APOLLODORUS THE GRAMMARIAN (ALEXANDRIA, A.D. 200)
' We need heroes, heroes,' muttered the old Grammarian, Plutarch's text and the jumping Dolphin of an exquisite lamp Mirrored in his eyes. Outside, the cold Wind worried the torches of youths, bumping Against the walls, and rolled garland-leaves on the damp Alexandrian cobbles. 'What we need arc new Heroes. Today who speaks of Heracles, Leonidas, or even of King Alexander?
—The Roman guard is watching at his tomb! A few May still remember Zeus, but the many must please Bitter-faced hawks, please cats with offerings, must slander The great philosophers. Poets of the canon? Yes. But Aristarchus and Zenodotus are dead, and After them who emends the vast Homeric text? And the tragedians—they are studied even less! These mixed, huge cities cannot understand ' Euripides. Men leave the theatre vexed, Howling for mimes, to crush the chariot of the soul! Unbridled young barbarians will condemn Learning—the illuminated books rot on their shelves! But we must have our heroes, on the whole We men of culture must have heroes—to read in them All we dare not attribute to ourselves.'
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