g Kobori-Enshiu.
Enshiu was complimented by his disciples on the admirable taste he had
displayed in the choice of his collection. Said they, "Each piece is
such that no one could help admiring. It shows that you had better taste
than had Rikiu, for his collection could only be appreciated by one
beholder in a thousand." Sorrowfully Enshiu replied: "This only proves
how commonplace I am. The great Rikiu dared to love only those objects
which personally appealed to him, whereas I unconsciously cater to
the taste of the majority. Verily, Rikiu was one in a thousand among
tea-masters."

It is much to be regretted that so much of the apparent enthusiasm
for art at the present day has no foundation in real feeling. In this
democratic age of ours men clamour for what is popularly considered
the best, regardless of their feelings. They want the costly, not
the refined; the fashionable, not the beautiful. To the masses,
contemplation of illustrated periodicals, the worthy product of
their own industrialism, would give more digestible food for artistic
enjoyment than the early Italians or the Ashikaga masters, whom they
pretend to admire. The name of the artist is more important to them than
the quality of the work. As a Chinese critic complained many centuries
ago, "People criticise a picture by their ear." It is this lack of
genuine appreciation that is responsible for the pseudo-classic horrors
that to-day greet us wherever we turn.

Another common mistake is that of confusing art with archaeology. The
veneration born of antiquity is one of the best traits in the human
character, and fain would we have it cultivated to a greater extent. The
old masters are rightly to be honoured for opening the path to future
enlightenment. The mere fact that they have passed unscathed through
centuries of criticism and come down to us still covered with glory
commands our respect. But we should be foolish indeed if we valued their
achievement simply on the score of age. Yet we allow our historical
sympathy to override our aesthetic discrimination. We offer flowers of
approbation when the artist is safely laid in his grave. The nineteenth
century, pregnant with the theory of evolution, has moreover created
in us the habit of losing sight of the individual in the species. A
collector is anxious to acquire specimens to illustrate a period or a
school, and forgets that a single masterpiece can teach us more than any
number of the mediocre prod