neighed at the animal in the painting, on which Apelles exclaimed, One would imagine, sir, the horse was a better judge of art than you.' Such freedom of speech was forgiven in the artist, to whom the hero, so generous in his partialities, was not more a patron than a friend; and, indeed, he carried his liberality so far, that he presented him with his favourite mistress, who, while sitting for her picture, had inspired the painter with an unconquerable passion. Apelles was not usually averse to criticism, but, on the contrary, exposed his pictures in a public place, where, unseen himself, he could listen to the observations of the passers by; and a story is told of his having altered the sandals of one of his figures, in deference to the strictures of a cobbler. The result, as the picture was still exhibited, was observed by the critic; and, elated at his success, he ventured on a criticism of the leg, but here he was at fault, and Apelles, stepping from his covert, dealt him an austere rebuke.

Apelles afterwards enjoyed the same patronage from Ptolemy which had been extended to him by Alexander. The favour he obtained in Egypt made him an object of envy, and, desiring to effect his ruin, a cabal

VOL. I.

N

at the court sent a messenger to his house with an invitation to sup with the King. At the appointed time, Apelles accordingly attended, and discovered that he had been hoaxed. For a moment he was confounded, being unable, from his ignorance of the language, to explain the circumstances to the monarch; but he then drew the figure of the messenger on the wall, when the likeness was recognised by Ptolemy, and the trembling artist was excused, while his enemies were severely reprimanded.

There is little to say of the practice of painting by the Romans; for though they must have been constant spectators of the remains of Etruscan art from the earliest times, they exhibited no appreciation of pictures till the accession of Augustus, when, with the spoils of the world at his feet, that prince embellished the city with a prodigal hand. Up to this period, the genius of the people had been essentially military, and their pictures, like their statues, were an importation from Greece. So little did they understand of the art prior to their capture of Athens, that the Roman general, on despatching to Italy one of the masterpieces of Hellenic art, made a contract with the master

of the vessel, that if the picture, during its passage, should sustain any damage, he was to replace it by one quite as good, and the sapient mariner readily agreed to this hard bargain, which it would have required a necromancer to fulfil. Sic itur ad astra.

VI.

LITERATURE AND THE DRAMA.

THE human mind has in nothing so excelled as in literature, which, giving form to the ideas, embodies all it knows, and inculcates all it can learn. Even apart from its functions, which are so multiform, so diverse, it takes a paramount place of itself, by virtue of its integral character. It is the interpreter of the arts and sciences, which are merely acquirements, the gift of observation and practice, while literature, springing spontaneously from the mind, is a creation. Hence we have not classed it with the fine arts, with which it is usually associated. It has, indeed, a distinct existence, an existence more ancient than either art or science-anterior, in its oral development, even to the invention of letters-perhaps almost coeval with language

itself.

It would be interesting to trace the primary efforts of composition as they first arose in the human mind; and could they be recovered,

they would supply a beautiful page in its history. There we should see the power of the intellect to arrange its ideas, without grammar, without art, without tuition, by a rude instinctive sense of method and propriety. Possibly there might be something to provoke a smile, a homeliness and coarseness of language, no graces of style or diction, no grasp or depth of thought; but, on the other hand, there would, without doubt, be perspicuity and precision, for these are the inherent. qualities of reason. Nature always expresses itself with simplicity; and the effect, even if not imposing, could not but be impressive. But, putting aside their literary calibre, such productions would be invaluable as revelations of the rise of thought, illustrating the first development of information and deduction; and, to the philosophic eye, they would open a mine of research, fruitful of instruction and interest.

For memorials so primeval to have escaped the hand of Time would indeed have been a miracle, though literature has really proved imperishable-though the thoughts of man, impressed on wax or linen, have survived the fall of empires and the disappearance of languages, carrying us back to a period