volved.

So it seems then, that if Monet invented the principle of
impressionism as applied to painting, Pissarro and Sisley assisted
greatly in the creative idea for our lasting use and pleasure by the
consideration of the intellect which they applied to it; just as
Seurat has given us a far greater realization than either Signac or
Cross have offered us in the principle of pointillism.

The "test of endurance" in the impressionistic movement is borne out;
the strength of realization is to be found in Pissarro and Sisley and
not in the vapid niceties of Monet, whose work became thinner and
thinner by habitual repetitive painting, and by a possible false sense
of security in his argument. Monet had become the habitual
impressionist, and the habitual in art is its most conspicuous
fatality. The art of Monet grew weaker throughout the various stages
of Waterloo, Venice, Rouen, Giverney, and the Water Lilies which
formed periods of expression, at least to the mind of the observer.
Monet's production had become a kind of mercerized production, and a
kind of spurious radiance invested them, in the end. It remained for
Pissarro, Sisley, Cezanne, and Seurat to stabilize the new discovery,
and to give it the stamina it was meant to contain, as a scientific
idea, scientifically applied.

ODILON REDON

With the passing of this rare artist during the late summer months,[2]
we are conscious of the silencing of one of the foremost lyricists in
painting, one of the most delicate spirits among those who have
painted pictures so thoroughly replete with charm, pictures of such
real distinction and merit. For of true charm, of true grace, of true
melodic, Redon was certainly the master. I think no one has coveted
the vision so much as, certainly no more than, has this artist,
possessed of the love of all that is dream-like and fleeting in the
more transitory aspect of earthly things. No one has ever felt more
that fleeting treasure abiding in the moment, no one has been more
jealous of the bounty contained in the single glancing of the eye
upward to infinity or downward among the minuter fragments at his
feet.

[Footnote 2: Of 1917.--Ed.]

It would seem as if Redon had surely walked amid gardens, so much of
the morning is in each of his fragile works. There seems always to be
hovering in them the breath of those recently spent dawns of which he
was the eager spectator, never quite the full sunlight of the later
day. Esse