If the triumph excited wonder and joy, the person of Dionysius himself appealed no less powerfully to other feelings. A fallen despot was a sight denied to Grecian eyes; whoever aspired to despotism, put his all to hazard, forfeiting his chance of retiring to a private station. By a remarkable concurrence of circumstances, the exception to this rule was presented just where it was least likely to take place; in the case of the most formidable and odious despotism which had ever overridden the Grecian world. For nearly half a century prior to the expedition of Dion against Syracuse, every one had been accustomed to pronounce the name of Dionysius with a mixture of fear and hatred—the sentiment of prostration before irresistible force. How much difficulty Dion himself found, in overcoming this impression in the minds of his own soldiers, has been already related. Though dissipated by the success of Dion, the antecedent alarm became again revived, when Dionysius recovered his possession of Ortygia, and when the Syracusans made pathetic appeal to Corinth for aid against him. Now, on a sudden, the representative of this extinct greatness, himself bearing the awful name of Dionysius, enters Corinth under a convention, suing only for the humble domicile and unpretending security of a private citizen.[327] The Greek mind was keenly sensitive to such contrasts, which entered largely into every man’s views of human affairs, and were reproduced in a thousand forms by writers and speakers. The affluence of visitors—who crowded to gaze upon and speak to Dionysius, not merely from Corinth, but from other cities of Greece—was immense; some in simple curiosity, others with compassion, a few even with insulting derision. The anecdotes which are recounted seem intended to convey a degrading impression of this last period of his career. But even the common offices of life—the purchase of unguents and condiments at the tavern[328]—the nicety of criticism displayed respecting robes and furniture[329]—looked degrading when performed by the ex-despot of Syracuse. His habit of drinking largely, already contracted, was not likely to become amended in these days of mortification; yet on the whole his conduct seems to have had more dignity than could have been expected. His literary tastes, manifested during the time of his intercourse with Plato, are implied even in the anecdotes intended to disparage him. Thus he is said to have opened a school for teaching boys to read, and to have instructed the public singers in the art of singing or reciting poetry.[330] His name served to subsequent writers, both Greek and Roman,—as those of Crœsus, Polykrates, and Xerxes, serve to Herodotus—for an instance to point a moral on the mutability of human events. Yet the anecdotes recorded about him can rarely be verified, nor can we distinguish real matters of fact from those suitable and impressive myths which so pregnant a situation was sure to bring forth.