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his prize to the learned Abbate Visconti, at that time inspector of the Museum Po-Clementinum, who made its value known to the world by a letter addressed to the Prelate Jomaglia. The whole of the articles found with this casket are of massy silver, and their total weight amounts to one thousand and twenty-nine ounces. The whole pieces of wrought silver of antiquity (coin excepted) which have as yet been discerned, would scarcely equal the weight of this single treasure; an moreover, a very great proportion of ts component parts are silver-gilt. The other important remains of this kind which have been found have all been in single pieces, such as, the silver shield found in the Rhone not far from Avignon; another shield found in the Arve, near Genf; a third shield, which has been described in the 9th volume of the Memoires de Litterature; the great silver key at the Vatican, and the Aldaburian Patera, which has been described by the Abbate Braschi. But however great the metallic weight of some of these single pieces may be, no one of them can be put into any kind of comparison with this casket and its contents, by any one who has the smallest tinc ture of true antiquarian learning. Here are to be seen at once, almost all the articles in use in the toilette of a distinguished Roman lady of the fourth century; the history of luxury and fashions possesses no monument which can be compared with it.

The most remarkable piece is the silver toilette, or dressing-box itself, two feet in length, a foot and a half in breadth, and one foot in height. The form, the workmanship, the figures upon its exterior, are all of the most elaborate and exquisite kind. The quadrangular box consists of two equal parts, of which the one forms the box, properly speaking, and the other the lid. The box is thickest at the place where these join; from that point upwards and downwards it is shaped in a pyramidal fashion; and it terminates both above and below in a small oblong tablet. The earlier taste of antiquity would have rejected this form as too artificial; but it is to be seen in several lids of urns, &c. of the age of Constantine, among others, in the two urns supposed to have contained the ashes of St Helena

and Constantia. As to the destination of this box there can remain no doubt, after the slightest examination of the relievos and inscriptions with which it is covered. Upon the tablet, at the top, which may be supposed to be the most honourable place, there is a halflength relievo of a man and a woman. The lady stands on the right of her husband, and holds in her hand a half unfolded roll. This is often to be seen on old monuments where a marriage is the subject of representation, and the roll has been supposed by some of the most erudite antiquarians, to be the marriage-contract. It is probable that the box itself was the wedding gift of the bridegroom to his bride. The head-dress of the lady is elevated to a great height, with curls and ringlets after the fashion commonly met with in the coins of the age of the Empress Helena. The bridegroom has a short curled beard, like the heads in the coins of Maximus, Julius, and Eugenius.Over his shoulders he has a mantle, (the chlamys)* which is fastened, as usual, above the right arm, with a clasp of considerable size. The two busts are surrounded with a common border of sufficiently intelligible description. It is a garland of myrtle twigs, held at either extremity by a flying genius-a symbol of the unity of the pair.

Three of the four declining sides of the lid are adorned with beautiful representations of the goddess of love. One of these is particularly charming, wherein Venus is pictured as making her progress over the calm waves, † attended by a group of Tritons and a whole procession of Cupids. One of the Tritons leans forward, and presents to the goddess an oval mirror; a group often seen, with some little variation, on ancient gems and medals.

The chlamys, originally entirely confined to military dress, had, in the 3d and 4th centuries, almost superseded the use of the proper toga. The clasps were continually increasing in size, and in elaborate workmanship. See Rhodius, de acia c. 5. p. 56 and Smetius, Antiquitates Neomag. p. 86. ject both of sculptors and painters. A fine passage in the beautiful poem of Claudian, De Nupt. Hon. et Mar. seems to have been composed with reference to some such representation as the present. See v. 151, &c.

The Venus Marina, a favourite sub

The drapery of the figures on all these three sides is strongly gilt. In these later times, this gilding of silver was the universal taste. The scene on the fourth side is also worthy of much attention, although Venus is not visibly introduced. It represents the festal home-bringing of the bride to her husband's house. The shape of the house, with its wreathed pillars, is one of familiar occurrence in medals. The bride moves between her two bridesmaidens, the one of whom holds a tambourin in her hand. At a little distance there are some more figures, a woman with two children, all bringing boxes, vases, ewers, and other articles of furniture. The figures are in some measure separated from each other by a pillar which stands in the middle, covered with garlands, and wreathed like those already mentioned, in the corrupt fashion of architecture then prevalent.

Another very interesting represent ation is that on one of the sides of the box-paper, where the lady whom we have just seen introduced to the house is set forth in the retirement of her toilette or dressing-room. She is seated on a splendid stool, while her slaves are busied about her. The stool is hung round with golden chains and ornaments, and is therefore a cathedra. The lady holds in one hand a casket, containing probably her wedding-jewels; with the other she is fastening a band upon her head. Right before her stands one of the attendant slaves, with a silver mirror of the common oval shape in her hand, which she is holding up to her mistress. Another stands by her with a dressing-box, containing probably the rouge and the other cosmetic apparatus. A third holds a rectangular casket high up, and has an ewer at her feet. This probably is the psecas, the slave whose vocation it is to sprinkle the odoriferous Indian essences over the hair and dress of her lady. The casket which she holds is probably the proper narthezium, or salve-casket, filled with alabaster vases, oil flasks, onyx phials, &c.; and the water ewer below is

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intimately connected with the use of all these. A fourth slave holds a basin of a semicircular form. A fifth holds a ring, from which depends a small box pyramidically shaped in its cover, but flat below. In addition to all this rich work, there are still two female figures more, which seem to perform the parts of candelabra: probably this may refer to the well-known nuptial torch-bearing. The subject of this piece, then, is not, it would seem, any ordinary dressing, but the formal and solemn attiring of a bride. The chamber wherein the figures are placed has in its back-ground a row of pillars, every two figures separated by one of them. The unwearied invention of the artist has placed by each of the extreme columns a peacock in the full splendour of his expanded plumage ;* the whole of the gay scene being most fitly terminated on either side by one of the emblems of that imperial Juno, who has no emblems but those of pride and splendour.

This then is a dressing-box† exactly of the same nature with those which modern ladies use. The only difference is, that our ladies are in common satisfied with boxes of atlas or rose-wood, inlaid with brass or silver, while the ancient fair condescended not below silver materials and the workmanship of a sculptor.-As to the name of the owner, no doubt can exist. On the smooth summit of the lid, the following words are still distinctly visible: Secunde et Projecta vivatis. Secundus is the bridegroom, Projecta is the name of his bride. A prayer for the happiness of both is the meaning of the legend. On some of the smaller pieces there is found, although not so entire, the name Projecta Turci. Now, in the history of the fourth and fifth centuries, several of the first dignities in Rome were held by men bearing the name of Turcius Asterius Secundus; so that there seems to be no reason to doubt that this splendid box was possessed by a Projecta, wife of one of these Asterii.

"Gloriosum animal, gemmantes laudatus expandit colores." Plin. x. 20.

Its proper name was Pyxis, which shews of what materials it was originally formed.

There were two prefects of the Gen-
Turcia in the years 339 and 362.
G

Next to the pyxis itself, the most remarkable piece is a silver capsula, which, from the chains appended to it, appears to have been carried about on the arm. It is one foot in height, and is, at the base, one foot and two or three inches broad. It is a regular polygon of sixteen sides, which corners are all rounded off into a circle where the lid is inserted. The first glance is sufficient to suggest the resemblance which this bears to the receptacles of book-rolls which are often to be seen on ancient monuments,-for example, at the feet of the Muses, or wrapped in the folds of the toga; although in general the form of these is either square, or, in the decline of taste, cylindrical or circular. The capsula was used by the Romans, in travelling, for the accommodation of a small library; and in their own apartments, for the purpose of preserving books of an unusual value. The figures in relievo, on the sixteen sides of this capsula, harmonize very well with this idea of its destination. These are the nine Muses, eight of them around the capsula, each alternate surface being occupied by a garland of flowers. The ninth Muse is on the flat summit of the whole, Erato, it is probable, the Muse that united love and poetry, and therefore the fittest to preside over the dressingtable of a beauty. The other Muses are indeed distinguished by their appropriate emblemata.

On one of the intermediate spaces there is a lock and bolt, for the security of the precious rolls. But why all this learned apparatus at the toilette of a Roman lady? Might the whole capsula not be meant for holding loveletters and billets-doux? For this no such formal preparation had been necessary. The safest place for such deposits was in the girdle, or below the bosom-band (the strophium), close to the heart. But there were learned ladies among the Romans as well as among ourselves; and why might not Asteria be a Blue Stocking? We have Ovid's authority, that the Roman ladies were as fond of Menander as ever the French Bas Bleus were of their Florian or Picard. Even of romances, at that time called Milesian tales, there was no dearth.-But luckily there is no need for so much conjecture. The capsula's contents ave been preserved, as well as itself.

We have all read of the astonishment of a young heir, who, in tumbling over the library of his grandfather, shook from the centre of one of the fathers a purse of beautiful louis d'or. Our fair readers will guess what was the astonishment of the worthy antiquarian, Baron von Schellersheim, who lifted the lid of his capsula librorum with the expectation of drawing forth some precious fragments of Menander or Sapho, and found nothing but five salve-boxes and essence-vials. In the midst of the capsula there is a copper tablet with five openings, one of a larger, and four around it of a smaller size. In these openings, originally, no doubt, intended for MSS., were found the receptacles of pomatums and lotions. Alexander threw out the balsams from the casket of Darius, and inserted the Iliad in their stead: our Asteria followed quite a different course; with her the books gave place to the essences. But our readers must not be too severe on Asteria. We have ourselves seen modern books, and pretty books too, which, on examination, turned out to be snuff-boxes-or counterboxes; and Prince Potenikin, it is well known, had a number of booksthe chief objects of his attentionwhich were filled with Russian bank assignats.* We remember to have read of the surprise of a German traveller, who opened a large and splendid quarto in the apartment of a French lady, and found it to contain-the very reverse of what occupied the capsula of Asteria.

Besides these two principal pieces, there are a variety of lesser articles appertaining to the Trousseau, or, as the Roman jurisconsults would have called it, the Mundus Muliebris of Asteria; several small silver paterae and ewers, with ciphers on them; one beautiful little vase covered with Arabesques, without doubt for nard or incense; several small toilette-spoons for dropping out essences, or tasting sweetmeats or liqueurs. There is also a silver hollow hand for holding a taper; for the ancients always preferred natural forms to artificial, and hands of this kind are seen on all kinds of monuments,what a contrast to some of our clumsy

Zwey briefe u. d. neuesten veranderungen in Reussland. Zurich 1797. see p. 80.

and tasteless inventions. The last piece is a human head of silver, belonging to the awning of a litter, and four sitting figures of exquisite beauty, with screw-ends-for ornamenting the extremities of the poles, by which Asteria's palanquin was carried.

All this was within the chest. Close by it there were found, at the same time, two little pieces, whose form and execution prove them to have belonged to a more elegant age than that of Asteria. The first is a bronze vessel, the only thing of that metal in the whole collection. It is an ewer, in the form of a female head, having a double row of pearls round the forehead, and the hair interwoven with bandlets. Nothing is more common than vessels of this kind in this beautiful form. The swelling above the head is borrowed from the Caryatides, and forms commonly the neck of the vessel. It is worthy of notice, that the eyes, and other small ornaments of this vessel, are of silver inlaid on the bronze,-a fashion very common even in the case of the marble statues of antiquity, although not exactly reconcileable with our ideas of simplicity.*

But the most beautiful of all is unquestionably a large silver patera, in the midst of which there is an exquisite representation of Venus rising from the sea-the Venus Anadyomene. "Equoreo madidas quæ premit imbre comas."+

The very handle of this patera is a dorned with a most graceful carving of Adonis, the lover of Venus, represented en heros, with his lance, but having, in token of his passion for the chace, a favourite dog at his feet.

What might not our goldsmiths, porcelain manufacturers, and decoration-artists, learn even from the smallest, and apparently least important, parts of antique workmanship? What use might they not make of those natural forms, those heads, hands, paws, serpents, &c. so endlessly, and yet so gracefully, introduced by the artists of the Greeks?

The Colossal Pallas of Phidias had precious stones in the eyes. See Plin. xxxiii. 3. 20.

See also Visconti Busti di Museo Pio-clementino, vol. vi. p. 11. and the Monumens Antiques du Musée Napoleon, lib. ix. p. 16. The custom was of oriental or EgypMian origin.

+Ovid, ex. Pont. iv. 1. 29.

MEMOIRS OF

EDWARD CAPE EVERARD.

THESE are the memoirs of an unfortunate veteran of the stage, who is now concluding a long life of unsuccessful labour by an old age of penury and wretchedness. The theatrical talents of Mr Everard, it appears, were never sufficient to maintain him in the first walks of his profession; and he has ever been one of those obscure but useful performers, on whom devolves most of the drudgery of the stage, but little of the applause. The work (as the memoirs of actors generally are) is extremely entertaining, and contains much amusing anecdote and green-room scandal. There is no profession so much separated from the pursuits of the rest of the world as that of an actor. What is our pleasure is their business; and the public, who are generally kept before the curtain, are always glad to get a peep behind it.

We love to mingle with those whom we have hitherto seen only in an assumed character, and for a time to behold them in their own. We can assure those, therefore, who wish to become acquainted with all the petty arts, bickerings, and jealousies of the green-room, that they will have their curiosity amply gratified by the perusal of the present volume.

If autobiography is excusable in any man, it is surely so in a case like the present, where the unfortunate narrator only resorts to it as a last endeavour to derive from his past misfortunes something which may enable him to sink in peace and comfort to the grave.

At the advanced age Mr Everard has now attained, this is all he can expect, and what we most sincerely trust he will be enabled to obtain.

It is not our intention to enter on a review of the present work, which, however, is sufficiently creditable both to his principles and his talents. We shall, however, give a summary view of his unfortunate career, and extract from it a few theatrical anecdotes, from

Memoirs of an Unfortunate Son of Thespis; being a Sketch of the Life of Edward Cape Everard, Comedian, Twentythree Years of the Theatre-Royal, DruryLane, London, and Pupil of the late David Garrick, Esq.; with Reflections, Remarks, and Anecdotes. Written by Himself. Royal 18mo. pp. 274. Edinburgh. 1818.

which we think our readers will derive some entertainment.

The parents of Mr Everard were respectable plebeians, who died in an humble situation, “leaving no blot on their fame." On account, however, of some casual resemblance to Mr Garrick, it was rumoured by the scandalmongers of the theatre, that he was indebted for his being to the unlawful embraces of the great Roscius; an opinion which, though utterly without foundation, Mr Everard was weak and vain enough to encourage, thus venturing to cast an imputation on the character of his mother, which, even by his own shewing, it was impossible she could deserve. On the death of his parents, he became an inmate of his uncle, Mr Cape, who kept a lodging-house in the Piazza, Covent-garden. This vicinity to the stage produced its natural effect; and he soon after came out at Covent-garden in the character of Cupid. He shewed considerable talents for dancing, and was placed under the tuition of an eminent master of that art, and had the honour of becoming a fellow-scholar of the celebrated Nancy Dawson. From his extreme youth, he became a favourite with the public, and, it would appear, gave promise of talents for the stage which he never afterwards fully realised. He attracted likewise much notice from Mr Garrick, who gave him occasional instructions, and encouraged him to persist in his theatrical career. For some years he continued to perform on the London stage with considerable success, but was at length left without an engage ment, and compelled to seek a precarious subsistence by becoming an itinerant performer in the provincial theatres. It were needless to pursue him farther. The narrative of his succeeding life exhibits only a picture of respectable mediocrity labouring to attain success, but for the most part encountering disappointment. Those, however, who choose to read the work itself, will find it not unentertaining. We recommend it particularly to the perusal of all young stage-aspirants, who will there become acquainted with all the difficulties that await them, and learn how

"Hard is his fate, whom evil stars have led To seek in scenic art precarious bread."

To the present theatrical mania, we think, it will afford a complete anti

dote, and (if the would-be Romeos have one spark of common sense left) lead them to turn their abilities to some more profitable and respectable occupation.

The galaxy of talent which adorned the stage in the days of Garrick, Barry, Powell, Palmer, Mossop, Foote, Quin, Macklin, Clive, Pritchard, and Woffington, has since been wholly unrivalled. They not only raised their profession from the degraded condition to which it had been reduced, but succeeded, in a certain degree, in giving a tone and character to the taste and manners of the times in which they lived. The theatre and its affairs then occupied a much greater share of the public attention than they have since been able to attract. The witticisms of the greenroom were quoted in polite society, and the names of Garrick, Quin, Foote, and Palmer, have not only been transmitted to us as those of great actors, but as the first wits of their day. It was among these great men that Mr Everard made his theatrical debût; and we have many new and curious anecdotes, illustrative of their character and temper, in the work before us. We shall extract at random the following account of Mr Barry and Mr Garrick. We think he has discriminated their different excellences with considerable judgment.

"I remember the great Barry, in his decline, could scarcely walk off the stage in his unequalled Othello; and, after, he was too old for playing Old King Lear. He was, as Mr Fawcett observed, the "afflicted actor, under the real pressure of age and infirmity." And when the audience plainly saw that he could scarcely stand, that he could not kneel down without help, or rise again without evident pain to himself and great support, they forgot King Lear," and remembered he was " Barry." Romeo, Othello, Marc Anthony, Varanes, and in

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all that may be called love parts, none ever

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equalled him, I believe; his voice was so sweet and harmonious, that he was called the silver-toned Barry, the tuneful swan.' His figure, too, was tall and even handsome, and in Romeo none could have stood against him but a Garrick. They played it in opposition at the different theatres twelve successive nights. In the balcony or lovescenes, with Juliet, in the 2d and 3d acts, the critics gave Barry the preference; the 1st act, the scene with the Friar in the 3d act, and the last scene, they allowed it to Garrick; but I think, they never agreed or could determine, which, upon the whole, was greatest. Garrick then attacked him in

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