Philothea. Lydia Maria Child
from its golden fillet.
As she passed, she continued to look back at the reflection of her own fair form, with a proud glance, which seemed to say, "Aspasia is herself again!"
Philothea took Eudora's arm, and folding her veil about her, with a deep sigh followed to the room below.
Chapter III.
All is prepared—the table and the feast—
With due appurtenance of clothes and cushions.
Chaplets and dainties of all kinds abound:
Here rich perfumes are seen—there cakes and cates
Of every fashion; cakes of honey, cakes
Of sesamum, and cakes of unground corn.
What more? A troop of dancing women fair,
And minstrels who may chaunt us sweet Harmodius.
ARISTOPHANES.
The room in which the guests were assembled, was furnished with less of Asiatic splendour than the private apartment of Aspasia; but in its magnificent simplicity there was a more perfect manifestation of ideal beauty. It was divided in the middle by eight Ionic columns, alternately of Phrygian and Pentelic marble. Between the central pillars stood a superb statue from the hand of Phidias, representing Aphrodite guided by Love, and crowned by Peitho, goddess of Persuasion. Around the walls were Phœbus and Hermes in Parian marble, and the nine Muses in ivory. A fountain of perfumed water, from the adjoining room, diffused coolness and fragrance, as it passed through a number of concealed pipes, and finally flowed into a magnificent vase, supported by a troop of Naiades.
In a recess stood the famous lion of Myron, surrounded by infant Loves, playing with his paws, climbing his back, and decorating his neck with garlands. This beautiful group seemed actually to live and move in the clear light and deep shadows derived from a silver lamp suspended above.
The walls were enriched with some of the choicest paintings of Apollodorus, Zeuxis, and Polygnotus. Near a fine likeness of Pericles, by Aristolaus, was Aspasia, represented as Chloris scattering flowers over the earth, and attended by winged Hours.
It chanced that Pericles himself reclined beneath his portrait, and though political anxiety had taken from his countenance something of the cheerful freshness which characterized the picture, he still retained the same elevated beauty—the same deep, quiet expression of intellectual power. At a short distance, with his arm resting on the couch, stood his nephew Alcibiades, deservedly called the handsomest man in Athens. He was laughing with Hermippus, the comic writer, whose shrewd, sarcastic and mischievous face was expressive of his calling. Phidias slowly paced the room, talking of the current news with the Persian Artaphernes. Anaxagoras reclined near the statue of Aphrodite, listening and occasionally speaking to Plato, who leaned against one of the marble pillars, in earnest conversation with a learned Ethiopian.
The gorgeous apparel of the Asiatic and African guests, contrasted strongly with the graceful simplicity of Grecian costume. A saffron-coloured mantle and a richly embroidered Median vest glittered on the person of the venerable Artaphernes. Tithonus, the Ethiopian, wore a skirt of ample folds, which scarcely fell below the knee. It was of the glorious Tyrian hue, resembling a crimson light shining through transparent purple. The edge of the garment was curiously wrought with golden palm leaves. It terminated at the waist in a large roll, twined with massive chains of gold, and fastened by a clasp of the far-famed Ethiopian topaz. The upper part of his person was uncovered and unornamented, save by broad bracelets of gold, which formed a magnificent contrast with the sable colour of his vigorous and finely-proportioned limbs.
As the ladies entered, the various groups came forward to meet them; and all were welcomed by Aspasia with earnest cordiality and graceful self-possession. While the brief salutations were passing, Hipparete, the wife of Alcibiades came from an inner apartment, where she had been waiting for her hostess. She was a fair, amiable young matron, evidently conscious of her high rank. The short blue tunic, which she wore over a lemon-coloured robe, was embroidered with golden grasshoppers; and on her forehead sparkled a jewelled insect of the same species. It was the emblem of unmixed Athenian blood; and Hipparete alone, of all the ladies present, had a right to wear it. Her manners were an elaborate copy of Aspasia; but deprived of the powerful charm of unconsciousness, which flowed like a principle of life into every motion of that beautiful enchantress.
The momentary silence, so apt to follow introductions, was interrupted by an Ethiopian boy, who, at a signal from Tithonus, emerged from behind the columns, and kneeling, presented to Aspasia a beautiful box of ivory, inlaid with gold, filled with the choicest perfumes. The lady acknowledged the costly offering by a gracious smile, and a low bend of the head toward the giver.
The ivory was wrought with exquisite skill, representing the imaginary forms of the constellations, studded with golden stars. The whole rested on a golden image of Atlas, bending beneath the weight. The box was passed from hand to hand, and excited universal admiration.
"Were these figures carved by an artist of your own country?" asked Phidias.
With a smile, Tithonus replied, "You ask the question because you see a Grecian spirit in those forms. They were indeed fashioned by an Ethiopian; but one who had long resided in Athens."
"There is truly a freedom and variety in these figures, which I have rarely seen even in Greece," rejoined Phidias; "and I have never met with those characteristics in Ethiopian or Egyptian workmanship."
"They belong not to the genius of those countries," answered Tithonus: "Philosophy and the arts are but a manifestation of the intelligible ideas that move the public mind; and thus they become visible images of the nations whence they emanate. The philosophy of the East is misty and vast—with a gleam of truth here and there, resting like sunlight on the edge of a dark and mighty cloud. Hence, our architecture and statuary is massive and of immense proportions. Greece is free—therefore she has a philosopher, who sees that every idea must have a form, and in every form discovers its appropriate life. And because philosophy has perceived that the principle of vitality and beauty flows from the divine mind into each and every earthly thing, therefore Greece has a sculptor, who can mould his thoughts into marble forms, from which the free grandeur of the soul emanates like a perpetual presence." As he spoke, he bowed low to Plato and Phidias.
"The gigantic statues of Sicily have fair proportions," said Plato; "and they have life; but it is life in deep repose. There is the vastness of eternity, without the activity of time."
"The most ancient statuary of all nations is an image of death; not of sleeping energy," observed Aspasia. "The arms adhere rigidly to the sides, the feet form one block; and even in the face, the divine ideal seems struggling hard to enter the reluctant form. But thanks to Pygmalion of Cyprus, we now have the visible impress of every passion carved in stone. The spirit of beauty now flows freely into the harmonious proportions, even as the oracle is filled by the inspiration of the god. Now the foot bounds from the pedestal, the finger points to the stars, and life breathes from every limb. But in good time the Lybian pipe warns us that the feast is ready. We must not soar too far above the earth, while she offers us the rich treasures of her fruit-trees and vines."
"Yet it is ever thus, when Plato is with us," exclaimed Pericles. "He walks with his head among the stars—and, by a magic influence, we rise to his elevation, until we perceive the shadows of majestic worlds, known in their reality only to the gods. As the approach of Phœbus fills the priestess with prophecy, so does this son of Phœbus impart something of his own eloquence to all who come within its power."
"You speak truly, O Pericles," replied Tithonus; "but it is a truth felt only by those who are in some measure worthy to receive it. Aspasia said wisely, that the spirit of beauty flows in, only where the proportions are harmonious. The gods are ever with us, but few feel the presence of the gods."
Philothea, speaking in a low tone to Eudora, added, "And Plato rejoices