Art and Science 



any one unless we feel that he or she was 

 himself or herself a lover. 



I have seen it urged, again, in querulous 

 accents, that the so-called immortality even of 

 the most immortal is not for ever. I see a 

 passage to this effect in a book that is making 

 a stir as I write. I will quote it. The writer 

 says : 



" So, it seems to me, is the immortality we 

 so glibly predicate of departed artists. If 

 they survive at all, it is but a shadowy life 

 they live, moving on through the gradations 

 of slow decay to distant but inevitable death. 

 They can no longer, as heretofore, speak 

 directly to the hearts of their fellow-men, evok- 

 ing their tears or laughter, and all the pleasures, 

 be they sad or merry, of which imagination 

 holds the secret. Driven from the market- 

 place they become first the companions of the 

 student, then the victims of the specialist. He 

 who would still hold familiar intercourse with 

 them must train himself to penetrate the veil 

 which in ever-thickening folds conceals them 

 from the ordinary gaze ; he must catch the 



81 F 



