h-bearded, long-faced bust, _Epicurus_
underwritten on the pedestal. If it _be_ that sage, then has not his
face any vestige of the jovial "live while you live" expression which
we might have expected, were he true to his own philosophy; but, on
the contrary, a dignified Melancthon sadness, as if, like Solomon, he
had had enough of pleasure, and had found nothing but "vanity and
vexation of spirit" from them all. Opposite to him, we look with
interest on the much less apocryphal head of Scipio Africanus, not
only exhibiting on his bald temple a large crucial cicatrice, in token
of a wound which we know him to have received, but presenting the
singular appearance of having been trefined, an operation of which
there is certainly no record in his life. Just before we ascend, we
glance up at those beautiful Caryatides, who give their name to one of
the principal saloons, and, loitering for a few moments on the stair
before a charming little group of Niobe and her children, are
presently in the gallery above. There--omitting all minor objects of
interest chronicled in the guide books, (which we have now no time to
re-examine,)--we devote ourselves chiefly to the reconsidering two or
three favourite marbles and bronzes. First among the former stands the
Minerva, a specimen of Roman sublime, (_vide_ Winkelmann)--perfect,
say all the guide books; but how a lady with an artificial nose, and a
right arm palpably modern, can be so considered, it would be difficult
to explain. By the side of his wise daughter is niched a noble statue
of Jupiter, executed by some great artist while the god was master of
Olympus, and probably brought to Rome when he had ceased to reign, and
his effects were sold. In the effeminate Antinous, an alto-relievo of
whitest marble, we admire the prototype of that arrow-stricken youth,
the comely St Sebastian. Nothing can exceed the grace of the bronze
Apollo; but, on looking from his form into his face, you are
surprised to find him literally _stone_-blind; a shocking case of
double cataract, produced by adopting for eyes two sardonyxes, whereof
the second layer, representing the iris, is dark, while the white
centre of the orb, corresponding to the pupil, exhibits a hopeless
opacity. We pause in succession before those weird sisters, arranged
stiffly _a l'Etrusque_, who are receiving the infant Bacchus, not to
give him milk, you may be sure, but to dry-nurse him upon Burgundy; a
perfectly intellectual head,