But we sometimes hear of “faithful transcripts,” nay, of fac-similes.  If by these be implied neither more nor less than exists in their originals, they must still, in that case, find their true place in the dead category of Copy.  Yet we need not be detained by any inquiry concerning the merits of a fac-simile, since we firmly deny that a fac-simile, in the true sense of the term, is a thing possible.

That an absolute identity between any natural object and its represented image is a thing impossible, will hardly be questioned by any one who thinks, and will give the subject a moment’s reflection; and the difficulty lies in the nature of things, the one being the work of the Creator, and the other of the creature.  We shall therefore assume as a fact, the eternal and insuperable difference between Art and Nature.  That our pleasure from Art is nevertheless similar, not to say equal, to that which we derive from Nature, is also a fact established by experience; to account for which we are necessarily led to the admission of another fact, namely, that there exists in Art a peculiar something which we receive as equivalent to the admitted difference.  Now, whether we call this equivalent, individualized truth, or human or poetic truth, it matters not; we know by its effects, that some such principle does exist, and that it acts upon us, and in a way corresponding to the operation of that which we call Truth and Life in the natural world.  Of the various laws growing out of this principle, which take the name of Rules when applied to Art, we shall have occasion to speak in a future discourse.  At present we shall confine ourselves to the inquiry, how far the difference alluded to may be safely allowed in any work professing to be an imitation of Nature.

The fact, that truth may subsist with a very considerable admixture of falsehood, is too well known to require an argument.  However reprehensible such an admixture may be in morals, it becomes in Art, from the limited nature of our powers, a matter of necessity.

For the same reason, even the realizing of a thought, or that which is properly and exclusively human, must ever be imperfect.  If Truth, then, form but the greater proportion, it is quite as much as we may reasonably look for in a work of Art.  But why, it may be asked, where the false predominates, do we still derive pleasure?  Simply because of the Truth that remains.  If it be further demanded, What is the minimum of truth in order to a pleasurable effect? we reply, So much only as will cause us to feel that the truth exists.  It is this feeling alone that determines, not only the true, but the degrees of truth, and consequently the degrees of pleasure.