,' said
Demonax, 'but I should prefer the doctor. '

He once picked up a little gold charm in the road as he walked, and
posted a notice in the market-place stating that the loser could
recover his property, if he would call upon Demonax and give
particulars of the weight, material, and workmanship. A handsome
young exquisite came, professing to have lost it. The philosopher
soon saw that it was a got-up story; 'Ah, my boy,' he said, 'you
will do very well, if you lose your other charms as little as you
have lost this one. '

A Roman senator at Athens once presented his son, who had great
beauty of a soft womanish type. 'My son salutes you, sir,' he said.
To which Demonax answered, 'A pretty lad, worthy of his father, and
extremely like his mother. '

A cynic who emphasized his principles by wearing a bear's skin he
insisted on addressing not by his name of Honoratus, but as Bruin.

Asked for a definition of Happiness, he said that only the free was
happy. 'Well,' said the questioner, 'there is no lack of free
men. '--'I count no man free who is subject to hopes and fears. '--
'You ask impossibilities; of these two we are all very much the
slaves. ' 'Once grasp the nature of human affairs,' said Demonax,
'and you will find that they justify neither hope nor fear, since
both pain and pleasure are to have an end. '

Peregrine Proteus was shocked at his taking things so lightly, and
treating mankind as a subject for humour: 'You have no teeth,
Demonax. ' 'And you, Peregrine, have no bowels. '

A physical philosopher was discoursing about the antipodes; Demonax
took his hand, and led him to a well, in which he showed him his
own reflection: 'Do you want us to believe that the antipodes are
like _that_? '

A man once boasted that he was a wizard, and possessed of mighty
charms whereby he could get what he chose out of anybody. 'Will it
surprise you to learn that I am a fellow-craftsman? ' asked Demonax;
'pray come with me to the baker's, and you shall see a single
charm, just one wave of my magic wand, induce him to bestow several
loaves upon me. ' Current coin, he meant, is as good a magician as
most.

The great Herodes, mourning the untimely death of Pollux, used to
have the carriage and horses got ready, and the place laid at
table, as though the dead were going to drive and eat. To him came
Demonax, saying that he brought a message from Pollux. Herodes,
delighted with the idea that Demonax was humouring his whim like
other people, asked what it was that Pollux required of him. 'He
cannot think why you are so long coming to him. '

When another person kept himself shut up in the dark, mourning his
son, Demonax represented himself to him as a magician: he would
call up the son's ghost, the only condition being that he should be
given the names of three people who had never had to mourn. The
father hum'd and ha'd, unable, doubtless, to produce any such
person, till Demonax broke in: 'And have you, then, a monopoly of
the unendurable, when you cannot name a man who has not some grief
to endure? '

He often ridiculed the people who use obsolete and uncommon words
in their lectures. One of these produced a bit of Attic purism in
answer to some question he had put. 'My dear sir,' he said, 'the
date of my question is to-day; that of your answer is _temp_.
_Bell_. _Troj_. '

A friend asking him to come to the temple of Asclepius, there to
make prayer for his son, 'Poor deaf Asclepius! ' he exclaimed; 'can
he not hear at this distance? '

He once saw two philosophers engaged in a very unedifying game of
cross questions and crooked answers. 'Gentlemen,' said he, 'here is
one man milking a billy-goat, and another catching the proceeds in
a sieve. '

When Agathocles the Peripatetic vaunted himself as the first and
only dialectician, he asked him how he could be the first, if he
was the only, or the only, if he was the first.

The consular Cethegus, on his way to serve under his father in
Asia, said and did many foolish things. A friend describing him as
a great ass, 'Not even a _great_ ass,' said Demonax.

When Apollonius was appointed professor of philosophy in the
Imperial household, Demonax witnessed his departure, attended by a
great number of his pupils. 'Why, here is Apollonius with all his
Argonauts,' he cried.

Asked whether he held the soul to be immortal, 'Dear me, yes,' he
said; 'everything is. '

He remarked a propos of Herodes that Plato was quite right about
our having more than one soul; the same soul could not possibly
compose those splendid declamations, and have places laid for
Regilla and Pollux after their death.

He was once bold enough to ask the assembled people, when he heard
the sacred proclamation, why they excluded barbarians from the
Mysteries, seeing that Eumolpus, the founder of them, was a
barbarian from Thrace.

When he once had a winter voyage to make, a friend asked how he
liked the thought of being capsized and becoming food for fishes.
'I should be very unreasonable to mind giving them a meal,
considering how many they have given me.
'

To a rhetorician who had given a very poor declamation he
recommended constant practice. 'Why, I am always practising to
myself,' says the man. 'Ah, that accounts for it; you are
accustomed to such a foolish audience. '

Observing a soothsayer one day officiating for pay, he said: 'I
cannot see how you can ask pay. If it is because you can change the
course of Fate, you cannot possibly put the figure high enough: if
everything is settled by Heaven, and not by you, what is the good
of your soothsaying? '

A hale old Roman once gave him a little exhibition of his skill in
fence, taking a clothes-peg for his mark. 'What do you think of my
play, Demonax? ' he said. 'Excellent, so long as you have a wooden
man to play with. '

Even for questions meant to be insoluble he generally had a shrewd
answer at command. Some one tried to make a fool of him by asking,
If I burn a hundred pounds of wood, how many pounds of smoke shall
I get? 'Weigh the ashes; the difference is all smoke. '

One Polybius, an uneducated man whose grammar was very defective,
once informed him that he had received Roman citizenship from the
Emperor. 'Why did he not make you a Greek instead? ' asked Demonax.

Seeing a decorated person very proud of his broad stripe, he
whispered in his ear, while he took hold of and drew attention to
the cloth, 'This attire did not make its original wearer anything
but a sheep. '

Once at the bath the water was at boiling point, and some one
called him a coward for hesitating to get in. 'What,' said he, 'is
my country expecting me to do my duty? '

Some one asked him what he took the next world to be like. 'Wait a
bit, and I will send you the information. '

A minor poet called Admetus told him he had inserted a clause in
his will for the inscribing on his tomb of a monostich, which I
will give:

Admetus' husk earth holds, and Heaven himself.

'What a beautiful epitaph, Admetus! ' said Demonax, 'and what a pity
it is not up yet! '

The shrunk shanks of old age are a commonplace; but when his
reached this state, some one asked him what was the matter with
them. 'Ah,' he said with a smile, 'Charon has been having a bite at
them. '

He interrupted a Spartan who was scourging his servant with, 'Why
confer on your slave the privilege of Spartans [Footnote: See
_Spartans_ in Notes. ] like yourself? ' He observed to one Danae,
who was bringing a suit against her brother, 'Have the law of him
by all means; it was another Danae whose father was called the
Lawless. [Footnote: See _Danae_ in Notes. ]

He waged constant warfare against all whose philosophy was not
practical, but for show. So when he saw a cynic, with threadbare
cloak and wallet, but a braying-pestle instead of a staff,
proclaiming himself loudly as a follower of Antisthenes, Crates,
and Diogenes, he said: 'Tell us no lies; your master is the
professor of braying. '

Noticing how foul play was growing among the athletes, who often
supplemented the resources of boxing and wrestling with their
teeth, he said it was no wonder that the champions' partisans had
taken to describing them as lions.

There was both wit and sting in what he said to the proconsul. The
latter was one of the people who take all the hair off their bodies
with pitch-plaster. A cynic mounted a block of stone and cast this
practice in his teeth, suggesting that it was for immoral purposes.
The proconsul in a rage had the man pulled down, and was on the
point of condemning him to be beaten or banished, when Demonax, who
was present, pleaded for him on the ground that he was only
exercising the traditional cynic licence. 'Well,' said the
proconsul, 'I pardon him this time at your request; but if he
offends again, what shall I do to him? ' 'Have him depilated,' said
Demonax.

Another person, entrusted by the Emperor with the command of
legions and the charge of a great province, asked him what was the
way to govern well. 'Keep your temper, say little, and hear much. '

Asked whether he ate honey-cakes, 'Do you suppose,' he said, 'that
bees only make honey for fools? '

Noticing near the Poecile a statue minus a hand, he said it had
taken Athens a long time to get up a bronze to Cynaegirus.

Alluding to the lame Cyprian Rufinus, who was a Peripatetic and
spent much time in the Lyceum walks, 'What presumption,' he
exclaimed, 'for a cripple to call himself a Walking Philosopher! '

Epictetus once urged him, with a touch of reproof, to take a wife
and raise a family--for it beseemed a philosopher to leave some one
to represent him after the flesh. But he received the home thrust:
'Very well, Epictetus; give me one of your daughters. '

His remark to Herminus the Aristotelian is equally worth recording.
He was aware that this man's character was vile and his misdeeds
innumerable, and yet his mouth was always full of Aristotle and his
ten predicaments. 'Certainly, Herminus,' he said, 'no predicament
is too bad for you. '

When the Athenians were thinking, in their rivalry with Corinth, of
starting gladiatorial shows, he came forward and said: 'Men of
Athens, before you pass this motion, do not forget to destroy the
altar of Pity. '

On the occasion of his visiting Olympia, the Eleans voted a bronze
statue to him. But he remonstrated: 'It will imply a reproach to
your ancestors, men of Elis, who set up no statue to Socrates or
Diogenes. '

I once heard him observe to a learned lawyer that laws were not of
much use, whether meant for the good or for the bad; the first do
not need them, and upon the second they have no effect.

There was one line of Homer always on his tongue:

Idle or busy, death takes all alike.

He had a good word for Thersites, as a cynic and a leveller.

Asked which of the philosophers was most to his taste, he said: 'I
admire them all; Socrates I revere, Diogenes I admire, Aristippus I
love. '

He lived to nearly a hundred, free from disease and pain, burdening
no man, asking no man's favour, serving his friends, and having no
enemies. Not Athens only, but all Greece was so in love with him
that as he passed the great would give him place and there would be
a general hush. Towards the end of his long life he would go
uninvited into the first house that offered, and there get his
dinner and his bed, the household regarding it as the visit of some
heavenly being which brought them a blessing. When they saw him go
by, the baker-wives would contend for the honour of supplying him,
and a happy woman was the actual donor. Children too used to call
him father, and bring him offerings of fruit.

Party spirit was once running high at Athens; he came into the
assembly, and his mere appearance was enough to still the storm.
When he saw that they were ashamed, he departed again without
having uttered a word.

When he found that he was no longer able to take care of himself,
he repeated to his friends the tag with which the heralds close the
festival:

The games are done,
The crowns all won;
No more delay,
But haste away,

and from that moment abstaining from food, left life as cheerfully
as he had lived it.

When the end was near, he was asked his wishes about burial. 'Oh,
do not trouble; scent will summon my undertakers. ' Well, but it
would be indecent for the body of so great a man to feed birds and
dogs. 'Oh, no harm in making oneself useful in death to anything
that lives. '

However, the Athenians gave him a magnificent public funeral, long
lamented him, worshipped and garlanded the stone seat on which he
had been wont to rest when tired, accounting the mere stone
sanctified by him who had sat upon it. No one would miss the
funeral ceremony, least of all any of the philosophers. It was
these who bore him to the grave.

I have made but a small selection of the material available; but it
may serve to give readers some idea of this great man's character.




A PORTRAIT-STUDY

_Lycinus. Polystratus_


_Ly_. Polystratus, I know now what men must have felt like
when they saw the Gorgon's head. I have just experienced the same
sensation, at the sight of a most lovely woman. A little more, and
I should have realized the legend, by being turned to stone; I am
benumbed with admiration.

_Poly_. Wonderful indeed must have been the beauty, and
terrible the power of the woman who could produce such an
impression on Lycinus. Tell me of this petrifying Medusa. Who is
she, and whence? I would see her myself. You will not grudge me
that privilege? Your jealousy will not take alarm at the prospect
of a rival petrifaction at your side?

_Ly_. Well, I give you fair warning: one distant glimpse of
her, and you are speechless, motionless as any statue. Nay, that is
a light affliction: the mortal wound is not dealt till _her_
glance has fallen on _you_. What can save you then? She will
lead you in chains, hither and thither, as the magnet draws the
steel.

_Poly_. Enough! You would make her more than human. And now
tell me who she is.

_Ly_. You think I am exaggerating: I fear you will have but a
poor opinion of my eloquence when you see her as she is--so far
above my praise. _Who_ she is, I cannot say: but to judge from
the splendour of her surroundings, her retinue, her host of eunuchs
and maids, she must be of no ordinary rank.

_Poly_. And you never even asked her name?

_Ly_. Why no; but she is from Ionia; because, as she passed, I
heard one of the bystanders speak aside to his neighbour: 'See, he
exclaimed, 'what Smyrna can produce! And what wonder, if the
fairest of Ionian cities has given birth to the fairest of women? '
I thought he must come from Smyrna himself, he was so proud of her.

_Poly_. There you acted your stony part to perfection. As you
could neither follow her, nor make inquiries of the Smyrnaean, it
only remains for you to describe her as best you can, on the chance
of my recognizing her.

_Ly_. You know not what you ask. It is not in the power of
words--certainly not of _my_ words--to portray such wondrous
beauty; scarcely could an Apelles, a Zeuxis, a Parrhasius,--a
Phidias or an Alcamenes, do justice to it; as for my flimsy
workmanship, it will but insult the original.

_Poly_. Well, never mind; what was she like? There can be no
harm in trying your hand. What if the portrait be somewhat out of
drawing? --the critic is your good friend.

_Ly_. I think my best way out of it will be to call in the aid
of some of the old masters I have named: let them fashion the
likeness for me.

_Poly_. Well, but--will they come? They have been dead so
long.

_Ly_. That is easily managed: but you must not mind answering
me a few questions.

_Poly_. You have but to ask.

_Ly_. Were you ever at Cnidus?

_Poly_. I was.

_Ly_. Then you have seen the _Aphrodite_, of course?

_Poly_. That masterpiece of Praxiteles's art! I have.

_Ly_. And heard the story they tell there,--of the man who
fell in love with the statue, and contrived to get shut into the
temple alone, and there enjoyed such favours as a statue is able to
bestow. --But that is neither here nor there. --You have seen the
Cnidian _Aphrodite_, anyhow; now I want to know whether you
have also seen our own _Aphrodite of the Gardens_,--the Alcamenes.

_Poly_. I must be a dullard of dullards, if that most
exquisite of Alcamenes's works had escaped my notice.

_Ly_. I forbear to ask whether in the course of your many
visits to the Acropolis you ever observed the _Sosandra_ of
Calamis. [Footnote: This statue is usually identified with one of
Aphrodite by the same sculptor, mentioned in Pausanias. Soteira
('saviour') is known as an epithet of Aphrodite: but Sosandra
('man-saving') is explained as a nickname of the particular statue,
in playful allusion to Callias, the donor, who was apparently
indebted to Aphrodite for his success with a certain Elpinice. ]

_Poly_. Frequently.

_Ly_. That is really enough for my purpose. But I should just
like to know what you consider to be Phidias's best work.

_Poly_. Can you ask? --The Lemnian _Athene_, which bears
the artist's own signature; oh, and of course the _Amazon_
leaning on her spear.

_Ly_. I approve your judgement. We shall have no need of other
artists: I am now to cull from each of these its own peculiar
beauty, and combine all in a single portrait.

_Poly_. And how are you going to do that?

_Ly_. It is quite simple. All we have to do is to hand over
our several types to Reason, whose care it must be to unite them in
the most harmonious fashion, with due regard to the consistency, as
to the variety, of the result.

_Poly_. To be sure; let Reason take her materials and begin.
What will she make of it, I wonder? Will she contrive to put all
these different types together without their clashing?

_Ly_. Well, look; she is at work already. Observe her procedure.
She begins with our Cnidian importation, from which she takes only
the head; with the rest she is not concerned, as the statue is
nude. The hair, the forehead, the exquisite eyebrows, she will keep
as Praxiteles has rendered them; the eyes, too, those soft, yet
bright-glancing eyes, she leaves unaltered. But the cheeks and the
front of the face are taken from the 'Garden' Goddess; and so are
the lines of the hands, the shapely wrists, the delicately-tapering
fingers. Phidias and the Lemnian _Athene_ will give the outline of
the face, and the well-proportioned nose, and lend new softness to
the cheeks; and the same artist may shape her neck and closed lips,
to resemble those of his _Amazon_. Calamis adorns her with
Sosandra's modesty, Sosandra's grave half- smile; the decent seemly
dress is Sosandra's too, save that the head must not be veiled. For
her stature, let it be that of Cnidian _Aphrodite_; once more we
have recourse to Praxiteles. --What think you, Polystratus? Is it a
lovely portrait?

_Poly_. Assuredly it will be, when it is perfected. At present, my
paragon of sculptors, one element of loveliness has escaped your
comprehensive grasp.

_Ly_. What is that?

_Poly_. A most important one. You will agree with me that
colour and tone have a good deal to do with beauty? that black
should _be_ black, white be white, and red play its blushing
part? It looks to me as if the most important thing of all were
still lacking.

_Ly_. Well, how shall we manage? Call in the painters, perhaps,
selecting those who were noted for their skill in mixing and laying
on their colours? Be it so: we will have Polygnotus, Euphranor of
course, Apelles and Aetion; they can divide the work between them.
Euphranor shall colour the hair like his _Hera's_; Polygnotus the
comely brow and faintly blushing cheek, after his _Cassandra_ in
the Assembly-room at Delphi. Polygnotus shall also paint her
robe,--of the finest texture, part duly gathered in, but most of it
floating in the breeze. For the flesh-tints, which must be neither
too pale nor too high-coloured, Apelles shall copy his own
_Campaspe_. And lastly, Aetion shall give her _Roxana's_ lips. Nay,
we can do better: have we not Homer, best of painters, though a
Euphranor and an Apelles be present? Let him colour all like the
limbs of Menelaus, which he says were 'ivory tinged with red. ' He
too shall paint her calm 'ox- eyes,' and the Theban poet shall help
him to give them their 'violet' hue. Homer shall add her smile, her
white arms, her rosy finger-tips, and so complete the resemblance
to golden Aphrodite, to whom he has compared Brises' daughter with
far less reason. So far we may trust our sculptors and painters and
poets: but for her crowning glory, for the grace--nay, the choir of
Graces and Loves that encircle her--who shall portray them?

_Poly_. This was no earthly vision, Lycinus; surely she must
have dropped from the clouds. --And what was she doing?

_Ly_. In her hands was an open scroll; half read (so I surmised)
and half to be read. As she passed, she was making some remark to
one of her company; what it was I did not catch. But when she
smiled, ah!