claim. For me the thrill of the ancient artifact, 

 compared with that of a natural product, is feeble 

 indeed. After all, such perfect attunements with 

 the infinite are reserved only for neurotics and the 

 genius. If lack of emotional response to conven- 

 tional creations is indicative, I fall reasonably 

 short of being a neurotic. It is certain that I am no 

 genius. In brief, being but a humble working nat- 

 uralist-artist, I know nothing of the fine feelings 

 with which the theorists are wont to regard their 

 classic standards of beauty, and understand a little 

 less of the fine phrases by which their frenzies are 

 revealed; I confess, I do not speak the language. 



How, then, is it that I presume to speak on so 

 purely abstract and recondite a matter as the 

 Principles of Art 4 ? Verily it should seem that I 

 would better be employed with a subject more in 

 keeping with my professed talents, rather than try- 

 ing to condemn that which I cannot comprehend. 

 My answer is that true art, like true beauty — 

 both of which in a certain sense are one and the 

 same thing — is not artificial, it is natural. What- 

 ever is natural needs no interpretation; it reveals 

 itself alike to all. The poet has truly said that 

 Nature speaks a various language: but in what- 



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