Cleverness may learn all the forms and methods, but it is powerless to
imitate greatness; it can simulate the conscious, dexterous side of
greatness, but it cannot simulate the unconscious, vital side. The
moment a man like Voltaire attempts to deal with such a character as
Joan of Arc, his spiritual and artistic limitations become painfully
apparent; of cleverness there is no lack, but of reverence, insight,
depth of feeling, the affinity of the great imagination for the great
nature or deed, there is no sign. The man is entirely and hopelessly
incapacitated for the work by virtue of certain limitations in his own
nature of which he is obviously in entire ignorance. The conscious
skill of Voltaire was delicate, subtle, full of vitality; but the
unconscious side of his nature was essentially shallow, thin, largely
undeveloped; and it is the preponderance of the unconscious over the
conscious in a man's life which makes him great in himself and equips
him for work of the highest quality. No man can put his skill to the
highest use and give his knowledge the final touch of individuality
until both are so entirely incorporated in his personality that they
have become part of himself.
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