inherit--comes to us through embodiment in forms transcending material use. Run your mind’s eye through the various peoples and nationalities of Europe--of the world--and you will find that their characteristic charm--that which is “racy” of their native soil, marking the distinction between race and race, lies in the expression they have given to life over and above use. If we had kept to use, race would have remained expressionless. Race expresses itself in ornament; and even among a poor peasant people (and far more among them than among the crowded and over-worked populations of our great cities where we pursue merely commercial wealth) comes out in a characteristic appreciation of the superabundance of material with which, at some point or another, life has lifted them above penury. In the great civilizations it extends itself over a rich blend of all these, drawn from far sources; and the more widely it extends over the material uses of life, the higher and the more permanent are the products of that form of civilization likely to be. What does it mean but this?--man is out to enjoy himself. Having said that, need I add that I put a very high interpretation upon the word “joy”? To that end--man’s enjoyment of life--all art is profoundly useful. I put that forward in opposition to the specious doctrine of Oscar Wilde that “all art is entirely useless.” But it is usefulness extended in a new direction; leaving the material uses, by which ordinary values are measured, it shifts to the spiritual; and by the spiritual I mean that which animates, vitalizes, socializes. To that end it may often be--and is generally the case--that, in the material sense, art is a useless addition or refinement upon that which was first planned merely for the service of man’s bodily needs. Yet where the need is of a worthy and genuine kind, art never ceases to rejoice at the use that is underlying it. This can be clearly seen in architecture, where the beauty of design, the proportion, the capacity of the edifice--though far transcending the physical need which called it into being--remain nevertheless in subtle relation thereto, and give to it a new expression--useless indeed to the body--but of this use to the mind, that it awakens, kindles, enlivens, sensitizes--making it to be in some sort creative, by perception of and response to the creative purpose which evoked that form. You cannot enter a cathedral without becoming aware that its embracing proportions mean something far more than the mere capacity to hold a crowd; its end and aim are to inspire in that crowd a certain mental attitude, a spiritual apprehension--to draw many minds into harmony, and so to make them one--a really tremendous fact when successfully achieved.