nic Practices, Existences
all came of their own accord, as the grass springs, as the trees
grow; no Poet, no work from the inspired heart of a Man needed
there; and Fame has not an articulate word to say about it! Or
ask her, What, with all conceivable appliances and mnemonics,
including apotheosis and human sacrifices among the number, she
carries in her head with regard to a Wodan, even a Moses, or
other such? She begins to be uncertain as to what they were,
whether spirits or men of mould,--gods, charlatans; begins
sometimes to have a misgiving that they were mere symbols, ideas
of the mind; perhaps nonentities, and Letters of the Alphabet!
She is the noisiest, inarticulately babbling, hissing, screaming,
foolishest, unmusicalest of fowls that fly; and needs no
'trumpet,' I think, but her own enormous goose-throat,--measuring
several degrees of celestial latitude, so to speak. Her 'wings,'
in these days, have grown far swifter than ever; but her goose-
throat hitherto seems only larger; louder and foolisher than
ever. _She_ is transitory, futile, a goose-goddess:--if she were
not transitory, what would become of us! It is a chief comfort
that she forgets us all; all, even to the very Wodans; and
grows to consider us, at last, as probably nonentities and
Letters of the Alphabet.

Yes, a noble Abbot Samson resigns himself to Oblivion too; feels
it no hardship, but a comfort; counts it as a still resting-
place, from much sick fret and fever and stupidity, which in the
night-watches often made his strong heart sigh. Your most sweet
voices, making one enormous goose-voice, O Bobus and Company, how
can they be a guidance for any Son of Adam? In _silence_ of you
and the like of you, the 'small still voices' will speak to him
better; in which does lie guidance.

My friend, all speech and rumour is shortlived, foolish, untrue.
Genuine WORK alone, what thou workest faithfully, that is eternal,
as the Almighty Founder and World-Builder himself. Stand thou
by that; and let 'Fame' and the rest of it go prating.

"Heard are the Voices,
Heard are the Sages,
The Worlds and the Ages:
"Choose well, your choice is
Brief and yet endless.

Here eyes do regard you,
In Eternity's stillness;
Here is all fulness,
Ye brave, to reward you;
Work, and despair not."
--Goethe

Book III--The Modern Worker

Chapter I

Phenomena