Chapter XXXVII (6)

Thus accomplished by nature and education, did Professor Wilson apply himself to his self-imposed task in this Magazine—that of imparting to periodical literature in general, and to literary criticism in particular, a new body and a new life; of pulling down the old conventional walls within which they had been confined, and of investing criticism itself with something of the creative and poetic character of the great works of imagination to which it was to be applied.

And in what a noble and true-hearted spirit was that task accomplished. Much had no doubt been done within the century to enlarge the basis of our critical views, to exchange the criticism of particulars for that of generals, to contemplate and decide according to the essence rather than the form. But we hesitate not to say, that practically the criticism of the day was sectarian and political: class criticism, not catholic. It denied or coldly accorded merit to those beyond the pale of the reviewer’s own opinions; it was too apt to assume in all cases an air of condescending superiority; and it was in its form inflexible, demurely decorous, and solemn, banishing from its sphere all that wide field of illustration afforded by the homely and the ludicrous, from the judicious contrast and opposition of which so much of added interest and novelty of view might fairly be derived. These wants the criticisms of Professor Wilson for the first time effectually supplied. Reverential in all cases where reverence was justly due, his keen sense of the ludicrous made him at the same time unsparing of ridicule, when, either in its moral or artistic aspect, the subject of the criticism required and justified the application of such a weapon. Strong as might be his party opinions, they faded out of view whenever he had to deal with any of the greater questions of literature or the pretensions of its genuine candidates; while to how many of the humblest aspirants for fame did his cordial and unstinted praise, blended with just advice and chastened censure, speak hope and comfort amidst discouragement and poverty and pain! From every nook of nature, from every mood of mind, he drew his allusions and illustrations, ever-shifting, iridescent:—under his guidance, humour and feeling, long separated, walked hand in hand; and even the gravest minds readily reconciled themselves to his gay and fanciful embroideries on the web of life, because they felt that none knew better than he that its tissue was, after all, of a sombre hue;—because every page of these compositions, quaint and startling as they were, impressed them with the assurance that wherever the shafts of his ridicule might light, the nobler qualities of the soul itself—love, honour, duty, religion, and all the charities of life—were safe as in a sanctuary from their intrusion.

It would be idle, as it would be endless, to refer to particular examples in dealing with the criticisms of Professor Wilson. But we hesitate not to say, humbly, but with the conviction of its truth, that his contributions to this Magazine contain an amount of original and suggestive criticism, unparalleled in any publication to which the present time has given birth. From the _Noctes_ alone what an armoury of bright and polished thought might be supplied! In his other papers, what a new aspect is given to old themes! The gentle and devout spirit of Spenser seems never before to have met with a congenial exponent. The infinite depths of Shakespeare’s mind are made to reveal new treasures. Milton’s stately fabric appears to expand its proportions, and to grow, at once classic and colossal, under his hand. Dryden’s long-resounding march here meets with a spirit-stirring accompaniment; and he who “stooped to truth, and moralised his song,” finds a defender, who can appreciate the sterling vigour and condensation of his thoughts, and the lucid felicities of their expression. Towards the few genuine poets who illumined the twilight of the last century—towards those who gilded the morning of the new—towards Scott, and Byron, and Coleridge, and Wordsworth—towards the lesser stars revolving within the orb of those greater luminaries—how just, how discriminating have been his acknowledgments! And in proof that these judgments, all glowing and impassioned as they seem, were yet founded on the truest appreciation of the principles of art, we would ask (and we do so with some confidence), in how few instances has the public shown any disposition to reverse the sentence which a deep poetical insight had dictated, and a lofty sense of duty had kept so impartial and so pure!

Nor is it to the mere professed criticism of literature that these observations are applicable. The same peculiarities and the same originality pervaded his numerous and varied essays, where he came more palpably into that field which Addison and Johnson and Goldsmith had trod before him. The humblest and most unpromising topics were on system made the vehicles of important truths; deep reflections “rose like an exhalation” out of hints thrown out as if in a spirit of dalliance; but the result was to exhibit man and his nature in many a new light, and to enforce reflection on many a vital question, where, under a more formal treatment of the subject, it would unquestionably have been evaded. Never, perhaps, was the power and value of the principle of surprise more aptly illustrated than in these essays, where we are suddenly withdrawn from some vulgar and prosaic foreground; led off—blindfold, it may be, and through brake and briar—yet, as we feel, by no unfriendly hand, till, when the journey ends, and the mask drops, we find ourselves translated to some mysterious mountain height, with the ocean of this life spread beneath our feet, and around us “the breath of heaven fresh blowing.”

This, we feel, is no fit place for entering on the social or moral qualities of Professor Wilson. “Something we might have said, but to what end?” The depth and tenderness of his domestic affections are not themes for such discussion. His charities, his generosity, liberal and unfailing as they were, we would leave in that obscurity to which it was his own wish they should be consigned. His appreciation of all worth, however humble; his readiness to assist struggling merit; his utter absence of all affectation of superiority in himself; his toleration for the faults or presumption of others; his reluctance consciously to inflict pain on any one—a feeling which grew on him, as it grows on all good men, with advancing years; are they not written on the memories of all who were the objects of his aid or his forbearance? The charms of his social intercourse, who is likely to forget, whether first experienced “in life’s morning march, when his spirit was young,” or when added years and experience had pruned the luxuriance and softened the asperities of youth, but left all the bright and genial qualities of the mind undimmed, and the sympathies of the soul at once deepened and diffused? To those who had the privilege of enjoying his intimate acquaintance, as familiar friends or fellow-labourers in the same seed-field; to the many who have been indebted to him for that which he never failed to afford—wise and considerate counsel; to the thousands whom he has formed, guided, encouraged, admonished, or corrected, the thought of Professor Wilson will be among those recollections which they would most wish to arrest—those visions which, when they begin to fade, they would be most anxious to recall.

As a proof how completely he was superior to any feeling of party where a question of literature and genius was involved, and how his kindly disposition could urge him to exertion, even under the pressure of disease, we may mention, that the last occasion on which he can be said to have appeared in public, was when he left his brother’s house, and, supported by a friendly arm, came up to record his vote for a political opponent, Mr Macaulay. The last occasion on which he left his own threshold, was when he drove out to congratulate a friend on an event, on which he believed his happiness in life was likely to depend.

So lived, so died Professor Wilson—in the union of his varied mental gifts, in the attractive and endearing qualities of his character, one of the most remarkable men whom Scotland, in the present or any other century, has produced. In our remarks we have confined ourselves to his services to this Magazine, and through that to literature. We have not referred to his other productions, nor to his academical prelections. If the value of the latter were to be estimated by the effect which they produced in stimulating the minds and awakening the interest of his auditory, they would be entitled to a high rank; but as yet there exist no materials from which a deliberate judgment as to their merits can be formed. In other respects, opinion has given the preference to his prose over his poetry, and to his essays over his narrative fictions. The judgment has been so general that it is probably just. In poetry, in prose fiction, he seems overmatched by other men: in the field of the discursive essay, with its “numerous prose,” he is felt to be unique and unapproachable—without a prototype, and in all probability without a successor.

We are aware that in what we have said we have uttered nothing new; that the marking lines of Professor Wilson’s literary character and compositions have been often drawn before; that his characteristics as a man have been indicated by worthier hands. But our object now is, not to say what is new, but to record what is true—true, as it presents itself to us, and true, as we should wish it to be for other times. The public has already pronounced its judgment, and with sufficient approach to unanimity, on Professor Wilson’s genius; it has formed and expressed its estimate of him as a man: in both cases we are content to accept the verdict as it stands; for in both we think it generous as well as just—we ask only to be allowed to register it in our pages.

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._

Footnote 1:

Else why quote that gentleman’s evidence in full?—See Report, p. 183.

Footnote 2:

See his evidence appended to Hebdomadal Committee’s Report, p. 74.

Footnote 3:

Evidence, p. 187.

Footnote 4:

See Recommendation 13.

Footnote 5:

Hebdomadal Report, p. 11.

Footnote 6:

_Blackwood’s Magazine_, Nov. 1853, p. 584.

Footnote 7:

“A body of men as accomplished and as industrious [as the professors],
and to whom he would wish to tender his most earnest feelings of
gratitude and respect—he referred to the private tutors of the
University—for he could not help hoping that some from among that body
would be chosen to assist in the government of Oxford.”—Speech on the
second reading, April 2.

Footnote 8:

_Blackwood’s Magazine_, December 1853, p. 697.

Footnote 9:

Hebdomadal Report—Mr Gordon’s Evidence, p. 202.

Footnote 10:

Suggestions, &c., p. 81.

Footnote 11:

_Letter to Endemus_, &c., p. 15.

Footnote 12:

Hebdomadal Report, p. 175, (Evid.)

Footnote 13:

A recent writer in the _Times_ professes great concern at the possible
danger that even the proposed Hebdomadal Council may not extinguish
the power of the Heads sufficiently. Suppose, says this far-sighted
gentleman, in addition to the eight Heads of Houses who _must_ have
seats, Convocation should choose to elect some Heads who are also
Professors, to represent that body, and some also to represent the
members of Convocation. We can only say that we should be very glad to
see our old rulers elected by the popular voice into the seats from
which they are proposed to be so summarily ejected.

Footnote 14:

See Lord Palmerston’s Letter to the Chancellor—Parl. Corresp., p. 95.

Footnote 15:

Hebdomadal Report—Evidence, p. 196.

Footnote 16:

_Edinburgh Review_, Jan. 1854, p. 189.

Footnote 17:

_Letter to Warden of Wadham_, p. 8.

Footnote 18:

Hebdomadal Report—Evidence, p. 81.

Footnote 19:

_Tour in Wales_, ii. 306.

Footnote 20:

ROY’S _Military Antiquities_, p. 206.

Footnote 21:

BRUCE _on the Roman Wall_, p. 53.

Footnote 22:

History of the English Army ii. 308.

Footnote 23:

_Firmilian; or, The Student of Badajoz: a Tragedy._ By T. PERCY JONES.
_Printed for private circulation._

Footnote 24:

Pentelicus overhangs the south side of the plain of Marathon,
separating it from the great Attic plain. Those who have seen the
beautiful Bay of Brodick, in the Island of Arran, have seen Marathon
on a small scale, except that Goat Fell, which represents Pentelicus,
is on the north. On the south, or Athenian side, this famous mountain
is sufficiently bare, but towards Marathon it is richly wooded; and
the direct road from the village of Vrana to the valley of the
Cephissus, over the northwest shoulder of the mountain, is one of the
wildest and most picturesque passes in Greece.

Footnote 25:

PAN played a somewhat prominent part in the great Persian
war.—(HERODOTUS, I. 105.) He had a famous cave near Marathon (PAUSAN.,
I. 32), which archæologists have idly endeavoured to identify.

Footnote 26:

Darius was led by Hippias, who was familiar with this approach, to
Attica, having come this way with his father, Pisistratus, when that
tyrant established himself in the sovereignty of Attica for the last
time.

Footnote 27:

Hercules was the patron-saint, to use modern language, of Marathon;
and, where the Athenians conquered, Theseus could not be absent. These
two heroes, therefore, were represented in the picture of the battle
of Marathon in the painted Stoa, (PAUSAN., I. 15). The fountain of
Macaria, the daughter of Hercules and Deianeira, is mentioned by
Pausanias, (I. c. 32), as being on the field of Marathon; and sure
enough there is a well on the road from Marathon to Rhamnus, near the
north end of the plain, which Mr Finlay is willing to baptise with the
name of the old classical nymph.

Footnote 28:

There are two extensive marshes, mostly overgrown with great reeds,
one at each end of the field. The Persians, of course, were driven
back into the marsh at the north end. This was represented in the
painting on the Stoa.

Footnote 29:

The famous mound in the middle of the battle-field, mentioned by
Pausanias, and described by all modern travellers.

Footnote 30:

Madame IDA PFEIFFER’S _Visit to Iceland_, p. 32.

Footnote 31:

_Russian Shores of the Black Sea_, by L. OLIPHANT, p. 335.

Footnote 32:

_A Visit to Europe in 1851_, vol. ii. p. 317. By Professor BENJAMIN
SILLIMAN. New York: Putnam, 1854.

Footnote 33:

IDA PFEIFFER’S _Visit to Iceland_, p. 40.

Footnote 34:

_The Initials_, by the Baroness TAUTPHŒUS, i. 205.

Footnote 35:

Translation of a Chinese song.

Footnote 36:

_The Progress and Present Position of Russia in the East: A Historical
Summary._ London: Murray, 1854.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Page Changed from Changed to

539 forgets herself so far as box forgets herself so far as to box
the ears the ears

560 blame they didua get their blame they didna get their
denner denner

605 that ever merged from barbarism that ever emerged from barbarism

620 of land is be encouraged in of land is to be encouraged in
every every

● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last chapter. ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.