Cleo. Look upon that Dutch piece of the nativity: what charming colouring there is! What a fine pencil, and how just are the outlines for a piece so curiously finished! But what a fool the fellow was to draw hay, and straw, and water, and a rack as well as a manger: it is a wonder he did not put the bambino into the manger. Ful. The bambino? That is the child, I suppose: why it should be in the manger; should it not? Does not the history tell us, that the child was laid in the manger? I have no skill in painting; but I can see whether things are drawn to the life or not: sure nothing can be more like the head of an ox than that there. A picture then pleases me best when the art in such a manner deceives my eye, that, without making any allowance, I can imagine I see the things in reality which the painter has endeavoured to represent. I have always thought it an admirable piece; sure nothing in the world can be more like nature. Cleo. Like nature! So much the worse: Indeed, cousin, it is easily seen, that you have no skill in painting. It is not nature, but agreeable nature, la belle nature, that is to be represented: all things that are abject, low, pitiful, and mean, are carefully to be avoided, and kept out of sight; because, to men of the true taste, they are as offensive as things that are shocking, and really nasty. Ful. At that rate, the Virgin Mary's condition, and our Saviour's birth, are never to be painted. Cleo. That is your mistake; the subject itself is noble: Let us go but in the next room, and I will show you the difference.----Look upon that picture, which is the same history. There is fine architecture, there is a colonnade; can any thing be thought of more magnificent? How skilfully is that ass removed, and how little you see of the ox: pray, mind the obscurity they are both placed in. It hangs in a strong light, or else one might look ten times upon the picture without observing them: Behold these pillars of the Corinthian order, how lofty they are, and what an effect they have, what a noble space, what an area here is! How nobly every thing concurs to express the majestic grandeur of the subject, and strikes the soul with awe and admiration at the same time! Ful. Pray cousin, has good sense ever any share in the judgment which your men of true taste form about pictures? Hor. Madam! Ful. I beg pardon, Sir, if I have offended: but to me it seems strange to hear such commendations given to a painter, for turning the stable of a country inn into a palace of extraordinary magnificence: This is a great deal worse than Swift's Metamorphosis of Philemon and Baucis; for there some show of resemblance is kept in the changes. Hor. In a country stable, Madam, there is nothing but filth and nastiness, or vile abject things not fit to be seen, at least not capable of entertaining persons of quality.