The heirs of Western civilisation had gathered together to honour the last man of letters. It was a unique gesture. But was it futile? They could not resurrect a vanished way of life. What kind of civilisation, then, do we have? And is it worth living and dying for? Books are still written and some are read, even if most are gathering dust as readers migrate to instant forms of cultural gratification. Music and drama are still performed; art is still exhibited. History, philosophy, science and religion are still debated; universities are more universal than ever. Humanity is flourishing and so are the humanities. At least, so we are assured by, for example, David Willetts, the universities minister, who told the British Academy last month: "Quite simply, the humanities and social sciences are essential to a civilised country." Do we care any longer, though, about whether Britain is a civilised country? If so, how do we know?

In his book-length poem, The Age of Anxiety, W.H. Auden tried to capture the zeitgeist of his era. Well, we long ago entered a different period: the age of amnesia. It is an age in which everything is stored, but nothing is remembered. It is not only the men and women of letters who are passing away. It is also the men and women who would once have read their books and magazines. Is amnesia an improvement on anxiety? 

In a grim mood, Larkin wrote "Wants", which begins: "Beyond all this, the wish to be alone", and concludes: "Beneath it all, desire of oblivion runs." We have all been through such dark times. But does Larkin's line apply to our civilisation as a whole? No, not if Standpoint can help it. The age of amnesia has lasted long enough. It is time to usher in the age of remembrance, the remembrance of things past. It is time to recall what we have lost and to make sure that our children are not deprived of the civilisation that our ancestors fought to preserve. As Clive James says in his great critique of our age, Cultural Amnesia, "There never was a time like now to be a lover of the arts[...]One can plausibly aspire to seeing, hearing and reading everything that matters." Indeed one can — but how many do so? Intellectual ambition should be valued, not despised. That is why the example that John Gross leaves us is so precious. Polymaths of the world, unite: you have nothing to lose but your modesty.