And what
wonder that you, a silly, ignorant fellow, were thus
imposed upon and appeared in public holding your
head high and imitating the gait and dress and
glance of the man whom you delighted to make
yourself resemble ? Even Pyrrhus of Epirus, a marvellous man in other ways, was once, they say, so
spoiled by toadies after the self-same fashion that he
believed he was like the famous Alexander. Yet (to
borrow a phrase from the musicians) the discrepancy


 

was a matter of two octaves; for I have seen the
portrait of Pyrrhus. But in spite of that he had
acquired the conviction that he was a perfect replica
of Alexander’s beauty. To be sure, I have been uncomplimentary to Pyrrhus in comparing you with him
in this matter, but what followed would be quite in
character with you. When Pyrrhus was in this state
of mind and had this conviction about himself, everyone without exception concurred with him and
humoured him until an old foreign woman in Larissa
told him the truth and cured him of drivelling.
Pyrrhus showed her portraits of Philip, Perdiccas,
Alexander, Cassander and other kings, and asked her
whom he resembled, quite certain that she would fix
upon Alexander ; but, after delaying a good while,
she said, “Batrachion, the cook’: and as a matter
of fact there was in Larissa a cook called Batrachion
who resembled Pyrrhus.

 

As for you, I cannot say which of the profligates
that hang about the actors in the pantomimes you
resemble; I do know very well, however, that
everyone thinks you are still downright daft over
that likeness. It is no wonder, then, since you are
such a failure at likenesses, that you want to make
yourself resemble men of learning, believing those
who praise you so. 
But why do I talk beside the point? The reason
for your craze about books is patent, even if I in my
blindness failed to see it long ago. It is a bright
idea on your part (you think so, anyhow), and.you
base no slight expectations upon the thing in case
the emperor, who is a scholar and holds learning
in especial esteem, should find out about it; if he
should hear that you are buying books and making

 

a large collection, you think you will soon get all you
want from him.

 

But do you suppose, you rotter,
that he is so steeped in mandragora as to hear that
and yet not know how you pass your time during the
day, what your drinking bouts are like, how you
spend your nights, and in whose company? Do not
you know that a monarch has many eyes and ears?
And your doings are so conspicuous that even the
blind and the deaf may know of them; for if you
but speak, if you but bathe in public—or, if you
choose, don’t even do that—if your servants but
bathe in public, do you not think that all your
nocturnal arcana will be known at once? Answer
me this question: if Bassus, that literary man who
belonged to your following, or Battalus the fluteplayer, or the cinaedus Hemitheon of Sybaris,
who wrote those wonderful regulations for you,
which say that you must use cosmetics and depilatories and so forth—if one of those fellows should
to-day walk about with a lion’s skin on his back and
a club in his hand, what do you suppose those who
saw him would think? That he was Heracles? Not
unless they were gravel-blind; for there are a
thousand things in their appearance that would give
the lie to their costume; the gait, the glance, the
voice, the thin neck, the white lead and mastich and
rouge that you beautify yourselves with ; in short, to
quote the proverb, it would be easier to conceal five
elephants under your arm than a single cinaedus.
Then if the lion’s skin would not have hidden such
as they, do you suppose that you will be undetected

 

behind a book? Impossible: the other earmarks of
your sort will betray and reveal you.
 

You are completely unaware, it seems to me, that
good expectations are not to be sought from the
booksellers but derived from one’s self and one’s
daily life. Do you expect to find public advocates
and character-witnesses in the scribes Atticus and
Callinus? No: you will find them heartless fellows,
bent upon ruining you, if the gods so will it, and
reducing you to the uttermost depths of poverty.
Even now you ought to come to your senses, sell
these books to some learned man, and your new
house along with them, and then pay the slave
dealers at least a part of the large sums you owe
them.
 
For mark this, you have had a tremendous passion
for two things, the acquisition of expensive books
and the purchase of well-grown, vigorous slaves, and
you are showing great zeal and persistence in the
thing; but being poor, you cannot adequately
manage both. See now what a precious thing
advice is! I urge you to drop what does not
concern you, cultivate your other weakness, and
buy those menials of yours, so that your household
may not be depleted and you may not for that
reason have to send out for free men, who, if they
do not get all they want, can safely go away and
tell what you do after your wine. For instance, only
the other day a vile fellow told a most disgraceful
story about you when he came away, and even
showed marks. I can prove by those who were there
at the time that I was indignant and came near
giving him a thrashing in my anger on your behalf,

 

especially when he called upon one after another to
corroborate his evidence and they all told the same
story. In view of this, my friend, husband and save
your money so that you may be able to misconduct
yourself at home in great security; for who could
persuade you now to change your ways? When a
dog has once learned to gnaw leather, he cannot
stop. Cf. ut canis a corio nunquam absterrebitur uncto. Horace, Satires, ii. 5,83.