[5] "Invitâ que Jovi nectar Junone ministrat."—Ovid.
[6] Divine honours were first paid to this snake in Rome on occasion of a great pestilence which prevailed during the consulate of Q. Fabius and J. Brutus. His form, rudely sculptured, and much water-worn, is still to be made out on the side of a stone barque, stranded in a Tiber-washed garden belonging to a convent of Franciscans, which convent, rich in Christian as well as these Pagan relics, possesses the complete osteology of two of the Apostles.
[7] See the Affiche of the Parisian Sage Femme; passim.
[8] Colubraria insula maris Balearinci colubris scatens, vulg. Dragonera.
[9] Vide Aulus Gellius, lib. vi.
[10] Materials for a History of Oil Painting. By C. L. Eastlake, R.A.
[11] We venture to throw out a conjecture respecting this Ludius, (by the bye, there were two of that name,) as an attempt to throw some light upon a passage in the "Sirmio" of Catullus, which has puzzled and led the commentators into very far-fetched explanations. The lines are—
"Salve, O venusta Sirmio! atque hero gaude:
Gaudete, vosque, Ludiæ lacus undæ:
Ridete, quidquid est domi cachinnorum."
I have adopted the word Ludiæ, before it is so in some editions given. Catullus, returning from his profitless expedition into Asia Minor, addresses his home (his villa) with affectionate address of a weary and longing traveller. He speaks of his home delights, his accustomed bed,—and then terminates with the above lines. What were the "Ludiæ lacus undæ?" May it allude to the pictures painted on the walls of his villa; and very probably by this Ludius—for the word domi would seem to indicate something within his dwelling, and this idea answers accurately to the sort of pictures which Pliny represents Ludius to have painted. Though Catullus is said to have died in his forty-sixth year, B.C. 40, and Augustus, A.D. 14, it is very possible that Ludius, who is said to have lived in the time of Augustus, may have ornamented with his pictures the villa of Catullus. We offer this conjecture for no more than it is worth—it may be at least as probable as many others which have been made.
[12] "Some of the English painters," says Tingry, "too anxious to receive the fruits of their composition, neglect this precaution, (preserving the colours in newly painted pictures before they are varnished, by covering them with white of egg.) Several artists even paint in varnish, and apply it with their colors. This precipitate method gives brilliancy to their compositions at the very moment of their being finished; but their lustre is temporary and of short duration. It renders it impossible for them to clean their paintings, which are, besides, liable to crack and lose their colour. In a word, it is not uncommon to see an artist survive his own works."