the man
of one study has always the advantage of men more variously cultivated.
Their misfortune is to be perpetually waiting in antechambers, and
losing time in them. Grammars and dictionaries are antechambers, bad
drawing and bad coloring are antechambers, musical practice with
imperfect intonation is an antechamber. And the worst is that even when
a man, like yourself for instance, of very various culture, has at one
time fairly penetrated beyond the antechamber, he is not sure of
admittance a year hence, because in the mean time the door may have been
closed against him. The rule of each separate hall or saloon of
knowledge is that he alone is to be instantly admitted who calls there
every day.

The man of various pursuits does not, in any case, keep them up
simultaneously; he is led by inclination or compelled by necessity to
give predominance to one or another. If you have fifteen different
pursuits, ten of them, at any given time, will be lying by neglected.
The metaphor commonly used in reference to neglected pursuits is
borrowed from the oxidation of metal; it is said that they become rusty.
This metaphor is too mild to be exact. Rust on metal, even on polished
steel, is easily guarded against by care, and a gun or a knife does not
need to be constantly used to keep it from being pitted. The gunsmith
and the cutler know how to keep these things, in great quantity, without
using them at all. But no one can retain knowledge without using it.
The metaphor fails still more seriously in perpetuating a false
conception of the deterioration of knowledge through neglect. It is not
simply a loss of polish which takes place, not a loss of mere
surface-beauty, but absolute disorganization, like the disorganization
of a carriage when the axle-tree is taken away. A rusty thing may still
be used, but a disorganized thing cannot be used until the lost organ
has been replaced. There is no equivalent, amongst ordinary material
losses, to the intellectual loss that we incur by ceasing from a
pursuit. But we may consider neglect as an enemy who carries away the
girths from our saddles, the bits from our bridles, the oars from our
boats, and one wheel from each of our carriages, leaving us indeed still
nominally possessors of all these aids to locomotion, but practically in
the same position as if we were entirely without them. And as an enemy
counts upon the delays caused by these vexations to execute his designs
whilst we are