This was during Cantor’s later years, a time during which his mind became fouled. He developed what I call an Isaac Newton complex: a loathsome and pathological hatred for publishing that is informed by the paranoid certainty that your contemporaries are out to sabotage you. Either they are a bunch of backstabbing haters ignorant of your work, or, far worse, they are jealous of your genius and selfishly despise you because of it. (Newton himself swore off publishing for years because of criticism of his early work.)