LITERARY REFLECTIONS
MY distrust of present-day tastes, I cannot deny it, may perhaps have reached a blameworthy degree. But I have so often seen how people come by the name of genius—in the same way, that is, as certain insects come by the name of millipede, not because they have that number of feet, but because most people won’t count up to fourteen—that I now believe in none without examination.
If an author possess a considerable share both of judgment and of experience, they may, it is true, in some measure serve in place of genius, but never under these conditions will he be able to dignify his work with touches which, as soon as he sees them, the most expert imitator must admit to be beyond his province. It seems as if Heaven had reserved to itself the communication of special thoughts and discoveries, as they are so seldom the fruit of industry.
Scholars who are lacking in common sense generally learn more than they need ; the others can never learn too much.
In the republic of learning everyone wants to
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