No More Learning

Now I cannot but think, that there are many which remain for our
posterity to distinguish and appropriate, and which I regard as so much
reversionary wealth in our mother tongue. When two distinct meanings are
confounded under one or more words,--(and such must be the case, as
sure as our knowledge is progressive and of course imperfect)--erroneous
consequences will be drawn, and what is true in one sense of the word
will be affirmed as true in toto. Men of research, startled by the
consequences, seek in the things themselves--(whether in or out of
the mind)--for a knowledge of the fact, and having discovered the
difference, remove the equivocation either by the substitution of a new
word, or by the appropriation of one of the two or more words, which
had before been used promiscuously. When this distinction has been so
naturalized and of such general currency that the language does as it
were think for us--(like the sliding rule which is the mechanic's safe
substitute for arithmetical knowledge)--we then say, that it is evident
to common sense. Common sense, therefore, differs in different ages.
What was born and christened in the Schools passes by degrees into
the world at large, and becomes the property of the market and the
tea-table. At least I can discover no other meaning of the term,
common sense, if it is to convey any specific difference from sense
and judgment in genere, and where it is not used scholastically for the
universal reason. Thus in the reign of Charles II the philosophic world
was called to arms by the moral sophisms of Hobbes, and the ablest
writers exerted themselves in the detection of an error, which a
school-boy would now be able to confute by the mere recollection, that
compulsion and obligation conveyed two ideas perfectly disparate, and
that what appertained to the one, had been falsely transferred to the
other by a mere confusion of terms. ]

[Footnote 24: I here use the word idea in Mr. Hume's sense on account of its
general currency amongst the English metaphysicians; though against my
own judgment, for I believe that the vague use of this word has been the
cause of much error and more confusion. The word, idea, in its original
sense as used by Pindar, Aristophanes, and in the Gospel of St. Matthew,
represented the visual abstraction of a distant object, when we see the
whole without distinguishing its parts. Plato adopted it as a technical
term, and as the antithesis to eidolon, or sensuous image; the transient
and perishable emblem, or mental word, of the idea. Ideas themselves he
considered as mysterious powers, living, seminal, formative, and exempt
from time. In this sense the word Idea became the property of the
Platonic school; and it seldom occurs in Aristotle, without some such
phrase annexed to it, as according to Plato, or as Plato says. Our
English writers to the end of the reign of Charles II or somewhat later,
employed it either in the original sense, or Platonically, or in a
sense nearly correspondent to our present use of the substantive, Ideal;
always however opposing it, more or less to image, whether of present
or absent objects. The reader will not be displeased with the following
interesting exemplification from Bishop Jeremy Taylor. "St. Lewis the
King sent Ivo Bishop of Chartres on an embassy, and he told, that he met
a grave and stately matron on the way with a censer of fire in one
band, and a vessel of water in the other; and observing her to have a
melancholy, religious, and phantastic deportment and look, he asked her
what those symbols meant, and what she meant to do with her fire and
water; she answered, My purpose is with the fire to burn paradise,
and with my water to quench the flames of hell, that men may serve God
purely for the love of God. But we rarely meet with such spirits which
love virtue so metaphysically as to abstract her from all sensible
compositions, and love the purity of the idea. " Des Cartes having
introduced into his philosophy the fanciful hypothesis of material
ideas, or certain configurations of the brain, which were as so many
moulds to the influxes of the external world,--Locke adopted the term,
but extended its signification to whatever is the immediate object
of the mind's attention or consciousness. Hume, distinguishing those
representations which are accompanied with a sense of a present object
from those reproduced by the mind itself, designated the former by
impressions, and confined the word idea to the latter. ]

[Footnote 25: I am aware, that this word occurs neither in Johnson's Dictionary
nor in any classical writer. But the word, to intend, which Newton
and others before him employ in this sense, is now so completely
appropriated to another meaning, that I could not use it without
ambiguity: while to paraphrase the sense, as by render intense, would
often break up the sentence and destroy that harmony of the position of
the words with the logical position of the thoughts, which is a
beauty in all composition, and more especially desirable in a close
philosophical investigation. I have therefore hazarded the word,
intensify: though, I confess, it sounds uncouth to my own ear. ]

[Footnote 26: And Coxcombs vanquish Berkeley by a grin. ]

[Footnote 27: Videlicet; Quantity, Quality, Relation, and Mode, each consisting
of three subdivisions. See Kritik der reinen Vernunft. See too the
judicious remarks on Locke and Hume. ]

[Footnote 28: St. Luke x. 21. ]

[Footnote 29: An American Indian with little variety of images, and a still
scantier stock of language, is obliged to turn his few words to many
purposes, by likenesses so clear and analogies so remote as to give his
language the semblance and character of lyric poetry interspersed with
grotesques. Something not unlike this was the case of such men as
Behmen and Fox with regard to the Bible. It was their sole armoury of
expressions, their only organ of thought. ]

[Footnote 30: The following burlesque on the Fichtean Egoisnsus may, perhaps,
be amusing to the few who have studied the system, and to those who are
unacquainted with it, may convey as tolerable a likeness of Fichte's
idealism as can be expected from an avowed caricature.

The Categorical Imperative, or the annunciation of the new Teutonic God,
EGOENKAIPAN: a dithyrambic ode, by QUERKOPF VON KLUBSTICK, Grammarian,
and Subrector in Gymmasic.

Eu! Dei vices gerens, ipse Divus,
(Speak English, Friend! ) the God Imperativus,
Here on this market-cross aloud I cry:
I, I, I! I itself I!
The form and the substance, the what and the why,
The when and the where, and the low and the high,
The inside and outside, the earth and the sky,
I, you and he, and he, you and I,
All souls and all bodies are I itself I!
All I itself I!
(Fools! a truce with this starting! )
All my I! all my I!
He's a heretic dog who but adds Betty Martin!
Thus cried the God with high imperial tone;
In robe of stiffest state, that scoffed at beauty,
A pronoun-verb imperative he shone--
Then substantive and plural-singular grown
He thus spake on! Behold in I alone
(For ethics boast a syntax of their own)
Or if in ye, yet as I doth depute ye,
In O! I, you, the vocative of duty!
I of the world's whole Lexicon the root!
Of the whole universe of touch, sound, sight
The genitive and ablative to boot:
The accusative of wrong, the nominative of right,
And in all cases the case absolute!
Self-construed, I all other moods decline:
Imperative, from nothing we derive us;
Yet as a super-postulate of mine,
Unconstrued antecedence I assign
To X, Y, Z, the God Infinitivus! ]

[Footnote 31: It would be an act of high and almost criminal injustice to pass
over in silence the name of Mr. Richard Saumarez, a gentleman equally
well known as a medical man and as a philanthropist, but who demands
notice on the present occasion as the author of "A new System of
Physiology" in two volumes octavo, published 1797; and in 1812 of "An
Examination of the natural and artificial Systems of Philosophy
which now prevail" in one volume octavo, entitled, "The Principles of
physiological and physical Science. " The latter work is not quite equal
to the former in style or arrangement; and there is a greater necessity
of distinguishing the principles of the author's philosophy from his
conjectures concerning colour, the atmospheric matter, comets, etc.
which, whether just or erroneous, are by no means necessary consequences
of that philosophy. Yet even in this department of this volume, which I
regard as comparatively the inferior work, the reasonings by which Mr.
Saumarez invalidates the immanence of an infinite power in any finite
substance are the offspring of no common mind; and the experiment on the
expansibility of the air is at least plausible and highly ingenious. But
the merit, which will secure both to the book and to the writer a high
and honourable name with posterity, consists in the masterly force of
reasoning, and the copiousness of induction, with which he has assailed,
and (in my opinion) subverted the tyranny of the mechanic system in
physiology; established not only the existence of final causes, but
their necessity and efficiency to every system that merits the name
of philosophical; and, substituting life and progressive power for the
contradictory inert force, has a right to be known and remembered as
the first instaurator of the dynamic philosophy in England. The author's
views, as far as concerns himself, are unborrowed and completely his
own, as he neither possessed nor do his writings discover, the
least acquaintance with the works of Kant, in which the germs of the
philosophy exist: and his volumes were published many years before the
full development of these germs by Schelling. Mr. Saumarez's detection
of the Braunonian system was no light or ordinary service at the time;
and I scarcely remember in any work on any subject a confutation so
thoroughly satisfactory. It is sufficient at this time to have stated
the fact; as in the preface to the work, which I have already announced
on the Logos, I have exhibited in detail the merits of this writer, and
genuine philosopher, who needed only have taken his foundation somewhat
deeper and wider to have superseded a considerable part of my labours. ]

[Footnote 32: But for sundry notes on Shakespeare, and other pieces which have
fallen in my way, I should have deemed it unnecessary to observe; that
discourse here, or elsewhere does not mean what we now call discoursing;
but the discursion of the mind, the processes of generalization and
subsumption, of deduction and conclusion. Thus, Philosophy has hitherto
been discursive; while Geometry is always and essentially intuitive. ]

[Footnote 33: Revelation xx. 3. ]

[Footnote 34: See Laing's History of Scotland. --Walter Scott's bards, ballads,
etc. ]

[Footnote 35: Thus organization, and motion are regarded as from God, not in God. ]

[Footnote 36: Job, chap. xxviii. ]

[Footnote 37: Wherever A=B, and A is not=B, are equally demonstrable, the
premise in each undeniable, the induction evident, and the conclusion
legitimate--the result must be, either that contraries can both be true,
(which is absurd,) or that the faculty and forms of reasoning employed
are inapplicable to the subject--i. e. that there is a metabasis eis
allo genos. Thus, the attributes of Space and time applied to Spirit
are heterogeneous--and the proof of this is, that by admitting them
explicite or implicite contraries may be demonstrated true--i. e. that
the same, taken in the same sense, is true and not true. --That the world
had a beginning in Time and a bound in Space; and That the world had not
a beginning and has no limit;--That a self originating act is, and is
not possible, are instances. ]

[Footnote 38: To those, who design to acquire the language of a country in
the country itself, it may be useful, if I mention the incalculable
advantage which I derived from learning all the words, that could
possibly be so learned, with the objects before me, and without the
intermediation of the English terms. It was a regular part of my
morning studies for the first six weeks of my residence at Ratzeburg,
to accompany the good and kind old pastor, with whom I lived, from the
cellar to the roof, through gardens, farmyard, etc. and to call every,
the minutest, thing by its German name. Advertisements, farces, jest
books, and the conversation of children while I was at play with them,
contributed their share to a more home-like acquaintance with the
language than I could have acquired from works of polite literature
alone, or even from polite society. There is a passage of hearty sound
sense in Luther's German Letter on interpretation, to the translation of
which I shall prefix, for the sake of those who read the German, yet
are not likely to have dipped often in the massive folios of this heroic
reformer, the simple, sinewy, idiomatic words of the original. "Denn
man muss nicht die Buchstaben in der Lateinischen Sprache fragen wie man
soll Deutsch reden: sondern man muss die Mutter in Hause, die Kinder
auf den Gassen, den gemeinen Mann auf dem Markte, darum fragen: und
denselbigen auf das Maul sehen wie sie reden, und darnach dolmetschen.
So verstehen sie es denn, und merken dass man Deutsch mit ihnen redet. "

TRANSLATION:

For one must not ask the letters in the Latin tongue, how one ought to
speak German; but one must ask the mother in the house, the children
in the lanes and alleys, the common man in the market, concerning this;
yea, and look at the moves of their mouths while they are talking, and
thereafter interpret. They understand you then, and mark that one talks
German with them. ]

[Footnote 39: This paraphrase, written about the time of Charlemagne, is by no
means deficient in occasional passages of considerable poetic merit.
There is a flow, and a tender enthusiasm in the following lines (at the
conclusion of Chapter XI. ) which, even in the translation will not, I
flatter myself, fail to interest the reader. Ottfried is describing the
circumstances immediately following the birth of our Lord.

She gave with joy her virgin breast;
She hid it not, she bared the breast,
Which suckled that divinest babe!
Blessed, blessed were the breasts
Which the Saviour infant kiss'd;
And blessed, blessed was the mother
Who wrapp'd his limbs in swaddling clothes,
Singing placed him on her lap,
Hung o'er him with her looks of love,
And sooth'd him with a lulling motion.
Blessed; for she shelter'd him
From the damp and chilling air;
Blessed, blessed! for she lay
With such a babe in one blest bed,
Close as babes and mothers lie!
Blessed, blessed evermore,
With her virgin lips she kiss'd,
With her arms, and to her breast
She embraced the babe divine,
Her babe divine the virgin mother!
There lives not on this ring of earth
A mortal, that can sing her praise.
Mighty mother, virgin pure,
In the darkness and the night
For us she bore the heavenly Lord!

Most interesting is it to consider the effect, when the feelings are
wrought above the natural pitch by the belief of something mysterious,
while all the images are purely natural. Then it is, that religion and
poetry strike deepest. ]

[Footnote 40: Lord Grenville has lately re-asserted (in the House of Lords) the
imminent danger of a revolution in the earlier part of the war against
France. I doubt not, that his Lordship is sincere; and it must be
flattering to his feelings to believe it. But where are the evidences of
the danger, to which a future historian can appeal? Or must he rest on
an assertion? Let me be permitted to extract a passage on the subject
from The Friend. "I have said that to withstand the arguments of the
lawless, the anti-Jacobins proposed to suspend the law, and by the
interposition of a particular statute to eclipse the blessed light of
the universal sun, that spies and informers might tyrannize and escape
in the ominous darkness. Oh! if these mistaken men, intoxicated with
alarm and bewildered by that panic of property, which they themselves
were the chief agents in exciting, had ever lived in a country where
there really existed a general disposition to change and rebellion!
Had they ever travelled through Sicily; or through France at the first
coming on of the revolution; or even alas! through too many of the
provinces of a sister island; they could not but have shrunk from their
own declarations concerning the state of feeling and opinion at that
time predominant throughout Great Britain. There was a time--(Heaven
grant that that time may have passed by! )--when by crossing a narrow
strait, they might have learned the true symptoms of approaching danger,
and have secured themselves from mistaking the meetings and idle rant of
such sedition, as shrank appalled from the sight of a constable, for
the dire murmuring and strange consternation which precedes the storm
or earthquake of national discord. Not only in coffee-houses and public
theatres, but even at the tables of the wealthy, they would have heard
the advocates of existing Government defend their cause in the language
and with the tone of men, who are conscious that they are in a minority.
But in England, when the alarm was at its highest, there was not a
city, no, not a town or village, in which a man suspected of holding
democratic principles could move abroad without receiving some
unpleasant proof of the hatred in which his supposed opinions were held
by the great majority of the people; and the only instances of popular
excess and indignation were on the side of the government and the
established church. But why need I appeal to these invidious facts? Turn
over the pages of history and seek for a single instance of a revolution
having been effected without the concurrence of either the nobles, or
the ecclesiastics, or the monied classes, in any country, in which
the influences of property had ever been predominant, and where the
interests of the proprietors were interlinked! Examine the revolution
of the Belgic provinces under Philip II; the civil wars of France in the
preceding generation; the history of the American revolution, or the
yet more recent events in Sweden and in Spain; and it will be scarcely
possible not to perceive that in England from 1791 to the peace
of Amiens there were neither tendencies to confederacy nor actual
confederacies, against which the existing laws had not provided both
sufficient safeguards and an ample punishment. But alas! the panic of
property had been struck in the first instance for party purposes; and
when it became general, its propagators caught it themselves and ended
in believing their own lie; even as our bulls to Borrowdale sometimes
run mad with the echo of their own bellowing. The consequences were most
injurious. Our attention was concentrated on a monster, which could not
survive the convulsions, in which it had been brought forth,--even
the enlightened Burke himself too often talking and reasoning, as if a
perpetual and organized anarchy had been a possible thing! Thus while we
were warring against French doctrines, we took little heed whether the
means by which we attempted to overthrow them, were not likely to
aid and augment the far more formidable evil of French ambition. Like
children we ran away from the yelping of a cur, and took shelter at the
heels of a vicious war horse. " (Vol. II. Essay i. p. 21, 4th edit. )]

[Footnote 41: I seldom think of the murder of this illustrious Prince without
recollecting the lines of Valerius Flaccus:

------super ipsius ingens
Instat fama viri, virtusque haud laeta tyranno;
Ergo anteire metus, juvenemque exstinguere pergit.
Argonaut, I. 29. ]

[Footnote 42: --

Theara de kai ton chaena kai taen dorkada,
Kai ton lagoon, kai to ton tauron genos.
Manuel Phile, De Animal. Proprietat. sect. I. i. 12. ]

[Footnote 43: Paradise Regained. Book IV. I. 261. ]

[Footnote 44: Vita e Costumi di Dante. ]

[Footnote 45: TRANSLATION: "With the greatest possible solicitude avoid
authorship. Too early or immoderately employed, it makes the head waste
and the heart empty; even were there no other worse consequences. A
person, who reads only to print, to all probability reads amiss; and he,
who sends away through the pen and the press every thought, the moment
it occurs to him, will in a short time have sent all away, and will
become a mere journeyman of the printing-office, a compositor. "

To which I may add from myself, that what medical physiologists affirm
of certain secretions applies equally to our thoughts; they too must be
taken up again into the circulation, and be again and again re-secreted
to order to ensure a healthful vigour, both to the mind and to its
intellectual offspring. ]

[Footnote 46: This distinction between transcendental and transcendent is
observed by our elder divines and philosophers, whenever they express
themselves scholastically. Dr. Johnson indeed has confounded the two
words; but his own authorities do not bear him out. Of this celebrated
dictionary I will venture to remark once for all, that I should suspect
the man of a morose disposition who should speak of it without respect
and gratitude as a most instructive and entertaining book, and hitherto,
unfortunately, an indispensable book; but I confess, that I should be
surprised at hearing from a philosophic and thorough scholar any but
very qualified praises of it, as a dictionary. I am not now alluding
to the number of genuine words omitted; for this is (and perhaps to a
greater extent) true, as Mr. Wakefield has noticed, of our best Greek
Lexicons, and this too after the successive labours of so many giants in
learning. I refer at present both to omissions and commissions of a more
important nature. What these are, me saltem judice, will be stated at
full in The Friend, re-published and completed.

I had never heard of the correspondence between Wakefield and Fox till I
saw the account of it this morning (16th September 1815) in the Monthly
Review. I was not a little gratified at finding, that Mr. Wakefield
had proposed to himself nearly the same plan for a Greek and English
Dictionary, which I had formed, and began to execute, now ten years ago.
But far, far more grieved am I, that he did not live to complete it.
I cannot but think it a subject of most serious regret, that the same
heavy expenditure, which is now employing in the republication of
STEPHANUS augmented, had not been applied to a new Lexicon on a more
philosophical plan, with the English, German, and French synonymes
as well as the Latin. In almost every instance the precise individual
meaning might be given in an English or German word; whereas in Latin we
must too often be contented with a mere general and inclusive term. How
indeed can it be otherwise, when we attempt to render the most copious
language of the world, the most admirable for the fineness of its
distinctions, into one of the poorest and most vague languages?
Especially when we reflect on the comparative number of the works, still
extant, written while the Greek and Latin were living languages. Were
I asked what I deemed the greatest and most unmixed benefit, which
a wealthy individual, or an association of wealthy individuals could
bestow on their country and on mankind, I should not hesitate to answer,
"a philosophical English dictionary; with the Greek, Latin, German,
French, Spanish, and Italian synonymes, and with correspondent indexes. "
That the learned languages might thereby be acquired, better, in
half the time, is but a part, and not the most important part, of the
advantages which would accrue from such a work. O! if it should
be permitted by Providence, that without detriment to freedom and
independence our government might be enabled to become more than a
committee for war and revenue! There was a time, when every thing was to
be done by Government. Have we not flown off to the contrary extreme? ]

[Footnote 47: April, 1825. If I did not see it with my own eyes, I should not
believe that I had been guilty of so many hydrostatic Bulls as bellow in
this unhappy allegory or string of metaphors! How a river was to
travel up hill from a vale far inward, over the intervening mountains,
Morpheus, the Dream weaver, can alone unriddle. I am ashamed and
humbled. S. T. Coleridge. ]

[Footnote 48: Ennead, III. 8. 3. The force of the Greek sunienai is imperfectly
expressed by "understand;" our own idiomatic phrase "to go along with
me" comes nearest to it. The passage, that follows, full of profound
sense, appears to me evidently corrupt; and in fact no writer more
wants, better deserves, or is less likely to obtain, a new and more
correct edition-ti oun sunienai; oti to genomenon esti theama emon,
siopaesis (mallem, theama, emon sioposaes,) kai physei genomenon
theoraema, kai moi genomenae ek theorias taes odi, taen physin echein
philotheamona uparkei. (mallem, kai moi hae genomenae ek theorias autaes
odis). "What then are we to understand? That whatever is produced is an
intuition, I silent; and that, which is thus generated, is by its nature
a theorem, or form of contemplation; and the birth; which results to
me from this contemplation, attains to have a contemplative nature. " So
Synesius:

'Odis hiera
'Arraeta gona

The after comparison of the process of the natura naturans with that of
the geometrician is drawn from the very heart of philosophy. ]

[Footnote 49: This is happily effected in three lines by Synesius, in his THIRD
HYMN:

'En kai Pan'ta--(taken by itself) is Spinozism.
'En d' 'Apan'ton--a mere Anima Mundi.
'En te pro panton--is mechanical Theism.

But unite all three, and the result is the Theism of Saint Paul and
Christianity. Synesius was censured for his doctrine of the pre-
existence of the soul; but never, that I can find, arraigned or deemed
heretical for his Pantheism, though neither Giordano Bruno, nor Jacob
Behmen ever avowed it more broadly.

Mystas de Noos,
Ta te kai ta legei,
Buthon arraeton
Amphichoreuon.
Su to tikton ephus,
Su to tiktomenon;
Su to photizon,
Su to lampomenon;
Su to phainomenon,
Su to kryptomenon
Idiais augais.
'En kai panta,
'En kath' heauto,
Kai dia panton.

Pantheism is therefore not necessarily irreligious or heretical; though
it may be taught atheistically. Thus Spinoza would agree with Synesius
in calling God Physis en Noerois, the Nature in Intelligences; but
he could not subscribe to the preceding Nous kai noeros, i. e. Himself
Intelligence and intelligent.
In this biographical sketch of my literary life I may be excused, if I
mention here, that I had translated the eight Hymns of Synesius from the
Greek into English Anacreontics before my fifteenth year. ]

[Footnote 50: See Schell. Abhandl. zur Erlaeuter. des Id. der Wissenschafslehre. ]

[Footnote 51: Des Cartes, Diss. de Methodo. ]

[Footnote 52: The impossibility of an absolute thing (substantia unica) as
neither genus, species, nor individuum: as well as its utter unfitness
for the fundamental position of a philosophic system, will be
demonstrated in the critique on Spinozism in the fifth treatise of my
Logosophia. ]

[Footnote 53: It is most worthy of notice, that in the first revelation
of himself, not confined to individuals; indeed in the very first
revelation of his absolute being, Jehovah at the same time revealed the
fundamental truth of all philosophy, which must either commence with
the absolute, or have no fixed commencement; that is, cease to be
philosophy. I cannot but express my regret, that in the equivocal use
of the word that, for in that, or because, our admirable version has
rendered the passage susceptible of a degraded interpretation in the
mind of common readers or hearers, as if it were a mere reproof to an
impertinent question, I am what I am, which might be equally affirmed of
himself by any existent being.

The Cartesian Cogito ergo sum is objectionable, because either the
Cogito is used extra gradum, and then it is involved to the sum and is
tautological; or it is taken as a particular mode or dignity, and then
it is subordinated to the sum as the species to the genus, or rather
as a particular modification to the subject modified; and not pre-
ordinated as the arguments seem to require. For Cogito is Sum Cogitans.
This is clear by the inevidence of the converse. Cogitat, ergo est is
true, because it is a mere application of the logical rule: Quicquid in
genere est, est et in specie. Est (cogitans), ergo est. It is a cherry
tree; therefore it is a tree. But, est ergo cogitat, is illogical: for
quod est in specie, non NBCESSARIO in genere est. It may be true. I hold
it to be true, that quicquid vere est, est per veram sui affirmationem;
but it is a derivative, not an immediate truth. Here then we have, by
anticipation, the distinction between the conditional finite! (which, as
known in distinct consciousness by occasion of experience, is called by
Kant's followers the empirical! ) and the absolute I AM, and likewise the
dependence or rather the inherence of the former in the latter; in whom
"we live, and move, and have our being," as St. Paul divinely asserts,
differing widely from the Theists of the mechanic school (as Sir J.
Newton, Locke, and others) who must say from whom we had our being, and
with it life and the powers of life. ]

[Footnote 54: TRANSLATION. "Hence it is clear, from what cause many
reject the notion of the continuous and the infinite. They take, namely,
the words irrepresentable and impossible in one and the same meaning;
and, according to the forms of sensuous evidence, the notion of the
continuous and the infinite is doubtless impossible. I am not now
pleading the cause of these laws, which not a few schools have thought
proper to explode, especially the former (the law of continuity). But it
is of the highest importance to admonish the reader, that those, who
adopt so perverted a mode of reasoning, are under a grievous error.
Whatever opposes the formal principles of the understanding and the
reason is confessedly impossible; but not therefore that, which is
therefore not amenable to the forms of sensuous evidence, because it is
exclusively an object of pure intellect. For this non-coincidence of the
sensuous and the intellectual (the nature of which I shall presently lay
open) proves nothing more, but that the mind cannot always adequately
represent to the concrete, and transform into distinct images, abstract
notions derived from the pure intellect. But this contradiction, which
is in itself merely subjective (i. e. an incapacity in the nature of
man), too often passes for an incongruity or impossibility in the object
(i. e. the notions themselves), and seduces the incautious to mistake the
limitations of the human faculties for the limits of things, as they
really exist. "

I take this occasion to observe, that here and elsewhere Kant uses the
term intuition, and the verb active (intueri Germanice anschauen) for
which we have unfortunately no correspondent word, exclusively for that
which can be represented in space and time. He therefore consistently
and rightly denies the possibility of intellectual intuitions. But as
I see no adequate reason for this exclusive sense of the term, I have
reverted to its wider signification, authorized by our elder theologians
and metaphysicians, according to whom the term comprehends all truths
known to us without a medium.

From Kant's Treatise De mundi sensibilis et intelligibilis forma et
principiis. 1770. ]

[Footnote 55: Franc. Baconis de Verulam, NOVUM ORGANUM. ]

[Footnote 56: This phrase, a priori, is in common, most grossly misunderstood,
and as absurdity burdened on it, which it does not deserve. By knowledge
a priori, we do not mean, that we can know anything previously to
experience, which would be a contradiction in terms; but that having
once known it by occasion of experience (that is, something acting
upon us from without) we then know, that it must have existed, or the
experience itself would have been impossible. By experience only now,
that I have eyes; but then my reason convinces me, that I must have had
eyes in order to the experience. ]

[Footnote 57: Jer. Taylor's Via Pacis. ]

[Footnote 58: Par. Lost. Book V. I. 469. ]

[Footnote 59: Leibnitz. Op. T. II. P. II. p. 53. --T. III. p. 321. ]

[Footnote 60: Synesii Episcop. Hymn. III. I. 231]

[Footnote 61: 'Anaer morionous, a phrase which I have borrowed from a Greek monk,
who applies it to a Patriarch of Constantinople. I might have said, that
I have reclaimed, rather than borrowed, it: for it seems to belong to
Shakespeare, de jure singulari, et ex privilegio naturae. ]

[Footnote 62: First published in 1803. ]

[Footnote 63: These thoughts were suggested to me during the perusal of the
Madrigals of Giovambatista Strozzi published in Florence in May, 1593,
by his sons Lorenzo and Filippo Strozzi, with a dedication to their
paternal uncle, Signor Leone Strozzi, Generale delle battaglie di Santa
Chiesa. As I do not remember to have seen either the poems or their
author mentioned in any English work, or to have found them in any of
the common collections of Italian poetry; and as the little work is of
rare occurrence; I will transcribe a few specimens. I have seldom
met with compositions that possessed, to my feelings, more of that
satisfying entireness, that complete adequateness of the manner to the
matter which so charms us in Anacreon, joined with the tenderness,
and more than the delicacy of Catullus. Trifles as they are, they were
probably elaborated with great care; yet to the perusal we refer them
to a spontaneous energy rather than to voluntary effort. To a cultivated
taste there is a delight in perfection for its own sake, independently
of the material in which it is manifested, that none but a cultivated
taste can understand or appreciate.

After what I have advanced, it would appear presumption to offer a
translation; even if the attempt were not discouraged by the different
genius of the English mind and language, which demands a denser body of
thought as the condition of a high polish, than the Italian. I cannot
but deem it likewise an advantage in the Italian tongue, in many other
respects inferior to our own, that the language of poetry is more
distinct from that of prose than with us. From the earlier appearance
and established primacy of the Tuscan poets, concurring with the
number of independent states, and the diversity of written dialects,
the Italians have gained a poetic idiom, as the Greeks before them
had obtained from the same causes with greater and more various
discriminations, for example, the Ionic for their heroic verses; the
Attic for their iambic; and the two modes of the Doric for the lyric or
sacerdotal, and the pastoral, the distinctions of which were doubtless
more obvious to the Greeks themselves than they are to us.

I will venture to add one other observation before I proceed to the
transcription. I am aware that the sentiments which I have avowed
concerning the points of difference between the poetry of the present
age, and that of the period between 1500 and 1650, are the reverse of
the opinion commonly entertained. I was conversing on this subject with
a friend, when the servant, a worthy and sensible woman, coming in, I
placed before her two engravings, the one a pinky-coloured plate of the
day, the other a masterly etching by Salvator Rosa from one of his
own pictures. On pressing her to tell us, which she preferred, after a
little blushing and flutter of feeling, she replied "Why, that, Sir, to
be sure! (pointing to the ware from the Fleet-street print shops);--it's
so neat and elegant. T'other is such a scratchy slovenly thing. " An
artist, whose writings are scarcely less valuable than his pictures, and
to whose authority more deference will be willingly paid, than I
could even wish should be shown to mine, has told us, and from his own
experience too, that good taste must be acquired, and like all other
good things, is the result of thought and the submissive study of the
best models. If it be asked, "But what shall I deem such? "--the answer
is; presume those to be the best, the reputation of which has been
matured into fame by the consent of ages. For wisdom always has a final
majority, if not by conviction, yet by acquiescence. In addition to
Sir J. Reynolds I may mention Harris of Salisbury; who in one of his
philosophical disquisitions has written on the means of acquiring a just
taste with the precision of Aristotle, and the elegance of Quinctilian.

MADRIGALI.

Gelido suo ruscel chiaro, e tranquillo
M'insegno Amor di state a mezzo'l giorno;
Ardean le solve, ardean le piagge, e i colli.
Ond' io, ch' al piu gran gielo ardo e sfavillo,
Subito corsi; ma si puro adorno
Girsene il vidi, che turbar no'l volli:
Sol mi specchiava, e'n dolce ombrosa sponda
Mi stava intento al mormorar dell' onda.

Aure dell' angoscioso viver mio
Refrigerio soave,
E dolce si, che piu non mi par grave
Ne'l ardor, ne'l morir, anz' il desio;
Deh voil ghiaccio, e le nubi, e'l tempo rio
Discacciatene omai, che londa chiara,
E l'ombra non men cara
A scherzare, a cantar per suoi boschetti,
E prati festa et allegrezza alletti.

Pacifiche, ma spesso in amorosa
Guerra co'fiori, e l'erba
Alla stagione acerba
Verdi insegne del giglio e della rosa,
Movete, Aure, pian pian; che tregua o posa,
Se non pace, io ritrove;
E so ben dove:--Oh vago, a mansueto
Sguardo, oh labbra d'ambrosia, oh rider, lieto!

Hor come un scoglio stassi,
Hor come un rio se'n fugge,
Ed hor crud' orsa rugge,
Hor canta angelo pio: ma che non fassi!
E che non fammi, O sassi,
O rivi, o belue, o Dii, questa mia vaga
Non so, se ninfa, o magna,
Non so, se donna, o Dea,
Non so, se dolce o rea?

Piangendo mi baciaste,
E ridendo il negaste:
In doglia hebbivi pin,
In festa hebbivi ria:
Nacque gioia di pianti,
Dolor di riso: O amanti
Miseri, habbiate insieme
Ognor paura e speme.

Bel Fior, tu mi rimembri
La rugiadosa guancia del bet viso;
E si vera l'assembri,
Che'n te sovente, come in lei m'affiso:
Et hor del vago riso,
Hor del serene sguardo
Io pur cieco riguardo. Ma qual fugge,
O Rosa, il mattin lieve!
E chi te, come neve,
E'l mio cor teco, e la mia vita strugge!

Anna mia, Anna dolce, oh sempre nuovo
E piu chiaro concento,
Quanta dolcezza sento
In sol Anna dicendo? Io mi pur pruovo,
Ne qui tra noi ritruovo,
Ne tra cieli armonia,
Che del bel nome suo piu dolce sia:
Altro il Cielo, altro Amore,
Altro non suona l'Ecco del mio core.

Hor che'l prato, e la selva si scoiora,
Al tuo serena ombroso
Muovine, alto Riposo,
Deh ch'io riposi una sol notte, un hora:
Han le fere, e git augelli, ognun talora
Ha qualche pace; io quando,
Lasso! non vonne errando,
E non piango, e non grido? e qual pur forte?
Ma poiche, non sent' egli, odine, Morte.

Risi e piansi d'Amor; ne pero mai
Se non in fiamma, o'n onda, o'n vento scrissi
Spesso msrce trovai
Crudel; sempre in me morto, in altri vissi:
Hor da' piu scuri Abissi al ciel m'aizai,
Hor ne pur caddi giuso;
Stance al fin qui son chiuso.

[Footnote 64: --

"I've measured it from side to side;
'Tis three feet long, and two feet wide. "]

[Footnote 65: --

"Nay, rack your brain--'tis all in vain,
I'll tell you every thing I know;
But to the Thorn, and to the Pond
Which is a little step beyond,
I wish that you would go:
Perhaps, when you are at the place,
You something of her tale may trace.

I'll give you the best help I can
Before you up the mountain go,
Up to the dreary mountain-top,
I'll tell you all I know.
'Tis now some two-and-twenty years
Since she (her name is Martha Ray)
Gave, with a maiden's true good will,
Her company to Stephen Hill;
And she was blithe and gay,
And she was happy, happy still
Whene'er she thought of Stephen Hill.

And they had fixed the wedding-day,
The morning that must wed them both
But Stephen to another maid
Had sworn another oath;
And, with this other maid, to church
Unthinking Stephen went--
Poor Martha! on that woeful day
A pang of pitiless dismay
Into her soul was sent;
A fire was kindled in her breast,
Which might not burn itself to rest.

They say, full six months after this,
While yet the summer leaves were green,
She to the mountain-top would go,
And there was often seen;
'Tis said a child was in her womb,
As now to any eye was plain;
She was with child, and she was mad;
Yet often she was sober sad
From her exceeding pain.
Oh me! ten thousand times I'd rather
That he had died, that cruel father!

* * * *
* * * *
* * * *
* * * *

Last Christmas when they talked of this,
Old Farmer Simpson did maintain,
That in her womb the infant wrought
About its mother's heart, and brought
Her senses back again:
And, when at last her time drew near,
Her looks were calm, her senses clear.

No more I know, I wish I did,
And I would tell it all to you
For what became of this poor child
There's none that ever knew
And if a child was born or no,
There's no one that could ever tell;
And if 'twas born alive or dead,
There's no one knows, as I have said:
But some remember well,
That Martha Ray about this time
Would up the mountain often climb. "]

[Footnote 66: It is no less an error in teachers, than a torment to the poor
children, to enforce the necessity of reading as they would talk. In
order to cure them of singing as it is called, that is, of too great a
difference, the child is made to repeat the words with his eyes from off
the book; and then, indeed, his tones resemble talking, as far as his
fears, tears and trembling will permit. But as soon as the eye is again
directed to the printed page, the spell begins anew; for an instinctive
sense tells the child's feelings, that to utter its own momentary
thoughts, and to recite the written thoughts of another, as of another,
and a far wiser than himself, are two widely different things; and as
the two acts are accompanied with widely different feelings, so must
they justify different modes of enunciation. Joseph Lancaster, among
his other sophistications of the excellent Dr. Bell's invaluable system,
cures this fault of singing, by hanging fetters and chains on the child,
to the music of which one of his school-fellows, who walks before,
dolefully chants out the child's last speech and confession, birth,
parentage, and education. And this soul-benumbing ignominy, this unholy
and heart-hardening burlesque on the last fearful infliction of outraged
law, in pronouncing the sentence to which the stern and familiarized
judge not seldom bursts into tears, has been extolled as a happy and
ingenious method of remedying--what? and how? --why, one extreme in order
to introduce another, scarce less distant from good sense, and certainly
likely to have worse moral effects, by enforcing a semblance of petulant
ease and self-sufficiency, in repression and possible after-perversion
of the natural feelings. I have to beg Dr. Bell's pardon for this
connection of the two names, but he knows that contrast is no less
powerful a cause of association than likeness. ]

[Footnote 67: Altered from the description of Night-Mair in the REMORSE.

"Oh Heaven! 'twas frightful! Now ran down and stared at
By hideous shapes that cannot be remembered;
Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing;
But only being afraid--stifled with fear!
While every goodly or familiar form
Had a strange power of spreading terror round me! "

N. B. --Though Shakespeare has, for his own all justifying purposes,
introduced the Night-Mare with her own foals, yet Mair means a Sister,
or perhaps a Hag. ]

[Footnote 68: But still more by the mechanical system of philosophy which
has needlessly infected our theological opinions, and teaching us to
consider the world in its relation to god, as of a building to its
mason, leaves the idea of omnipresence a mere abstract notion in the
stateroom of our reason. ]

[Footnote 69: As the ingenious gentleman under the influence of the Tragic Muse
contrived to dislocate, "I wish you a good morning, Sir! Thank you, Sir,
and I wish you the same," into two blank-verse heroics:--

To you a morning good, good Sir! I wish.
You, Sir! I thank: to you the same wish I.

In those parts of Mr. Wordsworth's works which I have thoroughly
studied, I find fewer instances in which this would be practicable
than I have met to many poems, where an approximation of prose has been
sedulously and on system guarded against. Indeed excepting the stanzas
already quoted from THE SAILOR'S MOTHER, I can recollect but one
instance: that is to say, a short passage of four or five lines in THE
BROTHERS, that model of English pastoral, which I never yet read with
unclouded eye. --"James, pointing to its summit, over which they had all
purposed to return together, informed them that he would wait for them
there. They parted, and his comrades passed that way some two hours
after, but they did not find him at the appointed place, _a circumstance
of which they took no heed:_ but one of them, going by chance into the
house, which at this time was James's house, learnt _there,_ that nobody
had seen him all that day. " The only change which has been made is in
the position of the little word there in two instances, the position
in the original being clearly such as is not adopted in ordinary
conversation. The other words printed in italics were so marked because,
though good and genuine English, they are not the phraseology of common
conversation either in the word put in apposition, or in the connection
by the genitive pronoun. Men in general would have said, "but that was
a circumstance they paid no attention to, or took no notice of;" and
the language is, on the theory of the preface, justified only by the
narrator's being the Vicar. Yet if any ear could suspect, that these
sentences were ever printed as metre, on those very words alone could
the suspicion have been grounded. ]

[Footnote 70: I had in my mind the striking but untranslatable epithet, which
the celebrated Mendelssohn applied to the great founder of the Critical
Philosophy "Der alleszermalmende KANT," that is, the all-becrushing,
or rather the all-to-nothing-crushing Kant. In the facility and force
of compound epithets, the German from the number of its cases and
inflections approaches to the Greek, that language so

"Bless'd in the happy marriage of sweet words. "

It is in the woful harshness of its sounds alone that the German need
shrink from the comparison. ]

[Footnote 71: Sammlung einiger Abhandlungen von Christian Garve. ]

[Footnote 72: Sonnet IX. ]

[Footnote 73: Mr. Wordsworth's having judiciously adopted "concourse wild" in
this passage for "a wild scene" as it stood to the former edition,
encourages me to hazard a remark, which I certainly should not have made
in the works of a poet less austerely accurate in the use of words, than
he is, to his own great honour. It respects the propriety of the word,
"scene," even in the sentence in which it is retained. Dryden, and he
only in his more careless verses, was the first, as far as my researches
have discovered, who for the convenience of rhyme used this word in the
vague sense, which has been since too current even in our best writers,
and which (unfortunately, I think) is given as its first explanation in
Dr. Johnson's Dictionary and therefore would be taken by an incautious
reader as its proper sense. In Shakespeare and Milton the word is
never used without some clear reference, proper or metaphorical, to the
theatre. Thus Milton:

"Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm
A sylvan scene; and, as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. "

I object to any extension of its meaning, because the word is already
more equivocal than might be wished; inasmuch as to the limited use,
which I recommend, it may still signify two different things; namely,
the scenery, and the characters and actions presented on the stage
during the presence of particular scenes. It can therefore be preserved
from obscurity only by keeping the original signification full in the
mind. Thus Milton again,

------"Prepare thee for another scene. "]

[Footnote 74: --

Which Copland scarce had spoke, but quickly every hill,
Upon her verge that stands, the neighbouring vallies fill;
Helvillon from his height, it through the mountains threw,
From whom as soon again, the sound Dunbalrase drew,
From whose stone-trophied head, it on the Windross went,
Which tow'rds the sea again, resounded it to Dent.
That Brodwater, therewith within her banks astound,
In sailing to the sea, told it to Egremound,
Whose buildings, walks, and streets, with echoes loud and long,
Did mightily commend old Copland for her song.
Drayton's POLYOLBION: Song XXX. ]

[Footnote 75: Translation. It behoves me to side with my friends, but only as far
as the gods. ]

[Footnote 76: "Slender. I bruised my shin with playing with sword and dagger for
a dish of stewed prunes, and by my troth I cannot abide the smell of hot
meat since. "--So again, Evans. "I will make an end of my dinner: there's
pippins and cheese to come. "]

[Footnote 77: This was accidentally confirmed to me by an old German gentleman at
Helmstadt, who had been Klopstock's school and bed-fellow. Among other
boyish anecdotes, he related that the young poet set a particular value
on a translation of the PARADISE LOST, and always slept with it under
his pillow. ]

[Footnote 78: Klopstock's observation was partly true and partly erroneous. In
the literal sense of his words, and, if we confine the comparison to the
average of space required for the expression of the same thought in the
two languages, it is erroneous. I have translated some German hexameters
into English hexameter; and find, that on the average three English
lines will express four lines German. The reason is evident: our
language abounds in monosyllables and dissyllables. The German, not less
than the Greek, is a polysyllable language. But in another point of view
the remark was not without foundation. For the German possessing the
same unlimited privilege of forming compounds, both with prepositions
and with epithets, as the Greek, it can express the richest single Greek
word in a single German one, and is thus freed from the necessity
of weak or ungraceful paraphrases. I will content myself with one at
present, viz. the use of the prefixed participles ver, zer, ent, and
weg: thus reissen to rend, verreissen to rend away, zerreissen to rend
to pieces, entreissen to rend off or out of a thing, in the active
sense: or schmelzen to melt--ver, zer, ent, schmelzen--and in like
manner through all the verbs neuter and active. If you consider only
how much we should feel the loss of the prefix be, as in bedropt,
besprinkle, besot, especially in our poetical language, and then think
that this same mode of composition is carved through all their simple
and compound prepositions, and many of their adverbs; and that with most
of these the Germans have the same privilege as we have of dividing them
from the verb and placing them at the end of the sentence; you will
have no difficulty in comprehending the reality and the cause of this
superior power in the German of condensing meaning, in which its great
poet exulted. It is impossible to read half a dozen pages of Wieland
without perceiving that in this respect the German has no rival but the
Greek. And yet I feel, that concentration or condensation is not the
happiest mode of expressing this excellence, which seems to consist not
so much in the less time required for conveying an impression, as in
the unity and simultaneousness with which the impression is conveyed.
It tends to make their language more picturesque: it depictures images
better. We have obtained this power in part by our compound verbs
derived from the Latin: and the sense of its great effect no doubt
induced our Milton both to the use and the abuse of Latin derivatives.
But still these prefixed particles, conveying no separate or separable
meaning to the mere English reader, cannot possibly act on the mind with
the force or liveliness of an original and homogeneous language such as
the German is, and besides are confined to certain words. ]

[Footnote 79: Praecludere calumniam, in the original. ]

[Footnote 80: Better thus: Forma specifica per formam individualem translucens:
or better yet--Species individualisata, sive Individuum cuilibet Speciei
determinatae in omni parte correspondens et quasi versione quadam eam
interpretans et repetens. ]

[Footnote 81: --

------"The big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase,"

says Shakespeare of a wounded stag hanging its head over a stream:
naturally, from the position of the head, and most beautifully, from
the association of the preceding image, of the chase, in which "the
poor sequester'd stag from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt. " In the
supposed position of Bertram, the metaphor, if not false, loses all the
propriety of the original. ]

[Footnote 82: Among a number of other instances of words chosen without reason,
Imogine in the first act declares, that thunder-storms were not able
to intercept her prayers for "the desperate man, in desperate ways who
dealt"----

"Yea, when the launched bolt did sear her sense,
Her soul's deep orisons were breathed for him;"

that is, when a red-hot bolt, launched at her from a thunder-cloud, had
cauterized her sense, to plain English, burnt her eyes out of her head,
she kept still praying on.