The thing to say about me just now is that my humour is forced. This
began to reach me in connection with my article “Quis Desiderio . . .?”
[_Universal Review_, 1888] and is now, [1889] I understand, pretty
generally perceived even by those who had not found it out for
themselves.
I am not aware of forcing myself to say anything which has not amused me,
which is not apposite and which I do not believe will amuse a neutral
reader, but I may very well do so without knowing it. As for my humour,
I am like my father and grandfather, both of whom liked a good thing
heartily enough if it was told them, but I do not often say a good thing
myself. Very likely my humour, what little there is of it, is forced
enough. I do not care so long as it amuses me and, such as it is, I
shall vent it in my own way and at my own time.