the perfection of the imitation, coexisting with the consciousness of
an absolute difference, so that the effect produced is not at all that
which the object itself produces, but is an intellectual pleasure
arising from the perception of the mingling of rational intention with
the representation of the natural object. We can illustrate this by
supposing a child bringing in a fresh rose, and a painter his picture
of a rose. The pleasure derived from the picture is surely something
better than wonder at the skill with which the form and color of the
flower are imitated. Since imitation can never attain to the dignity
and worth of the original, and since we live in the midst of nature,
it would be folly to claim for its more or less successful copy the
position and form of a great mental and moral influence.

Of course we are not unmindful of the inevitable assertion that if
certain forms are to be used for the expression of certain truths, the
first condition is that those forms shall be accurately rendered.
Hence arises the great stress laid by the modern schools upon a
rigorous imitation of nature, and hence what is called the
pre-Raphaelite spirit, with its marvellous detail. But mere imitation
does not come any nearer to great art by being perfect. If it is not
informed by a great intention, sculpture is only wax-work and painting
a juggle.

It is by her instinctive recognition of these fundamental principles
that Rachel shows herself to be an artist. She is fully persuaded of
the value of the modern spirit, and she belongs to the time by nothing
more than by her instinctive and hearty adaptation of the principles
of art which are illustrated in all other departments. There is
nothing in Millais's or Hunt's paintings more purely pre-Raphaelite
than Rachel's acting in the last scenes of "Adrienne Lecouvreur". It