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the Brobdignagians who follow him. But all this is really quite a delusive view, and the image altogether inappropriate. All this goes upon the supposition that knowledge is a sort of measurable material commodity, that goes on increasing by perpetual additions, like the wall which the bricklayer builds, or the hoard which the miser accumulates. The smallest attention to the history of science shows us how baseless this representation is. Knowledge does not commonly thus grow by repeated addition of parts to parts, but by perpetual transformations. When the house has been built by one man, it is pulled down, and a new one-it is to be hoped, a better-built in its place by another man. We are not, therefore, to expect that the houses built in the nineteenth century shall be nineteen times, or any other number of times as large as those built in the first century. When the hoard has been accumulated to a certain amount, it is put in some new shape,-employed in trade, it may be, and made to bring an increase, and thus the man becomes really rich; not by the addition of coin to coin without spending or changing, so as necessarily to give to each successive generation a larger and larger store. The notion that man's intellectual stature goes on constantly increasing is not a whit more wise than the notion that his corporeal stature goes on dwindling from generation to generation. The notion that the men of our days are giants compared with men of former times is not more philosophical than the notion that there were giants in those days compared with whom we are dwarfs. The old proverbial expression is far truer, that we may see further than they did, because we stand on their shoulders. The truth is, that, compared with the men of other times, we are neither giants nor dwarfs. The relation between the two generations is neither the one nor the other. In both ages, men were men. In our age we have, it may be, better food, both for the body and the mind; but it would be very unwise to suppose that we are on that account better, or stronger, or fairer, than our great-grandfathers. They had not turtle and Southdown mutton; but, perhaps, goat's flesh and mead, or, it may be, acorns and water. But let us not thence conclude that, therefore, they were weak and we are strong; that if we could be brought into comparison with them, their inferiority would forthwith appear. Nobody, we suppose, believes this. And just the same is the case with the results of our intellectual food. We are nour

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ished from our earliest years with the Copernican system of astronomy, the Newtonian doctrine of attraction, the chemistry which expresses the composition of substances in their nomenclature; but are we really in any material respect superior to those who formerly were taught other systems, which, though they did not explain all facts, explained all that men then knew of fact, and very probably all that we, as individuals, know of fact ; or who were taught systems which prevailed then because the ideas in which the newer systems are expressed were not then matured? Granted that we have got the truth free from some of their errors, yet their views included much truth which is incorporated in our views; and it is very possible that they saw their truth more clearly than we see ours. that some of them did this is plain; for they could use their truth to deduce and predict other truths, as eclipses, and separation of metals, which, as we have said, few of us could do. And if this be the case, was not their knowledge really more profound than ours? and can we be said to know more than they did merely because we can assent to propositions which have been established in more recent times?

And

Is it not, in truth, the fact, that in a great number of cases where we profess to know the scientific discoveries of modern times, we merely repeat the phrases in which these discoveries are expressed, without fully understanding the meaning of the language which we use? And is it not also true, that we are very often prevented from fully understanding the language of modern science because we are ignorant of the previous stages of science? We do not really know that which we despise our predecessors for not knowing: we do not know this well,-precisely because we do not know what our predecessors did know. We are perplexed by such terms as right ascension and oblique ascension, because we do not know the manner in which former astronomers studied the circles of the celestial globe. We do not enter into the full import of Bacon's or Newton's great works, because we do not know the ideas which were in the minds of their contemporaries. We talk of the discovery of new metals, but we do not know what we mean by a metal, because we have not traced the previous progress of such inquiries. Here there is certainly a difference between our predecessors and ourselves, but is it so entirely and manifestly to our advantage?

They knew what we do not. We know what they did not. If we know well what we

know, we have the advantage, because our knowledge then includes theirs; but if our knowledge do not include theirs, the possession of it is no advantage to us, for the knowledge is hollow and verbal merely. If this be so, we, compared with them, are not like Gulliver among the Lilliputians. We are such as Gulliver would have been, if he had become a convert to the Laputan philosophers, and had returned to his home gravely asserting as a recent discovery that sunbeams could be extracted from cucumbers, and that a machine might be constructed which should

reason.

But, says Mr. Macaulay, if you object to shallow knowledge, tell me what is your standard of shallowness? Is it fixed or changeable? Is not that shallow knowledge now, which would have been deep in the days of Erasmus ?-We have already said that we express the fact much more appropriately, by saying that the knowledge of modern times is more advanced, than by saying that it is "more profound." But with regard to the standard of knowledge, and of its "profoundness," or whatever quality that be, which makes it really valuable, do we ask what is the standard of this value? It is plain, from what has been just said, what the answer must be. Knowledge, to be valuable, must really be knowledge. The man must know, and not merely read books and talk of what they contain. He must have ideas which correspond to the words :-true ideas; ideas made true by a possession of facts and of history, so far as these elements are requisite for the purpose. His knowledge being thus true and real, he may know much or little; but, much or little, his knowledge will be valuable. He may know more or less than a given man of the last age, or the last age but one. But whether he know more or less, he will not despise the man of the former age; because he knows that he himself certainly knows much less than many men of the last age, in a far greater degree than they knew less than the most scientific men of our times. The standard

of knowledge is not fixed for the world; though even for the world the progress of the standard is a perpetual transformation, which makes measurement of relative position far from easy; but with regard to individuals, the standard is fixed. The standard of the value, or, if you will, of the profoundness of knowledge, as distinguished from shallowness, is, that it is really knowledge; distinct and clear thoughts, not merely remembered words; knowledge connected with principles, not merely noted as facts. All that complies not with this condition is shallow, is worthless, is intoxicating, and, therefore, dangerous. All that is real knowledge is valuable, even if it be little; so far, the poet's words are too absolute, if rigorously taken but the little of the first couplet is explained by the shallow of the second. But real knowledge, as it becomes more and more entensive, retaining its reality and its fullness of ideas, and the clear deduction of knowledge from knowledge, becomes profound in a stronger sense; and although, as Mr. Macaulay has very well said, it must always be little, compared with the whole extent of possible and conceivable knowledge, it need not at any stage be shallow, since it may go to the full depth of the thoughts which it professes to combine and express.

The remarks which we have made agree, for the most part, with some of those which Professor J. Forbes has urged upon his pupils, and since upon the public, in the little book to which we have referred at the beginning of this article. He has treated the subject in a more profound and methodical manner than we have done, as becomes a learned professor compared with monthly critics. And we are too magnanimous and too consistent to be discontented, if any reader, convinced by our reasons, is still of opinion that a little of such reasoning is a dangerous thing, and should determine to draw from Professor Forbes's page a deeper draught of antidote to the siren strains in which Mr. Macaulay sang his Encomium Moria.

From Tait's Magazine.

WINTER PICTURES OF DENMARK.

COPENHAGEN.

the external features of nearly every part of Copenhagen, and feel sufficiently qualified, therefore, to give one man's humble but honest impressions of its salient features and general characteristics. So sensitive are nearly all men to the first sight of both cities and individuals, that sometimes the most intimate subsequent acquaintance fails to change the original intensely vivid conception, no matter whether it is right or wrong. Undoubtedly, many a traveler who glances for the first time at a landscape bathed in golden sunlight, or who first visits a city when it is unusually prosperous, gay, and splendid, is impressed with a correspondingexaggerated notion of the beauty of the one, and the attractions of the other. But let him first see the same landscape when a black storm is lowering over it, and first see the same city when its commerce is depressed, and its dwellers spiritless-his opinion would be just the reverse. And yet that opinion would, in either case, be an erroneous one. For my own part, I have a singular affection for the road or street by which I may first enter a strange city; and however long I may afterward sojourn there, and however humble or uninteresting in itself the road or street in question may be, I afterward tread it with greater pleasure, and more frequently than any other. It happened that I entered Copenhagen in a way by no means calculated to bias any impressions of it, and yet the very first time I trod its streets I imbibed opinions concerning it which every day's acquaintance only more strongly confirms.

LET us perfectly understand one another, reader. If you imagine that I am about to give you a full, true, and particular account of all the lions in the city-to enumerate, in guide-book fashion, the thousand-and-one remarkable buildings, and to dwell, with stupefying minuteness, on the contents of museums, churches, palaces, arsenals, and so forth, I give you fair warning that you will be grievously disappointed. Such dreary rule-and-square drudgery would of itself fill a huge quarto volume, and even then the subject would be far from being exhausted. I only profess to notice such striking exter-ly nal objects, and such general traits of manners, as come immediately under my personal observation or inquiry, and can be correctly described by a stranger; for it would be absurd presumption to affect to write aught of higher pretension on the strength of a few weeks' residence. Nothing but a very long sojourn, a perfect familiarity with the manners of the people, and a thorough knowledge of the language, would enable an Englishman to authoritatively and fully depict life in the capital of Denmark, and to pleasingly illustrate it with legendary lore.* My object, so far as Copenhagen is concerned, is to give a tolerably clear and faithful general idea of the place and people, with notices of a few objects of really surpassing interest; and happy shall I be if my humble sketches prove instrumental in creating a desire on the part of the public for a work of the description above spoken of.

At the time I pen this, I am familiar with

* I know only one gentleman who eminently possesses all these qualifications, and I have strongly and repeatedly urged him to write a work on the subject, which could hardly fail to be replete with interest. I allude to Mr. Charles Beckwith, who has distinguished himself here by his Danish-English works, and is favorably known to the English public, by his admirable translations of his friend,

Hans Christian Andersen's, "Bazaar," "Rambles in the Hartz Mountains," "co Baronesses," &c.

Copenhagen contains about 130,000 inhabitants, and is situated on the Sound, about nine English miles distant from the opposite coast of Sweden. It is as flat a place as can well be conceived, nor are there any elevated grounds very near it. The view of Copenhagen from the sea is very striking, owing to its having on the west side an enor mous mass of dockyards, forts, batteries, &c. It is inclosed with ramparts, elevated

to a considerable height, and forming delightful walks planted with trees. There are also beautiful promenades in other parts of the city. Many parts of the town are intersected with canals.

Copenhagen is emphatically a city of palaces, of museums, of public buildings. This is its grand distinctive feature, and to appreciate it fully nothing but a personal visit will suffice. No person of ordinary intelligence can walk through it without, at every step, exclaiming-THIS IS A CAPITAL! The number of grand edifices belonging to the State are truly astonishing, and yet, taking the city all through, there is not one erection of extraordinary grandeur-not a palace, not a church, not a square, which will bear comparison with those of many other cities. It is true that some of the Government buildings are of amazing extent, and are well built; but, generally speaking, they are essentially plain in their architecture, and exhibit little grandeur of conception. Some of the churches are very extraordinary erections, and contain paintings and sculptures (especially the latter) of inestimable value. There are theatres, a very grand casino, and many places of exhibition. The generality of the streets are narrow, and the people are surprisingly mixed up with the carriages, on the middle of the road, in the narrowest streets; but as no vehicle by law is allowed to drive at a greater rate than one Danish mile (about five English) per hour, accidents rarely occur. The houses have all a substantial and yet a light appearance, owing to the great number of their windows. Some are lofty, especially those facing the ramparts. Although there is not one truly grand street in Copenhagen, there are astonishingly few mean ones. Nearly every street throughout the city is at least respectable. You will search in vain for those dirty, dismal, fetid, sweltering alleys and courts common to all English towns; and you will look equally in vain for any of those repulsive street scenes common in the latter. Beggars are certainly not unknown here, but they are exceedingly few-no miserable objects in rags and tatters ever disgust the eye; and never yet have I met a drunken man in Copenhagen, although I have traversed it at all hours.

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There is no lack, as I shall hereafter show of indoor gayety in Copenhagen; but the general aspect of the city, to a foreigner accustomed to the stunning bustle of English towns, is decidedly dull. Partly, this arises from the very little show the shops make,

the comparatively trifling business traffic in the streets, and also from the leisurely habits of the people themselves. The fact is, the Danes have not yet learned to live in a hurry ; but, although they are "slow," they are steady and sure; although they are a century behind England in many of the leading improvements of the age, they are more than a century ahead of England in generally diffused plenty and comfort; and although they do not gallop through life as though for a wager, they know how to enjoy it rationally. My countrymen! I scorn to flatter you-what I here say may be unpalatable to some among you; but it is true.

DANISH LITERATURE AND LITERARY MEN.

The booksellers' shops were, of course, a subject of particular interest to me. They make very little external show, generally having only one or two small windows, a considerable height from the pavement, with a few books and prints displayed against the lower panes. Glazed show-cases, also, containing new works, &c., are attached underneath the windows, and along the sides of the entrance passages. In many instances, the shop itself is only accessible by a flight of steps from a side entrance-strongly contrasting in this, as in other respects, with similar concerns in England. Some of the shops are well stocked with works in various languages (especially German and French), and the publishers are intelligent men, au courant on literary subjects. They sell English books at the London prices; but the time occupied in procuring them to order is never less than one month, and sometimes above three. One striking feature in English large towns, shops devoted to the sale of weekly literary sheets and periodicals is altogether unknown in Copenhagen. There are no works whatever published in numbers in Denmark, and no magazines, with the exception of one, a literary and critical monthly, entitled "Nord og Syd," (North and South). As to English cheap journals they are utterly unknown; but the English and French monthlies and quarterlies have many subscribers. The number of newspapers of all descriptions issued in Denmark is from seventy to a hundred. In Copenhagen alone there are ten daily and four weekly newspapers, and nearly every little village-under which designation Englishmen would, in fact, class almost all places in the kingdom, excepting the capital-has one or more papers of its own. of its own. The largest of the Copenhagen. papers is somewhat larger than one leaf only

of the London "Times," and the smallest | thority, said to me, "Sir, his tragedies are are not quite double the size of an ordinary entitled to a place on the same shelf with sheet of letter paper. The type is large and those of Shakspeare and Schiller; and it is the lines leaded out, so that the mass of read- worth a foreigner's while to study the laning in one of these papers is actually much guage, for the sole purpose of being able to less than is contained in even half a page of appreciate Oehlenschlæger." "Really," I some of the London weekly papers, which replied, "if that is the case, it is grievous use small type. These miniature papers give to reflect that the accident of language a little local and foreign intelligence; but the should confine the works of such a man to so bulk of the matter consists of original lead- limited a circle of readers. It seems to me ing political articles. One important feature much like giving to a party what was meant in them is their feuilleton, which consists of for mankind."* either fiction or poetry, original or translated. At this time, one of the biggest daily journals, called the "Fædrelandet" (Fatherland), is publishing in its feuilleton a regularly continued translation of Dickens' tale of "David Copperfield," which occasionally occupies nearly half of the current number. The Government organ is "Berlingske Tidende" (Berling's Gazette). Some of these papers are printed in Roman characters, but the majority are in German type. Their price is from one penny to twopence each number. There is also a weekly publication called "Corsaren" (The Corsair), of the same description as "Punch" of London, and the Charivari" of Paris. I am informed that it was originally very able, but is considered to have fallen off greatly of late.

Some of its illustrations struck me as being good, but most of them are puerile, without either wit or satire discoverable in them.

Denmark is really an intellectual kingdom. Education is so generally diffused by the State that it is a nation of readers, and, as a natural sequence, these readers have mental pabulum supplied them by a very strong array of native writers. The number of works issued from the Copenhagen press is very considerable, and some of them-especially gift books and annuals—are got up in a style which would not disgrace the best London or Paris houses. The prices are moderate, and as an instance of the comparatively immense circulation works at times attain here, I may mention that a poem of length, entitled "Den Lille Hornblæser (The Little Trumpeter), by H. P. Holsthaving for its subject the recent war with the Duchies-was published just before my arrival, and five thousand copies were sold within the first fortnight.

Many of the living Danish authors are men of very great talent-a few even are of brilliant genius. Foremost in the latter rank is the veteran Oehlenschlæger, of whom a gentleman, who I know to be a first-rate au

Nothing astonishes the Danes more than to be informed that their countryman, Hans Christian Andersen, has attained such an unrivaled popularity in England. I have conversed with many on the subject, both at Copenhagen and elsewhere, and all agree that Andersen, in their estimation, holds only a secondary place compared with some other Danish authors. Presuming this opinion to be correct, one certainly would derive a very high opinion of the genius of the authors alluded to. Andersen's countrymen do not deny that he is a highly gifted man; nor are they insensible to his peculiar merit. All they contend for is, that his genius is essentially of a less lofty order than that of such beings as Oehlenschlæger. They admit that he is a true diamond, but not a surpassingly brilliant one. At present, I much regret that I have only read a little of Andersen's writings; but that little is quite sufficient to impress me with a notion that he is the Goldsmith of Denmark. I loved the man ere I had read a dozen of his pages: he is so genial, so purely child-like in his temperament, and so filled with unfeigned heartfelt affection for his brother man. I should, for my own part, bitterly abhor any author who merely simulated sensibility—I should loath his very name. Now I have private reason to know that Andersen is no hypocrite, but really only transfers his feelings to paper, and presents us with a sweet reflex of his own infantile yet finely-poetical and noble. nature. This it is that gives that charm to his writings, which has been so universally felt. This it is which will impart unto them

* Since writing the above, I have learned that Oehlenschlæger has sold the entire copyright of all his works-which fill many volumes-for the sum of only 6,000 rix dollars Danish, or £675 sterling. Why, there are English novelists who have earned works in question are the long-life-labors of a twice as much within one fortnight! And yet, the mighty intellect.-W. H.

+ I probably shall hereafter give some personal details concerning Hans Christian Andersen. W. H.

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