forcible language of their works, they very often
show themselves in real life to be at heart hard and unfeeling egotists.
An enquiry into the origin of the causes responsible for the deep
contrast which exists between the aesthetic and ethical points of view,
between the artist and the man, between genius and character, would
undoubtedly open up one of the most interesting chapters in the history
of creative psychology.

Let us take, as an illustration of our thesis, the tragic scene of the
destruction of Laocoon, as described in the AEneid. Picture the horror
and anguish with which the citizens of Troy witness the seizure and
suffocation of Laocoon and his children by the gigantic serpents. The
onlookers are filled with terror, grief, and a desire to save the
unfortunate victims. In bringing out the psychic differences of
constitution among the crowd, the crucial moment of action plays a most
important _role_, developing the instinct of self-preservation among the
more timid ones, or the efforts of the more manly to lend their aid.
Then imagine a sculptor moving about in this wavering and undecided
crowd, and studying the terrible tragedy which is being enacted before
his eyes as a fit theme for a future work of art. He alone remains an
unmoved spectator amid the general confusion, lamentation, cries, and
prayers. His moral instincts are all absorbed in an intense aesthetic
curiosity. Tears would hinder his vision, and he keeps them sternly
back, because it is imperatively necessary for him to see every form,
every outline of the muscles distorted under the crushing force of the
snakes' huge coils. Every detail of the picture which in the others
awakens loathing and terror, evokes in him a joy that is outside the ken
of other men. While they weep and waver, the artist rejoices in the
expression of agony on the countenance of Laocoon, rejoices that the
father is unable to bring aid to his children, that the serpents are
compressing their bodies with irresistible force. The next moment,
perchance, the man will have conquered the artist. But the deed is done,
the fact remains, the moment of cruel contemplation has had the power to
brand upon his heart its ineradicable impression.

A series of similar episodes must sooner or later create in the mind of
the artist the habit of withdrawing himself from life, of regarding it
from one side, from without, from the point of view no longer of a
living human being, but from tha