disinterestedness in all pleasant sensations. Fine wines and perfumes
offer tastes and odors which are sought and enjoyed apart from the
satisfaction of hunger; in dancing, movement sensations are enjoyed
for their own sake; in the bath, heat and cold. But, as we have seen,
it is not sufficient for a sensation to be free from practical ends
in order to become aesthetic; it must be connected with the larger
background of feeling; it must be expressive. Now, under certain
circumstances and in particular cases, this may occur, even in the
instance of the lower senses. The perfume of flowers, of roses and of
violets, has a strong emotional appeal; it is their "soul" as the poets
say. The odor of incense in a cathedral may be an important element
in devotion, fusing with the music and the architecture. Or recall the
odor of wet earth and reviving vegetation during a walk in the woods
on a spring morning. Even sensations of taste may become aesthetic.
An oft-cited example is the taste of wine on a Rhine steamer. Guyau,
the French poet-philosopher, mentions the taste of milk after a hard
climb in the Pyrenees. [Footnote: _Les Problemes de l'esthetique
contemporaine_, 8me edition, p. 63.] A drink of water from a clear
spring would serve equally well as an example familiar to all. The
warmth of a fire, of sunlight, of a cozy room, or the cold of a star-lit
winter night have an emotional significance almost, if not quite, equal
to that of the visual sensations from these objects. Touch seems to
be irretrievably bound up with grasping and using, but the touch of
a well-loved person may be a free and glowing experience, sharing with
sight in beauty. The movement sensations during a run in the open air
or in dancing are not only free from all practical purpose, but are
elements in the total animation. And other examples will come to the
mind of every reader. [Footnote: Compare Volkelt: _System der
Aesthetik_, Bd. I, Zweites Capitel, S. 92.]