drawing of a horse is not an expression of its sense of a horse, but a symbol by which other people can recognize that what occupies a certain position in its figured story is a horse.  The child is not an artist, but an illustrator who uses symbolism.  When, using Mr. Bertrand Russell’s new symbolism, I say that L^c3nI—­C^ct = the Almighty, clearly I am not expressing my feeling for infinite and omnipotent goodness.  Neither does the child who teases you to look at its charming coloured diagram of the farmyard expect you to share an emotional experience.  Doubtless the vanity of the craftsman demands satisfaction; but chiefly the child wishes to assure itself that some impartial judge can interpret its notation.  One definitely artistic gift, however, many children do possess, and that is a sense of the decorative possibilities of their medium.  This gift they have in common with the Primitives; and this the douanier possessed in an extraordinary degree.

Of Rousseau’s sense of the decorative possibilities of paint it is, I suppose, unnecessary to say anything.  Gauguin called his black “inimitable.”  But, indeed, we all agree now that, if the term “decorative” is to be used in this limited and rather injurious sense, Rousseau, as a decorator, takes rank with the very greatest.  More important is it to realize that Rousseau had his problem; and that he approached it in the spirit of a Primitive.  His reactions were as simple and genuine as those of any child; he experienced them with that passion which alone provokes to creation; his problem was to express them sincerely and simply in the medium of which he could make such exquisite use.  His vision was as unsophisticated as that of Orcagna, and in translating it he was as conscientious; but he was a smaller artist because he was less of an artist.

It has been said that Rousseau came short of greatness for want of science.  That I do not believe.  Can it be supposed that any man who has applied himself intelligently to any art for forty years will not have acquired science enough to state clearly what is clear, intense, and clamoring for expression in his mind?  I see no reason for supposing that Rousseau ever failed from lack of science to express himself completely.  The fault was in what he had to express.  Rousseau was inferior to the great Primitives because he lacked their taste, or, to put the matter more forcibly, because he was less of an artist.  An artist’s conception should be like a perfectly cooked pudding—­cooked all through and in every part.  His problem is to create an expressive form that shall fit exactly an artistic conception.  His subject may be what he pleases.  But unless that subject has been carried to the high regions of art, and there, in a dry aesthetic atmosphere, sealed up in a purely aesthetic conception it can never be externalized in pure form.  That is what the great Primitives did, and what the douanier could not do always.  In his pudding there are doughy patches.  He is sentimental; and he is not sentimental as Raphael and El Greco are.