In short, people in society had become disillusioned about M. de Charlus, not from having penetrated too far, but without having penetrated at all, his rare intellectual merit. The reason why he was found to be "pre-war," old-fashioned, was that the people who are least capable of judging the worth of individuals are also the most inclined to adopt fashion as a principle by which to classify them; they have not exhausted, or even grazed the surface of, the talented men of one generation, when suddenly they are obliged to condemn them all en bloc, for here is a new generation with a new label which will be no better understood than its predecessor.
Marcel Proust, Time Regained, p. 790
Proust reflects upon, not simply the decline of M. de Charlus, but more importantly the tragedy of people not grasping his brilliance, or other older men of his generation - or, for that matter, the older brilliant men of any generation. It's not simply that they grew tired of their ideas, but rather that they never actually grappled with them at all. Proust reports: "In short, people in society had become disillusioned about M. de Charlus, not from having penetrated too far, but without having penetrated at all, his rare intellectual merit." Of a man of a certain vintage, although certainly not a brilliant one, I can understand Proust's frustration and M. de Charlus's pain. I'm increasingly relegated to the great trash bin of history, partially because apparently is my time. In this specific instance, Proust notes, the younger generation, "have not exhausted, or even grazed the surface of, the talented men of one generation, when suddenly they are obliged to condemn them all en bloc . . ." Or, as the Drive-By Truckers remind us, "there was a time, that time is gone." In the last year I've started thinking about retiring, which would have been a ridiculous thought not that long ago, not because I feel I have nothing left to offer, but because it is becoming painfully clear that others feel that way. Granted, a bit part of this is my own vanity. As I've often joked, when I'm no longer the scariest person in the room I no longer want to be in the room.
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