DEATH OF PROFESSOR WILSON.

It is one of the painful duties which devolve on those connected with a work like the present, to be called on from time to time to commemorate the removal from this earthly scene, of those by whose original and inventive minds its peculiar character was impressed, or to whose genius and labours in after life it owed its continued influence and reputation. More than once that melancholy task has been ours, for Death has made more than his usual gaps in the ranks of those who were associated with the rise of this Magazine and its early success. But the greatest and most distinguished of that gifted band, whose name has been identified with it from first to last, had till now been spared;â€”withdrawn, indeed, for some time from those circles which he had enlightened and adornedâ€”and already surrounded by some shadow of the coming night, but still surviving among us as a link connecting the present and the past, and forming the centre of a thousand sympathising and reverential associations. He also has at last been gathered to his fellows. Professor Wilson expired at his house in Gloucester Place on the morning of the 3d April 1854. Born in May 1785, he was thus in his sixty-ninth year when he died;â€”not prematurely taken, it may be said, for he had nearly touched the period which is proverbially allotted as the measure of human life, yet passing from among us long before he had attained that advanced old age, which, when united with health, wisdom, and worth, seems to afford one of the happiest conditions of existence, and of which, in his case, the vigour and elasticity both of his mental and bodily frame, had seemed to human calculation to promise the attainment. It is consolatory to think that his period of seclusion and sickness passed in tranquillity both of mind and body; not perhaps painless, yet without acute or prolonged suffering;â€”the bodily energies waning gently, like the twilight, and the mind, though clear, partaking of that growing languor which had crept over the frame with which it was associated. As a proof of how long his mental vigour and capacity of exertion survived the effects of physical decline, it may be mentioned that two of the papers entitled â€œDies Boreales,â€ the last of a fine series on Miltonâ€™sParadise Lost, were written by him in August and September 1852, some months after the occurrence of that calamity by which his strong frame had been stricken down; papers written with his usual fine perception and impressive diction, but in a hand so tremulous, so feeble and indistinct, as to prove the strong effort of will by which alone such a task could have been accomplished. These were the last papers he ever wrote: they want, as is evident enough, the dazzling splendour of his earlier writings: they do not stir the heart like the trumpet tones of his prime, but they breathe a tone of sober grandeur and settled conviction; and these subdued and earnest words, now that we know them to have been his last, sink into the heart, like the parting accents of a friend, with a melancholy charm.

We leave to others, and in another form, the task of delineating the character of Professor Wilson as a poet, a novelist, a philosopher, and a critic: our more limited object is to speak of him only in connection with this Magazine, of which he was so long the animating spirit; to recall and arrest for a moment the lineaments of the man as he first appeared to usâ€”as we were familiar with him in after lifeâ€”and to embody in a few words our sense of what he has done for literature and for society, through the pages of that publication, in which, unless we greatly err, posterity will recognise the richest outpourings of his genius, and in which may be traced all the moods of his changing mindâ€”from the first wild and sparkling effusions of youth, through the more matured creations of his manhood, down to that period when even genius takes a sober colouring from the troubles of life, and all those vivid and truthful pictures of the world around us begin unconsciously to be imbued and solemnised by the prospects of another.

When we first saw Professor Wilsonâ€”now more than three-and-thirty years agoâ€”no more remarkable person could have attracted attention. Physically and mentally he was the embodied type of energy, power, and self-reliance. The tall and elastic frame, the massive head that crowned it, the waving hair, the finely-cut features, the eye flashing with every variety of emotion, the pure and eloquent blood which spoke in the cheek, the stately lion-like port of the man,â€”all announced, at the first glance, one of Natureâ€™s nobles. And to the outward presence corresponded the mind within; for rarely have qualities so varied been blended in such marvellous and harmonious union. The culture of English scholarship had softened the more rugged features of his Scottish education. The knowledge of life, and sympathy with all its forms, from the highest to the lowest, had steadied the views and corrected the sentimental vagueness of the poetical temperament: a strong and practical sagacity pervaded, and gave reality to, all the creations of his imagination. Extensive and excursive readingâ€”at least in English literature and the classicsâ€”combined with a singular accuracy and minuteness of natural observation, had stored his mind with facts of every kind, and stamped the results upon an iron memory. Nature and early training had so balanced his faculties that all themes seemed to come alike to his hand: the driest, provided only it bore upon the actual concerns of life, had nothing repulsive for him: he could expatiate in the field of the mournful as if it were his habitual element, and turn to the sportive and the fantastic, as if he had been all his life a denizen of the court of Comus. The qualities of the heart partook of this expansive and universal character. Affections as tender as they were impetuous, checked and softened the impulses of a fiery temper and vehement will, and infused a pathetic and relenting spirit into strains of invective that were deviating into harshness. That he should have been without warm dislikings, as well as warm attachments, would imply an impossibility. But from everything petty or rancorous he was absolutely free. Most justly was entitled to say of himself, that he never knew envy except as he had studied it in others. His opposition, if it was uncompromising, was always open and manly: to the great or good qualities of his opponent he generally did justice from the firstâ€”always in the end; and not a few of those who in early life had regarded him merely as the headlong leader of a partisan warfare, both in literature and politics, came to learn their mistake, to reverence in him the high-toned and impartial critic, and to esteem the warm-hearted and generous man.

His conversation and his public speaking had in them a charm to which no other term is applicable but that of fascination, and which, in the zenith of his powers, we never met with any one able to resist. While his glittering eye held the spectators captive, and the music of the ever-varying voice, modulating up and down with the changing character of the theme, fell on the ear, and a flood of imagery invested the subject with every conceivable attribute of the touching, the playful, or the picturesque, the effect was electric, indescribable: it imprisoned the minds of the auditors; they seemed to fear that the sound would ceaseâ€”they held their breath as if under the influence of a spell.

Thus accomplished by nature and education, did Professor Wilson apply himself to his self-imposed task in this Magazineâ€”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 reviewerâ€™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:â€”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;â€”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 itselfâ€”love, honour, duty, religion, and all the charities of lifeâ€”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 theNoctesalone 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 Shakespeareâ€™s mind are made to reveal new treasures. Miltonâ€™s stately fabric appears to expand its proportions, and to grow, at once classic and colossal, under his hand. Drydenâ€™s long-resounding march here meets with a spirit-stirring accompaniment; and he who â€œstooped to truth, and moralised his song,â€ 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 centuryâ€”towards those who gilded the morning of the newâ€”towards Scott, and Byron, and Coleridge, and Wordsworthâ€”towards the lesser stars revolving within the orb of those greater luminariesâ€”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 â€œrose like an exhalationâ€ 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 offâ€”blindfold, it may be, and through brake and briarâ€”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 â€œthe breath of heaven fresh blowing.â€

This, we feel, is no fit place for entering on the social or moral qualities of Professor Wilson. â€œSomething we might have said, but to what end?â€ 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 oneâ€”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 â€œin lifeâ€™s morning march, when his spirit was young,â€ 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 affordâ€”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 arrestâ€”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 brotherâ€™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 Wilsonâ€”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 â€œnumerous prose,â€ he is felt to be unique and unapproachableâ€”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 Wilsonâ€™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 trueâ€”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 Wilsonâ€™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 justâ€”we ask only to be allowed to register it in our pages.

Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh.

1. Else why quote that gentlemanâ€™s evidence in full?â€”See Report, p. 183.

2. See his evidence appended to Hebdomadal Committeeâ€™s Report, p. 74.

3. Evidence, p. 187.

4. See Recommendation 13.

5. Hebdomadal Report, p. 11.

6.Blackwoodâ€™s Magazine, Nov. 1853, p. 584.

7. â€œA 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 respectâ€”he referred to the private tutors of the Universityâ€”for he could not help hoping that some from among that body would be chosen to assist in the government of Oxford.â€â€”Speech on the second reading, April 2.

8.Blackwoodâ€™s Magazine, December 1853, p. 697.

9. Hebdomadal Reportâ€”Mr Gordonâ€™s Evidence, p. 202.

10. Suggestions, &c., p. 81.

11.Letter to Endemus, &c., p. 15.

12. Hebdomadal Report, p. 175, (Evid.)

13. A recent writer in theTimesprofesses 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 whomusthave 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.

14. See Lord Palmerstonâ€™s Letter to the Chancellorâ€”Parl. Corresp., p. 95.

15. Hebdomadal Reportâ€”Evidence, p. 196.

16.Edinburgh Review, Jan. 1854, p. 189.

17.Letter to Warden of Wadham, p. 8.

18. Hebdomadal Reportâ€”Evidence, p. 81.

19.Tour in Wales, ii. 306.

20.Royâ€™sMilitary Antiquities, p. 206.

21.Bruceon the Roman Wall, p. 53.

22. History of the English Army ii. 308.

23.Firmilian; or, The Student of Badajoz: a Tragedy.ByT. Percy Jones.Printed for private circulation.

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.

25.Panplayed a somewhat prominent part in the great Persian war.â€”(Herodotus,I.105.) He had a famous cave near Marathon (Pausan.,I.32), which archÃ¦ologists have idly endeavoured to identify.

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.

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.

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.

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

30. MadameIda Pfeifferâ€™sVisit to Iceland, p. 32.

31.Russian Shores of the Black Sea, byL. Oliphant, p. 335.

32.A Visit to Europe in 1851, vol. ii. p. 317. By ProfessorBenjamin Silliman. New York: Putnam, 1854.

33.Ida Pfeifferâ€™sVisit to Iceland, p. 40.

34.The Initials, by the BaronessTautphÅ“us, i. 205.

35. Translation of a Chinese song.

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

TRANSCRIBERâ€™S NOTESPageChanged fromChanged to539forgets herself so far as box the earsforgets herself so far as to box the ears560blame they didua get their dennerblame they didna get their denner605that ever merged from barbarismthat ever emerged from barbarism620of land is be encouraged in everyof land is to be encouraged in everyTypos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last chapter.

TRANSCRIBERâ€™S NOTES

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