me in their natural size, and as distinct as if alive, exhibiting different shades of carnation in the uncovered parts, as well as different colors and fashions in their dresses, though the colors seemed somewhat paler than in real Nature. The longer they visited me, the more frequently did they return; and they increased in number about four weeks after they first appeared.

I also began to hear them talk; they sometimes conversed among themselves, but more frequently addressed their discourse to me. Sometimes I was accosted by these consoling friends while I was in company, and not unfrequently while real persons were speaking to me.

In both the foregoing cases it is to be remarked that although the hallucinations were involuntary, and could neither be banished nor recalled at pleasure, their true character became speedily and perfectly known to the persons who suffered from them. In both cases bloodletting was found an effectual remedy.

The exercise of fantasy is a prominent feature in most forms of insanity, as those know who have listened to the amazing claims and wild vagaries of madmen. This is the natural result of that distraction and dissipation of energy, and that loss of the power of attentive judgment, which are the essential elements of mental derangement. The false beliefs of madness arise from the distraction and dissipation, just as the delusions of dreaming result from the suspension or reduction, of our mental vigor.

CHAPTER XLV.

THE POETIC IMAGINATION.

1. IMAGINATION is distinguishable from mere fantasy by reason of that special exercise of judgment which it involves. In imagination the mind always aims to form for itself objects in the contemplation of which some end of pleasure, knowledge, useful direction, or practical influence may be promoted. The elements of those conceptions which are presented by the suggestive power are chosen or rejected according to their fitness to serve the end. Hence the faculty of imagination, like that of reasoning, involves a voluntary control of our thinking powers. Dr. Brown imperfectly expresses this truth by saying that the higher imagination is a combination of association or suggestion with intention or desire.

The comparatively insignificant place which has been granted to imagination, in most metaphysical writings, is to be accounted for partly because philosophers have been mainly interested in those operations by which truth and knowledge are secured, and partly because there is not much in the theory of the imagination to exercise philosophical acumen and subtilty.

This faculty, nevertheless, is an essential part of the constitution of the mind. Were man's thoughts confined exclusively to memories of the past and cognitions of the present, together with such views of the future as can be obtained from accurate inference, life would be a dull affair indeed. But now bright hopes animate our efforts, lofty ideals present themselves for our realization, and gentle fancies soften the rough realities with which they mingle; thus we are solaced in the midst of cares, and are beckoned onward in the pursuit of noble ends.

Possessed by

Although imagination belongs to all men, it is a all men, but gift granted to some in vastly more abundant measure pre-eminent- than to others. For men differ more as to their menly by some. tal than as to their bodily endowments. The distance between a stupid clown and a cultured, educated genius is greater than that between a feeble gentleman and a practised athlete. Persons remarkable for imagination commonly possess quick and lively sensibilities. This partly results from the vividness of their conceptions, but it also stimulates and increases their ability to form such conceptions; for this reason the natural difference of persons in imaginative power becomes greatly increased as their minds and characters develop.

The faculty of imagination sometimes works on its own account; that is, it creates scenes and objects simply for the satisfaction of surveying them. At other times its operations are subservient to purposes more remote than any included in this satisfaction. We cannot do better than to consider it, first in the one, and then in the other, of these relations.

2. That development of imagination which elaborThe poetic imagination. ates mental objects for the satisfaction of surveying The fancy. them, may be distinguished as the poetic imagination. When exercised with little rational control, without any attempt at a serious and systematic work, and simply for the purpose of providing pleasing images, it is often called the fancy, a name which implies that this is a mode of thought not far removed from simple fantasy.

The poetic imagination, again, with reference to two wellknown developments of genius that depend upon it, may be subdivided into the poetic imagination proper and the artistic imagination.

Poetry and art are pursuits of a kindred nature, yet easily contrasted with one another. The thought of the former expresses itself in language; that of the latter is embodied in painting, music, statuary, and whatever other material things may be made to exhibit the pleasing and the impressive.

The sphere of poetry is vastly more extensive than that of art.

Language can utter, with wonderful exactness, whatever the mind conceives: every change and turn of events, every motive and thought, affection and desire, of the heart, can be made known in befitting words. But the productions of art, however skilfully constructed, set forth only the outer side of things, and leave more unsaid than they express. At the same time works of art, in appealing to our senses, and not to our minds alone, are better calculated than poetry to produce a strong immediate effect.

The objects which the poet and the artist endeavor to prepare for our contemplation are, in the first place, the beautiful and the sublime; the former comprising whatever may be pleasant to contemplate either in itself or both in itself and its associations, and the latter being that which conveys the suggestion of power and greatness. In addition to these objects, whatever may move and interest the heart is delineated. For, to use a phrase of Hamilton's, the productions of both art and poetry are exclusively calculated on effect."

66

External

of poetry and art.

The external conditions favorable for the developconditions ment of one of these pursuits differ from those in which the other flourishes. Both require a time of comparative peacefulness, when the minds of men are not occupied with wars and civil commotions. But poetry delights in an age characterized by simplicity of life and manners, in which the spirit of men is unconventional and easily impressed, and in which the memory of great achievements and the desire to emulate them are fresh and vigorous. The poet then gives shape and expression to the sentiments which burn within his own breast and those of others. Art, on the other hand, waits for times of greater repose, and is roused to exertion when the extension of a cultivated taste, the facilities for artistic work, and the accumulation of wealth create the demand for meritorious productions, and encourage those whose genius can supply the demand. As a rule, the great poets in every country precede the great artists. We allow that the power of genius is wonderful in every age and in every condition of society; but without opportunity, even genius can accomplish nothing of value, and, in general, favorable times are needed for any grand achievement.

Versification,

It is noticeable that the poetry of every language reason for. employs versification, or rather is composed in lines Poetic labor. of a length and accentuation more or less regular. This may have been adopted at first to assist memorization, but must be chiefly ascribed to a natural fitness of rhythmical language to be the instrument of poetical expression. The ear

delights in that regularity of intonations which is produced by the observance of metrical rules, while a higher sense is pleased by the skill which makes the accentuation of the verse and the emphasis of the thought coincident with each other. These remarks may be illustrated from any well-composed poem. Let us take the following stanza from a hymn of Addison,

"How are thy servants blest, O Lord!

How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide;

Their help, Omnipotence!"

or this, from another hymn by the same author,

"The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim."

These stanzas would lose much of their beauty if they were changed into the language of prose.

This leads us to say that the composition of poetry, even for those who are capable of it, is a more laborious task than is commonly supposed. Doubtless, when one is in the proper spirit, the work is not irksome; yet it involves earnest and persevering application. There is always that kind of effort which one puts forth in any business which deeply interests him. This view is confirmed by the experience even of those poets who have been most perfectly the children of Nature. Robert Burns says,

"The muse, nae poet ever fand her,
Till by himsel' he learn'd to wander
Adown some trotting burn's meander,
An' no think lang;

Oh, sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder
A heartfelt sang!"

And the following passage from the correspondence of Burns proves that his songs were not hurriedly got up, but composed with the utmost care and application. Until I am complete master of a tune in my own singing," he writes, "I can never compose for it. My way is this: I consider the poetic sentiment correspondent to my idea of the musical expression, then choose my theme, compose one stanza. When that is composed, which is generally the most difficult part of the business, I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in Nature round me that are in unison or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy and workings of my bosom, humming every now and then

the air, with the verses I have framed. When I feel my muse beginning to jade, I retire to the fireside of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper, swinging at intervals on the hind legs of my elbow chair, by way of calling forth my own critical strictures as my pen goes. This, at home, is almost invariably my way."

Poetical exertions cannot be maintained with that regularity which serves a good end in ordinary business; creative genius must often wait till the muse is willing, — that is, till one's mind is filled with fresh fervor and activity; but still it is true that the work of the poet engages all the energies of his soul.

Moreover, after the song may have been first produced, the labor of revision and emendation equals that of the original composition. This task was diligently performed by the most famous poets of both ancient and modern times; and it has imparted to their productions a perfection which all succeeding ages must admire and emulate.

We need not discuss that exercise of talent which produces novels and similar works of fiction; it is of the same radical nature with the poetic faculty. But it appeals less to the sense

of the beautiful and more to our curiosity.

The artistic

true function

tion.

3. The artistic imagination follows the same genimagination. eral methods and the same general aims as the poetic, Ideals. The and is distinguished from it by the fact that it is of imagina- directed to a more specific work. The painter, the sculptor, and the composer of music aim to produce beautiful and engaging things by the employment of material means; and in order to do so, they form mental conceptions of the things which they would produce. Persons of ordinary gifts cannot make much progress in these pursuits. Originality in art calls for a great endowment of taste and talent. The "Nascitur non fit," of Horace, applies even more emphatically to the artist than to the poet. Assiduity may make a respectable copyist; only Nature produces the creative genius. Hence those who have attained distinction by artistic achievements have found themselves attracted to art by a power which has compelled them to reject and forsake every other occupation.

That imaginary object which the artist endeavors to realize is called his ideal. In general, ideals are objects which one imagines and endows, to the best of his ability, with every excellence suitable to their nature, and with which, as standards, he compares things really existing or in the process of production. While these concepta belong to every mode of the productive imagination, they are most consciously employed in the arts of painting and sculpture. The ideals of the poet and of the