The world is really
very much on the look out for anything which amuses, delights,
impresses, moves, or helps it; it is quick and generous in
recognition of originality and force; and if a writer, as he gets
older, finds his books neglected and his opinions disdained, he may
be fairly sure that he has said his say, and that men are
preoccupied with new ideas and new personalities. Of course this is
a melancholy and disconcerting business, especially if one has been
more concerned with personal prominence than with the worth and
weight of one's ideas; mortified vanity is a sore trial. I remember
once meeting an old author who, some thirty years before the date
at which I met him, had produced a book which attracted an
extraordinary amount of attention, though it has long since been
forgotten. The old man had all the airs of solemn greatness, and I
have seldom seen a more rueful spectacle than when a young and
rising author was introduced to him, and when it became obvious
that the young man had not only never heard of the old writer, but
did not know the name of his book.
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