Suppose, for instance, that Homer returned to life, no one would dispute with him his claim to be the author of the _Iliad_, and each would vie with the rest to do honour to the father of epic poetry. But if peradventure some rich landowner of that day came back to assert a claim to the fields, the woods, the pastures of which he used to be so proud, ten to one he would be received like a thief and perhaps die a miserable death. THE BEAR-BAITING. "If any one thing distresses my dear aunt," said Caspar, "more than my fondness for Sebaldus Dick's tavern, it is that there is an artist in the family! "Dame Catherine would have been glad to see me an advocate, a priest, or a councillor. If I had become a councillor, like Monsieur Andreas Van Berghem; if I had snuffled out long and weary sentences, caressing my lace bands with dainty finger-tips, with what esteem and veneration would not that worthy woman have regarded monsieur her nephew! She would have greeted Monsieur le Conseiller Caspar with profound respect; she would have set before me her best preserves, she would have poured out for me, in the midst of her circle of gossips, just a drop of Muscadel of the year XI. with-- "Pray take this, monsieur le conseiller; I have but two bottles left!" Anything that monsieur my nephew Caspar, conseiller at the court of justice, could do would certainly have been perfectly right and suitable, and quite perfect in its way. Alas for the vanity of human wishes! the poor woman's ambition was never to be gratified. Her nephew is plain Caspar--Caspar Diderich; he has no title, no wand of office, no big wig--he is just an artist! and Dame Catherine has running in her head the old proverb, "Beggarly as an artist," which distresses her more than she can tell. At first I used to try to make her understand that a true artist is worthy of great respect, that his works sometimes endure for ages, and are admired by many successive generations, and that, in point of fact, a good artist is quite as good as a councillor. Unhappily, I failed to convince her; she merely shrugged her shoulders, clasped her hands in despair, and vouchsafed no answer. I would have done anything to convert my aunt Catherine to my views--anything; but I would rather die than sacrifice art and an artist's life, music, painting, and Sebaldus's tavern!