Accordingly, mankind is in itself not at all inclined to award praise and reputation; it is more disposed to blame and find fault, whereby it indirectly praises itself.  If, notwithstanding this, praise is won from mankind, some extraneous motive must prevail.  I am not here referring to the disgraceful way in which mutual friends will puff one another into a reputation; outside of that, an effectual motive is supplied by the feeling that next to the merit of doing something oneself, comes that of correctly appreciating and recognizing what others have done.  This accords with the threefold division of heads drawn up by Hesiod[1] and afterwards by Machiavelli[2] There are, says the latter, in the capacities of mankind, three varieties:  one man will understand a thing by himself; another so far as it is explained to him; a third, neither of himself nor when it is put clearly before him.  He, then, who abandons hope of making good his claims to the first class, will be glad to seize the opportunity of taking a place in the second.  It is almost wholly owing to this state of things that merit may always rest assured of ultimately meeting with recognition.

[Footnote 1:  Works and Days, 293.]

[Footnote 2:  The Prince, ch. 22.]

To this also is due the fact that when the value of a work has once been recognized and may no longer be concealed or denied, all men vie in praising and honoring it; simply because they are conscious of thereby doing themselves an honor.  They act in the spirit of Xenophon’s remark:  he must be a wise man who knows what is wise.  So when they see that the prize of original merit is for ever out of their reach, they hasten to possess themselves of that which comes second best—­the correct appreciation of it.  Here it happens as with an army which has been forced to yield; when, just as previously every man wanted to be foremost in the fight, so now every man tries to be foremost in running away.  They all hurry forward to offer their applause to one who is now recognized to be worthy of praise, in virtue of a recognition, as a rule unconscious, of that law of homogeneity which I mentioned in the last chapter; so that it may seem as though their way of thinking and looking at things were homogeneous with that of the celebrated man, and that they may at least save the honor of their literary taste, since nothing else is left them.

From this it is plain that, whereas it is very difficult to win fame, it is not hard to keep it when once attained; and also that a reputation which comes quickly does not last very long; for here too, quod cito fit, cito perit.  It is obvious that if the ordinary average man can easily recognize, and the rival workers willingly acknowledge, the value of any performance, it will not stand very much above the capacity of either of them to achieve it for themselves. Tantum quisque laudat, quantum se posse sperat imitari—­a