LETTER V.

You could not but suppose, my Curtius, when you came to the end of my last letter, that I should soon write again, and not leave you ignorant of the manner in which I passed the evening at the palace of Zenobia. Accordingly, knowing that you would desire this, I had no sooner tied and sealed my epistle, than I sat down to give you those minute recollections of incident and of conversation in which you and Lucilia both so much delight, and which indeed, in the present instance, are not unimportant in their bearing upon my future lot. But this I shall leave to your own conjectures. A tempest of rain makes me a necessary prisoner to the house, but the pleasant duty of writing to you spreads sunshine on all within my room. I trust in the gods that you are all well.

Of the banquet in that Egyptian hall, and its immediate attendant circumstances, I need not tell you. It was like other feasts of ceremony, where the niceties of form constantly obtrude themselves, and check too much the flow of conversation. Then too one's mind is necessarily distracted, where the feast is sumptuous, by the rarity of the dishes, the richness of the service, and the pomp and stir of the attendance. Never was my fortune in Rome to recline at a table of more imperial splendor. For Lucilia's sake I will just say, that the service was of solid geld, most elaborately carved, and covered with designs illustrative of points

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of the Egyptian annals. Our wine cups were also of gold, enriched with precious stones; and for each kind of wine, a different cup, set with jewels, typical of the character of the wine for which it was intended. These were by the hand of Demetrius. It was in all respects a Roman meal, in its fashions and conduct, though the table was spread with many delicacies peculiar to the Orientals. The walls and ceiling of the room, and the carpets, represented, in the colors of the most eminent Greek and Persian artists, scenes of the life and reign of the great Queen of Egypt, of whom Zenobia reckons herself a descendant. Cleopatra was all around, above, and beneath. Music at intervals, as the repast drew toward a close, streamed in from invisible performers, and added a last and crowning charm. The conversation was light and sportful, taking once or twice only, and accidentally, as it were, a political turn. These graceful Palmyrenes act a winning part in all the high courtesies of life; and nothing could be more perfect than their demeanor, free and frank, yet never forgetful of the presence of Zenobia, nor even of me, a representative in some manner of the majesty of Rome.

The moon, nearly at her full, was already shining bright in the heavens, when we left the tables, and walking first for a time upon the cool pavements of the porticos of the palace, then descended to the gardens, and separating in groups, moved away at will among their endless windings. Zenobia, as if desiring some private conference with her great teacher, left us ir company with Longinus. It was my good and happy fortune to find myself in the society of Julia and Fausta,

with whom I directed my steps toward the remoter and more quiet parts of the garden--for nearer the palace there were still to be heard the sounds of merriment, and of the instruments furnishing a soft and delicious entertainment for such as chose to remain longer in the palace. Of the rest of the company, some like ourselves wandered among the labyrinthian walks of this vast pleasure-ground, while others, already weary, or satisfied with enjoyment, returned early to their homes.

The evening, shall I say it, was worthy of the company now abroad to enjoy it. A gentle breeze just swayed the huge leaves of the--to me-strange plants which overhung the paths, and came, as it here always seems to come, laden with a sweetness which in Rome it never has, unless added by the hand of art. Dian's face shone never before so fair and bright, and her light, coming to us at frequent turns in our walk, through the spray of numerous fountains, caused them to show like falling diamonds. A divine repose breathed over the whole scene. I am sure our souls were in harmony with it.

'Princess,' said I, 'the gardens of Nero can have presented no scenes more beautiful than these. He who designed these avenues, and groups of flowers and trees, these frequent statues and fountains, bowers and mimic temples, and made them bear to each other these perfect proportions and relations, had no less knowledge, methinks, of the true principles of taste, and of the very secrets of beauty, than the great Longinus himself. The beauty is so rare, that it affects the mind almost like greatness itself. In truth, in perfect beauty there is always that which overawes.'

'I cannot say,' replied Julia, 'that the learned Greek was the architect and designer of these various forms of beauty. The credit, I believe, is rather due to Periander, a native Athenian, a man, it is universally conceded, of the highest genius. Yet it is at the same time to be said, that the mind of Longinus presided over the whole. And he took not less deligh in ordering the arrangements of these gardens, than he did in composing that great treatise, not long published, and which you must have seen before you left Rome. He is a man of universal powers. You have not failed to observe his grace, not less than his abilities, while we were at the tables. You have seen that he can play the part of one who would win the regards of two foolish girls, as well as that of first minister of a great kingdom, or that of the chief living representative and teacher of the philosophy of the immortal Plato.'

"For myself,' I replied, 'I could hardly withdraw myself from the simple admiration of his noble head and form, to attend, so as to judge of it, to what fell from his lips. It seems to me that if a sculptor of his own Greece sought for a model of the human figure, he could hope to find none so perfect as that of Longinus.'

That makes it the foolisher and stranger,' said Fausta, 'that he should toil at his toilet as he so manifestly does. Why can he not rely, for his power over both men and women, upon his genius, and his natural graces. It might be well enough for the Stagyrite to deck his little person in fine clothes, and to cover his fingers with rings-for I believe there must be some

thing in the outward appearance to strike the mere sensual eye, and please it, either natural or assumed, or else even philosophers might go unheeded. I doubt if upon my fingers there be more or more glowing rings than upon those of Longinus. To be sure, one must admit that his taste is exquisite.'

In the manners and dress of Longinus,' said I, 'as well as in those of Aristotle, we behold, I think, simply the power of custom. They were both, in respect to such things, in a state of indifference-the true philosophical state. But what happened? Both became instructors and companions of princes, and the inmates of royal palaces. Their manners and costume were left, without a thought, I will dare to say, on their part, to conform themselves to what was around them. Would it not have been a more glaring piece of vanity, if in the palace of Philip, Aristotle had clothed himself in the garb of Diogenes-or if Longinus, in the presence of the great Zenobia, had appeared in the sordid attire of Timon?”

'I think so,' said Julia.

'Your explanation is a very probable one,' added Fausta, and had not occurred to me. It is true, the courts may have dressed them and not themselves. But never, I still must think, did a rich dress fall upon more willing shoulders than upon those of the Greek, always excepting, Julia, Paul of Antioch.’

Ah, Fausta,' said Julia, 'you cannot, do what you will, shake my faith in Paul. If I allow him vain, and luxurious, and haughty, I can still separate the advocate from the cause. You would not condemn the doctrine of Aristotle, on the ground that he wore rings.