imself to say which was or was not
dinner. The case would be that of the Roman _ancile_ which dropped from
the skies; to prevent its ever being stolen, the priests made eleven
_facsimiles_ of it, that the thief, seeing the hopelessness of
distinguishing the true one, might let all alone. And the result was, that,
in the next generation, nobody could point to the true one. But our dinner,
the Roman _coena_, is distinguished from the rest by far more than the
hour; it is distinguished by great functions, and by still greater
capacities. It _is_ most beneficial; it may become more so.

In saying this, we point to the lighter graces of music, and conversation
_more varied_, by which the Roman _coena_ was chiefly distinguished from
our dinner. We are far from agreeing with Mr. Croly, that the Roman meal
was more "intellectual" than ours. On the contrary, ours is the more
intellectual by much; we have far greater knowledge, far greater means
for making it such. In fact, the fault of our meal is--that it is _too_
intellectual; of too severe a character; too political; too much tending,
in many hands, to disquisition. Reciprocation of question and answer,
variety of topics, shifting of topics, are points not sufficiently
cultivated. In all else we assent to the following passage from Mr. Croly's
eloquent Salathiel:--

"If an ancient Roman could start from his slumber into the midst of
European life, he must look with scorn on its absence of grace, elegance,
and fancy. But it is in its festivity, and most of all in its banquets,
that he would feel the incurable barbarism of the Gothic blood. Contrasted
with the fine displays that made the table of the Roman noble a picture,
and threw over the indulgence of appetite the colors of the imagination,
with what eyes must he contemplate the tasteless and commonplace dress,
the coarse attendants, the meagre ornament, the want of mirth, music, and
intellectual interest--the whole heavy machinery that converts the feast
into the mere drudgery of devouring!"

Thus far the reader knows already that we dissent violently; and by looking
back he will see a picture of our ancestors at dinner, in which they
rehearse the very part in relation to ourselves that Mr. Croly supposes
all moderns to rehearse in relation to the Romans; but in the rest of the
beautiful description, the positive, though not the comparative part, we
must all concur:--

"The guests before me were fifty or sixty splendidl