OF PANTOMIME

LEXIPHANES




THE DEPENDENT SCHOLAR


The dependent scholar! The great man's licensed friend!--if friend, not
slave, is to be the word. Believe me, Timocles, amid the humiliation and
drudgery of his lot, I know not where to turn for a beginning. Many, if
not most, of his hardships are familiar to me; not, heaven knows, from
personal experience, for I have never been reduced to such extremity, and
pray that I never may be; but from the lips of numerous victims; from the
bitter outcries of those who were yet in the snare, and the complacent
recollections of others who, like escaped prisoners, found a pleasure in
detailing all that they had been through. The evidence of the latter was
particularly valuable. Mystics, as it were, of the highest grade,
Dependency had no secrets for them. Accordingly, it was with keen
interest that I listened to their stories of miraculous deliverance from
moral shipwreck. They reminded me of the mariners who, duly cropped,
gather at the doors of a temple, with their tale of stormy seas and
monster waves and promontories, castings out of cargoes, snappings of
masts, shatterings of rudders; ending with the appearance of those twin
brethren [Footnote: The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, who were supposed to
appear to sailors in distress.] so indispensable to nautical story, or of
some other _deus ex machina_, who, seated at the masthead or
standing at the helm, guides the vessel to some sandy shore, there to