However, the Athenians gave him a magnificent public funeral, long lamented him, worshipped and garlanded the stone seat on which he had been wont to rest when tired, accounting the mere stone sanctified by him who had sat upon it. No one would miss the funeral ceremony, least of all any of the philosophers. It was these who bore him to the grave. I have made but a small selection of the material available; but it may serve to give readers some idea of this great man’s character. A PORTRAIT-STUDY _Lycinus. Polystratus_ _Ly_. Polystratus, I know now what men must have felt like when they saw the Gorgon’s head. I have just experienced the same sensation, at the sight of a most lovely woman. A little more, and I should have realized the legend, by being turned to stone; I am benumbed with admiration. _Poly_. Wonderful indeed must have been the beauty, and terrible the power of the woman who could produce such an impression on Lycinus. Tell me of this petrifying Medusa. Who is she, and whence? I would see her myself. You will not grudge me that privilege? Your jealousy will not take alarm at the prospect of a rival petrifaction at your side? _Ly_. Well, I give you fair warning: one distant glimpse of her, and you are speechless, motionless as any statue. Nay, that is a light affliction: the mortal wound is not dealt till _her_ glance has fallen on _you_. What can save you then? She will lead you in chains, hither and thither, as the magnet draws the steel. _Poly_. Enough! You would make her more than human. And now tell me who she is. _Ly_. You think I am exaggerating: I fear you will have but a poor opinion of my eloquence when you see her as she is—so far above my praise. _Who_ she is, I cannot say: but to judge from the splendour of her surroundings, her retinue, her host of eunuchs and maids, she must be of no ordinary rank. _Poly_. And you never even asked her name? _Ly_. Why no; but she is from Ionia; because, as she passed, I heard one of the bystanders speak aside to his neighbour: ‘See, he exclaimed, ‘what Smyrna can produce! And what wonder, if the fairest of Ionian cities has given birth to the fairest of women?’ I thought he must come from Smyrna himself, he was so proud of her. _Poly_. There you acted your stony part to perfection. As you could neither follow her, nor make inquiries of the Smyrnaean, it only remains for you to describe her as best you can, on the chance of my recognizing her. _Ly_. You know not what you ask. It is not in the power of words—certainly not of _my_ words—to portray such wondrous beauty; scarcely could an Apelles, a Zeuxis, a Parrhasius,—a Phidias or an Alcamenes, do justice to it; as for my flimsy workmanship, it will but insult the original. _Poly_. Well, never mind; what was she like? There can be no harm in trying your hand. What if the portrait be somewhat out of drawing?—the critic is your good friend.