[1] Is not this characteristic of the miserable nature of
mankind? The dullness, grossness, perversity, silliness and brutality
of by far the greater part of the race, are always an obstacle to the
efforts of the genius, whatever be the method of his art; they so form
that hostile army to which at last he has to succumb. Let the isolated
champion achieve what he may: it is slow to be acknowledged; it is
late in being appreciated, and then only on the score of authority;
it may easily fall into neglect again, at any rate for a while. Ever
afresh it finds itself opposed by false, shallow, and insipid ideas,
which are better suited to that large majority, that so generally hold
the field. Though the critic may step forth and say, like Hamlet when
he held up the two portraits to his wretched mother, _Have you eyes?
Have you eyes_? alas! they have none. When I watch the behavior of a
crowd of people in the presence of some great master's work, and mark
the manner of their applause, they often remind me of trained monkeys
in a show. The monkey's gestures are, no doubt, much like those of
men; but now and again they betray that the real inward spirit of
these gestures is not in them. Their irrational nature peeps out.
[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.
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