CHAPTER IX.
"Now let us suppose that every difficulty be overcome, and that aided by fortune you have actually in your lifetime acquired not only celebrity, but glory. What will be the fruit of this? In the first place, men will wish to see you, and make your acquaintance; they will indicate you as a distinguished man, and will honour you in every possible way. Such are the best results of literary glory. It would seem more natural to look for such demonstrations in small than in large towns; for these latter are subject to the distracting influence of wealth and power, and all the arts which serve to amuse and enliven the inactive hours of men's lives. But because small towns are ordinarily wanting in things necessary to stimulate literary excellence, they are rarely the abode of men devoted to literature and study. The people of such places esteem learning and wisdom, and even the fame men seek by these means, at a very low value; neither the one nor the other are objects of envy to them. And if a man who is a distinguished scholar take up his residence in a small town, his notability is of no advantage to him. Rather the contrary. For though his fame would secure him high honour in towns not far distant, he is there regarded as the most forlorn and obscure individual in the place. Just as a man who possessed nothing but an abundance of silver and gold would be even poorer than other men in a place where these metals were valueless; similarly a wise and studious man who makes his abode in a place where learning and genius are unknown, far from being considered superior to other men, will be despised and scornfully treated unless he happen to have some more material possessions. Yet such a man is often given credit for possessing much greater knowledge than he really has, though this reputation does not procure him any especial honour from these people.
"When I was a young man, I used occasionally to return to Bosisio, my native place. Every one there knew that I spent my time in study and writing. The peasants gave me credit for being poet, philosopher, doctor, mathematician, lawyer, theologian, and sufficiently a linguist to know all the languages in the world. They used to question me indiscriminately on any subject, or about any trifle that chanced to enter their minds. Yet they did not hold me in much esteem, and thought me less instructed than the learned people of all other places. But whenever I gave them reason to think my learning was not as extensive as they supposed, I fell vastly in their estimation, and in the end they used to persuade themselves that after all my knowledge was no greater than theirs.
"We have already noticed the difficulties to be overcome in large towns before glory can be acquired, or the fruit of it enjoyed. I will now add that although no fame is more difficult to merit than that of being an excellent poet, writer, or philosopher, nothing is less lucrative to the possessor. You know that the misery and poverty of the greatest poets, both in ancient and modern times, is proverbial. Homer, like his poetry, is involved in mystery; his country, life, and history are an impenetrable secret to men. But, amid this uncertainty and ignorance, there is an unshaken tradition that Homer was poor and unhappy. It is as if time wished to bear witness that the fate of other noble poets was shared by the prince of poetry.
"But, passing over the other benefits of glory, we will simply consider what is called honour. No part of fame is usually less honourable and more useless than this. It may be that so many people obtain it undeservedly, or even because of the extreme difficulty of meriting it at all; certain it is that such reputation is scarce esteemed, if regarded as trustworthy. Or perhaps it is due to the fact that most clever half-cultured men imagine they either are, or could easily become, as proficient in literature and philosophy as those who are successful in these studies, and whom they accordingly treat as on an intellectual equality. Possibly both causes combine in their influence. It is certain, however, that the man who is an ordinary mathematician, natural philosopher, philologist, antiquary, artist, sculptor, musician, or who has only a moderate acquaintance with a single ancient or foreign language, is usually more respected, even in large towns, than a really remarkable philosopher, poet, or writer. Consequently, poetry and philosophy, the noblest, grandest, and most arduous of things pertaining to humanity, and the supreme efforts of art and science, are in the present day the most neglected faculties in the world, even in their professed followers. Manual arts rank higher than these noble things; for no one would pretend to a knowledge of them unless he really possessed it, nor could this knowledge be acquired without study and exertion. In short, the poet and the philosopher derive no benefit in life from their genius and studies, except perhaps the glory rendered to them by a very few people. Poetry and philosophy resemble each other in that they are both as unproductive and barren of esteem and honour, as of all other advantages."
CHAPTER X.
"From men you will scarcely derive any advantage whatever from your glory. You will therefore look within you for consolation, and in your solitude will nerve yourself for fresh exertions, and lay the foundation of new hopes. For like all other human benefits, literary glory is more pleasing in anticipation than in reality, if indeed it can ever be said to be realised. You will therefore at length console yourself with the thought of that last hope and refuge of noble minds, posterity. Even Cicero, richly renowned as he was in life, turned his mind yearningly towards the future, in saying: 'Thinkest thou I should have undertaken so many labours, during day and night, in peace and war, had I imagined my glory was limited to this life? Far better were a life of idleness and peace, devoid of cares and fatigue. No. My soul, in some inexplicable way, used ever to fix its hopes on posterity, and looked for the dawn of its true life from the hour of death.'[1] Cicero here refers to the idea of immortality innate in the minds of men. But the true explanation lies in the fact that all earthly benefits are no sooner acquired than their insignificance becomes apparent; they are unworthy of the fatigues they have cost. Glory is, above all, an example of this; it is a dear purchase, and of little use to the purchaser. But, as Simonides says, I Sweet hope cheers us with its phantom beauties, and with its vain prospect stimulates us to work. Some men await the friendly dawn, others the advance of age, and others more auspicious seasons. Every mortal cherishes within him hopes of coming good from Pluto and the other gods,' Thus, as we experience the vanity of glory, hope, driven and hunted from place to place, finding at length no spot in the whole of life whereon to rest, passes beyond the grave and alights on posterity. For man ever turns instinctively from the present to the future, about which he hopes much in proportion as he knows little. Hence, they who are desirous of glory in life, chiefly nourish themselves on that which they hope to gain after death. For the lack of enjoyment in the present, man consoles himself with hopes of future happiness, as vain as that of the present."