ortals is disfigured by
errors, weaknesses, and afflictions. To him they are the intensified,
reflected image of our own nature, and I think we can do nothing wiser
than to cling to that, because it shows us to what heights of beauty and
power, intellect, goodness, and purity we may attain. To completely deny
their existence would hardly be possible even for you, because their
persons have found a place in your imagination. Since this is the case,
it can only benefit you to recognise in them magnificent models, by
whose means we artists, if we imitate, perfect, and model them, will
create works far more sublime and beautiful than anything visible to our
senses which we meet here beneath the sun."

"It is this very superiority in sublimity and beauty which I, and those
who pursue the same path with me, oppose," replied Hermon. "Nature
is sufficient for us. To take anything from her, mutilates; to add
anything, disfigures her."

"But not," replied Myrtilus firmly, "when it is done only in a special
sense, and within the limits of Nature, to which the gods also belong.
The final task of art, fiercely as you and your few followers contend
against it, lies in the disentanglement, enhancing, and ennobling of
Nature. You, too, ought not to overlook it when you undertake to model
a Demeter; for she is a goddess, no mortal like yourself. The rest or I
ought rather to say the alteration which converts the mortal woman into
the immortal one, the goddess--I miss, and with special regret, because
you do not even deem it worth consideration."

"That I shall never do," retorted Hermon irritably, "so long as it is a
changing chimera which presents itself differently to every mind."

"Yet, should it really be a chimera, it is at any rate a sublime one,"
Myrtilus protested, "and whoever among us artists wanders through Nature
with open eyes and heart, and then examines his own soul, will find it
worth while to attempt to give his ideal form."

"Whatever stirs my breast during such walks, unless it is some unusual
human being, I leave to the poet," replied Hermon. "I should be
satisfied with the Demeter yonder, and you, too, probably, if--entirely
apart from that--I had only succeeded fully and entirely in making her
an individual--that is, a clearly outlined, distinct personality. This,
you have often told me, is just wherein I am usually most successful.
But here, I admit, I am baffled. Demeter hovered before me as a
kindly dispens