roused. He had topics to urge, views to express, and he poured out
arguments, and enlivened them with illustrations. He was, on those
occasions, an able expounder, and no more. But when his passions were
stirred to the depths by the French Revolution, his intellectual power,
taking a new flight, supplied him with figures of extraordinary
intensity; it was no longer the play of a cool man, but the thunders of
an aroused man; we have then "the hoofs of the swinish multitude,"--"the
ten thousand swords leaping from their scabbards". Such feelings were
not produced by the speaker's imagination: they were produced by
themselves; they had their independent source in the region of feeling:
coupled with adequate powers of intellect, they burst out into strong
imagery.[3]

The Orientals, as a rule, are distinguished for imaginative flights.
This is apparent in their religion, their morality, their poetry, and
their science. The explanation is to be sought in the strength of their
feelings, coupled with a certain intellectual force. The same intellect,
without the feelings, would have issued differently. The Chinese are the
exception. They want the feelings, and they want the imagination. They
are below Europeans in this respect. When we bring before them our own
imaginative themes, our own cast of religion, accommodated as it is to
our own peculiar temperament, we fail in the desired effect. Our august
mysteries are responded to, not with reverential regard, but with, cold
analysis.

The Celt and the Saxon are often contrasted on the point of imagination;
the prior fact is the comparative endowment for emotion.

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