ness which we feel at the sight of distress, and which prompts us to relieve it. It strengthens that disgust which the loathsome concomitants of distress excite in the mind, and which prompts us to avoid the sight of misery; while, at the same time, it has no tendency to confirm those habits of active beneficence, without which the best dispositions are useless. I would not, however, be understood to disapprove entirely of fictitious narratives, or of pathetic compositions. On the contrary, I think that the perusal of them may be attended with advantage, when the effects which I have mentioned are corrected by habits of real business. They soothe the mind when ruffled by the rude intercourse of society, and, stealing the attention insensibly from our own cares, substitute, instead of discontent and distress, a tender and pleasing melancholy. By exhibitions of characters a little elevated above the common standard, they have a tendency to cultivate the taste in life, to quicken our disgust at what is mean or offensive, and to form the mind insensibly to elegance and dignity. Their tendency to cultivate the powers of moral perception has never been disputed; and when the influence of such perceptions is powerfully felt, and is united with an active and manly temper, they render the character not only more amiable, but more happy in itself, and more useful to others; for although a rectitude of judgment with respect to conduct, and strong moral feelings, do by no means alone constitute virtue; yet they are frequently necessary to direct our behaviour in the more critical situations of life, and they increase the interest we take in the general prosperity of virtue in the world. I believe, likewise, that by means of fictitious history, displays of character may be most successfully given, and the various weaknesses of the heart exposed. I only meant to insinuate, that a taste for them may be carried too far; that the sensibility which terminates in imagination, is but a refined and selfish luxury; and that nothing can effectually advance our moral improvement, but an attention to the active duties which belong to our stations.1

[After all the concessions I have here made in favour of such fictitious

histories as our modern novels, I must acknowledge my own partiality for those

SECT. VI.-CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT.

IMPORTANT USES TO WHICH THE POWER OF IMAGINATION IS
SUBSERVIENT.

The faculty of imagination is the great spring of human activity, and the principal source of human improvement. As it delights in presenting to the mind scenes and characters more perfect than those which we are acquainted with, it prevents us from ever being completely satisfied with our present condition, or with our past attainments, and engages us continually in the pursuit of some untried enjoyment, or of some ideal excellence. Hence the ardour of the selfish to better their fortunes, and to add to their personal accomplishments; and hence the zeal of the patriot and the philosopher to advance the virtue and the happiness of the human race. Destroy this faculty, and the condition of man will become as stationary as that of the brutes.

When the notions of enjoyment or of excellence which imagination has formed, are greatly raised above the ordinary standard, they interest the passions too deeply to leave us at all times the cool exercise of reason, and produce that state of the mind which is commonly known by the name of enthusiasm; a temper which is one of the most fruitful sources of error and disappointment, but which is a source, at the same time, of heroic actions and of exalted characters. To the exaggerated conceptions of eloquence which perpetually revolved in the mind of Cicero-to that idea which haunted his thoughts of aliquid immensum infinitumque—we are indebted for some of the most splendid displays of human genius; and it is proba

performances of an earlier date, which describe the adventures of imaginary orders of being. Many of them afford lessons of morality not less instructive than those in our most unexceptionable novels; and they possess, over and above, the important advantage of giv ing to the imagination of young persons a much more vigorous exercise, while

they have no such tendency as novels have to mislead them in their views of human life. In most cases, it may be laid down as a rule, that fictitious histories are dangerous, in proportion as the manners they exhibit profess to approach to those which we expect to meet with in the world.]

ble that something of the same kind has been felt by every man who has risen much above the level of humanity, either in speculation or in action. It is happy for the individual, when these enthusiastic desires are directed to events which do not depend on the caprice of fortune.

The pleasure we receive from the higher kinds of poetry, takes rise, in part, from that dissatisfaction which the objects of imagination inspire us with, for the scenes, the events, and the characters, with which our senses are conversant. Tired and disgusted with this world of imperfection, we delight to escape to another, of the poet's creation, where the charms of nature wear an eternal bloom, and where sources of enjoyment are opened to us, suited to the vast capacities of the human mind. On this natural love of poetical fiction, Lord Bacon has founded a very ingenious argument for the soul's immortality; and, indeed, one of the most important purposes to which it is subservient, is to elevate the mind above the pursuits of our present condition, and to direct the views to higher objects. In the meantime, it is rendered subservient also, in an eminent degree, to the improvement and happiness of mankind, by the tendency which it has to accelerate the progress of society.

As the pictures which the poet presents to us are never (even in works of pure description) faithful copies from nature, but are always meant to be improvements on the original she affords, it cannot be doubted that they must have some effect in refining and exalting our taste, both with respect to material beauty, and to the objects of our pursuit in life. It has been alleged, that the works of our descriptive poets have contributed to diffuse that taste for picturesque beauty, which is so prevalent in England, and to recall the public admiration from the fantastic decorations of art, to the more powerful and permanent charms of cultivated nature; and it is certain, that the first ardours of many an illustrious character have been kindled by the compositions of Homer and Virgil. It is difficult to say, to what a degrec, in the earlier periods of society, the rude compositions of the bard and the minstrel may have been

instrumental in humanizing the minds of savage warriors, and in accelerating the growth of cultivated manners. Among the Scandinavians and the Celta we know that this order of men was held in very peculiar veneration; and, accordingly, it would appear from the monuments which remain of these nations, that they were distinguished by a delicacy in the passion of love, and by a humanity and generosity to the vanquished in war, which seldom appear among barbarous tribes, and with which it is hardly possible to conceive how men in such a state of society could have been inspired, but by a separate class of individuals in the community, who devoted themselves to the pacific profession of poetry, and to the cultivation of that creative power of the mind, which anticipates the course of human affairs, and presents, in prophetic vision, to the poet and the philosopher, the blessings which accompany the progress of reason and refinement.

Nor must we omit to mention the important effects of Imagination in multiplying the sources of innocent enjoyment, beyond what this limited scene affords. Not to insist on the nobler efforts of genius which have rendered this part of our constitution subservient to moral improvement, how much has the sphere of our happiness been extended by those agreeable fictions which introduce us to new worlds, and make us acquainted with new orders of being! What a fund of amusement, through life, is prepared for one who reads, in his

childhood, the fables of ancient Greece! They dwell habitually on the memory, and are ready, at all times, to fill up the intervals of business, or of serious reflection; and in his hours of rural retirement and leisure, they warm his mind with the fire of ancient genius, and animate every scene he enters, with the offspring of classical fancy.

It is, however, chiefly in painting future scenes that Imagination loves to indulge herself, and her prophetic dreams are almost always favourable to happiness. By an erroneous education, indeed, it is possible to render this faculty an instrument of constant and of exquisite distress; but in such cases (abstracting from the influence of a constitutional melancholy) the

distresses of a gloomy imagination are to be ascribed, not to nature, but to the force of early impressions.

The common bias of the mind undoubtedly is, (such is the benevolent appointment of Providence,) to think favourably of the future; to overvalue the chances of possible good, and to underrate the risks of possible evil; and in the case of some fortunate individuals, this disposition remains after a thousand disappointments. To what this bias of our nature is owing, it is not material for us to inquire; the fact is certain, and it is an important one to our happiness. It supports us under the real distresses of life, and cheers and animates all our labours; and although it is sometimes apt to produce, in a weak and indolent mind, those deceitful suggestions of ambition and vanity, which lead us to sacrifice the duties and the comforts of the present moment, to romantic hopes and expectations; yet it must be acknowledged, when connected with habits of activity, and regulated by a solid judgment, to have a favourable effect on the character, by inspiring that ardour and enthusiasm which both prompt to great enterprises, and are necessary to ensure their success. When such a temper is united (as it commonly is) with pleasing notions, concerning the order of the universe, and in particular concerning the condition and the prospects of man, it places our happiness, in a great measure, beyond the power of fortune. While it adds a double relish to every enjoyment, it blunts the edge of all our sufferings; and even when human life presents to us no object on which our hopes can rest, it invites the imagination beyond the dark and troubled horizon which terminates all our earthly prospects, to wander unconfined in the regions of futurity. A man of benevolence, whose mind is enlarged by philosophy, will indulge the same agreeable anticipations with respect to society; will view all the different improvements in arts, in commerce, and in the sciences, as co-operating to promote the union, the happiness, and the virtue of mankind; and, amidst the political disorders resulting from the prejudices and follies of his own times, will look forward with transport to the blessings which are reserved for posterity in a more enlightened age.