As I survey the three volumes of this latest magnum opus, three further thoughts crowd in on me. First, that this is a work of meticulous scholarship — each page of the general introduction and of the textual introduction, each footnote to the text, is the product of painstaking precision and of years of scholarly endeavour, both wide and deep. Second, that such scholarship should need no defence. And third that, alas, such scholarship does need a defence.

The question "What is the point of it?" is in one sense the best question in the world — because it matters to distinguish what is important from what is not. Saving the baby matters more than getting rid of the bath-water. But asking about the point of everything is also, in another sense, the worst question in the world — because if you ask for the point of anything ultimate (God, life,  nature, art) — you will miss the point about the things that matter most of all.

So when someone asks about a sublime piece of scholarship like this, "What is the point of it?", I am inclined to suppose that they are asking the worst kind of question, and to reach promptly for my gun. But I know that I should in fact resist any such temptation, because there is, alas, a live (albeit somewhat covert) debate at present about whether scholarship matters. 

In the world of "research" — research councils, research grants, research fellowships, research evaluation assessments, research impact assessments and all the rest of it — the barbarians are at the gates. And, among the barbarians, there is a terrible tendency to suppose that "mere scholarship" does not quite count. I have never heard it said openly, but you can pick it up in tones and undertones; and it's easy to see how this destructive idea can get a purchase.