405
I then understood that orders had been given on no account to interfere with the mad Irish poet. It 
rather took the wind out of my sails. I made my speech and unveiled Epstein's effort in the dull 
drizzling weather. It was a disheartening success. The affair, however, made a great noise in the 
newspapers, both in France and in England, and the funniest thing about it was 
{645} 
that Epstein himself, the one person above all others who should have been gratified, one would 
have supposed, took my action in rather bad part. 
I have always found Epstein's psychology very puzzling. He is a German Jew, born in the lower East 
Side of New York City, and his genius, like Rodin's, is purely natural. His conscious ideas are out of 
keeping with it and destroy it whenever he allows them to interfere. Thus, at one time, he got into 
the worst set of pretentious humbugs in London, those nonentities who proclaim tirelessly at the 
top of their voices how great they are, and how their pedantic principles are the truth, the whole 
truth and nothing but the truth. They theorize tediously in obscure caf‚s and produce either 
meaningless monstrosities or nothing at all. 
Cubism, vorticism, dadaism, and such sectarian sillinesses all come to the same thing; they are 
embalmed intellectual fads, invented in order to prove that the imbecility of their adherents is 
sublime. Conscious of their incapacity they try to prove its perfection, just as a woman who 
squinted might try to persuade herself that cross eyes constitute a special charm. The fallacy lies in 
this: a work of art justifies itself by its direct magical effect on the observer. It is puerile to "prove" 
that Pope is a better poet than Shakespeare because his classicism is worthier than the "unhappy 
barbarism" (as Hume says) of the Elizabethan. Critical rules derived from analysis after the event 
are always impertinent. One cannot improve on Swinburne by using his merits more accurately than 
he did himself. 
But Epstein allowed himself to be influenced by the pompous cocksureness of men who were not fit 
to cart his clay, and for a time tried to work on their principles instead of allowing his genius to 
express itself as it would, with disastrous results. I have myself made an ass of myself now and 
again, by trying to construct consciously according to my convictions. But at least I never let myself 
be influenced by the fashions of a clique. 
I am reminded of an interesting circumstance which occurred in 1912. Epstein had made a Sun-God. 
Hearing this, I hurried to his studio. I thought it a sign that the ideas which moved me were 
independently penetrating other minds. "Hullo," said I, as I entered the studio; "you've been doing 
the Man of Vitruvius, have you?" "Man of what?" said Epstein. "Vitruvius; you know --- the 
Microcosm?" I might have been talking Choctaw. I could not believe that Epstein did not know all 
about it. But he did not know even which of his statues I was talking about. I pointed. "Nonsense," 
said he, "that is my Sun-God. What has Besubius got to do with it?" I was struck dumb. 
Vitruvius was (of course, but I suppose I had better explain!) the great Augustan architect, whose 
treatise on the subject is the supreme classic of its kind. He had discovered the rationale of beauty 
and similar moral ideas. He had demonstrated the necessity of adhering to certain proportions. It 
chanced that I had in my pocket a proof of one of the illustrations of my 
{646} 
Book Four, Part II. I pulled it out and put it under his nose. In all essentials it was identical with 
Epstein's idea of the Sun-God. The astounding thing is not this mere similarity, but the fact that 
Epstein had called it by that name; for the man of Vitruvius is really the Sun-God. It is the symbol 
which unifies the centre of our system with the true nature of man. 
The genius of Epstein had expressed through him a mystical fact of supreme importance, without 
the aid of any intellectual process. It was one more instance of my theory that direct intuition is 
capable of discerning a priori truths as adequately as the inductive method of intellect reveals them 
a posteriori. Its results are equally reliable, or more so, when their medium is genius, and this in its