GREEK IMAGINATION.

No one can have carefully analyzed the Greek temperament without discovering that a strong and brilliant imagination is its predominating element. Its deep tinge is visible everywhere-in their history, in their language and religion, in their manners, arts and literature. Like streamlets gushing from the vein of gold on the hillside, and in their course scattering the shining particles over all the plain beneath, so from the imagination of the Greeks went forth influences to enrich and embellish all the works of their genius. This feature in the Greek mind is confined to no particular period; it was ever conspicuous, as well in the early and unpolished, as in the later and more refined ages of the nation's existence. Ever were they delighting in the ideal, and grasping after the spiritual and indefinite. True, it exhibited various phases in different tribes, and under different circumstances; but wherever we see true Grecian character to any extent developed, there is the same love for the imaginative, the same rich color of enthusiasm, the same thirst for romance and excitement. Such a feature in the character of an individual, if properly set off by other tolerable qualities, ever gives him power and distinction; in a national genius, its influence must be of the same kind, and of a power commensurate with its greater weight. So was it with Greece; and herein consists one of the chief sources of her greatness. Had it not been for the warm, lively imagination of her sons, ne her glory would never have shown with such undimmed lustre through the clouds and mists of twenty centuries-an Iliad would have been uninspired-a Parthenon never have sprung from the quarries of Mount Pentelicus-the rough marble and dull canvas never have given forth life, symmetry, and beauty. The scholar might sail by its shores without even a look of interest, and the world be ages behind its present advancement. He who could detect and unfold all the farreaching influences of Greek imagination, upon themselves and upon the world, would be astonished at the number and depth of the streams clearly to be traced back to this source.

It is interesting to inquire into the origin of this characteristic of their national genius. Numerous and various were the ingredients that united to form it. At the coming of the Hellenes to Greece, we detect the first sign of its appearance; by them was the tree planted that was to sprout so vigorously, and bear such abundant fruits. The old Pelasgian race, though tradition tells us they made considerable progress in civilization, lacked the vigor, the liveliness, the enterprise, of the Grecian character. These elements were infused into it by the Hellenes. The traditions of the origin and history of this people are vague and various; but all unite in representing them as a race remarkable for their high martial enthusiasm, and their energy and vivacity of genius. The Pelasgian race could not withstand them, and being either entirely rooted out, or forced to assume the warlike,

adventurous spirit of their invaders, they became, as a separate people, extinct. Henceforth the Hellenian character became the character of the Greek nation. In this people, then, we discover the germ of the strength and fervor of Greek imagination. Possessed of minds strong, capacious, and susceptible of easy impression-of bodies naturally vigorous, and strengthened by incessant exertion and hardships, and hence, also, of an abundant flow of animal spirits, they were highly fitted to stamp upon its character the features for which it was distinguished. Their peculiar genius showed itself in a thirst for excitement and adventure-a fondness for the pleasures of the chase-a love of war and heroic deeds. Their wild pursuits in turn reacted upon their minds, kindled their enthusiasm, and gave their imaginations unusual activity. Though it has often been questioned whether the manners and pursuits of savage life are favorable to the development of the imaginative powers, yet history and reason seem to decide that such is the truth. In almost every nation, its early semi-barbarous age seems to have furnished the wildest and most impassioned music and poetry. We might give, as an instance, the strong poetic language and wild battle-songs of the early American Indians. Such would naturally be the case, for then is the poet most true to Nature and his own strong feelings. Then, with his habits assimilated to the wildness of Nature, is he best qualified to hold communion with her, and catch with his own mind something of her simplicity and grandeur. These pursuits, however, in themselves, are insufficient to produce a nation of active imaginative powers; for many rude nations have long followed them, without receiving any such deep and permanent impress. Still, such is their strong tendency, and when they act upon minds like those of the early Hellenes, strong, creative, and impetuous, they imprint marks which ages cannot efface. Their warlike expeditions and adventures, also, like their early habits, were wild and chimerical. Doubtless their history is deeply tinged with romance and fable; but the visionary events it records must have had some foundation in reality. We can readily believe that such a restless and idealizing race as the Hellenes could have engaged in as fanciful an expedition as that of the Argonauts in quest of a golden fleece, or that against Troy in revenge for the rape of a Helen; such stirring enterprises were in keeping with the heroic spirit of the age, as well as with the vigor and activity of the Hellenian character, and they foreshadowed plainly the future predominating element in Grecian genius.

The country of Greece, also, was admirably adapted to the growth of an imaginative people; its grand and picturesque scenery was the theme of her poets for ages. Its surface indicates that at some ancient period, a violent revolution must have swept over it, and thrown it into all manner of irregular and fantastic shapes. Lofty mountains, broken by steep precipices and romantic vales, traverse the country in every direction. From the porous nature of its soil, extensive caves and deep glens have been formed by the washing of torrents, and large rivers in many places suddenly disappear below the surface. That such

a wild and diversified country should exert a strong influence upon the minds of the early Greeks, is not to be wondered at; naturally quick to receive impressions, simple in manners, and in their rude pursuits brought continually in contact with the handiwork of nature, their perceptions of the sublime and beautiful were sharpened to unusual keenness. This showed itself in their early and passionate love for music and song, and in the honors they heaped upon the true bard of Nature. When they tell us of the Orphean lyre, charming the rivers, moving the woods and trees, and taming the monsters of the forest by its witching strains, we see but an extravagant expression of their fine susceptibility to the power of melody; we see here the budding of the plant, that in after years bore so many beautiful branches. Thus did the natural temperament, the wild pursuits, and beautiful country of the Greeks, all unite to form a people of strong imaginative powers.

In the Greek mind, moulded by such influences, we should naturally expect to find, in the earliest times, a love for the bold and sublime, strikingly developed. Such was the case. True, they lacked not lively perceptions of the beautiful, but these reached not their acme of perfection till a later and more polished state of society. Thus we see their earliest poetry is rather grand than beautiful; rather the rushing of the torrent than the gentle flow of the rivulet. It could not well be otherwise. Its favorite themes were the exciting scenes of war, and the exploits of gods and heroes, and their feelings burst forth in the sublimity of the epic muse, rather than in the sprightliness of the lyric. In their poetry Nature also speaks, and her language is ever sublime. We see in it none of the meretricious decorations of art vainly striving to set off her beauties, but herself, in all her naked simplicity and rugged grandeur. Of this character was the poetry of Homer. In his free and sublime strains, we have not merely the expression of one man's feelings, but of a people's heart; the blood gushing from one swollen vessel, that ran fresh and warm through every vein and artery in the body of the Greek nation.

Such was Grecian imagination, in its origin, but such it could not long continue. The influence of such high thoughts and impulses as their poetry enkindled, was, necessarily, to awaken the mind and quicken the finer feelings; by continual observation of Nature, they came to have a keener sense of beauty than before-a sense which could not be satisfied with her irregularities. Hence it naturally introduced the arts of imitation, painting and sculpture, whose object was to idealize Nature-to copy her excellences without her imperfections; poetry and music, also, were then modified to suit a nicer susceptibility. The rude ballads, so accordant with the feelings of the early Greeks, though still admired, grated harshly upon the refined ear, and more melody and delicacy of expression and sentiment were demanded; then the lyric muse became the favorite, and Archilochus, Sappho, Anacreon, Pindar, and others, successively aided in gratifying the nation's taste for the beautiful, polishing its manners, and refining its feelings. Thus in this age, as in an earlier time, was their

imagination predominant. Its influence here was more silent, but it may have been none the less effectual; if it before celebrated the exploits of heroes, and kindled the soul of the warrior to achieve deeds of daring, it now praised the arts of peace, and taught the citizen to enjoy the amenities and endearments of home.

Nor was this influence confined to the fine arts; their religion took its form, nay, almost sprang into being from it; true, many religious customs and foreign gods were introduced from other countries; but substantially, their religion was their own-the offspring of their prolific imagination. It was what the Greek mind would naturally bring forth-a religion of nature; it could not look upon the ten thousand forms of animated nature around, and be itself inactive. The deep mystery, also, in which the causes of life and being were wrapped, served to quicken their fancy, and caused it, from want of definite knowledge, to supply the deficiency with its own creations; hence, they conceived that every kind of animal and vegetable life was but the working of some hidden deity, and their ever-active minds readily suggested forms by which to express and personify it. Thus every grove had its dryads, every fountain its naiads, and some invisible fairy nymph lurked under every stirring leaf, slept in every nodding flower, and danced along in every rustling breeze. All animated nature was to them the living, breathing expression of the presence of an unseen Power-probably the nearest approximation to the truth, that the unassisted human mind has ever reached.

We notice, also, a difference between the religious fables invented in the early days of Greece and those at a later period, corresponding to the changes of character which we have noticed. In the former were originated all those wild and stirring, but improbable stories, in Greek mythology, which the epic poet so loved to dwell upon and amplify. But when their imagination became more tamed and chastened, then were invented those light and bewitching tales of the loves of the gods, and of their influence over men and Nature, which in the sparkling lyric poem yet gem the relics of Grecian literature, and delight the modern scholar.

The philosophy of the Greeks, moreover, received some of its most prominent characteristics from their idealism. It was not generally a careful and rigid analysis of facts from which conclusions were logically deduced, but a mass of vague theories and fanciful speculations. The lively Greek mind could not brook to be confined within certain fixed landmarks, when such a vast region of truth remained dark and unexplored; conscious of its ignorance, therefore, it struck out boldly in search of some first cause by which it might account for all the mysterious phenomena of Nature. It was supposed that some such "Original" must necessarily exist-that there must be some fixed principles and laws, which controlled all mind and matter; hence were invented those theories, many of which strike us as more like the roving fancies of the schoolboy, than the grave deductions of the philosopher. If, however, we consider the limited stock of knowledge the Greeks possessed, and their burning thirst to acquire