into his own mind, to know whether it is quite clear there.
In the dusk a very distinct handwriting becomes illegible.
--

And George Henry Lewes, in his `Life of Goethe', well says: --

"A masterpiece excites no sudden enthusiasm; it must be studied much
and long, before it is fully comprehended; we must grow up to it,
for it will not descend to us. Its emphasis grows with familiarity.
We never become disenchanted; we grow more and more awe-struck
at its infinite wealth. We discover no trick, for there is none
to discover. Homer, Shakespeare, Raphael, Beethoven, Mozart,
never storm the judgment; but once fairly in possession,
they retain it with unceasing influence."

And Professor Dowden, in the article from which I have just quoted,
says: --

"Approaching a great writer in this spirit of courageous
and affectionate fraternity, we need all our forces and all our craft
for the friendly encounter. If we love ease and lethargy,
let us turn in good time and fly. The interpretation of literature,
like the interpretation of Nature, is no mere record of facts;
it is no catalogue of the items which make up a book --
such catalogues and analyses of contents encumber our histories
of literature with some of their dreariest pages. The interpretation
of literature exhibits no series of dead items, but rather the life
and power of one mind at play upon another mind duly qualified
to receive and manifest these. Hence, one who would interpret
the work of a master must summon up all his powers, and must be alive