me
time held in contemplation. The first is an analysis of the new
priesthood; the second, a true personification, both by painting and
sculpture, of Venus; the third, a discovery of what has been hitherto
uninvented--a nightingale sauce. By the inscrutable wisdom of Fate, it
has been so willed that the last of the objects I proposed to myself
has been the first attained. The sauce is composed, and I have just
concluded on this vellum the ode that is to introduce it at my table.
The analysation will be my next labour. It will take the form of a
treatise, in which, making the experience of past years the groundwork
of prophecy for the future, I shall show the precise number of
additional dissensions, controversies, and quarrels that will be
required to enable the new priesthood to be themselves the destroyers
of their own worship. I shall ascertain by an exact computation the
year in which this destruction will be consummated; and I have by me as
the materials for my work an historical summary of Christian schisms
and disputes in Rome for the last hundred years. As for my second
design, the personification of Venus, it is of appalling difficulty.
It demands an investigation of the women of every nation under the sun;
a comparison of the relative excellences and peculiarities of their
several charms; and a combination of all that is loveliest in the
infinite variety of their most prominent attractions, under one form.
To forward the execution of this arduous project, my tenants at home
and my slave-merchants abroad have orders to send to my villa in Sicily
all women who are born most beautiful in the Empire, or can be brought
most beautiful from the nations around. I will have them displayed
before me, of every shade in complexion and of every peculiarity in
form! At the fitting period I shall commence my investigations,
undismayed by difficulty, and determined on success. Never yet has the
true Venus been personified! Should I accomplish the task, how
exquisite will be my triumph! My work will be the altar at which
thousands will offer up the softest emotions of the heart. It will
free the prisoned imagination of youth, and freshen the fading
recollections on the memory of age!'

Vetranio paused. The Cynic was struck dumb with indignation. A
solitary zealot for the Church, who happened to be by, frowned at the
analysation. The ladies tittered at the personification. The
gastronomists chuckled at the nigh