But I should be very melancholy if I had to spend a long time in
Meyrick's company. In the first place, his views on literature are
directly opposed to mine. He has a kind of scheme in his head, and
classifies writers into accurate groups. He seems to have no
predilection and no admirations except for what he calls important
writers. He has no personal interest in writers whatever. He can assign
them their exact places in the development of English, but he never
approaches an author with the reverential sense of drawing near to a
mysterious and divine secret, but rather with a respect for technical
accomplishment. In fact, his pleasure in dealing with an author is the
pleasure of mastering him and classifying him. He puts a new book
through its paces as a horse-dealer does with a horse; he observes his
action, his strong and weak points, and then forms a business-like
estimate of his worth.
It is the same with his treatment of people. He has a hard and shrewd
judgment of character, and a polite contempt for weakness of every
kind. He is a Radical by conviction, with a strong sense of equal
rights. Socialism he thinks unpractical, and he is interested in
movements rather than in men.
But he seldom or never lets one into his confidence about people. If he
respects and values a man he says so frankly, but keeps silence about
the people of whom he does not approve.
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