are sometimes departed from, but it is always to impress the spectator with ideas in accordance with truth.  Thus the colossal bulls and lions have five legs, but in order that they may be seen from every point of view with four; the ladders are placed edgewise against the walls of besieged towns, but it is to show that they are ladders, and not mere poles; walls of cities are made disproportionately small, but it is done, like Raphael’s boat, to bring them within the picture, which would otherwise be a less complete representation of the actual fact.  The careful finish, the minute detail, the elaboration of every hair in a beard, and every stitch in the embroidery of a dress, reminds us of the Dutch school of painting, and illustrates strongly the spirit of faithfulness and honesty which pervades the sculptures, and gives them so great a portion of their value.  In conception, in grace, in freedom and correctness of outline, they fall undoubtedly far behind the inimitable productions of the Greeks; but they have a grandeur and a dignity, a boldness, a strength, and an appearance of life, which render them even intrinsically valuable as works of art, and, considering the time at which they were produced, must excite our surprise and admiration.  Art, so far as we know, had existed previously only in the stiff and lifeless conventionalism of the Egyptians.  It belonged to Assyria to confine the conventional to religion, and to apply art to the vivid representation of the highest scenes of human life.  War in all its forms—­the-march, the battle, the pursuit, the siege of towns, the passage of rivers and marshes, the submission and treatment of captives, and the “mimic war” of hunting the chase of the lion, the stag, the antelope, the wild bull, and the wild ass, are the chief subjects treated by the Assyrian sculptors; and in these the conventional is discarded; fresh scenes, new groupings, bold and strange attitudes perpetually appear, and in the animal representations especially there is a continual advance, the latest being the most spirited, the most varied, and the most true to nature, though perhaps lacking somewhat of the majesty and grandeur of the earlier.  With no attempt to idealize or go beyond nature, there is a growing power of depicting things as they are—­an increased grace and delicacy of execution, showing that Assyrian art was progressive, not stationary, and giving a promise of still higher excellence, had circumstances permitted its development.

The art of Assyria has every appearance of thorough and entire nationality; but it is impossible to feel sure that her manufactures were in the same sense absolutely her own.  The practice of borrowing skilled workmen from the conquered states would introduce into Nineveh and the other royal cities the fabrics of every region which acknowledged the Assyrian sway; and plunder, tribute, and commerce would unite to enrich them with the choicest products of all civilized countries.  Still, judging by the analogy of modern