If it be true that Sir Horace Plunkett is less known to his countrymen
than some fellow with flashy wits, it is more certain to be true that
his great colleague in co-operation, "A. E.," is still less known
to them. It would be difficult for any intelligent person to come
into the presence of "A. E." and remain unaware that he is a man of
merit. He fills a room immediately and unmistakably with the power
of his personality. A tall, bearded, untidy man, with full lips and
bulkily-built body, he draws attention by his deep, grey eyes. When
he speaks, other people listen. If you were to meet him in the street,
unaware of his identity, and he were to ask you for a match with which
to light his pipe, you would do more than civilly comply with his
request. You would certainly say to yourself, "That's a remarkable
man!" It is said, with what verity I cannot say, that Mr. Bernard Shaw
and "A. E." met for the first time in a picture-gallery in Dublin,
each ignorant of the other's identity, and that they began to talk
of Art. They impressed each other so greatly that they continued in
argument for a long time, and only, when they parted, did they become
known to each other. The mountains nod to each other over the heads
of the little hills; and men of merit, even when they are not easily
recognized by the multitude, are known to each other. One man of merit
may, indeed, belittle another man of merit, as Dr. Johnson belittled
Fielding, as George Meredith belittled Dickens, as Henry James
belittled Ibsen and Thomas Hardy; but at least they are aware of each
other.