they have seized upon the essential thing which constitutes the power and grandeur of this attribute in man, which has scattered along the line of time, through the whole history of culture, such manifest proofs of its true nature, that it is wonderful how it could ever be misapprehended. If we consider the imagination, indeed, from the point of view of that philosophy which derives all our ideas from sense and experience, it would follow necessarily that it can be nothing more than what it is often represented to be, a mere power of repeating, only in a more abstract and feeble manner, combinations which have already become familiar, as matters of outward observation. But then this view is contradicted, at once, by any single example of a work of high art which you may please to select. What the heart of man perceives and feels in such a work is not imitation, but inspiration, for such is the word prompted by the enthusiasm of the moment, to express the sense of a power above common nature, which must have been present in the individual capable of producing such a work. We feel that he is not an imitator, but an originator; that he is not the slave of copy, but the free author of his own work. And we feel with regard to ourselves, that our own imagination catches inspiration from what we behold, and works with the same freedom as the artist himself had done, whose work is before our eyes.

For it should be observed, that, in speaking of the cultivation of the imagination, as a faculty equally indispensable, equally called forth, in the production and in the contemplation of works of art, we speak of a power which, in this instance of its exercise, must ever be permitted to retain its freedom. It is common to speak of cultivating the imagination by placing it under due restraint, by setting up for it certain limits, and keeping it within bounds. But it is essential to the imagination, whether considered as the original productive power in the artist or the poet, or as that similar power which he addresses and quickens to activity in our own souls, that it should not be so confined. It must, therefore, have the principle of its limitation only within itself. It must not be hampered even by the material it works with, but conquer and subdue it wholly. There is a striking analogy in this respect between the productive agency of the imagination, and the working of the formative processes, and of the principle of life, in nature. In nature we see form impenetrating the entire matter, residing in it as its true essence and shaping power. Even a crystal, we look upon as produced, not by outward and mechanical force, as the lapidary works down the facets of a ring jewel, but by some law of determination that lies within itself, or works through the whole matter. So, eminently, through the entire domain of animated nature, we look upon the outward forms as

the result of an indwelling principle which, disposes of every particle of matter entering into their composition, with a reference alike throughout to its own predetermined end. As altogether analogous to this principle of form and of life in nature may we regard the imagination of the artist or the poet. It works freely and organically, giving itself its rule, or being its own rule; and even when it imitates nature, as in fact it can never safely depart from nature, yet imitating her with a “rival originality." To set limits to the imagination, then, by any set of outward rules for its regulation, is to cramp rather than to cultivate it, to make it subservient to the understanding, rather than its coördinate, rather than an independent co-worker with it, or, perhaps to speak with more truth, an originating power, which in producing gives to each thing its appropriate form, and in so doing spontaneously harmonizes with the laws of understanding.

If the imagination then, in art, and in enjoying the works of art, must have the principle of its guidance and limitation within itself, since otherwise it could not be free, which it plainly must be in this province, it follows that the only way of cultivating such a power is by the right exercise of it. I say by its right exercise; and as we cannot have, in this case, maxims of right, as in morals, the imagination must be set in the right direction by examples, by careful and profound study of those

actual productions which, by the general verdict of mankind, are pronounced the most perfect of their kind. In thus reverently submitting to the guidance of the best examples of its own freedom, the imagination will learn to govern itself. This is the safest, the surest, the most appropriate discipline which it can exercise itself in. Sadly mistaken will he find himself to be who thinks that anything short of the best is good enough for the imagination, or that it may be safely left to take care of itself. We must study those works which all fit judges in all times have agreed in admiring, and, supposing that we cannot at first see what there is in them to deserve such admiration, -as how could it be expected that we should, since their power lies deep, and addresses what is deepest in ourselves, yet study and study over again, peruse and reperuse the feeling of their power will grow in the same proportion with the development of the same power in ourselves.

But while some deference is due, as just stated, to the judgment of others, especially when this judgment is confirmed by the general consent of an age, and, still more, of successive ages; yet it is true notwithstanding, that a correct taste cannot be transmitted, and gain authority, by this, any more than it can by any other outward means. never comes down by tradition, as the history of all art proves; but the beautiful appeals, in each

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case, directly to the inner decisions and independent judgment of the individual.

If some productions of taste and of literature are justly considered, and set up, as standards of their kind; still the end really had in view by this, in the case of those persons who understand themselves, is, not to overrule any man's judgment, but only to solicit and call it forth. Every true work of art addresses itself to man; it is meant only for man. It appeals to an original power, which each man has, of judging, not only what a thing is, in fact; but how nearly it comes up to what it ought to be, -to what would be right and suitable in the given case and under the given circumstances. Hence it would appear that the highest model, the original standard of all, is, in some way, if not actually, then potentially, in the individual mind, is an idea, which each must either find, or call out, within himself; else you may be told that this or that existing work of art is to be taken as a model, and believe it, indeed, on the authority of somebody else; but as for knowing or feeling that it really is so, — how would that be possible? Now what are we to understand by this idea which is thus appealed to as the common measure of excellence in all the arts? It may be observed, then, in the first place, that the word, taken in this sense, as a measure or standard of excellence, is not at all applicable, nor is it ever applied, to the elementary beautiful; and