intellectual laws and faculties, for that capacity and love of abstract speculation-of comprehensive and philosophical reasoning-which had become the prominent feature of the literature of the age, expanded itself through every branch of moral and political science-leading original and inquisitive minds to ascend from the humble level of a narrow and contracted experience to the lofty region of principle-and to subdue the coarse resistance of vulgar prejudice, before the spirit of a predominating reason. Happy had it been for mankind if baser spirits had never interposed in this high intellectual cause, to disturb and disgust the world by contaminating the oracles of truth and of reason with the blasphemies of atheism and the atrocities of revolution. The philosophy of the modern school is the philosophy of reason, not that of imagination. Hostile alike to the seductive dreams of fancy and the presumptuous arrogance of system, and disdaining every other support but the solid basis of experiment and observation, it aspires to raise the study of human nature-which had in all former ages been a tasteless aggregate of insulated facts, and fascinating but unsatisfactory visions—to the dignity of a science. The sublime mysticism and charmed reveries of Plato, which cast an air and aspect of divinity around the aberrations of human intellect-the ambitious, subtle, and comprehensive scheme of Aristotle, which, aspiring to chain the universe of matter and of mind within the limits of a system, lost all reality in the expansion of its grasp, and retained, in syllogistic fetters, only the forms and shadows of existence-the wild visions of a speculative superstition and corrupted theology-and the spirit of barren but laborious subtlety which usurped the honour of genius during the long night of barbarian ignorance, were alike denounced and contemned in the bright æra of European intellect. Reason alone was obeyed in the plenitude of her restored empire. The imperative demands of the inductive logic were scrupulously complied with the neeessity of founding the generalizations of philosophy upon a large experience, and of resting systems of knowledge upon a wide survey of nature, was re cognised; and the result was not only a vast accession to the neglected province of moral and intellectual philosophy, to which the works of Locke, and Montesquien, and Smith, and Hume, and Reid, bear ample testimony, but the formation of a loftier and more philosophical cast of thinking throughout all the instructed classes of society, which is yet visible in the general state of opinion, and even in the most ordinary efforts of literary composition. The humblest of them all now breathes an affectation, at least, of general principle, and a disdain of vulgar prejudice, such as could have been generated only in the triumph of a profound and rational philosophy. It is true there was a coldness in this system-a sternness of abstraction which a vigorous intellect alone could sustain; it spoke neither to the imagination nor the heart, and presented no other charm, but the sublime and simple beauty of truth. Such are the profound and masterly discussions of Locke, Berkeley, Smith, and Reid, and of all the illustrious writers who are now neglected as too subtle and frigid for the impassioned character of the age. It must be owned, indeed, that the tendency of this cold and vigorous system of reasoning-ambitious as it was inflexible-penetrating, without scruple, into the darkest mysteries connected with the origin, the condition, and the destinies of the speciesand proud of sporting on the very brink of that abyss where the energy of human reason is extinguished, and the light of philosophy expires-was but too favourable to that spirit of scepticism which was the disgrace of the last age. But it is on secondary minds alone that modern philosophy produces this baneful effect. Witness the profound and unshaken piety of Bacon, which was on a high level with all the other elements of his intellectual greatness-with his grave and awful cast of thought—with the sobriety and majesty of his feeling and comprehensive soul, which was too near an emanation from the Deity to forget for a moment its celestial descent. Witness also the venerable names of Locke and of Newton, to whom it was not given to range over the universe of mind and of matter in ignorance of the divine Author, of the mighty gifts with which they were endued, and of the magnificent scenes spread out for their employment. The master spirits of every age have towered above the seductions of scepticism; firm in the purity and stability of their own character-exalted by the privileges of a larger capacity, and a wider range of contemplation-by the susceptibility of graver and loftier fecling-by a clearer perception of the limits imposed by nature on the audacity of human speculation-and a deeper and more intense humility in the mingled consciousness of their own gifts and frailties-they abandoned to the minor race of cold and contemptuous sophists the odious distinction of a daring and reckless unbelief. The progress of physical science, and the multiplied power of matter which have been developed to its researches, cannot seduce their calm and considerate minds into the puny sophism, that matter is, there fore, all-that a cold and repulsive scepticism is the natural creed of an impassioned and aspiring soul, that the magnificent triumphs of human intellect warrant a denial of its exist ence, or a doubt as to the supreme and presiding power of that Spirit in whose might alone all that is great or good must be achieved. In politics, the influence of abstract philosophy was still more variable. Men of great genius, wholly occupied with their own speculations, seldom engage with much ardour in political discussion, unless they are dragged from their beloved retirement by the unexpected approach of persecution, or the arrival of some great public convulsion, which sweeps every thing within its baleful and degrading vortex. They are naturally calm and submissive; and it must be the fault of governments if they are ever roused to disturb them by their opposition. What to them are the petty intriguesthe vulgar jealousies-the warring factions-the ostentatious bustle-the pigmy magnificence of the actors-or the fugitive importance of the ordinary events which agitate and distract the world-compared with the grandeur of their own enduring speculations? If they be men of mere theory, strangers to the business and the cares of the world, such will be their feel ing and their creed; but if they are The passion for abstract science which distinguished the last age, has perished before the power of that very spirit which was generated by its a buse. The bold and frequent dissections of the inmost frame of society, which were conducted with unfaultering hand, under the auspices, and in the name of philosophy,-the contemptuous triumph which it arrogated over many of the salutary prejudices of mankind,-the unsparing ferocity with which its later and perverted disciples vowed, and in part accomplished the destruction of religion and of government,-have generated a series of events of a new and oppressive interest, before which its own refined abstractions have disappeared. The long train of stupendous occurrences— the swift and regular succession of appalling realities, which it has been our fortune to witness, has forcibly withdrawn every mind from all other contemplations but that of the passing scene; and by inverting the ordinary vulgarities of political discussion with an interest and importance which they never attained in any former age, has attracted to them the intense regard, and almost undivided sympathy of mankind. The mightiest of all modern revolutions, indeed, is that which has been accomplished in the state of the public mind. Forms may be revived, and institutions may be restored; but the restoration of intellect and feeling to their former level, is beyond the power of armies, and above the scope of alliances. An intellectual movement has been made, whether for good or for evil signifies not, and it cannot be arrested; for the progress of knowledge, with the existing safeguards for its perpetuity, scorns all impediment. It advances by a myriad of avenues, which no vigilance can secure,-it is buried deep in the human heart, and the freezing severity of despotism cannot reach the sacred recess. But the consequence of this diffused know ledge is to alter the standard of literary taste,-to change the distributors of favour, and vary the objects of reward, to establish a real democracy of literature, in which the candidate for its envied honours must appeal, not to the few, but to the many,-to vulgarize philosophy and learning, and to extinguish in all, but the noblest bosoms, the old longing after immortality for which the tumultuous applause of the moment is in most cases felt to be not only a prompt but a grateful compensation. Have not some profound metaphysicians verified the justice of these remarks in the history of their philosophical career? Have they not sometimes been over-ambitious of popularity, and feeling with anguish, that the tide of public sentiment was turning against their favourite pursuits, have they not occasionally made abortive efforts to accommodate themselves to the light and fickle taste of the multitude; to lower the dignity of science to the prejudices of the vulgar; to transplant the smaller graces which the public taste affects to demand, into regions where they are either stinted in their growth, or pernicious in their luxuriance; to mimic the language of feeling, where they ought to have aspired, only at the strength of argument; and to compromise the lofty character of the science by a feigned contempt for its profounder branches, and a feeble preference of its more tasteful appendages? And what has been the result? Even with the aid of their impolitic condescension they have been wholly eclipsed by lighter and inferior spirits, who, by the exclusive devotion of their slenderer talent to its appropriate pursuits, have ever vindicated for themselves the literary honours in which a competition so unwise had been attempted with them. The philosophers have had themselves to blame, indeed, for a portion of that neglect with which they have of late been visited. They have long rejected, it is true, the embarrassing formality of the syllogism in the structure of their dissertations; but they are often no less insipid than if they yet adhered to the tedious rigour of that obsolete appendage. The method of induction is indeed excellent; but it is by no means a talisman against drivelling enumerations and operose and unfruitful disquisitions. The effect of writing a great deal about that which all understand at a glance, even although the entire gravity of the Baconian method should be scrupulously kept up-of descanting upon commonplaces, and demonstrating truismsof setting out from the very beginning, when every one is more than half advanced on the road, is extremely unpropitious to the credit of the philosopher, and of the science, however profound and ingenious, which he pro fesses to teach. But it is an error into which philosophers are too apt to fall, and which their readers never fail to visit with unsparing derision. It is from this failing of their own, rather than from the insignificant effect of the dissertations lately written to prove that intellectual science is not the field of discovery, that we must reckon the melancholy decline of their reputation. For what can be meant in this absurd argument by discovery? The general laws of nature are familiar to the most vulgar experience in physics as well as in morals; discoveries of such laws therefore are, and ever have been, in both cases, out of the question; but if it be the exclusive province, and the highest boast of philosophy to generalize, to detect a latent principle pervading a large class of phenomena, although invisible to vulgar eyes,—to seize analogies, and mark distinctions that have no existence for vulgar curiosity, to exhibit a rational and magnificent classification of the various elements which nature scatters around, and philosophy alone can arrange,then do the spiritual faculties and infinitely varied operations of intellectual nature, afford a much loftier employment to the curiosity of a great and penetrating mind, than the phenomena of the material world in all their variety of brightness and of wonder. There has, upon the whole, therefore, been a very marked, and as we apprehend, not a very favourable change of late years in the genius of our na tional literature. In poetry, perhaps, there has been a great improvement; for the depth of feeling, and energy of sentiment, which characterize one or two of the very greatest poets of the day, have no prototype in the cold, elegant, constrained, and derisive compositions of the preceding age. But if poetry has had a triumph, philosophy has visibly declined; the taste for abstract speculation has perished in the intensity of feeling and the blaze of sentiment. The mighty masters of reason are now postponed without scruple to the experienced ministers of enjoyment; and the toils of deep and anxious speculation are willingly exchanged for the charm of a momentary impulse, and the attractions of an immediate but transitory reputation. There is much unmeaning pedantry, to be sure, much idle, and tasteless, and drivelling speculation in books which profess to teach philosophy; but still the very grandeur of their scheme, which endeavours to rise above the vulgarity of ordinary discussion; to ascend to the loftier regions of thought, and to penetrate the ultimate recesses of principle, has a powerful tendency to check the commonplace arrogance, and expand the narrow grasp of uninstructed intellect. The preponderating influence of the crowd, an influence essentially vulgar in the distribution of literary honours, has wrought the momentous change which we have remarked; a change which has taken from philosophical literature its highest aims, and all the spirit of its most original enterprises, and substituted, towards the general edification, the superficial intelligence, and sophistical levity of periodical and perishable disquisition, for the massive and enduring fabrics of original discussion. It is well that philosophy should be familiarized to the general capacity, it is well that the public should be educated to receive it, and should be stirred up to the ambition of literary attainment; but it is not so fortunate for the interests of learning or of truth, that this influence should predominate so far as to reduce science to the capacity of the multitude, instead of raising the latter, by suitable gradations, to the standard of superior minds. We rejoice that philosophy now descends by a thousand streams, and overflows the surface of society; but we should wish also to see the fountain more frequently stirred by the higher genius to which the guardianship of its purity is entrusted, and to which alone we can look for that regular and increasing supply which the wants and interests, and even the caprice of human nature imperiously demands. Vor. IV 48 THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. From Goethe. I. A STRANGER youth from Athens came To Corinth-tho' himself unknown, Relying on his father's name ; Nor hospitable ties alone Secured him a Corinthian friend, For, plighted by his father's vows, He longed to see his plighted spouse, And hence his journey's aim and end. II. But shall the stranger welcome be? Or must her love be dearly bought? Alas! a heathen still is he, And they the Christian faith are taught ! And when new forms of faith arise, How soon love's tender blossom dies, Without a sigh, without a thought! III. The house in midnight silence lies, VIII. "Away-young man-stand far away, What pleasure is, I feel not nowJoy hath forever fled from me, Scared by a mother's gloomy vow ;— She feared to die,-my youthful bloomMy hopes of love-her stern decree Hath destined to a living tomb! IX. "Our ancient Gods no longer deign, In this dull mansion to reside But one, who dwells in heaven unseen, And one, upon the cross who died, Are worshipped with sad rite severe ; No offering falls of lamb or steer, But human victims suffer here!" X. He ponders with a trembling heart, Each word that falls upon his ear, "And art thou then-ah! sure thou art My plighted spouse, that meets me here? Be mine, my love, our father's vow She bows, and wishes him "Good night!" Hath blessed our loves be mine even now!" IV. He thought not of the wine and bread, He only felt a wish for rest At once he flung him on the bed- V. Black is the band that twines her hair; "Tis black, but streaked with lines of goldShe screams, and shudders to behold The stranger youth reclining there, And, lifting her white arm in air, VI. Exclaims," then am I nothing here! And here to come is infamy. And I will vanish as I came !" VII. "Stay," cries the youth," stay maiden dear," As lightly from the couch springs he, CERES and BACCHUS, lo! are here, And LovE, sweet maid, hath come with thee, Ah! thou art pale with idle fear, The Gods are good, and blest are we!" |