ility of his contemporaries to understand his profound
decorative genius, his tact in the handling of the great problem of
lighting--the key is always higher because of the different or softer
light of public buildings and the gloom of churches--and his feeling
for the wall, purely as wall, a flat space, not to be confounded with
the pseudo art that would make the picture like an open window in the
wall, but based on the flatness of the material and the aerial magic
of his spacing, sorely troubled him for half a century. Doubtless it
was his refusal to visit Boston and study there the architectural
conditions of the Public Library that resulted in the hang-fire of his
decorations, though they are of an exalted order. One at least served
as a spring-board for the decorative impulse of Besnard, as may be
noted in his frescoes on the ceiling at the Hotel de Ville, Paris.

That Puvis de Chavannes was not an unfeeling Bonze of art, but a man
of tender heart and warm affections was proved after the death of his
much-loved Princess Marie Cantacuzene. Two months later sorrow over
her loss killed him. He had painted the thousand and one expressive
moments in the life of our species as a hymn to humanity, and their
contours are eternal. Eternal? A vain phrase; but eternal till the
canvas fades and the walls decay, that is nearer the truth. Art is
long and appreciation sometimes a chilly consolation. Let us stick to
the eternal verities. As D'Annunzio has it: Quella musica silenziosa
delle linee immobili era cosi possente che creava il fantasma quasi
visibile di una vita piu ricca e piu bella.

XVIII

THREE DISAGREEABLE GIRLS

I

HEDDA

Hazlitt tells us in a delightful essay about the whimsical notion of
Charles Lamb that he would rather see Sir Thomas Browne than
Shakespeare. A pleasant recreation is this same picking out "of
persons one would wish to have seen." Causing great annoyance to
Ayrton at an evening party, Lamb rejected the names of Milton and
Shakespeare, selecting those of Browne and Fulke Greville--the friend
of Sir Philip Sidney. For the prince of essayists there was mystery
hovering about the personalities of this pair. I have often wondered
if the most resounding names in history are the best beloved. Or in
fiction. What is the name of your favourite heroine? Whom should you
like