No first-rate pastry-cook could
long remain obscure in any town, to say nothing of having to appeal to
posterity.
Under fame of rapid growth is also to be reckoned fame of a false
and artificial kind; where, for instance, a book is worked into a
reputation by means of unjust praise, the help of friends, corrupt
criticism, prompting from above and collusion from below. All this
tells upon the multitude, which is rightly presumed to have no power
of judging for itself. This sort of fame is like a swimming bladder,
by its aid a heavy body may keep afloat. It bears up for a certain
time, long or short according as the bladder is well sewed up and
blown; but still the air comes out gradually, and the body sinks. This
is the inevitable fate of all works which are famous by reason of
something outside of themselves. False praise dies away; collusion
comes to an end; critics declare the reputation ungrounded; it
vanishes, and is replaced by so much the greater contempt. Contrarily,
a genuine work, which, having the source of its fame in itself,
can kindle admiration afresh in every age, resembles a body of low
specific gravity, which always keeps up of its own accord, and so goes
floating down the stream of time.
Men of great genius, whether their work be in poetry, philosophy or
art, stand in all ages like isolated heroes, keeping up single-handed
a desperate struggling against the onslaught of an army of
opponents.
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