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veiled."

Egyptians, the griffin of the northern mytholIn the same manner the sphinx of the gy, and the dragon of the Greeks, may be decomposed. In the poetry of all nations, we find this peculiar manifestation of the imagination. Its operations are extended to

inanimate as well as animate nature.

It is difficult to select examples exhibiting the purely creative power of imagination. We might find opponents if we should cite of the Parsi, the Elohim, the Achadim, and the demons of the Orphic hymns, the Izeds Adonim of the Hebrews, the Lahi of the

may, together or separately, as the image | The left distinguished, and to all the four has more or less characteristics of the crea- Belonged an eagle's visage. By itself tive soul, lend their charms and give the Distinct, their faces and their wings they each Extended upward, joining thus, it seemed, spirit of life. Fancy contents itself with Two wings for flight, while two their bodies describing in a delicate, lively, pleasing, or luxurious manner that which really exists. Imagination always creates. It stops only at the elements of things, for of a new element the mind cannot conceive. The highest imagination has almost an infinite power of combination. We may, however, deduce two laws of its operation. It adds, in the first place, other elements to objects already existing, or combines parts of existing objects into new ones. Again, it creates objects out of the very elements of things, of which the world of form and life exhibits no real types. This distinction is somewhat arbitrary, and the point in the line which marks the extent of the first law, and the commencement of the second, it is perhaps impossible to locate; but for the sake of clearness of expression, it may be adopted. Illustrations of the first law abound in all genuine poets. One of the most beautiful manifestations of this kind of imagination is the investment of external objects with human feelings: some have even regarded this as the whole province of imagination. We have, therefore, "weeping willows," "sleeping moonbeams," "dancing terrors," &c. With reference to the nudity of Godiva, Tennyson says:

"The shameless noon

Thibetians; but most will concede to us the superhuman creations of Shakspeare. We gods of Homer, Dante's "Inferno," and the find real manifesfations of this kind of imagination in "Paradise Lost," and in Goethe's "Faust."

faculty of mind, but a manifestation of variThe imagination, then, is not a single intense activity. The creations of imaginaous combinations of its elements, joined with tion may therefore be characterized by beauty or deformity, purity or depravity, harmony or discord, sublimity or loveliness, love or hatred. The human soul creates in its own image. It requires imagination to paint the Witch of Endor, as well as the Virgin. Let any one read that awful description in Dante, commencing with the

"O quanto parve a me gran meraviglia,

Quando vidi tre facce alla sua testa!" and he will be satisfied that imagination may busy itself with the lowest hell as well as with the highest heaven. It may produce

Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers."
Shakspeare's King Lear could beseech the
elements to have mercy on an old man, be-lines,
cause "ye yourselves are old." The con-
ception of many fabulous beings-the
cherubim and seraphim of Hebrew poetry,
the phoenix, and those well known in classical
poetry—is a result of the creative power of
imagination, not combining the very elements
of things, but combining parts of real objects
in nature. The cherubim, for illustration,
were compounded of several distinct animals.
The Hebrews say, in a proverb, "There are
four creatures of stateliness and pride in the
world: the lion among the wild beasts; the
ox among the tame; the eagle among birds;
and man above all;" and these were united
in the formation of the cherubim. Ezekiel
says:-

In all the four-fold visaged four was seen
The face of man; the right a lion, and an ox

"Romance of giants, chronicle of fiends," and may "body forth"

"dire faces, figures dire,
Sharp-kneed, sharp-elbowed, and lean-ankled too,
With long and ghostly shanks--forms which, once
Could never be forgotten!"

seen,

Goethe's Mephistopheles is the most unholy creation of powerful imagination in all literature. If Faust is a devilish saint, Mephistopheles is a saintly devil. The sin

of such a being is a yielding to the tempta- | worth's could invest her with such charms tions of virtue, a violation of his absolutely as awaken only holy and pure affection?—

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In consideration of these facts, we may say that Wordsworth is not equal in imagination to the greatest poets. He is inferior in this respect to Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, Milton and Goethe, if not to others. At the same time we may say that he is superior to all in purity of imagination. We find no splendid images that rouse the unholy passions of our nature. His imagination weaves a vestal garb around every object with which it deals, clothes with hallowed affection, and infuses a controlling moral life. He leaves to the lip its ruby color, inviting to sip the nectar joy of earthly life, but makes you feel in your own nature the working of a higher law than than that of impulse, in obedience to which you must act, or joy will turn to sorrow. The naphtha fire of earth is not extracted, but a new tempering fire is added from heaven. The beings of his imagination are ensouled with the spirit of humanity, and breathe an atmosphere of music and love. When, according to poetic fancy, nature takes it into her head to "make a lady of her own," whose imagination but Words

The following imperfect translation, in which the half personification of the original is lost, is by Dr. Francklin, of Oxford:

"Grant me, henceforth, ye powers divine,
In virtue's purest paths to tread;
In every word, in every deed,

May sanctity of manners ever shine;
Obedient to the laws of Jove,

The laws descended from above,
Which, not like those by feeble mortals given,
Buried in dark oblivion lie,

Or, worn by time, decay and die,

But bloom eternal, like their native heaven!"

"Three years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown;
This child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own!

"Myself will to the darling be

Both law and impulse; and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shail feel an overseeing power,

To kindle or restrain.

"She shall be sportive as the fawn,
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

"The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend;

Nor shall she fail to see, Even in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the maiden's form

By silent sympathy.

"The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean on air

In many a secret place,
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty, born of murmuring sound,
Shall pass into her face."

The following passage will show, in proof and illustration of our position, that music and sublimity may be used as ingredients, thus to speak, in the composition of imagination:

"The towering headlands, crowned with mist,
Their feet among the billows, know
That ocean is a mighty harmonist;

Thy pinions, everlasting air,
Ever waving to and fro,

Are delegates of harmony, and bear Strains that support the seasons in their round.”

We cannot resist the temptation to copy which shows the presence one more passage of form, color and beauty, as well as other mental qualities, in a picture of the imagination with which but few equals are found in all literature. Something perhaps must be allowed for the reality, but imagination alone could see in the mountain mist, through which the sunbeams were playing, a picture which is described as follows:

"A single step, that freed me from the skirts Of the blind vapor, opened to my view Glory beyond all glory ever seen

By waking sense or by the dreaming soul;

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Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,
Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,
Molten together, and composing thus,
Each lost in each, that marvellous array
Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge
Fantastic pomp of structure without name,
In fleecy folds voluminous enwrapped.
Right in the midst, where interspace appeared
Of open court, an object like a throne
Beneath a shining canopy of state
Stood fixed; and fixed resemblances were seen
To implements of ordinary use,
But vast in size, in substance glorified;
Such as by Hebrew prophets were beheld
In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power,
For admiration and mysterious awe.
Below me was the earth; this little vale
Lay low beneath my feet; 'twas visible-
I saw not, but I felt that it was there,
That which I saw was the revealed abode
Of spirits in beatitude."

We have said that Wordsworth has been
called the greatest of metaphysical poets.
He is not in the right sense of the term a
great philosophic poet. We find in his
poems but little direct reasoning. He has
constructed no philosophic system. Every
real poet, however, is necessarily metaphys-
ical. When Keats says, "the golden tongue
of music flattered the old man to tears," he
reveals to us a fact of man's nature, at which
the philosopher arrives only by a painful in-
terrogation of consciousness. Poets, for the
most part unconsciously, have given tongue
to the most recondite feelings and the most
evanescent thoughts. If Wordsworth is
really the most metaphysical, it is because
he is the most meditative of poets. He was
a disciple and a teacher of the spiritual
philosophy, but that does not determine the
question of his reasoning power. Readers
and critics have mistaken perhaps his severe
introspection, his intense meditation, for pro-
found argumentation. He announces, but
does not prove; he combines, but does not an-
alyze. In the region of philosophy, if we may |

sees.

He

be allowed the expression, he rather feels than
The heart of the poet tells truths, as
well as the understanding of the philoso-
pher. The latter may be more real to spec-
ulation, yet the former are more real to life.
Wordsworth, therefore, saw the real prop-
erty that man has in the affections, and made
himself the champion of man's right to the
immunities of feeling and the treasures of
the heart. Hence, when we study him
thoroughly, we come to regard him as a
controversialist, and can understand why he
was unshaken by the scoffs of criticism,
when we learn that great principles of life
were dearer to him than his own fame.
had faith in the laws of man's nature, re-
vealed to him by feeling and meditation, and
was therefore heroic and firm. As the great
metaphysician of the feelings, he has not
preserved consistency, for the feelings change
with advancing experience and under the
influence of different circumstances. We
find in his poetry declarations of the exist-
ence of a creating and sustaining Deity.
We find, also, clear statements of the doc-
trine of Pantheism. Again he states the
Platonic notion of the soul's pre-existence.
In the ode entitled "Intimations of Immor-
tality," the sublimest one to be found in any
language, we have the following statement
of this pre-existence:-

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar,
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home."

Each of these statements was no doubt real to him at the moment of utterance. Hence inconsistencies may be strung on a thread of truth, while falsehood may be woven into the even web of consistency. Plato would not have defended in earnest his doctrine of pre-existence. In regard to it, Wordsworth was in earnest only in a poetical sense. It is well known that Dante represents the soul as a little girl "weeping and laughing in its childish sport," knowing nothing save moved by its Creator, "willingly it turns to that which gives it pleasure." Turning away from the scare-crow of Pantheism, which our poet never meant to advocate, let us be contented with the following beautiful and highly meditative sonnet:

"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven is on the sea.
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make

A sound like thunder-everlastingly.
Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear'st untouched by solemn thought,

Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;

And worshipp'st at the temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not."

We are not sorry that no space is left to dwell upon positive faults. A want of a quick perception of the ridiculous has exposed Wordsworth to the poisoned arrows of wit and the playful sallies of humor; an advantage of which the Edinburgh critics were not slow to avail themselves. There was no affinity between the subtlety of Jeffrey's intellect and the subtlety of Words

every thing but the shadows or the realities of a court. It would be no difficult thing to show glaring inconsistencies in his political views, yet they may be harmonized, perhaps, by shifting the application of his ideal. Now we hear the tone of eulogy, now the tone of denunciation; this is an echo of the past, that a prophecy of the future. We might also refer to many passages which show a redundancy of language, and to some which show that he at times invested commonplace thoughts with a drapery of expression altogether too gorgeous. From his poems we could pick some that might be placed among the finest specimens of art that have ever been written, yet we could wish that upon certain passages more care might have been bestowed. A theory, vicious in some respects, has led him, in many places, to use unpoetic language and imagery.

We desist. Who can bear to expose the foibles of a wise and venerable friend?

worth's heart. We are thankful for the wounds inflicted by Jeffrey, for we have, on account of them, a loftier example of heroic patience and unflinching purpose in Wordsworth. Again we may say that our poet is deficient in constructive power. None of the earth, shall remain to greet and bless

his poems have a pleasingly entangled plot. None of his narratives have a winding thread that begets expectation and awakens interest. Also, while dwelling upon sentiments he loses sight of individual life; hence his poetry is deficient in dramatic effect. Again,

while he has

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Wordsworth occupies a sacred place in our heart. His spirit, that hovers in the mysterious drapery of words a living presence on

millions that shall come hither in future ages from the unknown, and to pronounce, as one of the sacred ministers of the Word, benediction on them at their departure. From him may all devout poets take encouragement, and all profane ones take warning, for the Eternal will permit the stamp of immortality to be put only upon that which accords with his atributes of justice and mercy, wisdom and love. He has revealed to us new powers and susceptibilities of the heart, and the heart responds to his gentle touch with a deep feeling of sympathy and blessing. As long as English literature has a place for the wise Spenser, it will have one for the good Wordsworth.

o. w. w.

NATURE AND EFFECTS OF A PROTECTIVE TARIFF.

Ir is obvious to all reflecting minds, that under the present tariff we are importing foreigu goods to an excessive extent. The drain of specie from the vaults of our banks, which is now going on in consequence, would most certainly produce a financial crisis, bringing ruin upon thousands, were it not for the supply of gold from California. This is putting off the evil day, but for how long no one can predict. As it is, others are taking from us by this system nearly all the advantages we so eagerly expected from our rich Pacific possessions. We are merely becoming the shippers of the treasures of that region for our more sagacious European rivals.

Under these circumstances we will be excused for again presenting in the simplest form another argument for protection to our own industry in all its forms.

A tariff founded on constitutional authority, and at the same time wisely modified by all the necessities of the country to which it can apply, is a measure that cannot be successfully assailed. Some system of taxation must exist for the support of government; and none has ever been devised so faultless or so fit as this. Under its operation taxes are levied upon the people by their own voluntary action, and thus, as it were, by an invisible and unfelt agency; and the costs of collection have been estimated by high authority at one fifth only of the costs that would be incurred under a system of direct taxation. Thus, whatever is paid, is paid with the greatest possible convenience to the citizen; and the amount paid is less than it would be under a system of direct taxation by four fifths of the costs of the collection of the revenue under that system.

These premises are beyond the reach of material objection; and if true, there can be but one rational opinion as to the expediency of the tariff system.

But there is a further and direct pecunia

VOL. VIII. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

ry advantage derived through the operation of the tariff. This can be easily stated and illustrated. It is, that foreign States, in some degree, actually and substantially pay our revenue. But how is this effected? It is thus: Suppose the revenue necessary for the support of the Federal Government equal to $25,000,000, (costs of collection, &c., included:) this sum must be raised in either one or the other of two ways, viz., by direct taxation, or by duties on foreign commerce: if by the former, then it is certain the government costs the people that sum, precisely; but if by the latter, then the question is, Have not foreign countries paid a part of the amount? Doubtless they have; and let us see by what process. Keeping in mind that twenty-five millions are to be raised-suppose we were at any time without a tariff, and that foreign goods could be bought in our markets at certain rates-any you please: for the time being the people pay the whole twenty-five millions, and buy their goods at the rates that may be: suppose now that subsequently it is thought fit by government to levy a tariff of twenty per cent. on all foreign goods sold in our markets, and which duty would precisely meet the expenses of government, to the entire relief of the people from direct taxation: in this case, and by the operation of a settled law of trade, the duty of twenty per cent. levied upon the foreign goods would not be added to the price which our citizens would be required to pay for them, but some smaller amount. The sum of twenty per cent. above the previous cost would be divided between the seller and the purchaser, the seller losing (it may be) five, and the purchaser fifteen of the twenty per cent. Now, each party losing in his respective proportion, the purchaser three fourths and the seller one fourth of the twenty per cent., which in the aggregate make up the twenty-five millions, it is obvious that the citizens of the country pay only eighteen

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