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fesses to teach. But it is an error into anxious speculation are willingly exwhich philosophers are too apt to fall, changed for the charm of a momentary and which their readers never fail to impulse, and the attractions of an im visit with unsparing, derision. . It is mediate but transitory reputation. from this failing of their own, rather There is much unmeaning pedantry, than from the insignificant effect of to be sure, much idle, and tasteless, the dissertations lately written to prove and drivelling speculation in books that intellectual science is not the field which profess to teach philosophy; of discovery, that we must reckon the but still the very grandeur of their melancholy decline of their reputation. scheme, which endeavours to rise aFor what can be meant in this absurd bove the vulgarity of ordinary discusargument by discovery? The general sion; to ascend to the loftier regions laws of nature are familiar to the most of thought, and to penetrate the ultivulgar experience in physics as well as mate recesses of principle, has a powerin morals; discoveries of such laws ful tendency to check the commontherefore are, and ever have been, in place arrogance, and expand the narboth cases, out of the question; but if row grasp of uninstructed intellect. it be the exclusive province, and the The preponderating influence of the highest boast of philosophy to gene- crowd, an influence essentially vulgar ralize,-to detect a latent principle in the distribution of literary honours, pervading a large class of phenomena, has wrought the momentous change although invisible to vulgar eyes,—to which we have remarked ; a change seize analogies, and mark distinctions which has taken from philosophical lithat have no existence for vulgar cu- terature its highest aims, and all the riosity,—to exhibit a rational and mag- spirit of its most original enterprises, nificent classification of the various and substituted, towards the general elements which nature scatters around, edification, the superficial intelligence, and philosophy alone can arrange, and sophistical levity of periodical and then do the spiritual faculties and in- perishable disquisition, for the massive finitely varied operations of intellectual and enduring fabrics of original disa nature, afford a much loftier employ; cussion. It is well that philosophy ment to the curiosity of a great and should be familiarized to the general penetrating mind, than the phenomena capacity, -it is well that the public of the material world in all their va should be educated to receive it, and riety of brightness and of wonder. should be stirred up to the ambition of

There has, upon the whole, there literary attainment; but it is not so fore, been a very marked, and as we fortunate for the interests of learning apprehend, not a very favourable change or of truth, that this influence should of late years in the genius of our na- predominate so far as to reduce science tional literature. In poetry, perhaps, to the capacity of the multitude, inthere has been a great improvement; stead of raising the latter, by suitable for the depth of feeling, and energy of gradations, to the standard of superior sentiment, which characterize one or minds. We rejoice that philosophy two of the very greatest poets of the now descends by a thousand streams, day, have no prototype in the cold, ele- and overflows the surface of society; gant, constrained, and derisive compo- but we should wish also to see the sitions of the preceding age. But if fountain more frequently stirred by poetry has had a triumph, philosophy the higher genius to which the guata has visibly declined; the taste for ab- dianship of its purity is entrusted, and stract speculation has perished in the to which alone we can look for that intensity of feeling and the blaze of regular and increasing supply which sentiment. The mighty masters of the wants and interests, and even the reason are now postponed without caprice of human nature imperiously scruple to the experienced ministers of demands. enjoyment; and the toils of deep and




From Goethe.




VIII. A STRANGER youth from Athens came “ Away-young man-stand far away,

To Corinth-tho' himself unknown, What pleasure is, I feel not nowRelying on his father's name ;

Joy hath forever fled from me, Nor hospitable ties alone

Scared by a mother's gloomy pow; Secured him a Corinthian friend,

She feared to die,-my youthful bloonFor, plighted by his father's vows, My hopes of love-her stern decree

He longed to see his plighted spouse, Hath destined to a living tomb! And hence his journey's aim and end.


“ Our ancient Gods no longer deign, But shall the stranger welcome be? Or must her love be dearly bought ?

In this dull mansion to resideAlas! a heathen still is he,

But one, who dwells in heaven unseen, And they the Christian faith are taught !

And one, upon the cross who died, And when new forms of faith arise,

Are worshipped with sad rite severe ; How soon love's tender blossom dies,

No offering falls of lamb or steer,
Without a sigh, without a thought !

But human victims suffer here !"

The house in midnight silence lies,
Father and daughters, all at rest !

He ponders with a trembling heart,

Each word that falls upon his ear,
Sleep only shuns the mother's eyes
She rises to receive the guest-

“ And art thou then-ah ! sure thou art She leads him to a chamber bright,

My plighted spouse, that meets me here! And wine and bread before him laid ;

Be mine, my love, our father's vow She bows, and wishes him "Good night!" Hath blessed our loves—be mine even nos?"

XI. He thought not of the wine and bread, “ Have they not told thee then," she crici, He only felt a wish for rest

“ That I thy consort may not be At once he flung him on the bed- My sister is thy destined bride ;

His weary limb's scarce feel repose, But in her arms, ah ! think of me,
When, hush ! the chamber doors unclose, Who in my cell will think of thee,
And in there steals a timid guest. Who pine and die with love of thee,

The cold earth soon my woes will hide."
He wakes-and by the lamp's faint light,
Behold a maiden tall and fair !

XII. Her veil is white-her robes are white “ No !-never !-by this lamp I swear,

Black is the band that twines her hair ; That glowing emblems Hymen's torch, 'Tis black, but streaked with lines of gold Thou shalt not perish thus from me. She screams, and shudders to behold

Oh! we will seek my father's porch, The stranger youth reclining there,

And from this home of sorrow flee; And, lifting her white arm in air,

Be mine, my love, be mine to-night,

To-morrow's sun will guide our flight.** VI. Exclaims, “ then am I nothing here !

XIII. Guests come and go, and none tells me !

She reached to him a chain of gold, Dark is my chamber, lone and drear,

of deathless love a token fair; And here to come is infamy.

He reached to her a silver cup, To wander here is scathe and shame,

Adorned with gravings rich and rare; Sleep on, young stranger, quietly,

“ The cup, my love, I may not take, And I will vanish as I came !"

But give me, for thine own dear sake, VII.

One only ringlet of thy hair !" “ Stay," cries the youth, “ stay maiden dear,”

XIV. As lightly from the couch springs he, Damp strikes the hour that spirits knowCEREs and Bacchus, lo! are here,

Her eyes with eager pleasure shine, And LOVE, sweet maid, hath come with Her cheek assumes a sparkling glow, thee,

Her pale lips quaff the blood-red wine; Ah! thou art pale with idle fear,

But vainly may the youth entreat, The Gods are good, and blest are we !"- The wheaten bread she will not eat!


She reached the wine-cup to his hand, In the first impulse of his fear

Like her, with eager joy, he drinks, He strove to hide the maiden's face-
He speaks to her with words of love ; In vain he drew the curtain's fold,
On love, on love alone he thinks ;

In vain he strove her veil to place, In vain hís warm intreaties prove

Still from his reaching hand she rose,
No words have charms her breast to move- Tall and more tall her stature grows.
In tears, upon the bed he sinks !


« Oh, mother! mother!” hollow sounds, She leans above him o'er the couch,

Unearthly, formed each fearful word ; “ Thy pangs I mourn bụt cannot heal

“ Thou enviest me this bridal night, What!-ha!-my limbshave met thy touch, These few short moments of delight, And tell thee what I would conceal ;

To pain am I again restored !
White, white as snow! cold, cold as sleet,

And is it not enough that I
Is she whose love thou dost entreat !" For thee in funeral pall should lie ?

For thee in youth should fade and die ?
He strains her in his closing arm

XXIV. With strength that youth and passion gave; • Me, from my narrow silent bed, “ Cold as thou art, thy blood shall warm,

Hither a wondrous doom hath driven : Even if thy dwelling were the grave.”

Your priests, their mummery song have said, With frenzied clasp of wild desire,

But, oh! it hath no weight in heaven ! He strains her to his breast of fire.

In vain your mystic spells ye prove !

The grave is cold—but chills not love!
Strange was, I ween, that bridal scene,

For with their kisses mingle tears ;
But what is coldness, what are fears,

$ I was his doomed and destined bride While in her lover's bosom prest,

In days, while Venus' fane still stood, The blood that stirs

But ye your former vows belied, In his veins warms hers,

And sealed your late-learned creed in blood; But, oh! no heart throbs in her breast ! Alas! no heavenly power stood by,

When thou didst doom thy child to die ! XIX. Without the door the mother stood,

XXVI. That under-voice what may it be,

" And hither from the grave I roam She knows not and she lingers there,

To seek the joys denied in life ; She listens long and anxiously ;

Hither, to seek my spouse I come Oh, is it, that she hears aright,

To drain his veins, a vampire wife! Voices like lovers’, low and light?

His doom is past_his fate severe

For Madness hath been Bride-maid here !

Breathless she stands, and motionless,
Till of these low words satisfied-

“ Young man, thy life is o'er the pain The vows of lisping tenderness,

Is on thee that must end in death; The words of lover and of bride- Round thee still hangs my fatal chain“ Hark! the cock crows—day soon will shine, Thy ringlet I must bear beneath. To-morrow night, again, my love,

Farewell ! farewell ! away! away!
To-morrow night thou wilt be mine."

Yonder the morning rises gray !

The mother hears no more-in wrath “ Hear, mother, hear a last request,

She bursts into the stranger's room ;- Build high for us a funeral pile; “ And is there in my house a maid

Oh, from that narrow cell released, Thus shameless, who can thus presume My spirit shall rejoicing smile ; To wanton--with a stranger too ?".

And when the embers fall away, Thus thinks she angrily -when, lo ! And when the funeral flames arise, By the lamp's decaying glow,

We'll journey to a home of rest, Her own-her daughter meets her view! Our ancient gods !-our ancient skies !"


The beings of the mind are not of clay,

Essentially immortal.-CHILDE HAROLD. In your Number for last September by one of our own faculties, one inde there is a paper entitled, “ David pendent of the will; that the very st Hume charged by Mr Coleridge with of the mind in thinking is the set of plagiarism from St Thomas Aquinas.” registry; and consequently, that every It is on the first part of this paper, man bears about in his own bosom the the one in which neither David Hume growing chronicle of his shame or glory. nor St Thomas Aquinas is referred to, It is painful to anticipate the scrutiny that we would make some remarks. of an omniscient judge ; but it is an It contains the following paragraph: aggravation of that feeling, to think that

“ Mr Coleridge, therefore, thinks it pro- our own minds will be the instrument of bable, that all thoughts are in themselves revealing and exposing all. That every imperishable, and that, if the intelligent circumstance of our then past life, faculty should be rendered more compre. whether mental or outward, will, et hensive, it would require only a different and apportioned organization ; the body ce- the dictate of the Almighty, rush forth lestial, instead of the body terrestrial, to and stand as apparent as our outward bring before every human soul the collective forms or features now do to each other, experience of its whole past existence. And It is not of this however, but of the all this,” he adds, “ perchance, is the dread doctrine of the imperishableness of our book of judgment, in whose mysterious ideas alone, that we would speak. hieroglyphics every idle word is recorded.”

To demonstrate that our ideas are The idea suggested in this last clause imperishable, is, of course, impossible. regarding the book of judgment is strik• The nature of such a subject does not ing, and we think, that as well as by admit of any one perfectly decisive arother circumstances, it is considerably gument; still, however, it is an opifavoured by a expression in scripture. nion which, under slight limitations, It is said, Rev. xx. 12. “ That when we are inclined to maintain. the small and great stand before God

Impressions which the mind rethe books shall be opened.” We do ceives in sleep, and in some kinds of not see how the plural number books madness, often, we have no doubt, would have been used unless it were pass forever away like the forms of vameant as a figurative expression for pour ; but we conceive, that all moral the minds or memories of those who ideas at least, if not all'ideas whatera are to appear in judgment.*

which a man receives whilst awake, The mere probability, however, of and in a state of perfect rationality,

are this, taken in connection with the im- indelibly impressed on the mind, and perishableness of our ideas, is enough are perishable only so far as the mind to make the most inconsiderate pause, is so. and is greatly calculated to excite to Amongst others the following are moral circumspection.

the best reasons we can give for such The consideration, that the soul is, an article of faith.* in its every movement, subjected to a 1st, The circumstance of our not strict and indelible registry, is surely being able by any effort to recall a for, appalling; but itis still more so to learn, gotten idea is no proof, forms indeed that the process of recording is effected no presumption that the idea is alto* It may be mentioned, that Jeremy

gether lost; for often after endeavourTaylor entertained this opinion as to the ing long, but wholly in vain, to recall book of remembrance out of which we are what we once knew, by and bye it to be judged; for in his sermon, his awful spontaneously presents itself to the sermon, on “'Christ's Advent to Judgment,” mind. in alluding to the dead he says, * Their 2dly, Often ideas and impressions debt-books are sealed up till the day of ac- long forgotten returp suddenly and count.” Again, * Our conscience shall be unexpectedly upon us, and quiekiy our accuser ; but this signifies these two things, Ist, That we shall be condemned for the evil which we have done, and shall • We have not read Mr Coleridge's Rio then remember God by his power wiping graphia Literaria, where Mr C. adduces pes azay the dust from the tables of our me- haps better arguments on this point t.13 mory."

have occurred to us.

again vanish without our being able to he meets with in conversation, or in retain them. They seem to be out of the course of his reading, are felt as the controul of the will, coming and quite new, the remaining great majopassing away like the wind, as they rity then are not new to him from list, without our being able to tell how. their being of the nature of reminisa What we allude to will be best under- cences, or ideas already existing in the

stood by the following passage from mind, though it may be long forgotten, · the original and energetic Foster : and which perhaps never would have

“ In some occasional states of mind, we been remembered again in life, but for can look back much more clearly, and to a their being resuggested ; this shews, much greater distance, than at other times. if not that ideas are imperishable, at I would advise to seize those short intervals least that a vast proportion of that out our knowing the cause, and in which knowledge which we imagine our the genuine aspect of some remote event, or selves to have lost, has not perished, long-forgotten image, is recovered with ex. but remains, though in a latent state, treme distinctness by vivid spontaneous in the mind. glimpses of thought, such as no effort could 4thly, We are to be judged at last have commanded; as the sombre features by every action, and word, and thought, and minute objects of a distant ridge of hills and feeling of our life, * at least by become strikingly visible in the strong those that have a moral character or gleams of light which transiently fall on relation. Many of these, however, we them.

An instance of this kind occurred to have in the meanwhile quite forgot, me but a few hours since, while reading what had no perceptible connection with a

and may never again remember here; circumstance of my early youth, which pro. many, which will go perhaps consibably I have not recollected for many years, derably to influence our ultimate destiand which had no unusual interest at the ny; butif they are not merely forgotten, time that it happened. That circumstance but actually effaced from the tablets of came suddenly to my mind with a clearness the mind, how are they to be recogs of representation which I was not able to nised as our own when arrayed either fetain for the length of an hour, and which for or against us, at the great bar I could not, by the strongest effort, at this

of judgment. instant renew. I seemed almost to see the

To say that the Al. walls and windows of a particular room, mighty, by some arbitrary miraculous with four or five persons in it, who were so 'act, if we may so express ourselves, perfectly restored to my imagination, that I can give the consciousness of their could recognise not only the features, but being our own, is to say what is true ; even the momentary expressions of their but surely it is more agreeable to the countenances, and the tones of their voices."

general analogy of the means by which Every man must have experienced the Almighty effects his purposes, to in himself instances like this of invo- suppose, that the ideas are not effaced luntary resuscitation of mental images from the mind; and that the soul, in Such 'instances show that there are another state of existence, will be so images and ideas existing in the mind far delivered from its present impediof which it is unconscious, but which, ments, and deadening influei.ces, as to like the electric fluid unsuspectedly be alive to every impression ever made concealed in a summer evening cloud, upon itt, or be able distinctly, and at requires only an appropriate medium of attraction to gleam forth. This being the case, may we not say, that if Matthew xii. 36. Rom. ii. 6. and 16. one set of ideas, which seemed to have 2 Cor. v. 10. Eccles. xii. 14. gone for ever from the mind, is re- + We know a person who experienced on called by some accidental or external one occasion an approach to this superin. circumstance, all ideas, whose impres- duced energy of mind, in regard to past im sions were originally at least as strong, a river, and being unable to swim, was in

pressions and emotions. He had fallen into would recur, were but their respective great danger of being drowned. In the associations by some object or occur- first plunge under water, from which he rerence awakened.

covered almost immediately, it seemed as 3dly, By a man of ordinary infor- every thing, according to his own declaramation, a small proportion only, out tion, in his previous life, that was in any of the vast multitude of ideas which way improper, had rushed upon his me

mory in all its original vividness. Many

an occurrence and circumstance flashed upon • On a Man's Writing Memoirs of Him. him in the lightning of that moment which self, Letter 1.

he had long forgot

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