So little indeed are we shut out from the mysteries of a great
Impressionist's impression that Velasquez requires us to be in some
degree his colleagues. Thus may each of us to whom he appeals take
praise from the praised: He leaves my educated eyes to do a little of the
work. He respects my responsibility no less--though he respects it less
explicitly--than I do his. What he allows me would not be granted by a
meaner master. If he does not hold himself bound to prove his own truth,
he returns thanks for my trust. It is as though he used his countrymen's
courteous hyperbole and called his house my own. In a sense of the most
noble hostship he does me the honours of his picture.
Because Impressionism is so free, therefore is it doubly bound. Because
there is none to arraign it, it is a thousand times responsible. To
undertake this art for the sake of its privileges without confessing its
obligations--or at least without confessing them up to the point of
honour--is to take a vulgar freedom: to see immunities precisely where
there are duties, and an advantage where there is a bond. A very mob of
men have taken Impressionism upon themselves in this our later day. It
is against all probabilities that more than a few among these have within
them the point of honour.
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