at present has to show_." You may quote many others as well; they will
assert that a great to-do is made over me for my authorship as well as my
native ability, and my struggle to hammer this ability into a useful
shape. And I say only what is the truth, that most of the fuss is made
because I have reached an age in which my years are revered.

And that is what seems to me so wrong; it is a custom which makes it easy
to hold down the gifted young in a most hostile and arrogant fashion. Old
age should not be honored for its own sake; it does nothing but halt and
delay the march of man. The primitive races, indeed, have no respect for
old age, and rid themselves unhesitatingly of it and of its defects. A
long time ago I deserved honor much more, and valued it; now, in more than
one sense, I am a richer man and can afford to do without.

Yet now I have it. If I enter a room, respectful silence falls. "How old
he's grown!" everyone present thinks. And they all remain silent so that I
may speak memorable words in that room. Amazing nonsense!

The noise should raise the roof when I enter: "Welcome, old fellow and old
companion; for pity's sake don't say anything memorable to us--you should
have done that when you were better able to. Sit down, old chap, and keep
us company. But don't let your old age cast a shadow on us, and don't
restrain us; you have had your day--now it's our turn..."

This is honest speech.

In peasant homes they still have the right instinct: the mothers preserve
their daughters, the fathers their sons, from the rough, unpleasant
labors. A proper mother lets her daughter sew while she herself works
among the cattle. And the daughter will do the same with her own daughter.