Monday, July 15, 2013

EPITAPH FOR A BURNT LIBRARY


The ancient library of Alexandria, Egypt, was, perhaps, the greatest library of the ancient world. Built at the beginning of the third century BC, it may have counted as many as 500,000 scrolls in its collection, before it was accidentally burned down by Julius Caesar in 48 BC. In 2002… AD, a new Bibliotheca Alexandrina was built, in commemoration of the old library, but such a nice gesture notwithstanding, it should be plain ridiculous to compare this new reality to the irreality of the real thing.

What is the use of a library that does not exist? This question, worthy of a Jeremy Bentham, reduces value to utility, and, in this sense, becomes rhetorical. On the other hand, real value is not to be consumed by the consumer, or even by a multitude of consumers. Its worth is larger than that of being a commodity; its spark sets off a powerful brainstorm, sculpts a beautiful fantasy, crystallizing as a radiant Platonic Idea behind the drab shadow of reality, and begets morality as such.

…I have a weakness for libraries filled with old books, illuminated manuscripts, tangible relics of the past. My wife and I used to have a large private library, which itself has become a memory. These days, as we can no longer hold any of those beauties in our hand, we are happy still to be the lifetime owners of their splendid ghosts, and, in our case, the radiant Idea that is, is so much stronger than the reality of shadows, that once was.

Most of those great ancient libraries of the world have disappeared from the face of the earth, even though some may have partially survived as archaeological finds, in the form of, say, clay tablets, which have been enthusiastically unearthed and reverently studied. Such is the case with the great Library of Ashurbanipal, which was the subject of my entry The Librarian King in the Genius Section. But the greatest of them all--- the Library of Alexandria--- was burned down to its foundation more than two thousand years ago, long before there was a Russia to appreciate it.

During my memorable month-long trip to Egypt in 1970, I was very fortunate to visit the magnificent city of Alexander, where I admired its natural beauty, the color of the Mediterranean Sea washing its beaches, its impressive large buildings, its still surviving ancient monuments, the most remarkable of these being the 100-foot-tall “Pompey’s Pillar

But even more I marveled at what I could not see, yet felt. The Pharos lighthouse, long destroyed, known as one of the Seven Wonders of the World. But, above all, I marveled at the spirit of the great Library-- not the present-day Library of Alexandria (built three decades after my time), which is often represented as a successor to the old glory, although I had somehow missed that purported connection, but the real thing--- the Great Library that does not exist.

Which brings me back to the question I have already been to, of how our memories and mental associations prove more valuable than the everyday reality surrounding them. There is a pretty reasonable explanation for this phenomenon, of course. Our memory, being selective, retains only the best, most profound experiences,  and thus acquires a rich perennial value, which everyday reality does not and cannot possess. Should I be blessed with something on that side of the grave, I would not want that something to be somehow deprived of the memories I cherish, so sweet that I would hate to see them die with me; but that I may rather live on, just to have them all live on with me…

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