to clap vigorously as soon as ever they
saw one or two persons applauding? And what would he say if he got to
know that those one or two persons had often taken bribes to secure
the loudest applause for the poorest player!
It is easy to see why contemporary praise so seldom develops into
posthumous fame. D'Alembert, in an extremely fine description of the
temple of literary fame, remarks that the sanctuary of the temple is
inhabited by the great dead, who during their life had no place there,
and by a very few living persons, who are nearly all ejected on their
death. Let me remark, in passing, that to erect a monument to a man
in his lifetime is as much as declaring that posterity is not to be
trusted in its judgment of him. If a man does happen to see his own
true fame, it can very rarely be before he is old, though there have
been artists and musicians who have been exceptions to this rule, but
very few philosophers. This is confirmed by the portraits of people
celebrated by their works; for most of them are taken only after their
subjects have attained celebrity, generally depicting them as old and
grey; more especially if philosophy has been the work of their lives.
From the eudaemonistic standpoint, this is a very proper arrangement;
as fame and youth are too much for a mortal at one and the same time.
Life is such a poor business that the strictest economy must be
exercised in its good things. Youth has enough and to spare in itself,
and must rest content with what it has. But when the delights and joys
of life fall away in old age, as the leaves from a tree in autumn,
fame buds forth opportunely, like a plant that is green in winter.
Fame is, as it were, the fruit that must grow all the summer before it
can be enjoyed at Yule. There is no greater consolation in age than
the feeling of having put the whole force of one's youth into works
which still remain young.
Finally, let us examine a little more closely the kinds of fame which
attach to various intellectual pursuits; for it is with fame of this
sort that my remarks are more immediately concerned.
I think it may be said broadly that the intellectual superiority it
denotes consists in forming theories, that is, new combinations of
certain facts. These facts may be of very different kinds; but
the better they are known, and the more they come within everyday
experience, the greater and wider will be the fame which is to be won
by theorizing about them.
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