such appeals in regard to the promotion of fuller and more harmonious
life. Flaubert wrote:

"Le genie n'est pas rare maintenant, mais ce que personne n'a plus et ce
qu'il faut tacher d'avoir, c'est la conscience."

("Genius is not rare nowadays, but conscience is what nobody has and
what one should strive after.")

To-day I am thinking of a painter. Painting is an art addressed
primarily to the eye, and not to the intelligence, not to the
imagination, save as these may be reached through the eye--that most
delicate organ of infinite susceptibility, which teaches us the meaning
of the word light--a word so often uttered with stress of ecstasy, of
longing, of despair, and of every other shade of emotion, that the sound
of it must soon be almost as powerful with the young heart, almost as
immediate in its effect, as the break of day itself, gladdening the eyes
and glorifying the earth. And how often is this joy received through the
eye entrusted back to it for expression? For the eye can speak with
varieties, delicacies, and subtle shades of motion far beyond the
attainment of any other organ. "This art of painting is made for the
eyes, for sight is the noblest sense of man,"[4] says Duerer; and again:

"It is ordained that never shall any man be able, out of his own
thoughts, to make a beautiful figure, unless, by much study, he hath
well stored his mind. That then is no longer to be called his own; it is
art acquired and learnt, which soweth, waxeth, and beareth fruit after
its kind. Thence the gathered secret treasure of the heart is manifested
openly in the work, and the new creature which a man createth in his
heart, appeareth in the form of a thing."[5]