which is felt by a reader of poetry, (and similar remarks will apply to other efforts of the imagination,) will in general depend upon two circumstances, (1) the liveliness of his own imagination, (2) the conformity of his experience to the things described. The pleasure, which is felt by a reader of poetry, will depend in part, in the first place, on the liveliness of his own imagination.In poems the different parts are only imperfectly filled up; some describe more minutely than others; but the most minute describers only trace the outlines. These remain, therefore, to be filled up by the reader. But the ability to do this is found in very different degrees in different persons; some very rapidly and admirably finish the picture and others do not. The latter, consequently, remain in a considerable degree, unaffected, and perhaps condemn the poem as deficient in interest; while the former read it with great feeling and pleasure. The pleasure will depend, in the second place, on the conformity of the reader's experience to the things described. If the scene of the poem is laid in the country, and deals exclusively in the toils and sorrows and joys of country life, it would not be unreasonable to anticipate, that it might not excite any decided interest in those, who never had any actual experience of that kind. It will probably be conceded, that few poems, and perhaps none, have met with a more favorable reception, and have touched more deeply the universal sensibility, than the Cotter's Saturday Night of Burns. It is certainly a most admirable picture of domestic life, such as may sometimes be found among a poor and virtuous peasantry, with its little touching incidents of joy and hope and grief, of friendship and religious faith. It can hardly fail to be pleasing to all, but how much more so to those, who had their birth and were brought up in the cottages of Scotland; who trod in early life her rugged hills, and mingled in the rural toils of her peasantry; and in whose bosoms every incident of the poem awakens some affecting recollections. Burns himself was by no means ignorant of the additional pleasure, which arises under these circumstances. "He was passionately fond, (says Dugald Stewart,) of the beauties of nature; and I recollect once he told me, when I was admiring a distant prospect in one of our morning walks, that the sight of so many smoking cottages gave a pleasure to his mind, which none could understand, who had not witnessed like himself, the happiness and the worth which they contained."* -While, therefore, we do not hesitate to assert the utility of the imagination and the adaptedness of its more successful creations to give a high degree of pleasure, we do not suppose, for the reasons mentioned in this section and for others which might be mentioned, that these views will answer equally well to the experience, or commend themselves equally to the judgment of all. §. 315. Importance of the imagination in connection with reasoning. In remarking on the subject of the utility of the imagination, there is one important point of view, in which it is capable of being considered; that of the relation of the imagination to the other intellectual powers. And, among other things, there is obviously ground for the remark, that a vigorous and well disciplined imagination may be made subservient to promptness, and clearness, and success in reasoning. The remark is made, it will be noticed, on the supposition of the imagination being well disciplined, which implies, that it is under suitable control; otherwise it will rather encumber and perplex, than afford aid. Take, for instance, two persons, one of whom has cultivated the reasoning power exclusive of the imagination. We will suppose him to possess very deservedly the reputation of an able and weighty dialectician; but it will be obvious to the slightest observation, that there is, in one respect, a defect and failure; there is an evident want of selection and vivacity in the details of his argument. He cannot readily appreciate the relation, which the hearer's mind sustains to the facts, which he wishes to present; and accordingly with much expense of patience on their part, he laboriously and very scrupulously takes up and examines every thing, which can come within his grasp, and bestows upon every thing nearly an equal share of attention. And hence it is, that many persons, who are acknowledged to be learned, diligent, * See the Letter of Mr. Stewart in Currie's Life of Burns. and even successful in argument, at the same time sustain the reputation, which is by no means an enviable one, of being dull, tiresome, and uninteresting. Let us now look a moment at another person, who is not only a man of great powers of ratiocination, but has cultivated his imagination, and has it under prompt and judicious command. He casts his eye rapidly over the whole field of argument, however extensive it may be; and immediately perceives what facts are necessary to be stated, and what are not; what are of prominent, and what of subordinate importance; what will be easily understood and possess an interest, and what will be difficult to be appreciated, and will also lose its due value from a want of attraction. And he does this on the same principle, and in virtue of the same mental training, which enables the painter, architect, sculptor, and poet, to present the outlines of grand and beautiful creations in their respective arts. There is a suitableness in the different parts of the train of reasoning; a correspondence of one part to another; a great and combined effect, enhanced by every suitable decoration, and undiminished by any misplaced excrescence, which undoubtedly implies a perfection of the imagination, in some degree, kindred with that, which projected the group of the Laocoon, crowned the hills of Greece with statues and temples, and lives in the works of renowned poets. The debater, who combines the highest results of reasoning with the highest results of the imagination, throws the light of his own splendid conceptions around the radiance of truth; so that brightness shines in the midst of brightness, like the angel of the Apocalypse in the sun. §. 316. Of misconceptions by means of the imagination. But while it is safe to admit, that the imagination may be made subservient to valuable purposes, it is no less true, that it may sometimes mislead us. The following are instances among others, where this is the result. Our admiration of the great may be reckoned a prejudice of the imagination. We are apt to suppose them possessed of personal attractions, and of the highest happiness; and not only this, to invest them with every worthy moral attri bute. "The misfortunes, (says a late writer,) of Mary, Queen of Scots, and of her descendant, Prince Charles Edward, commanded the sympathy, the love, and the enthusiasm of millions. In the cause of these princes, how many have joyfully sacrificed life, though neither of them was worthy or capable of reigning! How many labor still to blot out every stain from their memory! And yet every individual, in the circle of his own private friends and acquaintances, can undoubtedly find many persons more distinguished for virtue, for good principles, for integrity of character, than the prince for whom he is willing to lay down his life; but a friend, a private man, is invested with none of those attributes, always dazzling but often false, which are calculated to strike the imagination." Our imaginations mislead us also in respect to war, whenever we contemplate it at a distance, and do not feel its effects at our own fire-sides and homes. We delight to dwell upon the idea of mighty power which it suggests; we recall to memory the homage and plaudits, which have been given to the brave; we combine together conceptions of all, that is stirring in music, and brilliant in equipage. In a word, it is a kindling imagination, seizing upon some imposing circumstances, that leads multitudes into deplorable mistakes as to the character of that great scourge of the human race. Again; the power of imagination often gives a wrong coloring to future life. It is here as in some prospects in natural scenery, 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. Whatever may be our present evils, we imagine there is good to come. We rush forward in the pursuit of it, like children, who set out with spirited emulation, expecting to grasp in their hands the splendors of the rainbow, that appears to them to rest upon the neighboring hills. §. 317. Explanation of the above misrepresentations of the imagination. But how happens it, that this faculty, in these and other similar instances, sometimes misleads us? What explanation can be given?- -The answer is, that the mind turns away with a natural aversion from whatever causes it pain or uneasiness; delighting to dwell on the elements of beauty and sublimity, and in general on all scenes, which excite in it pleasant emotions. As there is, therefore, more or less in all actual situations, which causes dissatisfaction, we shall always find in every condition in which we are placed, something which detracts from what we imagine to be the sum of happiness. The evils, which are around us and near us, we MUST KNOW; our situation forbids an attempt at the concealment of them. Every day forces the lesson of human adversity on our attention. But when we look abroad from the reality which exists at home, from the cares and sorrows, which are ever near at hand, to other scenes and prospects, we do not think of trial and disappointment, because we are not obliged to. We fix our attention upon those circumstances, which appear most favorable, and interesting; and consequently know nothing of the uneasiness and misery, which actually exist in the imaginary paradise of our creation. For instance, we are apt to associate, as has been remarked, with persons in very high stations in life, the ideas of unalloyed happiness, of moral excellence, of manliness and beauty of form; but while men in the most exalted stations have no less a share than others of bodily deformities and suffering, they have still greater anxieties; their hours of sorrow are often more numerous than those of any other class of persons. It was well inquired by King Henry in Shakspeare, "What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, "That private men enjoy? "And what have kings, that privates have not too, And under the direction of the same mental tendency, by which we are led to mark the elevations without noticing the depressions of the great men of the earth, we are led also to see the sublimities and hide from our sight the degradations and miseries of war, to behold the sunshine of the future, but no clouds. §. 318. Feelings of sympathy aided by the imagination. But where the imagination is not at liberty to fix itself exclusively upon pleasing circumstances, the results as to the degree of creative power are the same, although they are of a different kind. In the one case, it forms creations of beauty, magnificence, sublimity; in the other, it is equally effica |