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will not name； for fear it should identify the man。 The moment I
saw my guide I knew he was somebody； but for the life of me I could
not remember who。 All of a sudden it flashed across me that he was
Socrates。 He talked enough for six； but it was all in dialetto； so
I could not understand him； nor； when I had discovered who he was；
did I much try to do so。 He was a good creature； a trifle given to
stealing fruit and vegetables； but an amiable man enough。 He had
had a long day with his mule and me； and he only asked me five
francs。 I gave him ten； for I pitied his poor old patched boots；
and there was a meekness about him that touched me。 〃And now；
Socrates；〃 said I at parting； 〃we go on our several ways； you to
steal tomatoes； I to filch ideas from other people； for the rest
which of these two roads will be the better going； our father which
is in heaven knows； but we know not。〃
I have never seen Mendelssohn； but there is a fresco of him on the
terrace； or open…air dining…room； of an inn at Chiavenna。 He is not
called Mendelssohn； but I knew him by his legs。 He is in the
costume of a dandy of some five…and…forty years ago； is smoking a
cigar； and appears to be making an offer of marriage to his cook。
Beethoven both my friend Mr。 H。 Festing Jones and I have had the
good fortune to meet； he is an engineer now； and does not know one
note from another； he has quite lost his deafness； is married； and
is； of course； a little squat man with the same refractory hair that
he always had。 It was very interesting to watch him； and Jones
remarked that before the end of dinner he had become positively
posthumous。 One morning I was told the Beethovens were going away；
and before long I met their two heavy boxes being carried down the
stairs。 The boxes were so squab and like their owners； that I half
thought for a moment that they were inside； and should hardly have
been surprised to see them spring up like a couple of Jacks…in…the…
box。 〃Sono indentro？〃 said I； with a frown of wonder； pointing to
the boxes。 The porters knew what I meant； and laughed。 But there
is no end to the list of people whom I have been able to recognise；
and before I had got through it myself； I found I had walked some
distance； and had involuntarily paused in front of a second…hand
bookstall。
I do not like books。 I believe I have the smallest library of any
literary man in London； and I have no wish to increase it。 I keep
my books at the British Museum and at Mudie's； and it makes me very
angry if any one gives me one for my private library。 I once heard
two ladies disputing in a railway carriage as to whether one of them
had or had not been wasting money。 〃I spent it in books；〃 said the
accused； 〃and it's not wasting money to buy books。〃 〃Indeed； my
dear； I think it is；〃 was the rejoinder； and in practice I agree
with it。 Webster's Dictionary； Whitaker's Almanack； and Bradshaw's
Railway Guide should be sufficient for any ordinary library； it will
be time enough to go beyond these when the mass of useful and
entertaining matter which they provide has been mastered。
Nevertheless； I admit that sometimes； if not particularly busy； I
stop at a second…hand bookstall and turn over a book or two from
mere force of habit。
I know not what made me pick up a copy of AEschylusof course in an
English versionor rather I know not what made AEschylus take up
with me； for he took me rather than I him； but no sooner had he got
me than he began puzzling me； as he has done any time this forty
years； to know wherein his transcendent merit can be supposed to
lie。 To me he is； like the greater number of classics in all ages
and countries； a literary Struldbrug； rather than a true ambrosia…
fed immortal。 There are true immortals； but they are few and far
between； most classics are as great impostors dead as they were when
living； and while posing as gods are； five…sevenths of them； only
Struldbrugs。 It comforts me to remember that Aristophanes liked
AEschylus no better than I do。 True； he praises him by comparison
with Sophocles and Euripides； but he only does so that he may run
down these last more effectively。 Aristophanes is a safe man to
follow； nor do I see why it should not be as correct to laugh with
him as to pull a long face with the Greek Professors； but this is
neither here nor there； for no one really cares about AEschylus； the
more interesting question is how he contrived to make so many people
for so many years pretend to care about him。
Perhaps he married somebody's daughter。 If a man would get hold of
the public ear； he must pay； marry； or fight。 I have never
understood that AEschylus was a man of means； and the fighters do
not write poetry； so I suppose he must have married a theatrical
manager's daughter； and got his plays brought out that way。 The ear
of any age or country is like its land； air； and water； it seems
limitless but is really limited； and is already in the keeping of
those who naturally enough will have no squatting on such valuable
property。 It is written and talked up to as closely as the means of
subsistence are bred up to by a teeming population。 There is not a
square inch of it but is in private hands； and he who would freehold
any part of it must do so by purchase； marriage； or fighting； in the
usual wayand fighting gives the longest； safest tenure。 The
public itself has hardly more voice in the question who shall have
its ear； than the land has in choosing its owners。 It is farmed as
those who own it think most profitable to themselves； and small
blame to them； nevertheless； it has a residuum of mulishness which
the land has not； and does sometimes dispossess its tenants。 It is
in this residuum that those who fight place their hope and trust。
Or perhaps AEschylus squared the leading critics of his time。 When
one comes to think of it； he must have done so； for how is it
conceivable that such plays should have had such runs if he had not？
I met a lady one year in Switzerland who had some parrots that
always travelled with her and were the idols of her life。 These
parrots would not let any one read aloud in their presence； unless
they heard their own names introduced from time to time。 If these
were freely interpolated into the text they would remain as still as
stones； for they thought the reading was about themselves。 If it
was not about them it could not be allowed。 The leaders of
literature are like these parrots； they do not look at what a man
writes； nor if they did would they understand it much better than
the parrots do； but they like the sound of their own names； and if
these are freely interpolated in a tone they take as friendly； they
may even give ear to an outsider。 Otherwise they will scream him
off if they can。
I should not advise any one with ordinary independence of mind to
attempt the public ear unless he is confident that he can out…lung
and out…last his own generation； for if he has any force； people
will and ought to be on their guard against him； inasmuch as there
is no knowing where he may not take them。 Besides； they have staked
their money on the wrong men so often without su