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The figure of Dido, whirled hither and thither by the storms of warring emotions, reft even of her queenly dignity by the despair of her love, degraded by jealousy and disappointment to a very scold, is to the calm, serene figure of Æneas as modern sculpture, the sculpture of emotion, is to the sculpture of classic art.
And then Melissa heard that the Egyptian, who had alarmed her in the Nekropolis, was the spy Zminis, who, as her old slave Dido had once told her, had been a rejected suitor of her mother's before she had married Heron, and who was therefore always glad to bring trouble on all who belonged to her father's house.
After these preparations, Dido, with garments tucked up, and with one foot bare, approached the altars, breaking over them a consecrated cake, and embracing them successively in her arms. The pyre was then to be set on fire; and, as the different objects placed upon it were gradually consumed, the charm became complete, and the ends proposed to the ceremony were expected to follow.
This fact rendered the room so secure that Dido rested perfectly easy from the fear of interruption, save from the front of the building. The colored guardian, having imbibed rather inordinately one day, was disposed to court the favor of the sleepy god, and stretched herself at full length upon one of the easy lounges of the office.
And then, all being prepared, and his bed-room candle put out, Dido enters, looking unusually grim, and smothers him with a pillow in spite of his cries and affecting entreaties, and By Jupiter! here's a letter from Bath, too.
At trepida et coeptis immanibus effera Dido Sanguineam volvens aciem, maculisque trementes Interfusa genas, et pallida morte futura Interiora domus irrumpit limina et altos Conscendit furibunda rogos.... When I saw this, and heard how things really stood with her, I was affrighted beyond measure, and cried, "Mary, my child, what art thou doing?"
The tragedy of Dido reveals better perhaps than any other portion of the Aeneid how sensitively the poet reflected Rome's life and thought rather than those of his Greek literary sources. And yet the irrepressible Servius was so reckless as to say that the whole book had been "transferred" from Apollonius.
On one stood Homer, a most striking likeness, Richard affirmed, as any one might see, for it was blind, Another bore the image of a smooth-visaged gentleman with a pointed beard, whom he called Shakespeare. A third ornament was an urn, which; from its shape, Richard was accustomed to say, intended to represent itself as holding the ashes of Dido.
"If she be not very good we will burn her, my friend. Uritur infelix Dido, totaque videtur Urbe furens!" His eyes were cruel, and he licked his lips as he applied the quotation.
"Sure your dog for you could die With no truer heart than I," she murmured, with a fervour that startled me. Then her eyes grew misty. "Dido and I are always listening for the same foot," she said. "If Luke L'Estrange were to come back now, perhaps we should both die of joy. What was it you were asking me, Bawn? Who was it gave Luke the dog. It was Irene Cardew, poor girl.
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