eristics are really objective, or merely our own feelings
aroused by the objects, and then projected into them. However that may
be, there is no doubt that the ability to make these responses is
something that can be trained, and that some people are blind and deaf
to beauty and humor that other people clearly perceive. Many a one
fails to see the point of a joke, or is unable to find any humor in
the situation, which are clearly perceived by another. Many a one sees
only a sign of rain in a great bank of clouds, only a weary climb in
the looming mountain.

"A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him.
And it was nothing more."

It would not be quite fair to describe such a one as lacking in
feeling; he probably has, on sufficient stimulus, the same feelings as
another man, and it would be more exact to say that he is lacking in
perception of certain qualities and relations. He probably tends, by
nature and training, to practical rather than esthetic perception. To
see any {444} beauty in a new style of music or painting, or to sense
the humor in a new form of humorous writing, you need to be initiated,
to be trained in observing the precise qualities and relations that
are depended on for the esthetic effect. A complex situation presents
almost an unlimited range of facts that may be perceived; no one
perceives them all, and which he shall perceive depends on his nature
and training, as well as on his attitude or mental set at the moment
when the situation is presented.

Psychology has not by any means been idle in this field of esthetics;
it has developed experimental methods for determining the preferences
of individuals and of social groups. But it must be confessed that the
results offer little that can be succinctly summarized.

One curious result is that even the very simplest objects can produce
an esthetic effect. You would scarcely suppose, for example, that a
mere rectangle could produce any esthetic effect, or that it would
make any difference what exact proportions the rectangle possessed;
and yet it is found that some rectangles are preferred to others, and
that the popular choice falls upon what the art theorists have long
known as the "golden section", a rectangle with a width about
sixty-two per cent, of its length. Also, however much you may like
symmetry, you would scarcely suppose that it could make much
difference where, on a horizontal line, a little cross line should be