always been. He always wore a garment
till it dropped from him, nor would he
on any account undress for his night's rest,
considering this a sheer waste of time,
life being so short and books so plentiful.
For this reason, also, he fought
against sleep until it conquered him, and
even when it did so, he would not lay
himself on his bed, but, spreading an old
rag over any books that were on the floor,
would stretch himself upon them. Only
if it were very cold he would throw
himself, completely dressed, into his unmade
bed, which was filled full of books, taking
a basin of coals with him. Several times
by these means he caused a fire to break
out, which was, however, fortunately
quenched by the other inmates of the
house. In his study, instead of a stove,
he habitually employed this little basin of
coals, which he would sometimes attach to
his elbows, and was so absent that his
clothes, and even his face and hands, were
often scorched without his becoming aware
of it. His manner of living was
extremely simple, and so irregular that it
is astonishing that he should have lived
to an advanced age. He subsisted almost
entirely on eggs, bread, and water; he
liked good wine, but partook of little,
and never of any iced drinks. One of his
peculiarities was, that he always kept his
head closely covered, and, in truth, his
whole personal appearance was such that
the grand-duke was almost forced to
dispense with his appearance at court, a state
of things which entirely accorded with
Magliabechi's feelings, who would have
considered attendance there great waste of
time. Indeed, Cosmo had such consideration
for his librarian's eccentricities, that
he always wrote his orders to him instead
of having them conveyed by word of mouth,
so that the learned man might be less
disturbed.

Magliabechi, with all his faults and
irregularities, was the kindest and truest of
friends, and the most accurate of
correspondents. The latter is no mean matter
to say, when we remember that he
corresponded with nearly all the German, French,
and Dutch literati. His first morning
hours were entirely devoted to answering
letters and visiting any strangers who
might be staying in Florence, then he
would repair to the grand-ducal library,
returning within his own four walls as
soon as the prescribed hours were over.

Thus he spent his life among his books,
only quitting Florence twice during his
life, and then not from choice.
Notwithstanding the eccentric arrangement of his
library, where books were piled in seeming
confusion about the floor and sides
of his apartment, of which the Dutch
Professor Heymeun has left so graphic an
account, Magliabechi was never at a loss to
find any work he required. He could lay
his hands on any volume at any moment,
apparently inextricable and unfathomable
as was the disorder in which they were
heaped. He also knew the place of every
book in the library entrusted to him, and
was most anxious to know the contents
of all other libraries as well. In fact,
he succeeded so far that he knew some
of them much better than their owners.
It is told of him that, Cosmo having asked
for a book that was extremely rare, he
replied:

"Signor, there is but one copy of that
book in the world. It is in the Grand
Seignor's library at Constantinople, and is
the eleventh book in the second shelf on the
right hand as you go in."

As might be expected, Magliabechi never
married, his mind, life, heart and soul were
too entirely bound up in his books, and in
them only. The sole creatures that shared
his affectionate interest with his literary
treasures were spiders, an affection which
it is curious to observe as having been
manifested by many great men.

Was there, perhaps, something in the
indomitable industry with which they spin
their web, recommencing again and again,
if a thread be disturbed or broken, that
seemed to Magliabechi to apply to his own
life and career? Who can tell! Suffice
it to say that Magliabechi would never
permit the webs of his small industrious
friends to be destroyed, and always enjoined
on all his visitors to take care of the spiders.
What with these and his books, which
were strewed all over the place, a visit to
the learned librarian must have been a
matter calling for the exercise of no ordinary
dexterity.

He thought of nothing but learning, and
his desire to read everything was so great
that he forgot the bare necessaries of life.
About his accounts he was extremely
negligent, and often for more than a year
would not demand his salary, nor the
revenues that Cardinal de' Medicis had
settled upon him. The Pope, and even the
Emperor Leopold, repeatedly invited him
away, offering him all manner of inducements
to leave his post and enter their
services. But he was not ambitious, and