'Nothing but intellect—the mind, the soul of the greater artist, Periander. That drapery never fell so upon Aurelian; nor was Aurelian's form or bearing ever like this. It is all ennobled, and exalted above pure nature, by the divine power of genius. The true artist, under every form and every line of nature, sees another form and line of more perfect grace and beauty, which he chooses instead, and makes it visible and permanent in stone or brass. You see nothing in me, but merely Piso as he walks the streets. Periander sees another within, bearing no more resemblance to me—yet as much—than does this, to Aurelian.'
'That, I simply conceive, to be so much sophistry,' rejoined the poet, 'which no man would be guilty of, except he had been for the very purpose, as one must think, of degrading his intellect, to the Athenian schools. Still, as I said and think, the statue is made to commemorate the man represented, not the artist.'
'It is made for that. But, oftentimes, the very name of the man commemorated is lost, while that of the artist lives forever. In my judgment there is as much of Periander in the statue as there is of Aurelian.'
'I know not what the fame of this great Periander may be ages hence. It has not till now reached my ear.'
'It is not easy to reach the ear of some who dwell in the via cœli.' I could not help saying that.
'My rooms, sir, I would inform you,' he rejoined sharply, 'are on the third floor.'
'Then I do wonder you should not have heard of Periander.'
'Greater than Aurelian! and I must wonder too. A poet may be greater than a general or an emperor, I grant: he is one of the family of the gods; but how a worker in brass or marble can be, passes my poor understanding. It is vain to attempt to raise the mere artist, to the level of the historian or poet.'
'I think that too. I only said he was greater than Aurelian—'
'Than Aurelian,' replied Spurius, 'who has extended the bounds of the empire!'