θέλω γοῦν σοι διηγήσασθαί τι Πυθοῖ γενόμενον. Ταραντῖνος Εὐάγγελος τοὔνομα τῶν οὐκ ἀφανῶν ἐν τῷ Τάραντι ἐπεθύμησεν νικῆσαι Πύθια. τὰ μὲν οὖν τῆς γυμνῆς ἀγωνίας αὐτίκα ἐδόκει αὐτῷ ἀδύνατον εἶναι μήτε πρὸς ἰσχὺν μήτε πρὸς ὠκύτητα εὖ πεφυκότι, κιθάρᾳ δὲ καὶ ᾠδῇ ῥᾳδίως κρατήσειν ἐπείσθη ὑπὸ καταράτων ἀνθρώπων οὓς εἶχε περὶ αὑτὸν ἐπαινούντων καὶ βοώντων ὁπότε καὶ τὸ σμικρότατον ἐκεῖνος ἀνακρούσαιτο. ἧκεν οὖν εἰς τοὺς Δελφοὺς τοῖς τε ἄλλοις λαμπρὸς καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐσθῆτα χρυσόπαστον ποιησάμενος καὶ στέφανον δάφνης χρυσῆς κάλλιστον, ὡς ἀντὶ καρποῦ τῆς δάφνης σμαράγδους εἶναι ἰσομεγέθεις τῷ καρπῷ· τὴν μέν γε κιθάραν αὐτήν, ὑπερφυές τι χρῆμα εἰς κάλλος καὶ πολυτέλειαν, χρυσοῦ μὲν τοῦ ἀκηράτου πᾶσαν, σφραγῖσι δὲ καὶ λίθοις ποικίλοις κατακεκοσμημένην, Μουσῶν μεταξὺ καὶ Ἀπόλλωνος καὶ Ὀρφέως ἐντετορνευμένων, θαῦμα μέγα τοῖς ὁρῶσιν.
ἐπεὶ δʼ οὖν ποτε καὶ ἧκεν ἡ τοῦ ἀγῶνος ἡμέρα, τρεῖς μὲν ἦσαν, ἔλαχεν δὲ μέσος αὐτῶν ὁ Εὐάγγελος ᾄδειν· καὶ μετὰ Θέσπιν τὸν Θηβαῖον οὐ φαύλως ἀγωνισάμενον εἰσέρχεται ὅλος περιλαμπόμενος τῷ χρυσῷ καὶ τοῖς σμαράγδοις καὶ βηρύλλοις καὶ ὑακίνθοις· καὶ ἡ πορφύρα δὲ ἐνέπρεπε τῆς ἐσθῆτος, ἣ μεταξὺ τοῦ χρυσοῦ διεφαίνετο. τούτοις ἅπασι προεκπλήξας τὸ θέατρον καὶ θαυμαστῆς ἐλπίδος ἐμπλήσας τοὺς θεατάς, ἐπειδή ποτε καὶ ᾆσαι καὶ κιθαρίσαι πάντως ἔδει, ἀνακρούεται μὲν ἀνάρμοστόν τι καὶ ἀσύντακτον, ἀπορρήγνυσι δὲ τρεῖς ἅμα χορδὰς σφοδρότερον τοῦ δέοντος ἐμπεσὼν τῇ κιθάρᾳ, ᾄδειν δὲ ἄρχεται ἀπόμουσόν τι καὶ λεπτόν, ὥστε γέλωτα μὲν παρὰ πάντων γενέσθαι τῶν θεατῶν, τοὺς ἀθλοθέτας δὲ ἀγανακτήσαντας ἐπὶ τῇ τόλμῃ μαστιγώσαντας αὐτὸν ἐκβαλεῖν τοῦ θεάτρου· ὅτεπερ καὶ γελοιότατος ὤφθη δακρύων ὁ χρυσοῦς Εὐάγγελος καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν μαστιγοφόρων συρόμενος διὰ μέσης τῆς σκηνῆς καὶ τὰ σκέλη καθῃματωμένος ἐκ τῶν μαστίγων καὶ συλλέγων χαμάθεν τῆς κιθάρας τὰς σφραγῖδας· ἐξεπεπτώκεσαν γὰρ κἀκείνης συμμαστιγουμένης αὐτῷ.
μικρὸν δὲ ἐπισχὼν μετʼ αὐτὸν Εὔμηλός τις Ἠλεῖος εἰσέρχεται, κιθάραν μὲν παλαιὰν ἔχων, ξυλίνους δὲ κόλλοπας ἐπικειμένην, ἐσθῆτα δὲ μόγις σὺν τῷ στεφάνῳ δέκα δραχμῶν ἀξίαν· ἀλλʼ οὗτός γε ᾄσας δεξιῶς καὶ κιθαρίσας κατὰ τὸν νόμον τῆς τέχνης ἐκράτει καὶ ἀνεκηρύττετο καὶ τοῦ Εὐαγγέλου κατεγέλα μάτην ἐμπομπεύσαντος τῇ κιθάρᾳ καὶ ταῖς σφραγῖσιν ἐκείναις. καὶ εἰπεῖν γε λέγεται πρὸς αὐτόν· ὦ Εὐάγγελε, σὺ μὲν χρυσῆν δάφνην περίκεισαι, πλουτεῖς γάρ, ἐγὼ δὲ ὁ πένης τὴν Δελφικήν. πλὴν τοῦτό γε μόνον ὤνησο τῆς σκευῆς, ὅτι μηδὲ ἐλεούμενος ἐπὶ τῇ ἥττῃ ἀπέρχῃ, ἀλλὰ μισούμενος προσέτι διὰ τὴν ἄτεχνόν σου ταύτην τρυφήν. περὶ πόδα δή σοι καὶ Εὐάγγελος οὗτος, παρʼ ὅσον σοί γε οὐδʼ ὀλίγον μέλει τοῦ γέλωτος τῶν θεατῶν.
Let me tell you a story of what happened once at Delphi. A native of Tarentum, Evangelus by name, a person of some note in his own city, conceived the ambition of winning a prize in the Pythian Games. Well, he saw at once that the athletic contests were quite out of the question; he had neither the strength nor the agility required. A musical victory, on the other hand, would be an easy matter; so at least he was persuaded by his vile parasites, who used to burst into a roar of applause the moment he touched the strings of his lyre. He arrived at Delphi in great style: among other things, he had provided himself with gold-bespangled garments, and a beautiful golden laurel-wreath, with full-size emerald berries. As for his lyre, that was a most gorgeous and costly affair—solid gold throughout, and ornamented with all kinds of gems, and with figures of Apollo and Orpheus and the Muses, a wonder to all beholders. The eventful day at length arrived. There were three competitors, of whom Evangelus was to come second. Thespis the Theban performed first, and acquitted himself creditably; and then Evangelus appeared, resplendent in gold and emeralds, beryls and jacinths, the effect being heightened by his purple robe, which made a background to the gold; the house was all excitement and wondering anticipation. As singing and playing were an essential part of the competition, Evangelus now struck up with a few meaningless, disconnected notes, assaulting his lyre with such needless violence that he broke three strings at the start; and when he began to sing with his discordant pipe of a voice the whole audience was convulsed with laughter, and the stewards, enraged at his presumption, scourged him out of the theatre. Our golden Evangelus now presented a very queer spectacle, as the floggers drove him across the stage, weeping and bloody- limbed, and stooping to pick up the gems that had fallen from the lyre; for that instrument had come in for its share of the castigation. His place was presently taken by one Eumelus of Elis: his lyre was an old one, with wooden pegs, and his clothes and crown would scarcely have fetched ten shillings between them. But for all that his well-managed voice and admirable execution caused him to be proclaimed the victor; and he was very merry over the unavailing splendours of his rival’s gem-studded instrument. ‘Evangelus,’ he is reported to have said to him, ‘yours is the golden laurel—you can afford it: I am a pauper, and must put up with the Delphian wreath. No one will be sorry for your defeat; your arrogance and incompetence have made you an object of detestation; that is all your equipment has done for you.’ Here again the application is obvious; Evangelus differing from you only in his sensibility to public ridicule.
οὐκ ἄκαιρον δʼ ἂν γένοιτο καὶ Λέσβιον μῦθόν τινα διηγήσασθαί σοι πάλαι γενόμενον. ὅτε τὸν Ὀρφέα διεσπάσαντο αἱ Θρᾷτται, φασὶ τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ σὺν τῇ λύρᾳ εἰς τὸν Ἕβρον ἐμπεσοῦσαν ἐκβληθῆναι εἰς τὸν μέλανα κόλπον, καὶ ἐπιπλεῖν γε τὴν κεφαλὴν τῇ λύρᾳ, τὴν μὲν ᾄδουσαν θρῆνόν τινα ἐπὶ τῷ Ὀρφεῖ, ὡς λόγος, τὴν λύραν δὲ αὐτὴν ὑπηχεῖν τῶν ἀνέμων ἐμπιπτόντων ταῖς χορδαῖς, καὶ οὕτω μετʼ ᾠδῆς προσενεχθῆναι τῇ Λέσβῳ, κἀκείνους ἀνελομένους τὴν μὲν κεφαλὴν καταθάψαι ἵναπερ νῦν τὸ Βακχεῖον αὐτοῖς ἐστι, τὴν λύραν δὲ ἀναθεῖναι εἰς τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος τὸ ἱερόν, καὶ ἐπὶ πολύ γε σώζεσθαι αὐτήν.
χρόνῳ δὲ ὕστερον Νέανθον τὸν τοῦ Πιττακοῦ τοῦ τυράννου ταῦτα ὑπὲρ τῆς λύρας πυνθανόμενον, ὡς ἐκήλει μὲν θηρία καὶ φυτὰ καὶ λίθους, ἐμελῴδει δὲ καὶ μετὰ τὴν τοῦ Ὀρφέως συμφορὰν μηδενὸς ἁπτομένου, εἰς ἔρωτα τοῦ κτήματος ἐμπεσεῖν καὶ διαφθείραντα τὸν ἱερέα μεγάλοις χρήμασι πεῖσαι ὑποθέντα ἑτέραν ὁμοίαν λύραν δοῦναι αὐτῷ τὴν τοῦ Ὀρφέως. λαβόντα δὲ μεθʼ ἡμέραν μὲν ἐν τῇ πόλει χρῆσθαι οὐκ ἀσφαλὲς οἴεσθαι εἶναι, νύκτωρ δὲ ὑπὸ κόλπου ἔχοντα μόνον προελθεῖν εἰς τὸ προάστειον καὶ προχειρισάμενον κρούειν καὶ συνταράττειν τὰς χορδὰς ἄτεχνον καὶ ἄμουσον νεανίσκον, ἐλπίζοντα μέλη τινὰ θεσπέσια ὑπηχήσειν τὴν λύραν ὑφʼ ὧν πάντας καταθέλξειν καὶ κηλήσειν, καὶ ὅλως μακάριον ἔσεσθαι κληρονομήσαντα τῆς Ὀρφέως μουσικῆς· ἄχρι δὴ συνελθόντας τοὺς κύνας πρὸς τὸν ἦχον — πολλοὶ δὲ ἦσαν αὐτόθι — διασπάσασθαι αὐτόν, ὡς τοῦτο γοῦν ὅμοιον τῷ Ὀρφεῖ παθεῖν καὶ μόνους ἐφʼ ἑαυτὸν συγκαλέσαι τοὺς κύνας. ὅτεπερ καὶ σαφέστατα ὤφθη ὡς οὐχ ἡ λύρα ἡ θέλγουσα ἦν, ἀλλὰ ἡ τέχνη καὶ ἡ ᾠδή, ἃ μόνα ἐξαίρετα τῷ Ὀρφεῖ παρὰ τῆς μητρὸς ὑπῆρχεν· ἡ λύρα δὲ ἄλλως κτῆμα ἦν, οὐδὲν ἄμεινον τῶν ἄλλων βαρβίτων.
I have also an old Lesbian story which is very much to the point. It is said that after Orpheus had been torn to pieces by the Thracian women, his head and his lyre were carried down the Hebrus into the sea; the head, it seems, floated down upon the lyre, singing Orpheus’s dirge as it went, while the winds blew an accompaniment upon the strings. In this manner they reached the coast of Lesbos; the head was then taken up and buried on the site of the present temple of Bacchus, and the lyre was long preserved as a relic in the temple of Apollo. Later on, however, Neanthus, son of the tyrant Pittacus, hearing how the lyre had charmed beasts and trees and stones, and how after Orpheus’s destruction it had played of its own accord, conceived a violent fancy for the instrument, and by means of a considerable bribe prevailed upon the priest to give him the genuine lyre, and replace it with one of similar appearance. Not thinking it advisable to display his acquisition in the city in broad daylight, he waited till night, and then, putting it under his cloak, walked off into the outskirts; and there this youth, who had not a note of music in him, produced his instrument and began jangling on the strings, expecting such divine strains to issue therefrom as would subdue all souls, and prove him the fortunate heir to Orpheus’s power. He went on till a number of dogs collected at the sound and tore him limb from limb; thus far, at least, his fate resembled that of Orpheus, though his power of attraction extended only to hostile dogs. It was abundantly proved that the charm lay not in the lyre, but solely in those peculiar gifts of song and music that had been bestowed upon Orpheus by his mother; as to the lyre, it was just like other lyres.
καὶ τί σοι τὸν Ὀρφέα ἢ τὸν Νέανθον λέγω, ὅπου καὶ καθʼ ἡμᾶς αὐτοὺς ἐγένετό τις καὶ ἔτι ἐστίν, οἶμαι, ὃς τὸν Ἐπικτήτου λύχνον τοῦ Στωϊκοῦ κεραμεοῦν ὄντα τρισχιλίων δραχμῶν ἐπρίατο; ἤλπιζεν γὰρ οἶμαι κἀκεῖνος, εἰ τῶν νυκτῶν ὑπʼ ἐκείνῳ τῷ λύχνῳ ἀναγιγνώσκοι, αὐτίκα μάλα καὶ τὴν Ἐπικτήτου σοφίαν ὄναρ ἐπικτήσεσθαι καὶ ὅμοιος ἔσεσθαι τῷ θαυμαστῷ ἐκείνῳ γέροντι.
χθὲς δὲ καὶ πρῴην ἄλλος τις τὴν Πρωτέως τοῦ Κυνικοῦ βακτηρίαν, ἣν καταθέμενος ἥλατο εἰς τὸ πῦρ, ταλάντου κἀκεῖνος ἐπρίατο, καὶ ἔχει μὲν τὸ κειμήλιον τοῦτο καὶ δείκνυσιν ὡς Τεγεᾶται τοῦ Καλυδωνίου ὑὸς τὸ δέρμα καὶ Θηβαῖοι τὰ ὀστᾶ τοῦ Γηρυόνου καὶ Μεμφῖται τῆς Ἴσιδος τοὺς πλοκάμους· αὐτὸς δὲ ὁ τοῦ θαυμαστοῦ κτήματος δεσπότης καὶ αὐτὸν σὲ τῇ ἀπαιδευσίᾳ καὶ βδελυρίᾳ ὑπερηκόντισεν. ὁρᾷς ὅπως κακοδαιμόνως διάκειται, βακτηρίας εἰς τὴν κεφαλὴν ὡς ἀληθῶς δεόμενος.
λέγεται δὲ καὶ Διονύσιον τραγῳδίαν ποιεῖν φαύλως πάνυ καὶ γελοίως, ὥστε τὸν Φιλόξενον πολλάκις διʼ αὐτὴν εἰς τὰς λατομίας ἐμπεσεῖν οὐ δυνάμενον κατέχειν τὸν γέλωτα. οὗτος τοίνυν πυθόμενος ὡς ἐγγελᾶται, τὸ Αἰσχύλου πυξίον εἰς ὃ ἐκεῖνος ἔγραφε σὺν πολλῇ σπουδῇ κτησάμενος καὶ αὐτὸς ᾤετο ἔνθεος ἔσεσθαι καὶ κάτοχος ἐκ τοῦ πυξίου· ἀλλʼ ὅμως ἐν αὐτῷ ἐκείνῳ μακρῷ γελοιότερα ἔγραφεν, οἷον κἀκεῖνο τό· Δωρὶς τέθνηκεν ἡ Διονυσίου γυνή. καὶ πάλιν· οἴμοι, γυναῖκα χρησίμην ἀπώλεσα. καὶ τοῦτο γὰρ ἐκ τοῦ πυξίου, καὶ τό·· αὑτοῖς γὰρ ἐμπαίζουσιν οἱ μωροὶ βροτῶν.
Τοῦτο μέν γε πρὸς σὲ μάλιστα εὐστόχως ἂν εἰρημένον εἴη τῷ Διονυσίῳ, καὶ διʼ αὐτὸ χρυσῶσαι αὐτοῦ ἔδει ἐκεῖνο τὸ πυξίον.
But there: what need to go back to Orpheus and Neanthus? We have instances in our own days: I believe the man is still alive who paid 120 pounds for the earthenware lamp of Epictetus the Stoic. I suppose he thought he had only to read by the light of that lamp, and the wisdom of Epictetus would be communicated to him in his dreams, and he himself assume the likeness of that venerable sage. And it was only a day or two ago that another enthusiast paid down 250 pounds for the staff dropped by the Cynic Proteus when he leaped upon the pyre. He treasures this relic, and shows it off just as the people of Tegea do the hide of the Calydonian boar, or the Thebans the bones of Geryon, or the Memphians Isis’ hair. Now the original owner of this precious staff was one who for ignorance and vulgarity would have borne away the palm from yourself.—My friend, you are in a bad way: a stick across the head is what you want.
They say that when Dionysius took to tragedy-writing he made such sad stuff of it that Philoxenus was more than once thrown into the quarries because he could not control his laughter. Finding that his efforts only made him ridiculous, Dionysius was at some pains to procure the tablets on which Aeschylus had been wont to write. He looked to draw divine inspiration from them: as it turned out, however, he now wrote considerably worse rubbish than before. Among the contents of the tablets I may quote:
’Twas Dionysius’ wife, Doridion.
Here is another:
Most serviceable woman! thou art gone!
Genuine tablet that, and the next:
Men that are fools are their own folly’s butt.
τίνα γὰρ ἐλπίδα καὶ αὐτὸς ἔχων εἰς τὰ βιβλία καὶ ἀνατυλίττεις ἀεὶ καὶ διακολλᾷς καὶ περικόπτεις καὶ ἀλείφεις τῷ κρόκῳ καὶ τῇ κέδρῳ καὶ διφθέρας περιβάλλεις καὶ ὀμφαλοὺς ἐντίθης, ὡς δή τι ἀπολαύσων αὐτῶν; πάνυ γοῦν ἤδη βελτίων γεγένησαι διὰ τὴν ὠνήν, ὃς τοιαῦτα μὲν φθέγγῃ — μᾶλλον δὲ τῶν ἰχθύων ἀφωνότερος εἶ — βιοῖς δὲ ὡς οὐδʼ εἰπεῖν καλόν, μῖσος δὲ ἄγριον, φασί, παρὰ πάντων ἔχεις ἐπὶ τῇ βδελυρίᾳ· ὡς εἰ τοιούτους ἀπειργάζετο τὰ βιβλία, φυγῇ φευκτέον ἂν ἦν ὅτι πορρωτάτω ἀπʼ αὐτῶν.
δυοῖν δὲ ὄντοιν ἅττʼ ἂν παρὰ τῶν παλαιῶν τις κτήσαιτο, λέγειν τε δύνασθαι καὶ πράττειν τὰ δέοντα ζήλῳ τῶν ἀρίστων καὶ φυγῇ τῶν χειρόνων, ὅταν μήτε ἐκεῖνα μήτε ταῦτα φαίνηταί τις παρʼ αὐτῶν ὠφελούμενος, τί ἄλλο ἢ τοῖς μυσὶ διατριβὰς ὠνεῖται καὶ ταῖς τίλφαις οἰκήσεις καὶ πληγὰς ὡς ἀμελοῦσι τοῖς οἰκέταις;
πῶς δὲ οὐ κἀκεῖνο αἰσχρόν, εἴ τις ἐν τῇ χειρὶ ἔχοντά σε βιβλίον ἰδών — ἀεὶ δέ τι πάντως ἔχεις — ἔροιτο οὗτινος ἢ ῥήτορος ἢ συγγραφέως ἢ ποιητοῦ ἐστι, σὺ δὲ ἐκ τῆς ἐπιγραφῆς εἰδὼς πρᾴως εἴποις τοῦτό γε· εἶτα, ὡς φιλεῖ τὰ τοιαῦτα ἐν συνουσίᾳ προχωρεῖν εἰς μῆκος λόγων, ὁ μὲν ἐπαινοῖ τι ἢ αἰτιῷτο τῶν ἐγγεγραμμένων, σὺ δὲ ἀποροίης καὶ μηδὲν ἔχοις εἰπεῖν; οὐκ εὔξῃ τότε χανεῖν σοι τὴν γῆν, κατὰ σεαυτοῦ ὁ Βελλεροφόντης περιφέρων τὸ βιβλίον;
Taken with reference to yourself, by the way, nothing could be more to the point than this last line; Dionysius’s tablets deserved gilding, if only for that.
What is your idea, now, in all this rolling and unrolling of scrolls? To what end the gluing and the trimming, the cedar-oil and saffron, the leather cases and the bosses? Much good your purchases have been to you; one sees that already: why, your language—no, I am wrong there, you are as dumb as a fish-but your life, your unmentionable vices, make every one hate the sight of you; if that is what books do, one cannot keep too clear of them. There are two ways in which a man may derive benefit from the study of the ancients: he may learn to express himself, or he may improve his morals by their example and warning; when it is clear that he has not profited in either of these respects, what are his books but a habitation for mice and vermin, and a source of castigation to negligent servants?
And how very foolish you must look when any one finds you with a book in your hand (and you are never to be seen without) and asks you who is your orator, your poet, or your historian: you have seen the title, of course, and can answer that question pat: but then one word brings up another, and some criticism, favourable or the reverse, is passed upon the contents of your volume: you are dumb and helpless; you pray for the earth to open and swallow you; you stand like Bellerophon with the warrant for your own execution in your hand.
Δημήτριος δὲ ὁ Κυνικὸς ἰδὼν ἐν Κορίνθῳ ἀπαίδευτόν τινα βιβλίον κάλλιστον ἀναγιγνώσκοντα — τὰς Βάκχας οἶμαι τοῦ Εὐριπίδου, κατὰ τὸν ἄγγελον δὲ ἦν τὸν διηγούμενον τὰ τοῦ Πενθέως πάθη καὶ τὸ τῆς Ἀγαύης ἔργον — ἁρπάσας διέσπασεν αὐτὸ εἰπών, ἄμεινόν ἐστι τῷ Πενθεῖ ἅπαξ σπαραχθῆναι ὑπʼ ἐμοῦ ἢ ὑπὸ σοῦ πολλάκις.
Ζητῶν δὲ ἀεὶ πρὸς ἐμαυτὸν οὔπω καὶ τήμερον εὑρεῖν δεδύνημαι τίνος ἕνεκα τὴν σπουδὴν ταύτην ἐσπούδακας περὶ τὴν ὠνὴν τῶν βιβλίων· ὠφελείας μὲν γὰρ ἢ χρείας τῆς ἀπʼ αὐτῶν οὐδʼ ἂν οἰηθείη τις τῶν καὶ ἐπʼ ἐλάχιστόν σε εἰδότων, οὐ μᾶλλον ἢ φαλακρὸς ἄν τις πρίαιτο κτένας ἢ κάτοπτρον ὁ τυφλὸς ἢ ὁ κωφὸς αὐλητὴν ἢ παλλακὴν ὁ εὐνοῦχος ἢ ὁ ἠπειρώτης κώπην ἢ ὁ κυβερνήτης ἄροτρον. ἀλλὰ μὴ ἐπίδειξιν πλούτου σοι τὸ πρᾶγμα ἔχει καὶ βούλει τοῦτο ἐμφῆναι ἅπασιν, ὅτι καὶ εἰς τὰ μηδέν σοι χρήσιμα ὅμως ἐκ πολλῆς τῆς περιουσίας ἀναλίσκεις; καὶ μὴν ὅσα γε κἀμὲ Σύρον ὄντα εἰδέναι, εἰ μὴ σαυτὸν φέρων ταῖς τοῦ γέροντος ἐκείνου διαθήκαις παρενέγραψας, ἀπωλώλεις ἂν ὑπὸ λιμοῦ ἤδη καὶ ἀγορὰν προὐτίθεις τῶν βιβλίων·.
Once in Corinth Demetrius the Cynic found some illiterate person reading aloud from a very handsome volume, the Bacchae of Euripides, I think it was. He had got to the place where the messenger is relating the destruction of Pentheus by Agave, when Demetrius snatched the book from him and tore it in two: ‘Better,’ he exclaimed, ‘that Pentheus should suffer one rending at my hands than many at yours.’
I have often wondered, though I have never been able to satisfy myself, what it is that makes you such an ardent buyer of books. The idea of your making any profitable use of them is one that nobody who has the slightest acquaintance with you would entertain for a moment: does the bald man buy a comb, the blind a mirror, the deaf a flute-player? the eunuch a concubine, the landsman an oar, the pilot a plough? Are you merely seizing an opportunity of displaying your wealth? Is it just your way of showing the public that you can afford to spend money even on things that are of no use to you? Why, even a Syrian like myself knows that if you had not got your name foisted into that old man’s will, you would have been starving by this time, and all your books must have been put up to sale.
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