"Why," he replied, "when we come to works of Art, the important thing is the object, not the subject; if there is any merging of the one in the other, it is the subject that is merged in the object, not _vice versa_. We have to contemplate the object, anyhow, as having a character of its own; and it is to this character that I want to draw attention." "In what respect?" "In respect that every work of Art, and, for that matter, every work of nature--so far as it can be viewed æsthetically--comprises a number of elements necessarily connected in a whole; and this necessary connection is the point on which we ought to insist" "But necessary how?" asked Wilson. "Do you mean logically necessary?" "No," he replied, "æsthetically. I mean, that we have a direct perception that nothing in the work could be omitted or altered without destroying the whole. This, at any rate, is the ideal; and it holds, more or less, in proportion as the work is more or less perfect. Everyone, I suppose, who understands these things would agree to that." No one seemed inclined to dispute the statement; certainly I was not, myself; so I answered, "No doubt what you say is true of works of Art; but will your contention be that it is also true of Good in general?" "Yes," he said, "I think so, in so far at least as Good is to be conceived as comprising a number of elements. For no one, I suppose, would imagine that such elements might be thrown together haphazard and yet constitute a good whole." "I suppose not," I agreed, "and, if you are right, what we seem to have arrived at is this: among the works which man creates in his quest of the Good, there is one class, that of works of Art, which, in the first place, may be said, in a sense, to be not precarious, seeing that by their form, through which they are Art, they are set above the flux of time, though by their matter, we admit, they are bound to it And, in the second place, the Good which they have, they have by virtue of their essence; Good is their substance, not an accident of their changing relations. And, lastly, being complex wholes, the parts of which they are composed are bound together in necessary connection. These characteristics, at any rate, we have discovered in works of Art: and no doubt many more might be discoverable. But now, let us turn to the other side, and consider the defects in which this class of Goods is involved." "Ah!" cried Bartlett, "when you come to that, I have something to say." "Well," I said, "what is it? We shall be glad of any help." "It can be summed up," he replied, "in a single word. Whatever may be the merits of a work of Art--and they may be all that you say--it has this one grand defect--it isn't real!"