_Spectator._--I cannot, however, for this reason concede that this work could have been other than excellent. _Agent._--Shall I tell you a more modern story? _Spectator._--I would rather listen to stories than arguments. _Agent._--A certain great naturalist, among other domesticated animals, possessed an ape, which he missed one day, and found after a long search in the library. There sat the beast on the ground, with the plates of an unbound work of Natural History scattered about him. Astonished at this zealous fit of study on the part of his familiar, the gentleman approached, and found, to his wonder and vexation, that the dainty ape had been making his dinner of the beetles that were pictured in various places. _Spectator._--It is a droll story. _Agent._--And seasonable, I hope. You would not compare these colored copperplates with the work of so great an artist? _Spectator._--No, indeed. _Agent._--But you would reckon the ape among the uncultivated amateurs? _Spectator._--Yes, and among the greedy ones! You awaken in me a singular idea. Does not the uncultivated amateur, just in the same way, desire a work to be natural, that he may be able to enjoy it in a natural, which is often a vulgar and common way? _Agent._--I am entirely of that opinion. _Spectator._--And you maintain, therefore, that an artist lowers himself when he tries to produce this effect? _Agent._--Such is my firm conviction. _Spectator._--But here again I feel a contradiction. You did me just now the honor to number me, at least, among the half-cultivated spectators. _Agent._--Among those who are on the way to become true connoisseurs. _Spectator._--Then explain to me, Why does a perfect work of art appear like a work of nature to me also? _Agent._--Because it harmonizes with your better nature. Because it is above natural, yet not unnatural. A perfect work of art is a work of the human soul, and in this sense, also, a work of nature. But because it collects together the scattered objects, of which it displays even the most minute in all their significance and value, it is above nature. It is comprehensible only by a mind that is harmoniously formed and developed, and such an one discovers that what is perfect and complete in itself is also in harmony with himself. The common spectator, on the contrary, has no idea of it; he treats a work of art as he would any object he meets with in the market. But the true connoisseur sees not only the truth of the imitation, but also the excellence of the selection, the refinement of the composition, the superiority of the little world of art; he feels that he must rise to the level of the artist, in order to enjoy his work; he feels that he must collect himself out of his scattered life, must live with the work of art, see it again and again, and through it receive a higher existence.