I entertain a
notion, which may appear very odd to some, that Gautier's influence on
the aesthetic class of men has been more vigorous than that of any other
teacher; thousands who never read a line of his writing are
unconsciously inspired by him. The feeling that gave birth to his
protest nearly two generations since is in the air now. Those who own a
collection of art, those who have paid a great sum for pictures, will
not allow it, naturally. As a rule, indeed, a man looks at his fine
things no more than at his chairs and tables. But he who is best able to
appreciate good work, and loves it best when he sees it, is the one who
grows restless when it stands constantly before him.
"Oh, that those lips had language!" cried Cowper. "Oh, that those lovely
figures would combine anew--change their light--do anything, anything!"
cries the aesthete after awhile. "Oh, that the wind would rise upon that
glorious sea; the summer green would fade to autumn yellow; that night
would turn to day, clouds to sunshine, or sunshine to clouds." But the
_littera scripta manet_--the stroke of the brush is everlasting. Apollo
always bends the bow in marble. One may read a poem till it is known by
heart, and in another second the familiar words strike fresh upon the
ear. Painters lay a canvas aside, and presently come to it, as they say,
with a new eye; but a purchaser once seized with this desperate malady
has no such refuge.
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