every thing else as secondary,—­this kept up his comfortable state of mind; and I must reckon him before many others in the class of those who are called practical unconscious philosophers. [Footnote:  “Pratische Philosophen, bewusstlose Weltweisen.”  It is impossible to give two substantives, as in the original, since this is effected by using first the word of Greek, then the word of German origin, whereas we have but one.—­TRANS.]

The hour when the gallery was to be opened appeared, after having been expected with impatience.  I entered into this sanctuary, and my astonishment surpassed every conception which I had formed.  This room, returning into itself, in which splendor and neatness reigned together with the deepest stillness; the dazzling frames, all nearer to the time in which they had been gilded; the floor polished with bees’-wax; the spaces more trodden by spectators than used by copyists,—­imparted a feeling of solemnity, unique of its kind, which so much the more resembled the sensation with which one treads a church, as the adornments of so many a temple, the objects of so much adoration, seemed here again set up only for the sacred purposes of art.  I readily put up with the cursory description of my guide, only I requested that I might be allowed to remain in the outer gallery.  Here, to my comfort, I felt really at home.  I had already seen the works of several artists, others I knew from engravings, others by name.  I did not conceal this, and I thus inspired my conductor with some confidence:  nay, the rapture which I expressed at pieces where the pencil had gained the victory over nature delighted him; for such were the things which principally attracted me, where the comparison with known nature must necessarily enhance the value of art.

When I again entered my shoemaker’s house for dinner, I scarcely believed my eyes; for I fancied I saw before me a picture by Ostade, so perfect that all it needed was to be hung up in the gallery.  The position of the objects, the light, the shadow, the brownish tint of the whole, the magical harmony,—­every thing that one admires in those pictures, I here saw in reality.  It was the first time that I perceived, in so high a degree, the faculty which I afterwards exercised with more consciousness; namely, that of seeing nature with the eyes of this or that artist, to whose works I had devoted a particular attention.  This faculty has afforded me much enjoyment, but has also increased the desire zealously to abandon myself, from time to time, to the exercise of a talent which nature seemed to have denied me.