_CHAPTER IV._
Agaso, the painter, was a smart dapper little bandy-legged man of Verona,dressed in a Grecian mantle, and endeavouring to look as much as possiblelike a Greek. Had Xerophrastes not gone off with his brother of Ionia, Ihave no doubt this man would have made his presence a sufficient excusefor speaking nothing but Greek to us; but, even as it was, hisconversation was interlarded with an abundant intermixture of that nobletongue. Nothing could be spoken of which Agaso did not think fit toillustrate, either by the narration of something he himself had seen orheard during his residence at Athens, or, at least, by some quotation fromthe Grecian poets. To judge from the square, and somewhat ponderousformation of the man's features, Nature had not designed him for any ofthe most mercurial specimens of her workmanship; but he contrived,notwithstanding, by perpetual shrugging and grimacing, and, above all, bykeeping his eyes and eyebrows continually in motion, to give himself anair of no inconsiderable life and vivacity.
Hopping before us with much alacrity, this artist conducted our stepsthrough eight or ten galleries, until at length a curtain being withdrawn,which had covered the space between two pilasters, we found ourselves in aspacious apartment, which, from the courteousness wherewith he bowed usinto it, there could be no difficulty in perceiving to be the customarysphere of his own exertions. It was not altogether deserted even when weentered, but the removal of the curtain attracted more of the loungers ofthe baths, and ere Sextus was fairly fixed before the table of thepainter, the modest youth had the mortification to find himself surroundedwith a very crowd of knowing and curious physiognomies. The presence ofthese, however, appeared not unwelcome to the master. On the contrary,there arose between the little man, as he was preparing his brushes, andthose who had come to survey him at his work, such a gabble ofcompliments, remarks, and disquisitions, that it seemed to me as if hewould have been disappointed had he not been favoured with theirattendance.
"How noble," cries one, "is that portrait you have just been finishing ofRupilius!--Heavens! with what felicity you have caught the air! Methinks Isee him about to enter the Basilica, when he knows that some great causeis awaiting his decision. What solemnity in his aspect! what grandeur inthe gown!--How finely the purple of the laticlave is made to harmonize withthe colouring of the cheeks and chin! What beautiful handling about thefingers with which he grasps his tablets!--As for the head of the stylus,it is the very eye of the picture."--"Exquisite indeed," quoth another;"but who can look at it, or at any thing else, in the same room with thislittle jewel?--Heavens! what a beauty! who can it be? for I never saw hereither at the Circus or the Amphitheatre. What an inimitable modesty!"
The painter heard this last piece of eulogy with an air of someembarrassment, and at the same time looked very cunningly towards theperson who had uttered it. But the Lady Rubellia tossed her head, andwhispered to me, "Pretty she may be, though I cannot say that style ofdressing the hair is at all adapted for such features; but for modesty!hem. I asked Agaso two or three days ago who it was, and he toldme--guess!--it is a little Spanish girl, whom that august-looking person,with the grand laticlave, and the purple cheeks and chin, and theglittering stylus, thought fit to bring home with him when he was relievedfrom the hard duties of the Pro-praetorship. I dare say, he takes care sheshall not be seen either at Circus or Amphitheatre; and, indeed, I thinkit is sufficient impudence to shew her likeness in the company of so manyportraits of respectability."
"My dear lady," quoth the painter, who overheard somewhat, "for the sakeof all that is sacred, no word of this again! Wait, at least, till thecanvass for the Augurship be over. There are always so many to exaggerateand misrepresent."--"Exaggerate, indeed! I think Rupilius ought to beashamed of himself; and at his time of life too. I think you said he wasjust the same age with my uncle?"--"Yes," says the painter, "he must be ofthat standing; and I think he went to Spain just about the period of yourmarriage."--"Filthy old fellow," quoth she, very quickly; "and this is thetreasure he has brought home with him! I have a great mind to tell hiswife."--"Hush, hush," said Agaso, "this is the very day Rupilius spoke ofbringing her to see his own portrait; and, indeed, I am sure that is theSenator's cough. I rely on your prudence."
And the portly original of the laticlaved portrait walked into the room,having his gown and every part of his dress arranged as represented in thepicture; although in the living countenance it was easy to discover a fewlines and spots which had been omitted in the copy. By his side moved ashort woman, arrayed in the extremity of costly attire, whose swarthycomplexion did not, in spite of cosmeticism, harmonize very well with thebright golden ringlets of her Sicambrian peruque; while behind the paircame a thin damsel, whose lineaments exhibited a sort of faint shadow ofthe same visage, the rudiments of which had been so abundantly filled upin that of the rubicund magistrate. The ex-pro-praetor, after salutingAgaso, stood still with dignity in the midst of the apartment, while thefond daughter, rushing close up to his picture, could with difficultyaffix any limits to her expressions of satisfaction:--"O Jupiter! look atthe ring. It is the very ring he wears!--the very images are engraved uponit; one can see the three Graces. I never saw such a picture--when will itbe brought home?"--"Hush, hush, now, Primula," quoth the mother. "It iscertainly a likeness; but why will artists, now-a-days, always paintpeople older than they are? And besides, it wants something of hisexpression. Don't you think so yourself, sir?" (turning to the painter)"Rupilius has surely been looking very gloomily when he sat."
On this the painter, leaving Sextus, advanced to her side, and after apause of some moments, spent in contemplating alternately his own work andthe original, said, with a courteous simper, "How much am I indebted toyou, most noble lady, for this visit, and these judicious remarks! I onlywish you had accompanied the senator, for then, without question, hiscountenance would have worn the look you desiderate; and I perhaps mighthave more easily succeeded in catching it, being aided by yoursuggestions. I hope it may yet be amended."--"How modest he is!" ejaculatedthe spouse. "A single sitting will suffice, I am sure. We shall come someday when you are quite alone, and I will sit by you, and talk to Rupiliusall the while."--"Delightful!" replied the artist; "how happy shall I be insuch an opportunity of improving both the picture and myself! We mustpositively prevail on the senator to give us this one sittingmore."--"Never ask his consent," quoth the matron, smiling upon her lord;"leave the whole matter to me. The picture is for me. And besides, if hewere to refuse, I know how I should be certain to overcome him; for he hasasked me to sit to you myself, and you know if I were to persist insitting with my gloomy face, as he has with his, we should soon bring himto his right reason."--"_Your_ gloomy face, noble lady!" replied theartist, strutting back a pace or two. "I am afraid, if that is the charmby which alone he is to be softened, we must give up all our hopes."--"Iprotest," says the lady, "I believe you will keep me laughing all the timeI sit. And pray now, what dress do you think I should wear? Prima says, Iought certainly to be in green; but I was thinking, that perhaps a yellowbyssine would suit me better. But I shall send over half a dozen robes,and then we can choose whichever seems to be the best. One thing only I amquite resolved upon, and that is, that I shall have my golden chain, withthe miniature of the Pro-praetor--the Senator, I mean--at the end ofit."--"Nothing could be in finer taste," he made answer; "and if my ladyshould think of green, or purple, or any dark colour for the gown, therings of the chain and the setting of the miniature would have the richesteffect."--"And do, my dear mother," interrupted Prima; "and do have on thesapphire tiara when you sit to Agaso. Or what would you think of havingyour own hair simply like this lady here? What a beauty!"--"A smart littlegirl, indeed," quoth the mother. "I think I should know that face. Is sheRoman, Agaso?"--"No, not a Roman," answered the artist; "nor do I think mylady can ever have met with her. But perhaps my Lord Rupilius may, for sheis a Spaniard."
Agaso turned with a smile to the Senator; but he, scarcely appearing tolook at the picture, answered, with gr
eat gravity, "I think I have seenthe countenance before; and perhaps it was in my province. The face iscertainly a pretty one; but nothing so very extraordinary."--"They may saywhat they like," observed the spouse, drawing herself up; "but there is nosuch thing as a really urbane air to be got out of Rome."
Meantime, in another part of the room, some other picture appeared to beexciting a scarcely inferior measure of curiosity. On approaching theparty, I perceived that this was a sketch, in chalk only, of the head andshoulders of an old man; and when I had gained an opportunity of morenearly surveying it, I recognized without difficulty the features ofTisias of Antioch. The greater number of those who were looking on it,seemed also to have been present at his death; for I heard pointed out bythem with exactness the parts in which the resemblance had been mostsuccessfully taken. The beauty of the old man's lineaments, and theserenity of his aspect, they all admired; and while they were loud inpraising these, Agaso himself also joined them, saying, "Oh, so you havefound out my old Christian! How did you get hold of him? for I meant itnot to be seen till I had lain on a little of the colour. But is it not afine study?--is it not a noble head? I think I shall introduce it in thepicture I am painting for Pliny. The subject is the sacrifice ofIphigenia. I went to the Amphitheatre," he continued, "rather late,without expecting any thing particular; but it immediately struck me thathe might be turned to some account. I made several little sketches of him,for it was a long time ere it was over; and this is from the one I tookjust after he had made his oration. His hands and feet were singularlyfine, I thought. Here," said he, turning over the leaves of histablets--"here you have him in a variety of shapes!--the muscles shewedpowerfully when he knelt;--there, again, you have his fingers as they werefolded on his breast--not much flesh, but the lines good--veins wellexpressed."
But about this time the great bell rung in the tower above the Baths, andthe greater part of the young loungers soon dispersed themselves; some tofence or wrestle--others to play in the tennis-court--others to ride in theHippodrome, in preparation for the bath. So Agaso, being left alone withSextus, Rubellia, and myself, had at length leisure to proceed with hisportrait of the youth.
Much did the lady and the painter discourse, and many merry things weresaid by them both; but all they said could not entirely remove theembarrassment fixed on the countenance of Sextus; nor, of a truth, did hepresent himself with much advantage before the artist. Rubellia,nevertheless, sate over against him with looks of no severe criticism; andI doubt not she would have remained to the end of the sitting, had not oneof her household come with a message, which, as it seemed, renderednecessary her departure. It struck me, that the messenger answered verywell to Dromo's description of the fat Calabrian with whom he and Boto hadbeen drinking; but of this I said nothing to Sextus.
It was near the hour of supper before we were dismissed, and we foundLicinius already about to enter his eating chamber.
Valerius. A Roman Story Page 16