THE LOCALITY OF IMAGINATION. WHETHER the movements of the soul are differently performed in different men, it is beyond our power to ascertain; it is probable, however, that similar operations of the mind are conducted universally in a similar manner. Although the imagination possesses the faculty of acting independently of sensible objects; yet the primary source of its materials is the external world. It is generally received that we possess no innate ideas; but that upon our entrance into the world, the mind presents, as it were, a smooth, unimpressed surface; called into action by the communications of the senses, it gradually unfolds its powers, acquires vigour, and lays up internal aliment for the imagination. As the senses, therefore, are the only medium by means of which we converse with nature, much of the vividness of the impressions which we receive, and of the consequent strength of the imagination, depends upon the susceptibility of those organs. Mankind, like plants and animals, appear subject to the influence of situation, and acquire a distinct mental, as well as physical, character from climate. The countries which approach either of the extremes of temperature, appear to be particularly unfavourable to the progress of human nature towards perfection; but upon the inhabitants of warm and temperate regions, where the outward form has attained its greatest beauty, and the intellectual powers have been most successfully developed, Nature seems to have bestowed peculiar advantages. The Laplander and the Negro are, in general, equally incapable of enjoying the pleasures of imagination; the one from a deficiency, the other from too great an acuteness of sensibility. But under temperate and generous skies, the organs of sensation are susceptible, without being effeminately passive, and strong without being obtuse. These impressions are transmitted with the most glowing vehemence, and imagination exerts its most potent energies. Although warmth of imagination is by no means inconsistent with strength of understanding; and the two qualities, as in individuals they are often united, so among nations they are seen to flourish together under favourable circumstances; still we may observe in general, among the natives of warmer climates, greater extravagance in matters relating to the imagination, and less activity in regard to truth. Science is but little indebted to the southern world; almost all the great discoveries, and real advancements in philosophy, have been effectuated by the sages of the north. But for the labours of Newton and his successors, whether in England, Germany, or France, who have raised their system upon the solid basis of fact and experiment, we had still dreamt with Aristotle, and in the place of reason, had blindly followed the fictions of the imagination. Upon no subject has the fancy delighted to set itself to work so much as on religion; that is, on speculations concerning the nature and worship of superior invisible beings. Correct notions of the Deity, without the assistance of Divine revelation, are beyond the capacity of human reason; though faint ideas of him may be gathered from the studious contemplation of nature, and enlarged views of the harmony of the universe. But the imagination quickly supplies this defect; and under the operation of pleasure, or the apprehension of evil, invests the most prominent objects of the creation with the attributes of divinity. Viewing in this light the superstitions of the Teutonic tribes, and of the ancient Greeks, we remark a striking dissimilarity. The former being possessed of a stronger understanding, and less tender sensibility, the objects of their adoration were comparatively few. Their reason, though rude, taught them to revere their deities, without reducing them to the level of the senses, and controlled the wild monstrosities of the imagination. They deemed it derogatory to the divine dignity to represent their gods in visible forms; and accordingly their religious worship was comprised in a few simple solemnities. But among the latter, superstition assumed quite a different complexion. Their ardent and enthusiastic temperament led them to deify nearly every portion of the creation. Temples adorned with the finest works of art, splendid festivals and processions, mysterious and sensual rites, mark the spirit of Grecian mythology. Not content with assigning a presiding genius to every hill, fountain, and grove, they embodied in sculpture even abstract qualities. Youth, beauty, love, terror, each had its peculiar altar and appointed ceremonies, The pomp and grandeur of the Romish church, its saints, martyrs, and legends ; the dominion which it asserts over departed souls, are peculiarly adapted to captivate the imagination. Accordingly the successors of St. Peter have always found their most devoted adherents in the southern nations of Europe; whilst in the north a purer form of worship is established, in unison with the chaster genius of the climate. It is moreover worthy of remark, that the doctrines of Mahomet, and of the Hindoo mythologists, have struck root only in the east and south. False philosophy is another offspring of the imagination, rather than of the understanding; and the occult sciences have, therefore, more particularly flourished in warm and glowing atmospheres. Astrology owes its existence to the Arabians; engrafted on a slender knowledge of astronomy, it soon corrupted the parent stock. Fancy pleased itself with casting nativities, anticipating the decrees of fate, and identifying the fortunes of man with the revolutions of the celestial bodies. The magicians of Egypt, from the days of Hermes Trismegistus, have claimed dominion over the world of spirits; whilst in the south of Europe, and in the east, the philosopher's stone, and the elixir of life, have been sought with indefatigable perseverance. The furnace and the alembic were in constant employment, and adepts boasted, and were believed, to have met with success. By the progress of civilization the feelings are refined, and the imagination is elevated; and hence the natives of colder climates make great advancement in the useful arts, and derive from the imagination a pleasure, differing indeed in degree, but not in kind, from that experienced by their southern neighbours. But it must be confessed, that only in the south have painting, sculpture, and music, attained that perfection, which will probably never be surpassed. The admiration which an English amateur evinces at a grand display of musical talent, sinks into indifference, when contrasted with the raptures into which the sensitive Italian is hurried by harmonious sounds. But poetry is the theme on which the imagination most loves to dwell; and in the cultivation of which it most readily unfolds its powers. And here again it cannot but be observed, that the southern nations have not only produced a greater share of poetical talent, but that among them the spirit of poetry is also more earnestly felt, and more duly appreciated. Virgil, Dante, Ariosto, Tasso, with a vast variety of inferior, yet highly glowing spirits, fully justify whatever commendations of this kind have been lavished on their cele brated land. There even the vulgar are alive to the tender beauties of poetical excellence; the poets are constantly in their mouths; and the genius of the people is at once characterized, fostered, and gratified, by the effusions of the wandering improvisators. A style teeming with metaphors and hyperbole, with animation of gesture and earnestness of expression, has always distinguished the oriental nations. Their poetry is still impassioned, enthusiastic, wild. Amidst all their privations, they still listen with transport to the recitals of their bards; and the Ionian tales which, two thousand years ago, delighted the children of the east, to this day preserve their spirit in the romances of the modern Arabs. SADDER. IN the second chapter of the Sadder of Zoroaster, it is mentioned, that a bridge is erected over the great abyss where Hell is situated, which leads from the Earth to Paradise; that upon the bridge there stands an angel, who weighs in a balance the merits of the passengers; that the passenger whose good works are found light in the balance is thrown over the bridge into Hell, but the passenger whose good works preponderate, is allowed to proceed to Paradise, where there is a glorious city, gardens, rivers, and beautiful virgins, &c. In the fourth chapter of this system of the Persian mythology, good works are recommended by the following parable:-Zoroaster being with the Deity, saw a man in Hell, who wanted his right foot. "O, my Creator," said Zoroaster, "who is that man who wants his right foot?" The Deity answered, "that he had been king over thirty-three cities, had reigned many years, but had never done any good except once, when observing a sheep tied where it could' not reach its food, he with his right foot pushed the food towards it, and on that account the right foot was saved out of torment.” IMITATION OF AN EPITAPH OF TYMNÆUS. "THE traitor now shall die," the mother said, 62 MODERN ARCHITECTURE. "WHAT proof have we that the professors of architecture in the nineteenth century possessed that perfect knowledge of the sublime styles of antiquity of which they so vainly boasted?" is a question which will naturally be asked by people of taste in a future age, on viewing such of our modern structures as may happen to survive to that period. What opinion will they form of our talent and discernment; of the trouble we are reported to have taken in examining the relics of Greece and Rome? they will surely conclude that our travellers missed the objects of their research, or wanted taste to profit by their models. Nor is it in architecture alone that we are so distinguished for variety and novelty. All that contributes to comfort, ease, and luxury, changes its form and fashion, not according to any approved standard, or at stated periods, but agreeably to the fancy of every one who rejects, or despises fixed rules. Fashion or novelty is a tyrant without control; and, “taste,” though much. talked of, is a term as commonly misunderstood, as it is generally misapplied. The carpenter who builds your summer-house; the citizen, who designs his country-box in the "gothic" style; and the architect of a church, are styled with equal freedom, and often with equal propriety, men of " taste." True it is, that trifles may be performed with neatness and propriety, and the carpenter, the citizen, and the architect, are equally entitled to applause for the success of their respective talents. The taste, for I must use, though I hate the term,―of the present day, seems to be for invention. In costume it has reached a ridiculous height, but in architecture, it is quite gone mad. Upholsterers and landscapegardeners are turned architects, and every architect has a style of his own. The established orders of Greece and Rome are set aside as common-place, and others composed from models which have nothing to recommend them but their singularity. Every age has produced some bad designers and sculptors, and it is absurd to imitate what is destitute of elegance or beauty merely because it is venerable. Methinks taste is no less required to select a model than to adapt it; and I will venture to assert, that no applause will follow the labour of an architect who has chosen an example merely from its novelty. : Mr. Nash and Mr. Soane are the masters of invention in the present day the former is indeed ingenious, but the latter bears away the palm. The fertile imagination of Mr. Soane has been largely called upon at the King's staircase in the House of Lords, and at the Bank of England. When we call to our remembrance the splendid palace which once occupied the site of the former building, and the noble architecture of Sir Robert Taylor, of the latter, their fate, and the character of their successors, is equally deplorable. It must be mortifying for the architect so soon to witness the destruction of the crooked passage and grotesque porch, which almost close up the entrance of Abingdon-street, but their fate, we are informed, is inevitable; and whatever Mr. Soane and his friends may think, or say, the designers and applauders will lose no credit by the absence of such trumpery erections. The interior of the staircase and passage baffle description. The latter is crowded with pillars, and the whole is covered with "crincum-crancum and cut work," which, aided by the glare of saffron-coloured glass, dazzle and distract the sight more than a confectioner's shop on twelfth-day. So resolutely has the architect hurled defiance at the approved rules of antiquity, that he has diminished all the mouldings, and increased with the number the size of the ornaments. These ornaments are, I fear, undefinable : some resemble marbles strung together, others the joints of animals' bones, but the majority bear no analogy whatever to any production of nature, or invention of art. The architect, we believe, scorns to be a copyist, and he has now shewn us the wonderous all-sufficiency of an inventive wisdom. The public will not admire such trash under the name of architecture. A confectioner, to be sure, might possibly turn it to some account: he could perhaps adorn a mince-pie, or a plumcake, and gain applause; but while an architect continues to torture stone, and plaster walls, with such paltry ornaments, he must endure the censure of men of science and true taste. If our memory does not deceive us, the Bank-buildings once trembled to their foundations under the thunder of a poet. If our eloquence is less forcible, it shall be directed towards its object with no less energy and sincerity of intention. We recollect the Rotunda, which was unquestionably the grandest room in the Metropolis, whose dome swelled in sublime proportion little inferior to its revered model, the Pantheon; and whose endless range of pillars, with their highly-wrought capitals, supported a bold entablature; these, with their subordinate members, composed the design of Sir Robert Taylor. Such was the structure which Mr. Soane's taste could not equal, but which he did not scruple to violate and destroy. The Rotunda is now a vacuum; in the room of sunk pannels, bold cornices, and graceful columns, the wall and ceiling are streaked or "scored" with lines, and the once beautiful room is now as uninteresting as the inside of a cocoa-nut shell. After the lapse of a few years, the architect has made another sweeping attack on Sir Robert Taylor's work. The extensive wings of the principal front screened the building of the interior court, and preserved a uniform character on the exterior. They consisted of arched recesses, and piers formed of fluted Corinthian pillars placed at regular distances. The eastern wing, and part of the connected side having been cased, now present a very singular appearance, in contrast with the opposite wing, and with the centre; which last was built by George Sampson. Eight pillars now stand in unmeaning array, where sixteen formerly stood in scientific order: the graceful capitals have given place to the short lumpy style of the Temple of Vesta; the entablature supports a row of little open arches, evidently copied from the partition of a mississippi board; and two contending scrolls, which seem to have crawled along the parapet in search of a position, at last unite and settle over the angle. We have heard that Mr. Soane prides himself on turning the corner of a building well: to do him justice, the Lothbury corner of the Bank, when he first began to mangle the poor devoted structure, was ingeniously contrived; and the public, who are always ready to reward merit, gave the architect a due share of applause. And what has been the consequence? Mr. Soane has tried the same experiment at every opportunity; again at the Bank, at the King's entrance to the House of Lords, and at that huge unsightly building which is now erecting on the flank of Westminster Hall; but with very different success: these repetions of a scheme which can only be defended at the corner of a narrow street, are viewed with contempt by the public: the Bank Directors, or many of them, must surely contemn the building, though perhaps they |