n has done this, he possesses something which cannot
be wrested from him; and, unlike fame, it is a possession dependent
entirely upon himself. If admiration were his chief aim, there would
be nothing in him to admire. This is just what happens in the case
of false, that is, unmerited, fame; for its recipient lives upon it
without actually possessing the solid substratum of which fame is the
outward and visible sign. False fame must often put its possessor out
of conceit with himself; for the time may come when, in spite of the
illusions borne of self-love, he will feel giddy on the heights which
he was never meant to climb, or look upon himself as spurious
coin; and in the anguish of threatened discovery and well-merited
degradation, he will read the sentence of posterity on the foreheads
of the wise--like a man who owes his property to a forged will.

The truest fame, the fame that comes after death, is never heard of by
its recipient; and yet he is called a happy man.

His happiness lay both in the possession of those great qualities
which won him fame, and in the opportunity that was granted him of
developing them--the leisure he had to act as he pleased, to dedicate
himself to his favorite pursuits. It is only work done from the heart
that ever gains the laurel.

Greatness of soul, or wealth of intellect, is what makes a man
happy--intellect, such as, when stamped on its productions, will
receive the admiration of centuries to come,--thoughts which make him
happy at the time, and will in their turn be a source of study and
delight to the noblest minds of the most remote posterity. The value
of posthumous fame lies in deserving it; and this is its own reward.
Whether works destined to fame attain it in the lifetime of their
author is a chance affair, of no very great importance. For the
average man has no critical power of his own, and is absolutely
incapable of appreciating the difficulty of a great work. People are
always swayed by authority; and where fame is widespread, it means
that ninety-nine out of a hundred take it on faith alone. If a man is
famed far and wide in his own lifetime, he will, if he is wise, not
set too much value upon it, because it is no more than the echo of a
few voices, which the chance of a day has touched in his favor.

Would a musician feel flattered by the loud applause of an audience
if he knew that they were nearly all deaf, and that, to conceal their
infirmity, they set to work