his knowledge is confined, yields him as certain facts--the
consciousness that he is, but not what he is: the consciousness that he
is pleased or pained by things about him, whose real nature is entirely
hidden from him: and, as he tells us just before, the assurance that God
is the thing the self perceives outside itself,

"A force
Actual e'er its own beginning, operative thro' its course,
Unaffected by its end."[A]

[Footnote A: _La Saisiaz_.]

But, even this knowledge, limited as it is to the bare existence of
unknown entities, has the further defect of being merely subjective. The
"experience" from which he draws his conclusions, is his own in an
exclusive sense. His "thinking thing" has, apparently, no elements in
common with the "thinking things" of other selves. He ignores the fact
that there may be general laws of thought, according to which his mind
must act in order to be a mind. Intelligence seems to have no nature,
and may be anything. All questions regarding "those apparent other
mortals" are consequently unanswerable to the poet. "Knowledge stands on
my experience"; and this "my" is totally unrelated to all other Mes.

"All outside its narrow hem,
Free surmise may sport and welcome! Pleasures, pains affect mankind
Just as they affect myself? Why, here's my neighbour colour-blind,
Eyes like mine to all appearance: 'green as grass' do I affirm?
'Red as grass' he contradicts me: which employs the proper term?"[B]

[Footnote B: _Ibid_.]

If there were only they two on earth as tenants, there would be no way
of deciding between them; for, according to his argument, the truth is
apparently decided by majority of opinions. Each individual, equipped
with his own particular kind of senses and reason, gets his own
particular experience, and draws his own particular conclusions from it.
If it be asked whether these conclusions are true or not, the only
answer is that the question is absurd; for, under such conditions, there
cannot be either truth or error. Every one's opinion is its own
criterion. Each man is the measure of all things; "His own world for
every mortal," as the poet puts it.

"To each mortal peradventure earth becomes a new machine,
Pain and pleasure no more tally in our sense than red and green."[A]

[Footnote A: _La Saisiaz_.]

The first result of this subjective view of knowledge is clearly enough
seen by the poet. He is well aware that his co