nk from the object which he is considering.

In the first place, he shrinks back whenever it inspires him with a
feeling of repulsion. He shrinks from it particularly when it inspires
him with fright. This is a matter of course and self-evident.

In what case does the body take an inverse direction to the object
which attracts it? This we must know before we can explain the
phenomenon in question.

We move away from the thing which we contemplate to prove to it,
doubtless, the respect and veneration that it inspires. In fact, it
seems a lack of respect to that which we love to approach it too
closely; we move away that we may not profane it by a contact which it
seems might injure its purity.

Thus the retrograde movement may be the sign of reverence and
salutation, and moreover a token that the object before which it is
produced is more eminent and more worthy of veneration.

A salutation without moving shows but little reverence, and should only
occur in the case of an equal or an inferior.

In justification of the actual fact, let me give another observation of
quite another importance.

When a painter examines his work, he moves away from it perceptibly. He
moves away in proportion to the degree of his admiration of it, so that
the retroactive movement of his body is in equal ratio to the interest
that he feels in contemplating his work, whence it follows that the
painter who examines his work in any other way, reveals his indifference
to it.

The picture-dealer usually proceeds in quite another manner. He examines
it closely and with a magnifying-glass in hand. Why is this? Because it
is less the picture which he examines than the handiwork of the painter,
the actual work which is the chief object of his survey.

But why does the artist move away from the work which he contemplates?
The better to seize the total impression. For instance: if it be a full
length portrait and the artist studies it too closely he sees, I will
suppose, the nose of his portrait and nothing more. If he moves a little
farther off he sees a little more, he sees the head; still farther and
he sees both the head and the torso which supports it. Finally, moving
still farther away, he gets a view of the whole and thus seizes its
harmonious relations. This inspection may be called synthetic vision,
and in opposition to this, direct vision, which I assumed before
instinct taught me better, is but short and limited.

To sum up: If inst