Babylon, Volume 3

Hiram Winthrop, an American artist stranded amid the winding, sun‑lit alleys of a decaying Rome, sees the city as a living ruin. The cramped, tile‑roofed labyrinth of rag‑clad beggars, crumbling plaster and silent riverbanks mirrors his own sense of confinement. Even the newer, cleaner Haussmannian quarter feels flat and unfulfilling, leaving him unable to reconcile the past’s grandeur with the present’s squalor.

Pressed into the studio of the French painter Seguin, Hiram is torn between a demanding patron, Audouin, and his own yearning for an unfettered, natural life. He pours his frustration into a historical canvas, only to have it rebuffed by the Paris Salon, a blow that deepens his belief that his whole career may be a series of failures. In this opening act, the novel captures his restless soul, the clash of art and environment, and the quiet desperation that drives him toward an uncertain future.