ut not in system.
It seemed to me that his mind must have been moulded by some other mind, with which I ought to be acquainted, in order to know him well,—perhaps Spinoza's. Since I came home, I have been consulting Buhle's and Tennemann's histories of philosophy, and dipping into Brown, Stewart, and that class of books.
After I had cast the burden of my cares upon you, I rested, and read Petrarch for a day or two.
But that could not last.
I had begun to take an account of stock, as Coleridge calls it, and was forced to proceed He says few persons ever did this faithfully, without being dissatisfied with the result, and lowering their estimate of their supposed riches.
With me it has ended in the most humiliating sense of poverty; and only just enough pride is left to keep your poor friend off the parish.
As it is, I have already asked items of several besides yourself; but, though they have all given what they had, it has by no means answered my purpose; and I have laid the
uences in some degree.
I think, in reading, I shall place him next to Wordsworth.
I have finished Herschel, and really believe I am a little wiser.
I have read, too, Heyne's letters twice, Sartor Resartus once, some of Goethe's late diaries, Coleridge's Literary Remains, and drank a great deal from Wordsworth.
By the way, do you know his Happy Warrior?
I find my insight of this sublime poet perpetually deepening.
Mr.—— says the Wanderjahre is wise.
It must be presumed so; and yet one is introverted eye, and the almost childlike simplicity of his pathos, carry one back into a purer atmosphere, to live over again youth's fresh emotions.
I greatly enjoyed his readings in Hamlet, and have reviewed in connection what Goethe and Coleridge have said.
Both have successfully seized on the main points in the character of Hamlet, and Mr. D. took nearly the same range.
His views of Ophelia, however, are unspeakably more just than are those of Serlo in Wilhelm Meister.
I regret that
Pantheists, of Plato and the Alexandrians, of Plutarch's Morals, Seneca and Epictetus; in part, the natural product of the culture of the place and time.
On the somewhat stunted stock of Unitarianism,—whose characteristic dogma was trust in individual reason as correlative to Supreme Wisdom,— had been grafted German Idealism, as taught by masters of most various schools,—by Kant and Jacobi, Fichte and Novalis, Schelling and Hegel, Schleiermacher and De Wette, by Madame de Stael, Cousin, Coleridge, and Carlyle; and the result was a vague yet exalting conception of the godlike nature of the human spirit.
Transcendentalism, as viewed by its disciples, was a pilgrimage from the idolatrous world of creeds and rituals to the temple of the Living God in the soul.
It was a putting to silence of tradition and formulas, that the Sacred Oracle might be heard through intuitions of the single-eyed and pure-hearted.
Amidst materialists, zealots, and sceptics, the Transcendentalist believed in<