In the end they carry their message
sufficingly as color and mass. Midway, however, our enjoyment
may be complicated by other elements which have their place in our
total appreciation. Thus a painting of a landscape may appeal to us
over and above its inherent beauty because we are already, out of
actual experience, familiar with the scene it represents, and the sight
of it wakens in our memory a train of pleasant allied associations. A
ruined tower, in itself an exquisite composition in color and line and
mass, may gather about it suggestions of romance, elemental
passions and wild life, and may epitomize for the beholder the
whole Middle Age. Associated interest, therefore, may be
sentimental or intellectual. It may be sensuous also, appealing to
other senses than those of sight. The sense of touch plays a large
part in our enjoyment of the world. We like the "feel" of objects, the
catch of raw silk, the chill smoothness of burnished brass, the thick
softness of mists, the "amorous wet" of green depths of sea. The
senses of taste and smell may be excited imaginatively and
contribute to our pleasure. Winslow Homer's breakers bring back to
us the salt fragrance of the ocean, and in the presence of these white
mad surges we feel the stinging spray in our faces and we taste the
cosmic exhilaration of the sea-wind. But the final meaning of a
picture resides in the total harmony of color and form, a harmony
into which we can project our whole personality and which itself
constitutes the emotional experience.

All language in its material aspect has a sensuous value, as the
wealth of color of Venetian painting, the sumptuousness of
Renaissance architecture, the melody of Mr. Swinburne's verse, the
gem-like brilliance of Stevenson's prose, the all-inclusive
sensuousness, touched with sensuality, of Wagner's music-dramas.
Because of the charm of beautiful language there are many
art-lovers who regard the sensuous qualities of the work itself as
making up the entire experience. Apart from any consideration of
intention or expressiveness, the material _thing_ which the artist's
touch summons into form is held to be "its own excuse for being."

This order of enjoyment, valid as far as it goes, falls short of
complete appreciation. It does not pass the delight one has in the
radiance of gems or the glowing tincture of some fabric. The
element of meaning does not enter in. There is a beauty for the eye
and a beauty for the mind.