these queries, and for the palpable absurdities which they suggest. Our intention was neither a detailed review of the treatises indicated under the title of this article, nor an exhaustive discussion of the subject in hand; but rather a treatment of such prominent points of the doctrine of an endless life, by whomsoever and on whatever scale denied, as our limits might permit. We would ever handle a theme like this with proper seriousness, even when attempting to wring off the neck of fallacious and damaging errors. The denial of immortal being to a part alone is a less abhorrent idea than the promiscuous dying out or extinguishment of all human souls. Yet we regard the one as groundless as the other, and both to be utterly reprobated. It is strange to us that any one who knows what is the consciousness of a rational life should wish to throw into this "blooming world such an immeasurable grave-stone, that no time can lift." One would think that the most zealous advocate of that nightmare-fantasy must confess with the yielding Carlson, in the beautiful colloquy of Jean Paul; "I can bear no annihilation but my own! My heart is of your opinion; my head will shortly follow." ARTICLE IV. THE PLACE OF ROMANCE IN LITERATURE. IT is the object of this paper to show the place held by Romance in the general field of Literature, to point out, as far as may be, its distinguishing characteristics, the elements in our human nature of which it is the representative, and which are therefore the ground of its popularity. We shall find, if we succeed, an element of Romance, potential or real, in each individual, not less than in the collective life of humanity; the whole having the essential characteristics of the individual, only standing out in clearer view, and so becoming the proper object of scientific inquiry and investigation. The name Romance was originally applied to the literature of the languages derived from the Latin or Roman languages, and continued to be applied to literature of a similar character in subsequent times. The present popular sense of the word, as the fanciful, the imaginary, the visionary, and especially as applied to the schemes and expectations of young persons, is a wholly derived sense. It is, however, not less important, as revealing the fundamental principles which this form of literature recognizes. They correspond, in our individual life, to that peculiar state of intellectual and moral life which prevailed in the latter part of the Middle Ages, and which found expression in Romance. Yet The most general division of Literature is into the literature of fact, and the literature of the imagination. To the first belong all works of history, science, and philosophy; to the second, all works of fiction, whether in prose or verse. the distinction holds, in its strict sense, only on this wise. To the literature of fact belong only the simplest annals, narratives, historic records, and scientific observations; since the imagination enters largely into the construction of history, and has an important place in science and philosophy. In short, it comes into play the moment we pass beyond the pure outward fact and enter the sphere of ideas. It is essentially the organ of ideas, through which the scientific naturalist, like Owen, from a given part completes the whole of an organism no human eye has ever seen; or a Niebuhr, from a fragmentary record, a few scraps of ballad song, constructs the history of a nation; or a Prescott, or Motley, brings before us the scenes and the men of by-gone ages with all the freshness of the living present, and with a clearer conception of the ruling spirit of the men and their times. So to the literature of the imagination, strictly so called, we should assign only the works of pure fiction. And yet we find it no easy task to separate the elements of fact from the pure artistic creation. As Bayne somewhere suggests, it is no easy thing for the imagination to flap its wings in a vacuum. The best works of the imagination have a basis of fact; even when its head is lost in the clouds, its feet rest upon and move along the solid earth. The epics of Homer and Virgil, the dramas of Shakspeare, and the fictions of Scott, all have a basis in some historic fact, some fundamental law of human life and conduct. Poetry is but the idealization of the actual. The distinction we make, or attempt to make, in literature, is therefore quite imperfect, since the different elements mutually play into each other, and all the more as we ascend into its higher circles; in the literature of knowledge, to use De Quincey's phrase, the less so, but in the literature of power they are more completely fused and blended, like the prismatic colors in order to the pure white light. Yet, for convenience, we must make the distinction, according to the predominance of the one or the other element, of fact or of imagination; and, hence, though we must follow the usual division, and place Romance on the side of the literature of the imagination, we must not lose sight of the solid realities on which it rests. And here again we must distinguish between poetry and prose fiction; and between the literature of the imagination properly so called, and the literature of the fancy. We might also divide prose fiction into the Romance and the Novel. But first it seems necessary to consider the distinction made with reference to the faculties more immediately concerned, whether the imagination or the fancy. The imagination belongs to the sphere of ideas. A genuine work of the imagination is an organic whole, the embodiment of an idea; all its parts, even to the minutest detail, inspired, so to speak, and made vital by the informing principle, and so having a place in the whole. There is nothing accidental, nothing left to chance. There may be great freedom, as there always is in the expression of life; but, as in some of the Shakspearian dramas, every character introduced, every act exhibited, every word spoken, stands in relation to the whole, and is determined by laws as fixed as those regulating the growth of the plant, or any form of animal life. The highest exercise of the imagination, its loftiest flight, its greatest freedom, is still subject to law. As Allston says of Rubens, "His lawless style, from vain pretension free, Breaks o'er the bound, the under-ebb of taste A work of the imagination is always for the sake of the ideas. The material, whether marble, colors, or words, is wholly subordinate. The thought is the thing. It is not the strange adventure, the deed of heroism, the toil and struggle, in themselves, that interest us in the epic or the drama; but the humanity that finds expression in them, the ideas that are independent of place and time, that give an abiding, ever fresh interest to the works of genius. The stories of Macbeth, Richard III., and Henry V. were familiar enough before they passed under the hand of the great dramatist; but his imagination connected them with the eternal laws and principles of human nature, and they became as imperishable. The historian would have told the story of the loyalty of the Highlanders to the House of Stuart, and the lover of natural scenery would have found his way to the lochs of Scotland, and the lakes of Cumberland, had Scott never written, nor Wordsworth sung, but where were the glory that invests them now, not of light and shadow, but of noble thoughts and human interests? The fancy, on the other hand, is the faculty of sense. It belongs to the sphere of material forms, the changing, the sensuous and temporary, rather than to the ideal and eternal. A work of the fancy, therefore, is not an organic but a mechanical whole, if a whole at all. No law prescribes the place, or the limits, or the number of its parts. It is lawless. Its conduct is inexplicable. It is the play of the spirit buoyant with its own life, and seeking expression, it matters not how; it is the fountain overflowing, and sending its waters, it knows not and cares not whither. The lamb sporting on the greensward, the little child not less busy in the display of its joyous health and happiness, are the best representatives of the fancy. So the poet, sometimes relaxing the reins, allowing free play to his creative powers, as weaker souls indulge in revery, revels in wild sport amid the sensuous imagery with which his mind is stored. So Spenser often in the "Faëry Queen;" and we follow the Red Cross Knight, Sir Guion, or Sir Calidore, little knowing where they may lead us, or through what adventure * "Lectures," p. 376. with painim or foul fiend, by land or sea, only with the general assurance that the imagination of the poet has set a limit to these wild excursions somewhere, possibly at the end of so many lines or cantos, and with the promise that each character will be sufficiently true to itself. A still better example is furnished in the strange freaks of Undine, justly amazing her supposed parents, because purely fanciful and lawless and so inexplicable. The fancy is thus the imagination acting without a definite controlling purpose. Keeping in mind these radical differences in their nature, we may next notice the relative place and share of each in the dif ferent forms of what we have called the literature of the imagination. There are of course but few works in which they are not more or less intermingled; at least there are but few works of the fancy that have not more or less of the genuine marks of the imagination. The conception of a work, the general method pursued, and the limits are derived from the imagination; the details, the filling up of the outlines only are due to the fancy. Sometimes, too, in a work of the imagination, the poet gives free play to his fancy in some subordinate part, as in some of the speeches of Madame Quickly, or in the account of Queen Mab, but there is usually a method in this madness. It will help us, also, if we distinguish between the higher and the lower exercise of the imagination; between what may be termed the creative or suggestive, and the delineative. The former, resting more on the side of ideas, and employing natural imagery rather to illustrate and suggest, is the special prerogative of the great masters, while the latter holds closely to fact, and invests the actual, as the historical narrative or the landscape, with something of its own ideality. To the first belong the higher creations of epic, dramatic, and lyric song; to the latter, the simpler ballad, the poetic narrative and description. Of these different forms, we shall notice only those more immediately related to our subject, the epic and the ordinary poetic narrative. Both have an historical basis, but the first, besides the common poetic coloring, is elevated above the ordinary sphere of life and conduct by the grandeur of its ruling ideas, and the consequent grandeur of the representative characters and of the scenes in which they move, and by the |