by these "sermons in stones," with their deep significance, their
fertile suggestion, their plain humanity. Common tombstones they
are, most of them, the work not of famous artists but of simple
handicraftsmen, only they were wrought in days when every
handicraft was an art. The finest specimens, from the purely
artistic point of view, are undoubtedly the two stelai found at
Athens. They are both the tombstones of young Greek athletes. In
one the athlete is represented handing his strigil to his slave, in
the other the athlete stands alone, strigil in hand. They do not
belong to the greatest period of Greek art, they have not the grand
style of the Phidian age, but they are beautiful for all that, and
it is impossible not to be fascinated by their exquisite grace and
by the treatment which is so simple in its means, so subtle in its
effect. All the tombstones, however, are full of interest. Here
is one of two ladies of Smyrna who were so remarkable in their day
that the city voted them honorary crowns; here is a Greek doctor
examining a little boy who is suffering from indigestion; here is
the memorial of Xanthippus who, probably, was a martyr to gout, as
he is holding in his hand the model of a foot, intended, no doubt,
as a votive offering to some god. A lovely stele from Rhodes gives
us a family group. The husband is on horseback and is bidding
farewell to his wife, who seems as if she would follow him but is
being held back by a little child. The pathos of parting from
those we love is the central motive of Greek funeral art. It is
repeated in every possible form, and each mute marble stone seems
to murmur [Greek text]. Roman art is different. It introduces
vigorous and realistic portraiture and deals with pure family life
far more frequently than Greek art does. They are very ugly, those
stern-looking Roman men and women whose portraits are exhibited on
their tombs, but they seem to have been loved and respected by