With this preliminary disavowal of undue certainty we may proceed. The equilibrium[83] of opposed impulses, which we suspect to be the ground-plan of the most valuable æsthetic responses, brings into play far more of our personality than is possible in experiences of a more defined emotion. We cease to be orientated in one definite direction; more facets of the mind are exposed and, what is the same thing, more aspects of things are able to affect us. To respond, not through one narrow channel of interest, but simultaneously and coherently through many, is to be _disinterested_ in the only sense of the word which concerns us here. A state of mind which is not disinterested is one which sees things only from one standpoint or under one aspect. At the same time since more of our personality is engaged the independence and individuality of other things becomes greater. We seem to see ‘all round’ them, to see them as they really are; we see them apart from any one particular interest which they may have for us. Of course without some interest we should not see them at all, but the less any one particular interest is indispensable, the more _detached_ our attitude becomes. And to say that we are _impersonal_ is merely a curious way of saying that our personality is more _completely_ involved. These characters of æsthetic experiences can thus be shown to be very natural consequences of the diversity, of their components. But that so many different impulses should enter in is only what may be expected in an experience whose ground-plan is a balance of opposites. For every impulse which does not complete itself in isolation tends to bring in allied systems. The state of irresolution shows this clearly. The difference between any such welter of vacillating impulses and the states of composure we are considering may well be a matter of mediating relations between the supporting systems brought in from either side. One thing only perhaps is certain; what happens is the exact opposite to a deadlock, for compared to the experience of great poetry every other state of mind is one of bafflement. The consciousness which arises in these moments of completed being lends itself inevitably to transcendental descriptions. “This Exstasie doth unperplex”, we seem to see things as they really are, and because we are freed from the bewilderment which our own maladjustment brings with it, The heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world Is lightened. Wordsworth’s Pantheistic interpretation of the imaginative experience in _Tintern Abbey_[84] is one which in varying forms has been given by many poets and critics. The reconciliation of it with the account here presented raises a point of extreme importance, the demarcation of the two main uses of language. [79] Coleridge’s debt here to Schelling has been over-estimated. Such borrowings as he made were more hampering to him than helpful. [80] _Biographia Literaria_, II, pp. 12, 14.