of a Hebrew inscription on a seal which an old Russian Jew had given Tourgenief: he had sent her an impression, which she intrusted to me. 'You will be careful of it,' she said, 'I prize it as coming from him.' I thought of old Kalonymos and his similar caution as he hands the key of his family archives to Daniel Deronda. We parted, and I soon returned the impression with an explanation of the inscription. She sent a few words of kindly thanks, and that was all till I received the final summons to Highgate Cemetery.
I do not think that my critical estimate of George Eliot's work was at all affected by this slight personal intercourse with her. My veneration for her work in those days may have led me to some extent, however, to that curious kind of injustice, when we guard against too high praise of those we know or like just because we know and like them. My personal estimate of her work when I wrote about it was certainly higher than my written words would imply. Judged by the result I was justified in this critical caution. In the ten years or so that have elapsed since her death, George Eliot's reputation has not risen, her influence has been on the decline. It seems worth while seeking for the causes of this.
It is of course a general law that literary reputations do decline for a time at least after an author's death. While he lives there is always the
