harmonies among the most widely sundered things. The subtle novelist
shows how single elements of character, apparently isolated acts or
trivial incidents, are fateful of consequences. He discloses the minute
reactions of one personality upon another. Or he enters into the soul
of man himself, into his private and individual selfhood, and uncovers
the hidden connections between thought and feeling and impulse. Finally,
he may take the wider sweep of society and tradition into view and
track out their part in the molding of man and his fate. In the search
for unity, the artist is on common ground with the man of science; but
with this difference: the artist is concerned with laws operating in
concrete, individual things in which he is interested; while the
scientist formulates them in the abstract. For the artist, unity is
valuable as characterizing a significant individual; for the scientist,
it is valuable in itself, and the individual only as an example of it.

This same purpose of affording pleasure in sympathetic vision leads
the artist not only to present the unity of life, but so to organize
its material that it will be clear to the mind which perceives it. Too
great a multitude of elements, elements that are not assorted into
groups and tied by relations or principles, cannot be grasped. Hence
the artist infuses into the world which he creates a new and wholly
subjective simplicity and unity, to which there is no parallel in
nature. The composition of elements in a picture does not correspond
to any actual arrangement of elements in a landscape, but to the demands
of visual perspicuity. The division of a novel into chapters, of the
chapters into paragraphs, of the paragraphs into sentences, although
it may answer in some measure to the objective divisions of the
life-story related, corresponds much more closely to the subjective
need for ready apprehension. The artist meets this need halfway in the
organization of the material which he presents. Full beauty depends