228

THE NATURAL IDEA OF EVENING.

external affairs, then coexistent with a particular portion of diurnal rotation:-Detur, that the natural idea of Evening superadds to this something of positiveness in the season of existence, of unity, a distinct entity in it.

Tickler. Begin then, my metaphysical master, with an explanation of the natural idea of Evening, and then show us what of Poetry or Imagination-if any-Milton has added, out of his divine mind, to that Idea.

Shepherd. That's the richt method o' procedure, sure aneuch, Mr North. Mr Tickler's a clear-headed tyke.

North. You will observe, then, that the accustomed idea of Evening has in it a degree of work of imagination, since in it that darkness, or less light, which is merely the state, or fact, of certain objects being less illuminated than for some time past they have been, is conceived by us, in the first place, as a positive existing dusk; and in the second, as brought on by a certain hour or season, which hour or season, being in effect nothing but a portion of the admeasurement of time, appears to us to be made up, and consist of, in part, those appearances in nature which are merely its accompaniments,―amongst others, for instance, of that very darkness which at the same time it appears to bring;-the hour, properly considered, can bring nothing: it can only coexist with other things, or become existent along with them. And in all ideas of day, night, seasons, &c., there is such illusion.

Tickler. As the old Schoolmen used to say

"In omnem sensus actum influit Imaginatio."

North. Correctly quoted, Tim? Nevertheless, there must be an idea of Evening, which being the universal idea, and as necessarily conceived by the human understanding as that the Sun sets, though mixed in part of illusory conception, is not, for the purposes of poetry, to be accounted imagination. Tickler. Granted.

North. Let us take, then, this accustomed, simple, necessary idea, and see how far the expressions of the passage in question go beyond it. It shall then appear, that in Milton's expressions there is conceived something more, namely, of the motion of that which has no motion; and, as I think, of an energy, and almost a will of motion in itself. In some way, the words are lifted out of prose, and but a little way. The

HOW IMAGINATION HEIGHTENS THE NATURAL IDEA. 229

epithet "still," though as ordinary an epithet to Evening as you can find, enhances the effect, the separation of Evening, from being nothing but a state, with time, of external existence.

Tickler. But you must make out more distinctly, sir, the division between the natural imagination which is in our usual idea of Evening, and the heightened imagination that is in Milton's expressions.

North. I will. If you go through the description, you find, as to each object of thought, some heightening of the same sort. "Twilight had clad," an energy of action. Even "Silence accompanied,”—is an act,—and an act of that which is so far from being something, that it is not even the negation of an entity, but the negation of certain actions of entities. Besides, whatever it is, it is included in the state of external things. It does not "accompany." "Hesperus that led,""host,"-"rode brightest,"-"clouded majesty,"—" queen," "unveiled her light,"-observe here is, at every point almost, a heightening from the inanimate reality. The only part of the description which is without alteration from reality, is bird and beast, they being already animate. What is to be remarked, in respect to them, is merely the generalising way in which they are disposed of, and perhaps the word "slunk." Now, supposing the description to be a tolerably good one, we may say that every step of it falls under imagination, severally. The objects being either such as naturally affect imagination without any heightening from the peculiar and strong feelings of the poet, or being brought under imagination, or their natural imagination enhanced by such heightenings. The nightingale singing sole, is in herself an object to imagination. I do not take "living sapphires" to have the sense of that infused animation which belongs to impersonation, but merely the effect to the eye. The firmament "glowed," may have a slight degree of imagination. There is something in the conception beyond what the cold understanding gives.

Tickler. You have explained your meaning well, sir.

Shepherd. Middlin.

North. Is there, then, I ask, gentlemen, besides this imagination in the parts, any imaginative effect in the whole-that is, an effect resulting from the combination of all the parts?

230

THE IMPRESSION THAT OF A LIVING CALM.”

I am inclined to think there is, and that the impression which is left from the whole is that of a LIVING CALM.

Shepherd. A Leevin Cawm!

North. If so, the contribution of every part to the effect of the whole is intelligible. The stillness throughout-the song that does not disturb silence-the lights so serene and yet pregnant with life-the infused animation of every object that has not-and the sufficiency of animation in those that have it-have all a perfect propriety. It may not belong exactly to the question I am considering

Shepherd. What question ?

North.though it does to the poetical analysis of the passage, to show the skilful progress of impressiveness.

Shepherd. Ah, ah! ma man! You're borrowin frae me noo -for that's the verra first observe I made on your selectin the passage.

North. So much the better, James. Observe then, on the whole, each object rising in this respect above another-and yet not by a scale. For instance, when real living creatures are introduced, it is done in gradation, first, those that sleep, then the night-singer, in whom the feeling of animal natural life is raised to its height, by the line "She all night long her amorous descant sung." And immediately a great tranquillisation follows, and that animal vitality is blotted out by insensate things, and no pulse or breathing is more, save those which circulate in space, and in the bosom of universal nature. Shepherd. Still following out ma original idea!

North. Detur, that all I have said is right-here is then shown by an instance what is meant properly by a poetical description-that is to say, of many ways believed, one way is shown in which a description is placed under the reign of Imagination.

Shepherd. Aneuch. Be dune, sir.

It is

North. This is the preparatory part of the inquiry. Then ensues this other question-What is in this instance the character, quality, nature of the affection of imagination? plain, in the first place, that it is essentially feeling. Secondly, that it is feeling of a singular, remote, and rather mysterious kind. Thirdly, the feeling is that which accompanies and enters into the lower degrees of impersonation. If the impression resulting from the whole, is that which I have endeavoured

FEELING IS THE ESSENCE OF IMAGINATION.

231

to render by the expression, a LIVING CALM, this belongs to the same mode of imagination. It is as if the vast and deep tranquillity, the very rest and peace, were self-conscious. Tickler. You're a clever lad, Kit,-Perge puer.

North. It may be proper here to repeat, that in this particular act or mode of imagination, the analysis of imagination gives this form, which always appears to me to be the essential and proper form of imagination, viz., that an object being given to the understanding, by a new and further intellectual act, a feeling not proper to the object (that is, not proper to it in its truth, as conceived by the understanding) is superinduced upon it. Try this in one or two instances. "Silence was pleased." What is given to the understanding? The noiselessness and hush of night—and song delighting the ear, and not disturbing to the heart, but rather quickening and deepening the affection, produced by the general hush and repose. But herein moved imagination perceives a listening spirit of silence—and that pleasure which is felt by the bodily imagined witness, the poet, or any other, and that non-disturbance and rather vivifying and intensifying of his affection of stillness and peace, is, by a turn of imagination, transferred to that spirit which is conceived to be pleased with, and, instead of being annihilated, to exist in more animation by virtue of those sounds. There is here both a production and a variation of thought, beyond or after, or from what is given, proper to the understanding. Is there, by means of these further intellectual acts, any new different feeling induced towards the object of the understanding? Undoubtedly there is, though the difference may be difficult to define. For it is quite impossible that we should look with the same affection of feeling on objects materially different, though it is often difficult to ascertain what our feeling is, especially towards objects which do not affect us with strong emotion; as indeed very many of the feelings of imagination are of so slight, delicate, fine a kind, that we hardly know how to speak of them, or to call them feeling, they are so infinitely remote from the vehement and possessing power of ordinary passion. Our feeling, or the affection of our mind, the disposition to feel, cannot be the same towards objects so different as the actual silence of nature, and that vivified silence having a soul into which song is instilled. The affection with which we consider silence itself, including

232

MILTON'S DESCRIPTION OF DEATH.

in it the idea of tranquillity, is that of tranquillity mixed with something of solemnity, and from its vacancy of fear. But if silence is considered as "LIVING," the sense of solemnity is taken off in some degree-that of fear altogether.

Shepherd. Weel, thank Heaven, this metafeesical inquiry, for it was nae less, into the natur o' imagination, is ower, and that I hae survived it, though rather a wee fentish—sae let's drap in a thimmle-fu' o' cognac intil this-is't the seventh or aucht cup, think ye, sir, o' coffee?—and fortified by the speerit, I wad fain trust that sae I shall be able to endure the severest conversation it is in the poo'r o' man to inflick. Mr Tickler, spoot you, in your turn, a screed o' Milton. Tickler.

"The other Shape,

If Shape it might be called, that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint or limb;
Or substance might be called that shadow seemed,
For each seemed either; black it stood as Night,
Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed its head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.

Satan was now at hand- "1

Shepherd (looking round). What said ye! Sawtan at haun! North. Speak of the Devil and he'll appear, is a general rule, my dear James, subject to an occasional exception. Regain your composure.

Shepherd. It's a fearsome passage.

Tickler (taking North's crutch under his arm and imitating the voice, gesture, and manner of the “old man eloquent"). In this sublime passage, the power of Imagination is at its height. This Being, who, at the gates of hell, offers combat to Satan, has not even yet been named, as if the poet were so lost in the emotion accompanying the sight of the phantom he had himself conjured up, that even a very name had not risen yet for what was so unsubstantial. He scarcely dares to call it by the vague term "Shape;" but as soon as he does so, qualifies even that approach to substantiality, by saying, "if Shape it might be called, which shape had none distinguishable," or "substance might be called that shadow seemed." Then he adds that still farther feeling of unreality-" each 1 Paradise Lost, ii. 666-674.