eyes. The whole vision of humanity, as it might be in the mind of
Christ, and as it was felt in the artist's vision, is flashed into our
own minds--it is an artistic inspiration. Art suggests, it does not
explain. A picture focusses into a few inches of space a whole drama
of life and thought. We read it there, we feel it, and with no
conscious effort, for this is the gift of Genius.

And our absorption in a work of genius is untouched even by
consideration of technique. The methods of conveying the impression
may be noted afterwards, and we may delight in form and colour, and
light and shade. But it is the _result_ of all these that the art
lover feels so spontaneously and unconsciously. Learned art critics
and dealers will study the size of ears, the length of noses, the
breadth of thumbs, the manner of curving the little finger in order to
make sure of the authenticity of the artist. It is more important to
them than the enjoyment of the work of art itself. The lover of art
has a receptive nature, so that he does not concern himself much, with
these considerations, he does not even compare pictures. All _that_
may come afterwards, if he is a student, as well as a lover. But, at
all events, at first, he will find a response simply in his own soul
to the picture, which represents to him an idea. His own personality
and individuality leave him; unconsciously he is possessed. Instead of
getting to understand it, and attacking a work of art as if it were a
mathematical problem, he discovers that the picture is possessing him,
and that is what Schopenhauer means. Art has dæmonic power, it takes
hold of us wholly, and in proportion to our faculty of receptiveness
we understand it more or less fully. Architecture can hold us in this
way, sculpture can, a great city can with its architecture and
associations combined. Rome _does_. The very essence of the artistic
quality hangs round the old walls of Rome. Rome itself can teach us,