"Ah, yes. At the beginning of the century there were great poets
like Swinburne, Meredith, Francis Thompson, and Yeats.
Great novelists like Hardy and Conrad. Great historians
like Stubbs and Maitland, etc., etc. But they are all dead now,
and whom have we to take their place?" It is not until an age has receded
into history, and all its mediocrity has dropped away from it,
that we can see it as it is--as a group of men of genius.
We forget the immense amount of twaddle that the great epochs produced.
The total amount of fine literature created in a given period of time
differs from epoch to epoch, but it does not differ much.
And we may be perfectly sure that our own age will make
a favourable impression upon that excellent judge, posterity.
Therefore, beware of disparaging the present in your own mind.
While temporarily ignoring it, dwell upon the idea that its chaff
contains about as much wheat as any similar quantity of chaff
has contained wheat.


The reason why you must avoid modern works at the beginning
is simply that you are not in a position to choose among modern works.
Nobody at all is quite in a position to choose with certainty
among modern works. To sift the wheat from the chaff is a process
that takes an exceedingly long time. Modern works have to pass before
the bar of the taste of successive generations. Whereas, with classics,
which have been through the ordeal, almost the reverse is the case.
*Your taste has to pass before the bar of the classics.* That is the point.
If you differ with a classic, it is you who are wrong, and not the book.
If you differ with a modern work, you may be wrong or you may be right,
but no judge is authoritative enough to decide. Your taste is unformed.
It needs guidance, and it needs authoritative guidance.