And hence a blow that, in maturer age, Would but have touched the judgment, struck more deep It was his reason (or what he supposed to be his reason) that obtained the victory in this conflict, but not without mutilation, and the severance of one of its bonds with joy and love. True, it took warning from the danger it had undergone, and endeavoured to be more vigilant and circumspect, just as a driver pays more attention to his team when the rein has been broken. It became desirous of examining itself. This was the moment when the letter to Watson was written. To the "wild theories" which were afloat, Wordsworth had hitherto lent but a careless ear, assured But in his refutation of Watson he attempted for the first time an orderly statement of his loosely entertained ideas. I began To meditate with ardour on the rule And management of nations; what it is And ought to be; and strove to learn how far Upon their laws, and fashion of the State.3 Little by little the close ties which bound him to France gave way in their turn. There was not, it is true, any sudden rupture, but rather a gradual loosening of a dear embrace, accompanied by a deeply painful surprise that the eyes of one whom he had loved when he only desires seemed to be for peace and happiness should flame with fierce madness or vulgar ambition. And as his feelings grew steadily colder, the affection he could no longer bestow on France became transferred to his own theories. 1 The Prelude, xi. 183-188. 2 Ibid., xi. 188-194. But when events Brought less encouragement, and unto these As could not be impeached, was sought elsewhere.1 II Thus, the farther men seemed to him from truth and happiness, the farther he withdrew from the real world to bury himself in that of abstract thought, where the irony of events could no longer exasperate by its inconsistency with theory, nor an illogical reality confront the logical mind with its discrepancies and incoherence. This universe, the creation of his own thought, appeared to him at first sight all order and all light. This was the time, when, all things tending fast That promised to abstract the hopes of Man Found ready welcome. Tempting region that Flattered the young, pleased with extremes, nor least The object of its fervour. What delight! How glorious! in self-knowledge and self-rule, To look through all the frailties of the world, Which, to the blind restraints of general laws The Prelude, xi. 194-205. Superior, magisterially adopts One guide, the light of circumstances, flashed There was, however, another guide, unmentioned by Wordsworth, whom he was following even when he supposed himself most thoroughly emancipated; nay, then most of all, since it was from him that he had learnt independence. This man, who, for a brief period, had a fascination for Coleridge, and afterwards exerted a permanent influence over Shelley, was William Godwin, the intellectual master of all the young Jacobins of his country. It was in February 1793, simultaneously with the declaration of war, that Godwin had published his Inquiry concerning Political Justice, and its influence on general virtue and happiness. Such was the weighty title of two weighty quarto volumes, the high price of which alone saved their author from prosecution. Pitt thought there was no danger that such a work could become popular. He had chastised Paine, but Godwin he spared. Godwin did not write, as Paine did, for the people, but for the select and thoughtful few. He combined in one clear and rigid system all the scattered revolutionary ideas contained in the philosophical works of the period. His principal teacher was Rousseau, who had perceived two important facts-that the imperfections of governments were the only permanent source of the vices of mankind, and, what was a more profound reflection, that a government, however reformed, is almost incapable of doing good.2 The great failing of Rousseau, in Godwin's opinion, arose from his deism and his belief in the immortality of the 1 The Prelude, xi, 223-244. These last words are an exact poetical version of a saying of Godwin: "The true dignity of human reason is as much as we are able to go beyond them (i.e. general rules), to have our faculties in act upon every occasion that occurs, and to conduct ourselves accordingly." Enquiry concerning Political Justice, 2nd ed., i. p. 347. Wordsworth first placed these lines in Oswald's mouth, in his Borderers (11. 1502-1506). Charles Lloyd, who had heard this drama read at Alfoxden, at once made use of them as a sort of text or motto for his Edmund Oliver, a fancy biography of Coleridge (p. 124, ed. 1798). They furnish us with a key to Wordsworth's moral crisis. 2 Inquiry into Political Justice, 1st ed., vol. ii. pp. 503-504 (note). soul. He therefore amended Rousseau by d'Holbach and Helvetius, by Hume and Hartley, and, thus confirmed in an imperturbable atheism, had arrived at the following philosophical doctrine. In the first place, there are no innate ideas; and to believe in them in spite of Locke and Condillac is sheer fatuity. "Who is there in the present state of scientifical improvement, that will believe that this vast chain of perceptions and notions is something that we bring into the world with us, a mystical magazine, shut up in the human embryo, whose treasures are to be gradually unfolded as circumstances shall require? Who does not perceive that they are regularly generated in the mind by a series of impressions, and digested and arranged by association and reflection? "1 In the second place, moral freedom is a mere fiction, a popular delusion. Man has no independent will, and if language were truly philosophical, it would contain no such expressions as "I will exert myself . . . I will do this." "All these expressions imply as if man was or could be something else than what motives make him. Man is in reality a passive, and not an active being." 2 If man has thus neither nature nor freedom, what is he? He is a pure intelligence, a simple reasoning machine. Let but his reason have free play, without interference from any external influence, and the ascertainment of truth by the individual mind, and absolute justice in the relations between man and his fellow-creatures, will be the certain result. But the exercise of reason is fettered by political and religious institutions. The history of humanity is nothing but a history of the crimes to which these institutions have given rise such as war, robbery, and murder, which would otherwise never have come into existence. Must we then think of reforming them? By no means, for they are naturally inimical to the free unfolding of the intellectual powers. It is the abolition of them at which we must aim. They are mighty for evil, powerless for good. 1 Inquiry concerning Political Justice, 1st ed., vol. i. pp. 13-14. The one thing of true importance is education. Since the human mind is a tabula rasa on which impressions and ideas become imprinted, it is education that determines whether the man shall be rational or irrational, harmful or beneficial. Human progress depends on the pitch of perfection to which education can be brought, and on that fact we may build our hopes of the infinite perfectibility of man. The task may be slow and difficult, but it "promises much, if it do not in reality promise everything."1 Education, moreover, has but a single object, and that a perfectly simple one-namely, to secure full freedom of action for the individual intelligence by removing from its path everything which hampers, deludes, or confuses it; whether passions or sentiments, under whatsoever virtuous names disguised, or preconceived ideas, whether they pass for the maxims of wisdom or for prejudices. It is here that the system becomes really interesting. Burke had already perceived that the whole Revolution hinged on this fixed point, and in his hatred of convulsions. and his love for what was sanctified by tradition, he had boldly undertaken the defence of prejudice. "Prejudice," he said, "is of ready application in the emergency; it previously engages the mind in a steady course of wisdom and virtue, and does not leave the man hesitating in the moment of decision, sceptical, puzzled, and unresolved. Prejudice renders a man's virtue his habit; and not a series of unconnected acts. Through just prejudice his duty becomes a part of his nature." 2 Profound as they are, these words, unaccompanied by any admission of the defects of prejudice, appeared blasphemous to the worshippers of human reason, whom they drove to the opposite extreme. But social "prejudices" are not the only sentiments which meet with Godwin's condemnation. He is not content with proscribing natural affection for home or country, on the ground that it hinders the operation of justice, the only law recognised by the intelligence; the 1 Political Justice, 1st ed., i. p. 18. 2 Reflections on the Revolution in France. The Works of Burke, London, 1888, vol. ii. p. 359. |