and done with and its end attained the better. The one, since it has
its purpose within itself, is returned to and repeated; the other,
being chiefly a means to an end, would be senseless if repeated, once
the end that called it forth is accomplished. The value of the love
poem, although written to persuade a lady, cannot be measured in terms
of its mere success; for if beautiful, it remains of worth after the
lady has yielded, nay, even if it fails to win her. Any sort of
practical purpose may be one motive in the creation of a work of art,
but its significance is broader than the success or failure of that
motive. The Russian novel is still significant, even now, alter the
revolution. As beautiful, it is of perennial worth and stands out by
itself. But practical expressions are only transient links in the
endless chain of means, disappearing as the wheel of effort revolves.
Art is indeed expression, but free or autonomous expression.

The freedom of aesthetic expression is, however, only an intensification
of a quality that may belong to any expression. For, in its native
character, expression is never merely practical; it brings its own
reward in the pleasure of the activity itself. Ordinarily, when a man
makes something embodying his need or fancy, or says something that
expresses his meaning, he enjoys himself in his doing. There is
naturally a generous superfluity in all human behavior. The economizing
of it to what is necessary for self-preservation and dominion over the
environment is secondary, not primary, imposed under the duress of
competition and nature. Only when activities are difficult or their
fruits hard to get are they disciplined for the sake of their results
alone; then only does their performance become an imperative, and
nature and society impose upon them the seriousness and constraint of
necessity and law. But whenever nature and the social organization
supply the needs of man ungrudgingly or grant him a respite from the