On Certain Present Phenomena of the Imagination [pp. 159-168]

ON CER TAIN PHENOMENA1 OF THE IMA GI,A TION.
almost infinite in duration over the intellectual
destinies of mankind.
Keeping this in mind, let us go back to the
foundations of society, to that instinct of asso ciation which, though powerful enough to ac count for the expansion of the family into tribal
or other communities, could hardly, without some
positive action of the imagination, establish an
authority which could enforce the submission of
the individual to the general advantage, and
constitute a distinct political entity. Aristotle,
the prime observer, speaks of man as a "po litical animal"; but, to make him so, it requires
that the notion of city or country, of king or
republic, should have been called into existence.
Now this the primitive imagination accomplishes
without distinction of worth between the poorest
or the wealthiest nature, the happiest or the
most miserable surroundings, and advances till
that which was little more than brute self-de fense becomes exalted into the virtue of patriotism. When centered on an individual it is
arbitrary in its choice and indiscriminate in its
application. The images of faith and confidence
and love gather strongest round the chief when
he represents both himself and a locality, and
the hereditaty principle is soon invented as the
most convenient method of the continuation and
transmission of the authority. Among the more
imaginative peoples a divine origin of rulers is
the ordinary basis of belief, and the language
connected with this notion survives long after
the belief is superseded. In the Oriental monarchies of Asia, and in the semi-Oriental empire of Russia, that "East without sun," the
patriotic imagination still survives for all the purposes of absolutism, even when brought into immediate contact with Western civilization and
subjected to the criticism of history. And when,
by the transcendent energies of such men as
Luther and King Henry VIII., the mighty image
of spiritual authority that overshadowed the mind
and heart of central Europe and England was
shaken to its foundations, the popular imagination, eager for submission, intensified the authority of the divine right of kings. And now, in
our day, in the very center of European culture
and political thought, the persistent regard for
the legitimacy of a royal race on one side, and
the legend of a military conqueror on the other,
are still enervating the natural unity and delaying the establishment of permanent government.
The reasonable loyalty of a limited monarchy
would itself fare ill without some imaginative
associations, which the extension of education
and political interest show no tendency to diminish.
To deprive patriotism of prejudice, and to
substitute a sound judicial estimate of the real
merits and advantage each citizen enjoys for the
collective enthusiasm that attaches to the image
of country, would probably result, not in an ex tension of sympathy for a common humanity,
but in a condition of moral indifference that
would imply a national decadence as well as an
indirect injury to mankind. But there is nothing
in the progress of society to indicate any consid erable advance in this direction. The existence
of individual minds of such a temper may affect
the course of speculation, and even of moral
philosophy, but in the face of an aroused and
angry imagination they will retire to the study
and lament the limitations of the human intelli gence.
Powerful as seem the operations of this fac ulty in the organization of society, they are weak
in comparison with its effect in peopling the
globe and dispersing the human race. The
great migrations may have been from the less
fertile soils and less pleasant climates to more
productive and agreeable regions, but these bene fits could scarcely have been tested before the
multitudes set forth to cross mountains, traverse
deserts, and fight their way against all comers
toward the images of acquisition of land and
gratification of appetite, and perhaps of ultimate
rest. To us, who live in the fullness of time,
these things are mostly matters of history; but
we have under our eyes, and within the scope
of our own immediate political relations, a vast
empire sparsely peopled, with immense interests,
demanding for their development capital and
peace, with inhabitants for the most part gentle,
frugal, industrious, and religious, unable to restrain a vague desire of increase, a greed of new
dominion, to the loss of wealth which it can ill
afford and life it can not replace, with no such
excuse of wild curiosity as drove Attila to the
walls of Rome, or of savage ferocity as impelled
the hordes of Genghis Khan. What would
have been the present material prosperity of
Russia if, during the sixty-six years that have
elapsed since her magnificent repulse of the
French invasion, she had husbanded her resources and limited her ambition to the cultivation of her soil, the growth of her manufactures, the extension of her commerce, and the
development of those peculiar institutions which
combine a community of interests with reverence for authority?
By the side of this, so to say, waste of the imagination, we may place the advantageous part it
has played in the progress of modem colonization. Stern necessity, such as we experienced a
few years ago in the Irish famine, has had its
share in the motives for emigration, just as there
have been refugees from political discord, and
exile from religious persecution. But these causes
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