As I
ought to tell you of our departure from
Edinburgh and
arrival here, so I ought to tell you of many other things
besides.
Of things pertaining to myself there are these:—The tutor of Peterhouse
has booked me, and I am booked for Peterhouse, but will need a
little
more booking before I can write Algebra like a book.
I suppose I must go through Wrigley's problems and Paley's Evidences
in the same sort of way, and be able to translate when
required
Eurip. Iph. in Aulid. In the meantime I have my usual superfluity of
plans.
1.
Classics—Eurip. for Cambridge. (I hope
no Latin or Greek
verses except for honours.) Greek Testament, Epistles, for
my own behoof, and perhaps some of Cicero De Officiis or something else
for Latin.
2.
Mathematics—Wrigley's Problems, and Trig.
for Cambridge; properties
of the Ellipsoid and other solids for practice with Spher.
Trig. Nothing higher if I can help it.
3.
Nat. Phil.—Simple mechanical problems to
produce that knack
of solving problems which Prof. Forbes has taught me to
despise.
Common Optics at length; and for experimental philosophy, twisting and
bending certain glass and metal rods, making jellies,
unannealed
glass, and crystals, and dissecting eyes—and playing Devils.
4.
Metaphysics—Kant's Kritik of Pure Reason in
German, read with
a determination to make it agree with Sir W. Hamilton.
5.
Moral Philosophy—Metaphysical principles of
moral philosophy.
Hobbes' Leviathan, with his moral philosophy, to be read as
the only man who has decided opinions and avows them in a distinct way.
To examine the first part of the seventh chapter of Matthew
in reference to the moral principles which it supposes, and
compare with other passages. But I question if I shall be able to
overtake
all these things, although those of different kinds may well be used as
alternate studies.
I
read in Edinburgh Wilson's Poems to see what
he used to be like,
and how much he had improved since then. Did you finish Festus? I
had only two days to read it, so that I skipped part of the long speech
and a good deal of the jollification, which I think the
dullest
part of the book. The opening, makes one think that it is to be
an
imitation of the book of Job, but you soon see that you have to
do
with a dreamy mortal without a profession, but vain withal, and a hero
among women, a jolly companion of some men, admired of
students
for talking of things which he knows not, nor can know, having a
so-called
philosophy, an intuitive science, and an underived religion, and with
all
these not perfect, but needing more expanded views of the [136]
folly
of strict virtue and outward decency, of the magnificence, nay, of the
duty of sinning, and of the identity of virtue and vice,
and
of all opposites. He takes for his friend one whom Wilson calls a very
poor devil, who has wonderful mechanical powers, but never
attempts but once the supposed object of his visit to
earth,
namely, temptation. He takes a more rational view of affairs than
Festus
in general, but is so extremely refined from ordinary devils,
that
the only passage sufficiently characteristic for ordinary rapid readers
to recognise is the sermon to the crowd, as the speech in Hell is
quite raw. He has not such an absolute and intuitive sense of
things
as Festus, and does not change so much according, to his company. He
seems
a sincere, good-natured, unselfish devil; while
Festus
is very changeable, solemn when alone, jolly when with the jolly, drunk
with the drunk, open with Lucifer, reserved in good
company,
amorous with all women, talkative and serious with all angels and
saints,
stern towards the unfortunate, and in all his affections altogether
selfish.
The
book is said to have a plan, but no plot.
The plan is an exposition
of the state of a man's mind after having gone through
German
metaphysics. It was one destitute of notions, and has now been
convinced
that all these notions are one and the same. It is neither
meat, nor drink, nor rank, nor money, nor any common thing he
wants:
"he is sure it isn't," and he is sore troubled for want of some great
thing
to do; and when L——r starts into proximity he is the very
being
he wanted to speak to; "he knew who it would be," and recognises him at
once. An opportunity is thus given for showing two ways of
thinking
about things, and therein lies the matter of the book. This
may be seen in L——r's sermon and Festus' prayer. To turn and get out of
the confusion of this letter, pray let me hear your
opinion
of the book. It may be considered thus:—-
1. People
read the book and wonder, why ?
It
is not read for the sake of the story—that is
plain; nor for
the clearness with which certain principles are developed, nor
for
the consistency of the book, nor for the [137] variety of the
characters;
there must therefore be something overpoweringly
attractive
to hold you to the book. Some say he has fine thoughts, sufficient to
set
up fifty poets; to which some may answer, Where are they?
Read
it in a spirit of cold criticism, and they vanish. There is not
one
that is not either erroneous, absurd, German, common, or Daft. Where
lies
the beauty? In the reader's mind. The author
has
evidently been thinking when he wrote it, and that not in words, but
inwardly.
The benevolent reader is compelled to think too, and it is
so great a relief to the reader to get out of wordiness that
he
can put up with insanity, absurdity, profanity, and even inanity, if by
so doing he can get into rapport with one who is so
transcendental,
and yet so easy to follow, as the poet. When Galileo set his [lamp]
a-swinging
by breathing on it, his power lay in the relation
between
the interval of his breaths and the time of vibration; so
in
Festus the mind that begins to perceive that his train of thoughts is
that
of the poem is readily made to follow on. There are some
passages
where one breaks loose, especially the rhyming description of the
subpœnaing
of the planets, and the notion of the angel of the
earth
giving Festus a pair of bracelets, and the way in which F.
improves
his mind by travel
. . .
Beauty is attributed to an object when the
subject anticipates
pleasure in it. A true pleasure is a consciousness of the
right
action of the faculty or function or power. Happiness is the integral
of
pleasure, as wisdom is of knowledge. . . . Don't take all
this
about Festus for truth, as I don't believe much of it, and I'll maybe
tell
you a new story if you tell me one.
What of
St. Peter, as compared with the Keys and with
Bob?
