"A multitude of causes unknown to former times are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind, and unfitting it for all voluntary exertion to reduce it to a state of almost savage torpor"
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Wordsworth is diagnosing a mental epidemic and refusing to call it progress. The phrasing moves like a slow strangulation: “a multitude of causes” not only exist, they “act” and they act “with a combined force,” as if modern life has organized itself into an assault on attention. He doesn’t name the causes here because the point is their sheer accumulation - new speeds, new crowds, new media of sensation - less a single villain than a total environment. The sentence is built to feel like that environment: long, compressive, hard to breathe inside.
The intent is polemical, even a little prophetic. Wordsworth, writing in the shadow of industrialization and the booming print marketplace, is defending the mind’s capacity for “voluntary exertion” - disciplined attention, memory, inwardness - against a culture that trains us to be reactive. “Blunt the discriminating powers” is the real horror: not that people will think differently, but that they’ll stop distinguishing at all, losing the ability to choose what matters. That’s an attack on judgment, taste, and moral perception at once.
The subtext is classed and anxious: “almost savage torpor” smuggles in the period’s fear that the urban masses, fed on noise and novelty, will become ungovernable precisely by becoming unthinking. As a Romantic, Wordsworth isn’t anti-pleasure; he’s anti-stimulation without meaning. He’s making the case that poetry (and by extension, reflective culture) isn’t decoration. It’s resistance training for consciousness.
The intent is polemical, even a little prophetic. Wordsworth, writing in the shadow of industrialization and the booming print marketplace, is defending the mind’s capacity for “voluntary exertion” - disciplined attention, memory, inwardness - against a culture that trains us to be reactive. “Blunt the discriminating powers” is the real horror: not that people will think differently, but that they’ll stop distinguishing at all, losing the ability to choose what matters. That’s an attack on judgment, taste, and moral perception at once.
The subtext is classed and anxious: “almost savage torpor” smuggles in the period’s fear that the urban masses, fed on noise and novelty, will become ungovernable precisely by becoming unthinking. As a Romantic, Wordsworth isn’t anti-pleasure; he’s anti-stimulation without meaning. He’s making the case that poetry (and by extension, reflective culture) isn’t decoration. It’s resistance training for consciousness.
Quote Details
| Topic | Reason & Logic |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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