And a
great savant, too, is far more ready to credit other people with a
wider knowledge than they possess. It is the lesser kind of savant,
the man of one book, of one province, of one period, who is
inclined to think that he is differentiated from the crowd. The
great man is far too much preoccupied with real progress to waste
time and energy in showing up the mistakes of others. It is the
lesser kind of savant, jealous of his own reputation, anxious to
show his superiority, who loves to censure and deride the feebler
brother. If one ever sees a relentless and pitiless review of a
book--an exposure, as it is called, by one specialist of another's
work--one may be fairly certain that the critic is a minute kind of
person. Again, the great specialist is never anxious to obtrude his
subject; he is rather anxious to hear what is going on in other
regions of mental activity, regions which he would like to explore
but cannot. It is the lesser light that desires to dazzle and
bewilder his company, to tyrannise, to show off.
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